My heart jumped when I read the newspaper article stating that Dr. Randall Eaton and the Orca Project were looking for volunteers to communicate with killer whales. As I cut the tiny, two-paragraph article from the travel section of the newspaper, a chill ran down my spine. I knew that I was going to Orcas Island in the San Juan Archelpeligo where the cold Canadian waters of the Straits of Georgia blend with the radical tides of the Straits of Juan de Fuca. It was time for me to use my entrainment techniques on the wild Orcas. I am no stranger to the misty, gray domain of the Killer Whale, the world’s foremost matriarchal society, for over the years, I have spent a great deal of treasured time observing the behavior of the many pods that roam the frigid waters of British Columbia and southern Alaska. I am completely at home when surrounded by cetaceans; yet, I spend most of my time living just off the beautiful Northern California coast, outside the small town of Santa Rosa. After reading the little article, I fell into a heavenly memory. Only weeks before, my husband Bill and I had spent fourteen glorious days underwater, photographing the wild Spotted and Spinner Dolphins of Hawaii that travel in pods of up to a thousand. It was a very third-eye-opening trip that occurred simultaneously with the bombardment of the planet Jupiter by the Shoemaker-Levy comet. I could hear her, Mother Ocean was calling me home again. The energetic welcome mat was glowing a bright red. For weeks I was tense with anticipation. I could hardly contain my excitement while preparing to communicate from close range again with the Orcas. I dreamed about them all night, every night. They were gently beckoning me in the daytime with frequent high pitched sounds in my left ear. Finally the expedition commenced; we embarked from a small marina on Orcas Island in our tiny flotilla of five rubber zodiacs. Our human pod headed out to interact with the Orcas on their terms; flat down on water level; in small rafts; and, oh yes, riding smack into an ominous thunderstorm.
That first uninhibited ride, flying across the water on the bow of the raft and feeling every lump, was one of the wildest rides of my life...and this adventuring woman has had more than a few. I could hear, smell and feel the surging welcome of the Orca consciousness in every drop of water that slapped my wind reddened face. Wearing a wet suit and juggling three cameras, each in their flimsy protective garbage bag, made every movement complicated. Fearlessly challenging the rain and wind, our raft fleet rounded a turn and entered a wide channel, just in time to see the first six-foot black dorsals sailing proudly in the drizzle! Our raft rocked dangerously when all four of us jumped up at once and screamed like banshees Oh thank you!
Within two minutes, more and more fins cut the black misty surface. I was convinced that the entire pod of about twelve giants was interested in us! I seemed to drift into an altered state. Every cell in my body remembered being an Orca eons ago under that dark water. I held my crystal pendant in one hand and camera in the other while asking the Orcas to communicate with me. They responded with immense pulsating rushes of loving energy that shot through me like a runaway locomotive. Immediately my knees turned to mush! As my heart heard their greetings, the gray clouds turned a dark, ominous navy blue and opened up, drenching us all with buckets of cold rain.
A short while later Dr. Eaton called the boats together to intone to the Orcas. It was obvious that the Orcas liked our songs! After we blended our voices for them, he and the other volunteers decided that they had endured quite enough of the elements, and sped back to the safety and warmth of camp. The brave foursome in our raft, Debbie, Heidi, David and I stayed to be the last vessel in sight accompanied by our hospitable leviathan hosts. We must have been a pitiful sight, a tiny raft in the rain. I was so happy to be home again that I didn’t notice that my limbs were numb.
Thankfully, the Orcas understood our limitations and chose to graciously surround our adoring little water-logged crew. Those black-backed sirens lured us all to our outer limits that day. The continual rain stung our faces like icy needles as they followed us, sometimes barely visible in the windblown white- capped grayness. At times, it was so dark that we couldn’t see them at all, but their thunderous breathing warmed our bodies and souls, providing us with a sense of safety. I could even feel the subtle vibration of their communication to each other.
They seemed delighted to be with us! I wanted to put my head down and weep for joy, but I was not about to lay down my cameras. I thought I heard them say, Stay with us just a little longer! Yes, I sighed to myself, I am all yours! As we feared, the storm did not pass us by, but completely engulfed the entire Puget Sound area. It is easy to look back and laugh now, but we were all soaked and freezing, shivering in our shoes. Expensive cameras and video equipment (my whole life) were inadequately dressed! Yet the whales were so persuasively attentive, that when I was again asked if I was ready to turn away from our ancient kinfolk to begin the long misery thump back to camp, my ocean loving, trembling blue lips quivered out a not yet! Fifteen minutes later a massive shaft of lightening hit the water in the distance and transformed insanity into reason. Too cold to speak, we bounced silently across the black water through the dark drizzle to a blazing campfire, supper and dry underwear.
Alone later, I unzipped the flap of my tiny tent and stared up to see a dazzling black velvet sky, crowded with constellations and sparked with shooting stars. The Pleiades were right in front of me. I sat in lotus position and called to the Orcas. I closed my eyes and saw tender visions of how the cetaceans are interconnected to the Earth and the universe as a whole. They are selflessly working to help humanity create a world that is integrated fully into spirituality. When I swam into the vision, a warm blanket of love cloaked me, I lost all concept of time and space as I now know it. I was with them. I was a whale, swimming once again among the pod in the black silky water. I asked questions that had come to me so many times before. Pulling out my journal, I wrote by flashlight, candlelight and starlight. Question: Do you like to interact with us? Answer: Of course we like it. We enjoy being near people who understand our connection to humans and the universe...but please, do let us play with you! We are here to help the entire planet; we do it for ourselves as well. We want the word of our quest to be contagious. Carry the gift of love to every heart. Every species needs your cooperation at this critical time of transformation. We are all so interconnected. By representing a higher consciousness, we hope to make humans aware of their divine potential to love and respect one another as we do. The secret of true happiness is willingness to give without expecting to receive. Remind your species of unconditional love with your stories and photographs. The concept of unconditional love can save your species, in turn, it can save us all.
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I was mesmerized by hearing the messages that were riding on the sweet songs of the cetaceans; their vocalizations are the very web that binds the Earth’s biosphere together. With my tear-filled eyes still closed, I held my Tachyon vortex pendant and sent my energy miles into Mother Earth. I didn’t even notice the raindrops that had begun to fall softly on the top of my little tent, until one doused the flame on my lone candle. The second day of the expedition brought more rain, dark clouds and even more enthusiasm. Three of our four person crew had wet suits, and we had come to swim with the Orcas. After an hour-long, spine cracking, wake-surfing ride, our pulses really began to race as our captain curtly cut the engine. The water was mystically smooth and blue gray.
There they were waiting for us! Numerous black dorsals of Orcas sliced the surface like sabers on silk. Yet straight ahead, only 100 feet away, glided smaller curved dorsals of Minke whales. The Minkes stayed in the same area as the Orcas! This Orca pod was obviously resident, whose members dine only on salmon and other fish. This behavior is just the opposite of the pods of transient creatures that feed freely on marine mammals such as those fuzzy, polka-dotted, round-eyed Harbor Seals we had passed by inhabiting the rocks on the myriad of treeless islands in the area. The first obliging bull submerged while heading straight for our raft. David and Debbie dove into the water. At last...I was ready! My heart pounding like a jackhammer, I asked my guardian angels to accompany me, then pulled the mask down over my eyes. Whap!...the strap snapped off the lenses and slapped my hand sharply! I was so shocked that I could only look up to the sky and say...Uh, okay! The other two divers got a bone chilling, but quick look at the monolith who coasted by, never turning his back on them. My next opportunity was coming closer as I sat anxiously, tentatively wearing a borrowed mask and scraping deep into my soul for an answer to the throbbing question...Should I go in? I had come all this way to feel the presence of the Orcas and I just could not get into the water. I was not scared, I didn’t want to scare the calves! Orcas are such advanced beings that they don’t attack people or each other. I just did not want to be inappropriate! I bowed my head, closed my eyes, took a deep breath and prayed for clarity. Immediately I knew that my mask breaking was not a fluke or a mistake at all. This was a test, and I was not supposed to enter the water! Surrendering to my heart’s guidance, I carelessly yanked off my fins, gloves and hood; watched, waited and trusted.
Much to my dismay, David went in anyway. He entered the water in front of what he thought was a cow. It was an Orca cow all right, but she was with her
baby! Of course, the little inexperienced
calf spotted him and made a beeline for this new creature in their path. Suddenly, the cow whacked the water with her
massive tail and slid her limousine body between diver and her offspring. David froze as the female herded the baby away
from the aborted encounter with a questionable, uninvited, all-assuming human. As we helped David back into the raft, we
could see he was very upset for seeming invasive. I
humbly thanked my angels for keeping me in my place regardless of what I had thought I had come here to do. We would have appeared even more disrespectful had
two humans intruded. Moments later, another mighty male Orca’s triangular dorsal appeared about twenty feet from our raft. It was our friend Ruffles again. He had been identified each day as one of our escorts. His distinctively wavy dorsal kept me wondering how it had been formed. I thought about the markings on dorsals and tails being as identifiable as human fingerprints. As his monstrous back disappeared only six feet from us, my knees became jellyfish. I wanted to entrain with him. This was the moment I had waited for since I learned how to do it, but they never told me what it would feel like! I put one trembling hand into the water and clutched my vortex pendant in the other; I began to run my energy and communicate with my rubbery professor. I offered him my heart, generously, unconditionally. He rolled over onto his back and glided under my side of the boat, inches from my hand. His energy rush snapped me like a full body whiplash. I could have easily exploded into star dust but I prayed for strength to stay lucid.
Time just stood still. His face was so close to mine that I could read his expression. His left eye conveyed an ancient kinship that stirred my deepest forgotten emotions. Inch by inch, his whole magnificently marked body floated by my disbelieving eyes. I wanted to scratch his brilliant white chin, and caress his massive, snow-white belly, but all I could manage to do was hang limply over the bow with my mouth agape. Tears rolled down my cheeks as his soul light shone on me saying, Remember us, we are your family. His enormous tail cleared our fragile craft without even touching it. Salty lips whispered to him, I love you.
Clear cobalt blue skies and warm sunshine greeted us on our last and most incredible day of the expedition. We were graced by the appearance of what is called a super-pod. Fifty to sixty Orcas had gathered together that day for the education of the humans that sang to them from the tiny rafts.
Countless spy-hops and breaches made us grateful to be alive witnessing the joyous communion of worlds.
Adults brought calves so close, it almost seemed as if they wanted to flop the
little guys right into our laps so we could stroke them.
There was obviously an element of harmlessness exuding from the little boats that
held the sweetly singing voices. The elders
must have decided to show the calves what human energy was like, and we were flattered. I will never forget the spectacle of at least thirty giants suddenly surging up in unison with their towering bodies halfway out of the water into the most unbelievable, magnificently synchronized lunge. All those black and white monarchs, pectoral to pectoral in a straight line, with dangerous jaws ripping up a school of hapless salmon. The little calves were close behind, imitating the charge, snagging the already stunned and wounded survivors. Everyone was joyously astonished marveling at the propulsion that it must have taken to perform such a perfectly choreographed and instantaneous spectacle. Like the dolphin’s sudden U turn, I wondered which one was blowing the silent whistle. My bet was on the oldest grandma, I liked to call her pod boss. As usual, our diehard little raft had been left gloriously alone with our loving teachers for the last two hours of this unforgettable day. With heavy, aching hearts, we reluctantly turned away from their slow deliberate escort for it was certain that darkness would race us (and win) to Deer Harbor many water miles away. My last look at the gentle giants was heart wrenching. I just hated turning away from willing playmates in the wild. We watched as God painted us a celestial sunset as a substitute for the black dorsals. Finally we headed eastward into the fading light, away from the royal family of the sea to freeze and flop toward the darkness and the glowing campfire on Orcas Island. Looking west toward Vancouver Island, I murmured prayers of thanks...just as my soul heard a high pitched song that sounded like farewell little sister, we love you too!
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