The unsuccessful attempted sighting of Migaloo

For our third year anniversary, X took me for whale watching. The jetty was located in SeaWorld Resort. The humpback whale passes Australia every year during their migration for mating and breeding purposes. The pods travel about 12,000 km annually. These whales have an average lifespan of 70-80 years, but the oldest one known was 95 years old. The age of the whales is gauged from the rings of their earwax (yeah, I thought they were kidding too).

There were about 30+ people onboard, comprising a mish mash of Asian tourists and locals. The captain admitted that the mention of Japan's involvement in whaling is omitted due to a you-scratch-my-back-I-scratch-yours agreement with their tour agencies.

The crew were incredibly friendly and well informed. My conversations with the captain and skipper were significant to me - they were the first Australian strangers (apart from X's friends) I'd ever had proper conversations with (Hello, how are you/ Hi, can I help you/ That'll be AUD16.90 thanks and come-ons don't count).

The captain was a jolly man, who clearly held a passion for his job and the mammals. "Have you ever accidentally hit one?" I asked, as we were actively roaming over the waters in the general direction of blowholes and tail flips.

"About two weeks back, we bumped into one and it was like, Dooonggggg!!! We might have given him a bit of a headache", he laughed and further explained on a good day, the whales would rub themselves against the ship to scratch off some barnacles. For some strange reason, this reminded me of the kraken attack from Pirates of the Carribean 2.

The skipper was a stout man. Being rather petite myself, I'd noticed that due to some lack of self confidence/ macho complex, short men tend to strike up conversations with me. He'd kept asking me about myself, especially about the means with which I entered the country. It later turned out that he had a Japanese girlfriend whom he was hoping to start a life with. Having put up with three years of long distance affections, I was able to empathise and gave him some pointers.

We spent about three and half hours onboard. During the duration, two people puked their brains out from seasickness. The rest of us shivered from the wind and unnaturally cool weather. The churling sea rocked the boat side to side and I'd tripped and sustained an impressive spot of carpetburn covering most of my right knee. In the past 3 days I've spent in Gold Coast, I've acquired more bruises/ scratches/ burns then I had in the past probably 5 years in Malaysia.

We didn't actually see much whale - just the odd spurt of water and tail flip (I humoured myself by waiting for fat Australians to hang out at the bow of ship and yelling, "Migaloo, 12 o'clock!"). Two years back, when X and I were driving by the 75 Mile Beach on Fraser Island, we saw two whales breaching while mating just 70 feet from shore, so it was kind of hard to top that. The crew offered everyone a discount coupon for their next trip in compensation. X and I took one, but I doubt we'll be going anytime soon.

I might wear kneepads if we do then.