The boat swings softly. You gaze toward the horizon, wondering if that splash was actual or only your eyes fooling you. Finally, bam. One hears a tail slap like a cannon. Welcome in Lahaina to whale season. For tips on how to spot whales from the shore, read here.
The sweet run is January through March. Expect disappointment if you go up in May hoping for a National Geographic moment. Winter brings whales; spring marks their departure. None except from this.
Early in the morning Gold. The sea’s quiet influences the softer light; the whales? They come across as more audacious. Perhaps they are only morning people. Before lunch, you’ll see more action than most people experience all week.
Drink tickets and stay away from the mega-vessels featuring DJs. Assume a smaller workforce. If you’re adventurous, even paddle kayaks and little catamarans. You will become closer—both practically and emotionally. The sea seems more like a discussion than like a stage.
Ask about Captain Kalani around here. travels with the same faded cap. says it’s fortunate. Says he once observed a humpback breach right next to the deck, dousing it completely. Nobody turned to grab a towel. Their laughter resembled those of lunatics.
Concern yourself not with immaculate photos but with You will lament the shutter delay, shake your fingers, and find salt on your lens. Sometimes it might be better to merely observe. Indeed be present.
Scripts are not followed by whales. They are silent one day and then flying like circus performers. That is part of the excitement—zero predictability.
Want to wow your buddies on your boat? As you have done in past years, mention blowhole flukes and pectoral slaps. Just keep from going too far. A whale snob is unacceptable to everyone.
Oh—and stuff ginger candy. The sea legs are not assured. Neither a dry shirt nor anything else.
You will forget everything else, though, if you find even one decent breach. It strikes varying degrees in Lahaina.