Dear Readers,
Today begins our vividly peculiar diary on an exquisite, aquatic jamboree that involves the biggest creature on the blue planet – Señorita Wilhelmina, the Blue Whale.
Once ruffling out of a seaplane, splashed with excitement over the vast, twinkle-smothered Pacific, we locate Wilhelmina through the echo-sighs of maritime mapping. Like a cryptic drummer, her heart's symphony reverberates through miles, leading us to her. If you've ever chased a rumbling dirge of a locomotive underwater, you'd understand this heady pursuit.
We soon find herself gliding with the elegance of a silken banner, unpinned by zephyrs. True to our nature, we christened each fellow sea-denizen she cavorted with – honorable Sir Squidsworth, petite Mademoiselle Seahorse, the frenetic clan of Clownfish, and an ostentatious octet of Octopuses whom we, without creativity, named after the eight wonders. Together, they orchestrated an underwater ballet, mirroring a Tchaikovsky symphony.
Aboard the eccentric observer's vessel named 'The Bellowing Quill,' we followed the meandering path of Wilhelmina. The ship, with its unlikely collection of potted plants, record players, armadillo sculptures and mismatched teacups, served as our robust fortress amidst the wild waves.
The following day, as Aurora unfurled her pastel quilt, we watched Wilhelmina play a tender game of pebble-bounce with Lady Minke, the Minke Whale. Filled with amicable rivalry, they tossed a sunken ship's porthole back and forth; a sight that reeked of familiarity and camaraderie. There was unspoken eloquence in the way Wilhelmina and Lady Minke communicated. Like two yodeling alpinists echoing across precipices, their complex whistles, clicks, and pulses made a sinewy pattern of aquatic lingua franca.
Cut to dusk, seabirds played silhouette-kite across the crimson cascade of the sinking sunset as Wilhelmina, in an amiable camaraderie, lunged toward a shrimping buffet with Horace, the Humpback Whale. In between the boisterous splashes and sprays, there were what we perceived as hearty chuckles and a rollicking waltz with planktons. We imagined Horace saying, "Willy, these krills are simply delightful! Pass the dressing, will you?" to which our dear Wilhelmina would respond, "Horace, you know I'm on a low-sea-salt diet!"
The night was surreal; Wilhelmina and friends performed an eerie bioluminescent sonata, with a star-studded sky above and a twinkling sea below. As the curtain of darkness descended, the wattage of hidden oceanic elves – tiny organisms called bioluminescent planktons, sparkled as they got disturbed by Wilhelmina's mammoth trail, illuminating her path in an ethereal light-show. No July Fourth fireworks could ever match this.
Days passed, we followed the merriment and drama of the deep blue. In these intimate encounters, we learned a lesson in liveliness and oceanic love, the language of waves, and the lullaby of tides rendering the lives of Señorita Wilhelmina and her lively comrades.
The echoes and rhythms marked my very own Moby-dickian tale, a scrapbook of memories adorned with maritime mirth. One realizes that beneath the surface where sunbeams perish, life throbs in strange pulses and waves. Whales do sing, and they celebrate life grandiosely.
Today, "The Bellowing Quill" sails north, the frothy breath of Wilhelmina still fresh on stars. Eyes on shores unseen, heart bearing the whale song, we look forward to our next encounter with the odd, the unexpected, the eccentric.
Remember, dear readers, the earth has music for those who listen.
Till we embark on another wild adventure,
Gage Neal.
