Sea Sun Kayak School - Whales and Tails in Nova Scotia

Sea Sun Kayak School & Adventures

Whales and Tails in Nova Scotia

By Rob Girard

In Nova Scotia it is hard to avoid the ocean for long. It’s reflected in your rear-view mirror as you drive along the world famous Cabot Trail, and perhaps even brighter in the eyes of children playing in the surf. Tourist boutiques, whale watching charters and boaters abound while the province shines in a landscape surrounded on virtually all sides by the Atlantic Ocean. Wilderness kayaking is still possible here. Offering a variety of coastlines, extremes if you will, ranging from cliffs, to beaches, to island clusters where archipelagos of life are there for exploration, and self-discovery. In Nova Scotia, the ocean is a magnet.

As a sea kayak guide and former competitive paddler, I had logged a fair amount of kilometres, however my whale experiences consisted of: "It went up, and then it went down." Not too exciting by my standards, and acquaintances would remark; "That’s it? No big splash? No hoop-la?"

There are, however, places to go if you truly want to increase your chances of seeing whales, and Nova Scotia’s Cape Breton’s Highlands was such a place.

A friend and I strapped our ocean-going kayaks atop our not-so-all-terrain vehicle and headed out to discover for ourselves the beauty and mystique of Nova Scotia’s Cabot Trail.

Two summers ago, before this trip, as a seakayak guide near Louisbourg, Cape Breton, I had taken a day off, needless to say, without my kayak, to explore part of the Cabot Trail. I arrived at the top of Cape Smokey, one of the parks’ highest points, amidst the whirring and snapping of cameras and videocams. The cliffs edge was protected by a galvanized fence, and a drop of over 500 metres filled me with a sense of awe and importance. My immediate thoughts were of whales, and I sought an empty space of fence to scout the blue waters far below.

Black specks, at first glance appeared to be bobbers, perhaps from fishing nets or lobster traps which were common to this coastline. I stared, daydreaming at one of the spots, lost in the moment, when it disappeared, only to reappear again nearby."My God!", I thought. "Whales! Dozens of them! Bobbing and feeding silently."

I looked around, barely able to contain my delight, dying to tell someone of my unique discovery. I wanted to scream, "Whales! Whales! Can’t you guys see them! See those little dots close to shore, that’s them!" But by now, the group, consisting largely of bus tour participants, had moved off, oblivious to the presence of those magnificent mammals. I had arrived alone and with no one to share this moment with, I could do nothing but silently stare in wide-eyed wonder.

A sandy beach sparkled golden brown in the afternoon sun below, a rock tower, like a lonely sentinel, guarded the beach from the ocean nearby. A perfect camping spot I thought. A Great Black Backed Gull rose on the warm rising air currents in front of me.

It was on this day that I swore to return to this place, to share this magnificence with someone. To kayak with whales, and to explore the caves, cliffs and secluded beaches far below.

We arrived in the late afternoon at Cheticamp on the western side of Cape Breton Highlands National Park. We wandered around the Park Information Centre, while growing more and more excited about tomorrow’s journey. Whale memorabilia had met us enroute at every stop, and now, bursting at the seams with anticipation, information photos once again reminded us that we were indeed in the "land of many whales".

"How can we miss?" I reminded, recalling a few billboards we had seen. "Whale charters are guaranteeing whale sightings-or your money back!"

Billboard bragging rights gave way to high, green hills, as we made our way slowly into the park entrance. On the hill sides, dark shadows now predominated where sunshine had once been. Our campsite, Cap Rouge, lay a short drive within the park’s boundary. We had selected this site based on its accessibility to the ocean, and arrived at our site in time to set up our dome tent before dark. As we sat across each other at the picnic table, admiring the glistening ocean, we noticed a glow above the mountains behind us. Guessing, we assumed it was the glow of city lights from Sydney, the closest city, or perhaps a forest fire, illuminating the night sky. When the moon peeked it’s bald head over the mountain top our speculations quickly ended, and we slept that night without the covering of our tent, allowing the beams of moonlight to silently sift through the dome’s screen.

Breakfast consisted of porridge with strawberries and orange juice. We had unloaded our kayaks from the car the night before to allow us access to the hatchback, and they lay in quiet wait on the grass, as if to say, "We’re here. We’re yours and everyone else in the park is envious!"

Indeed this appeared to be the case as we loaded our sea kayaks for a days adventure. I placed my new mask and snorkel set under the rear bungees since the water on this coastline was reputed to be warm, as our neighbours grilled us with questions about this "marvellous sport…"

"Aren’t you scared of tipping over?" "How fast are they?" "How much do they cost?"

9:30 am Eventually we were water bound, after launching off a cobblestone beach. I couldn’t help bit feel slightly anxious on this day. The weather was calm and sunny, but it was now time to "walk the walk"’ or"paddle the paddle" if you will. Admittedly the girl I had brought with me was someone special, whom I sought to impress. What if we saw no whales? Could this all be hoop-la? I managed a wry smile, comfort if you will, to a girl who didn’t need comforting as she surged away in search of whales.

11:00 am Salty, and somewhat in need of a bathroom break, we decided to paddle around the next bend in search of a sufficient landing spot. The pattering of water could be heard, and we were excited to discover a magnificent waterfall cascading deliciously upon the beach, providing both a relaxing shower, and a photo opportunity that would later be the envy of my friends.

1:30 pm A fin broke the horizon and my heart almost broke a rib. We decided to paddle straight out from the shoreline to get a better look. Unwrapping my camera, it became obvious to me that this was no small pod of whales, yet they seemed oblivious to our presence as they glided by.

Taking pictures of whales is sort of like dabbling in the stock exchange. You wait for the perfect opportunity, and in doing so, miss out on some great opportunities! Thinking that these might be the best shots of the day I clicked away, while fifty metres ahead, they glided past our bows. A dull click revealed I was now out of film, and with a deep breath, I looked around to get my bearings. My companion had drifted about ten feet away, her teal colored kayak bobbing quietly amidst the low ocean swells.

Suddenly, as if by some whale initiated command, a second pod of whales made directly toward us. Some were huge, their backs rising three and a half feet out of the water. Others, like bobbing corks, sought to get their heads out of the water for a better look. All moved in, to very close quarters, to what I hoped wasn’t the kill. Breaking the surface one last time, their mammoth bodies slid under our bums-er, kayaks, and some stayed there. Others popped their heads out of the water close enough to touch, as if to say "Could you scratch me here please?" Under us, one whale was so close we had to quietly pull up our rudders for fear of having them bent.

Clinging, white knuckled to my friend’s kayak, to prevent our boats from becoming separated, I tried to look brave. Squeals of delight revealed my partner was slightly less concerned. Another whale tried to bump the whale under us out of the way, and I gritted my teeth like one who has gotten on a circus ride going much too fast. I wanted it to end, yet continue at the same time. The whales had other plans, and within a instant they were gone.

As we clung there to each other, a moment of excited conversation ensued and it was all I could do to refrain from saying; "That was incredible! Let’s get the hell out of here!"

But it was too late. Another pod was approaching us. Once again I clung to her boat. Part of me wanted to protect her, while another part simply wanted to be protected. I managed a sarcastic "Great" as the pod got closer. This time the pod was approaching faster, and none seemed to bob in the water curiously like the last pod. Did they see us? Maybe they thought we were seaweed!

In silent desperation, I shoved my paddle deep into the water, hoping to attract their attention.

Like a school of minivans they approached, and at the last possible second, slid effortlessly beneath us again.

For the next ten minutes, we were once again inundated with swirling fins, big bulging eyes, and silent stares. Some would speed by, while others would startle us as they surfaced from the depths, their blowholes sounding all around us. Sunlight glistened on their dark backs, and my companion remarked on the numerous scratches and abrasions she could see on their skins. Like lazy lovers, they sought to proximate their bodies as close to us as possible. Then once again, they were gone.

I wasn’t quite so nervous this time around, and it was becoming apparent to me that these whales were as curious of us as we were of them. And gentle. Not one had touched our kayaks during our whale encounter. It was if they had been aware of every inch of their body.

On the horizon, more fins were coming towards us, followed in the distance by whale watching tour boats loaded with sightseers from Cheticamp.

As if reading each other’s minds, we both began paddling for shore, and like cars swinging in and out of road pylons, we managed to avoid any further approaching pods during our progress shoreward.

Shortly before we reached the shore, we noticed two other Kayakers paddling along, hugging the coastline. Elated after our experience, and pointing seaward, we yelled. "Hey, you guys! You should see all the whales out there!" Their response was simple, and quick...... "Yeah we know! Why do you think we’re paddling in here!"

To view the listing for this family attraction or to contact Sea Sun Kayak School & Adventure go to Nova Scotia Family Attractions.