HITCHING A RIDE ON THE BACK OF A WHALE

Our rubber inflatable boat is listing to about 45°, and £150,000 of camera gear is sliding and clattering over the floor. We’re in the middle of Nova Scotia’s Bay of Fundy, about 40 miles out to sea, but as I look over the side my mind reels in disbelief – I can’t see any water, just shiny black skin like a wetsuit. We are sitting on the back of a whale.

Then there’s a massive blow of warm air that smells like concentrated garlic, and a deep, resonant rumbling like someone blowing madly over the largest pipes of a massive church organ. There’s a sense of almost telepathic connection to this enormous creature, which has surfaced right underneath us. It’s as if I can hear it thinking, ‘This doesn’t happen very often. What have I got on my back?’

The boat is now at its steepest angle, with the whale as far out of the water as it could be, and still we don’t fall off. It is as though the whale, despite its massiveness, is trying to be as careful as possible with us: ‘Oh, I’d better let them go. If I dive slowly, perhaps they’ll just float off.’ And that’s what it did.