Fight For Survival!

A journey into Icelandic waters proves to be an introduction to the wonder of whales, as also to the grim reality of their fight for survival.

- Vahishta Mistry

There is a pregnant silence on board the schooner, Haukur. The only sounds are the creaks of the old wooden deck, the wind in the riggings of the sails high above us and the gentle swishing of our bow clipping through the waves in Skjálfandi Bay, Iceland. Then, suddenly, we hear a crisp command: “1 o’clock! Fin!” In almost mechanical synchronisation, 15 heads swivel to see a graceful triangular shape cutting through the surface of the sea, a dark shadow almost ominously looming below it. That is my first glimpse of a minke whale. Almost dolphin-like in appearance (if dolphins were the size of a small truck), minke whales are impish, mischievous looking creatures that are invariably inquisitive and prone to showing off for boats like ours.

As the tourists coo and click pictures, I fancy I can hear a slightly exasperated exhalation from my right—that is the captain, making his presence felt. The only person unmoved by the display, he is at the wheel, eyes peeled, looking for larger game. All salt and rough edges, he is the essence of the sea. Not the pleasant, warm beachside kind either: Think fierce, cold North Atlantic. What belies this description, though, are his eyes. Blue and sparkling, they hint at a sense of humour buried deep beneath the choppy waves.

Evidently the skipper has seen enough of minkes and wants to move on to more interesting game. I don’t blame him. It’s like coming to Mumbai and being amazed at the sight of pigeons. Unlike their endangered cousins, the humpback, fin, sei and blue whales (among others), minke whales are categorised as being of Least Concern to the International Union for Conservation of Nature’s Red List, which documents species and their relative risk of extinction.