Paul Rush enjoys whale-watching and high altitude adventure, while empathising with our mammalian next of fin.
I have long been fascinated by whales: entranced by the drama of Moby Dick, the emotion of Free Willy and the legend of the Whale Rider.
A 2015 movie, In the Heart of the Sea, spiked my interest further, even though an overly aggressive giant cetacean with personal issues dispatched a Nantucket whaler and her crew.
Arriving in Kaikoura on a holiday visit, there's only one thing on my mind, to join the eager camera-toting tourists who have giant sperm whales in their sights.
But is it really ethical and responsible tourism? The history of the human/cetacean relationship is fraught with inconsistencies. First characterised by fear and awe, whales then became a resource to be exploited until finally being recognised as a marine treasure.
On this particular trip I decide to take the flightseeing option. There's already a squadron of large seabirds circling over the sparkling blue ocean, so one more winged creature should not disturb the big mammals.
‘‘Look out for a steel grey submarine-like creature as we fly out to sea,'' says our pilot as she guides the plane towards the eastern horizon.
‘‘On a good day there are four or five sperm whales here. They are mainly solitary adolescent males making the most of the prolific food sources off Kaikoura.''
All eyes are focused on the sparkling sea, with occasional glimpses of the breathtaking snow-capped summits of the seaward Kaikouras. The flight is exhilarating. The deep blue ocean is immense.
The bay sweeps south to a faint smudge on the horizon that is Banks Peninsula. Albatrosses, petrels, shearwaters and sooty terns wheel and dive over the shimmering sea and a large pod of dolphins play below.
‘‘Thar she blows'', someone shouts over the intercom. The sun's rays catch a mushroom cloud of water vapour suspended in the air. Only from above can you appreciate the mammoth proportions of the mighty whale, from its stubby nose to its thunderous tail.
‘‘We call this big boy Manu,'' our pilot says.
The colossal grey back appears shrivelled due to natural surface corrugations. White blotches are streaked along the flank. The long, smooth head occupies a third of the total body length.
It contains liquid spermaceti, which solidifies on cooling and acts as a diving weight. Manu has been a lonely bachelor for too long. These cold waters with their upwelling currents and frequent southerly blusters have given him a good living.
He could not have found a more bountiful canyon, replete with a smorgasbord of the tastiest denizens of the deep.
Because of his long years of bachelorhood, Manu is feeling restless. Deep inside his inner consciousness, a new sense of urgency and compulsion is emerging. Manu can't fully comprehend this innate drive, even though he possesses the largest brain in the world.
All he knows is that it relates to that warmer world in the deep undersea trenches of the tropics. He remembers halcyon pre-adolescent days when he frolicked with the females of his pod.
In a strange unfathomable way these new inner urges seem to relate to those youthful playmates.
In the 40 years since he first entered the vast undersea world he has experienced a surprising build-up of size, strength and stamina and has reached the age of sexual maturity. He has attained his adult length of 18m and weight of 40 tonnes.
Unlike his great white literary ancestor, Moby Dick, Manu is not intent on revenge but rather on loving. He is the new blooming Adonis in the kingdom of the cetaceans.
Soon he'll dive 1600m down to the Kaikoura Canyon and follow its course to the crushing depths of the Hikurangi Trench and the breeding grounds in Tonga. He will feed on squid, sharks, ling and groper during his three-week journey to the islands.
Once he reaches the islands, his goal is to challenge a dominant old bull whale and take over his harem of around 30 cows. He knows he must succeed or face humiliation.
The bright sun highlights his glistening, blubbery skin. He blows every 15 seconds and seems to wallow in the water.
‘‘It's show time, watch for the tail,'' calls the pilot as the great blunt head dips under the surface and the whale arches its back preparing to dive.
The tail rises majestically out of the sea as water cascades off the flukes and bright droplets of water reflect pinpricks of light. The whole dark shape slowly disappears from view. Manu is on his way home.
Now I need to make my way home. I will be staying at Hapuka Lodge, a 15-minute drive away. Once I arrive I find myself blissfully airborne again in a novel form of accommodation.
Five tall tree houses stand out like a row of forest watchtowers between a green swath of deer pasture and an olive orchard. The sense of elevation is heightened by the steep slope down to the orchard. It is more than 10m
below floor level. I'm about to learn that living and sleeping in the tree tops confers a number of benefits. The sunsets are gorgeous and fresh sea breezes waft in to cool the room.
There's also complete privacy and the mountain views are stunning. Everything is beyond beautiful in this elevated oasis. Private suntrap decks are placed on both sides to give an outlook to the mountains or through an olive grove to the sea.
The tree houses are named after native birds and exterior doors are painted in the same feather colours as the birds, a nice avian touch. No trees were felled to build the complex and 10,000 natives have been planted in the grounds.
For those who can tear themselves away from the languid luxury of the tree houses at Hapuka Lodge, Kaikoura offers a host of attractions. However, for me nothing beats the natural high of soaring above the waves as a whale-watch ‘‘eye in the sky.''
-By Paul Rush
