Silver Bank

Silver Bank is a shallow reef area off the northern coast of the Dominican Republic where humpback whales gather during the winter breeding season. I went there in 2023 for a week on a liveaboard, hoping to get in the water with them. It would be my first time snorkeling with whales.

My wife had come with me after a fair amount of convincing on my part. It was only the second snorkel trip of her life, and being in the water with animals this large wasn't on her short list. Even a baby is roughly the size of a small school bus.

One day, we were eating lunch aboard when a mother humpback and her calf started circling the boat. They came around four or five times, sometimes right alongside us, sometimes passing underneath. We had already been in the water with this pair a couple of times that morning. Neither encounter had been particularly exceptional, but the mother had seen our boat dropping snorkelers into the water. Now she was hanging around while we ate lunch.

I can't say what she wanted, but this was clearly more than a pass-by. It seemed as though she wanted us to come entertain her calf so she could rest.

Once we got in, the mother swam around for a while with the calf tucked against her underside. The calf seemed shy at first, staying close as she moved around us.

The visibility wasn't great. I took photographs of the mother and calf relaxing down below. She would settle thirty or forty feet below us, then come up with the calf every ten minutes or so. For a while, we watched them do this together, the calf rarely leaving her side.

Gradually, it started getting more comfortable. It moved farther from its mother and became more interested in the group floating at the surface. Eventually, she went down to rest about thirty to fifty feet below us, and the calf stayed up with us.

It rolled, spun, swam straight toward us, then darted away. What started as curiosity quickly became play. Similar to a puppy with a new toy. It kept coming back, getting bolder and wanting to get closer.

The mother stayed below while we occupied her calf. Whether that was what she'd had in mind while circling the boat, I have no idea, but that was how it worked out.

There is something intimidating about a humpback swimming directly at you, even a young one that seems to be enjoying itself. I was watching its pectoral flippers and tail as much as anything else. The adults seemed much more precise in how they moved around us. With the calf, I wasn't as confident about where those flippers were going to end up. A playful encounter could still leave someone hurt.

Each time it came toward me, I hoped it would veer off before it got too close. It did, then came back to do it again.

My wife had been uncomfortable before the play started. As the calf became more animated, she decided she'd had enough and went back to the boat. I had more experience in the water, but I understood her decision.

A few of us stayed longer. The calf kept approaching, and its early shyness was gone.

I made In Defense of Dreams during this encounter. Most of my photographs of the mother were from earlier, before the calf became so rambunctious. By then, I needed to pay more attention to the whale than the camera.

Eventually, the rest of us decided the play was getting a little too animated. We retreated back to the boat.

The calf rejoined its mother, and they eventually swam off together. We'd gone in hoping for a better encounter than we'd had that morning. By the end, we were the ones who needed a break.