"Talking to the Canadians who live on the Digby Neck peninsula, one of the first things that struck me was that they love their country and they want you to love it too! And after one trip with Freeport Whale and Seabird Tours, I did! But before I take you out on the water, it’s worth paying some attention to this enchanting part
of Nova Scotia.
Half way down the west coast of Nova Scotia a narrow peninsula breaks away and curves out, like a spine, into the vast Bay of Fundy. Digby Neck is a forty kilometre long rural backwater, interspersed with a few villages, each with quaint names such as Mink Cove, Little River, and, at the very end of ‘the Neck’, Freeport. Freeport
Half way down the west coast of Nova Scotia a narrow peninsula breaks away and curves out, like a spine, into the vast Bay of Fundy. Digby Neck is a forty kilometre long rural backwater, interspersed with a few villages, each with quaint names such as Mink Cove, Little River, and, at the very end of ‘the Neck’, Freeport. Freeport
is a tiny place, with just enough room between
the forest and the sea to squeeze in a few houses, a restaurant and a ferry terminal.
A working fishing village and small-time tourist destination, Freeport is such a friendly and welcoming place that, once you have taken
A working fishing village and small-time tourist destination, Freeport is such a friendly and welcoming place that, once you have taken
maple syrup and pancakes at your B&B and chatted to folk in the shop or restaurant, you feel part of the Freeport family! For the intrepid tourist, Freeport and its neighbouring villages offer peace and tranquillity in abundance, with bird watching, beach combing, hiking trails, botany, and whale watching the most popular ways to fill the day. And if it’s the whales you are after, the first port of call is Freeport Whale and Seabird Tours!
Freeport Whale and Seabird Tours is a small family-run business owned by skipper Timothy Crocker and his wife Karen, who also, conveniently, have an office in Tim’s sister’s delightful little restaurant, ‘Lavena’s Catch’. This is the perfect place to spend an afternoon sitting out on the balcony, eating seafood chowder, drinking ‘real’ coffee, and taking in the scenery.
They say that tide and time wait for no man, and this is certainly true here. With a world record-breaking 17 metre tidal range, the entire shape of the coastline around Freeport seems to be continually remoulding in front of your eyes. Oceanographers state that this is due to a unique combination of lunar pull and wave action, but the
Freeport Whale and Seabird Tours is a small family-run business owned by skipper Timothy Crocker and his wife Karen, who also, conveniently, have an office in Tim’s sister’s delightful little restaurant, ‘Lavena’s Catch’. This is the perfect place to spend an afternoon sitting out on the balcony, eating seafood chowder, drinking ‘real’ coffee, and taking in the scenery.
They say that tide and time wait for no man, and this is certainly true here. With a world record-breaking 17 metre tidal range, the entire shape of the coastline around Freeport seems to be continually remoulding in front of your eyes. Oceanographers state that this is due to a unique combination of lunar pull and wave action, but the
indigenous Mi'kma.jpg)
q people have a different theory.
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q people have a different theory. Their folklore states that these huge tides were created by a whale splashing its tail. No wonder!
I can see two whales doing just that from my dining table outside the restaurant!
Lifting my binoculars reveals that this is a mother Humpback Whale with its calf. As I watch the two animals playing in the bay, a whale watching boat approaches. Immediately the calf begins to breach – lifting itself free of the water in a surprisingly elegant slow-motion maneuvre. I enviously ponder whether the people on the boat are getting wet as the whale crashes down on the water? Over the next few hours the whales are approached several more times, and each time the young Humpback goes on another leaping spree! It’s hard to judge whale behaviour but this youngster seems to be really enjoying itself, and I yearn to get out on the water. I tell myself that I have to be patient, as my tickets are booked for the following morning.
The next day I awoke early, opened my curtains and stared out with incredulity. There is only one thing worse than a storm for whale watching – fog! Dense, cold, pea soup; as thick as a hedge! “Fog is a big part of life around here,” said the owner of my bed and breakfast, “that’s why the local weather reports include separate ‘coastal’ and ‘inland’ forecasts.” Dejectedly I put
Lifting my binoculars reveals that this is a mother Humpback Whale with its calf. As I watch the two animals playing in the bay, a whale watching boat approaches. Immediately the calf begins to breach – lifting itself free of the water in a surprisingly elegant slow-motion maneuvre. I enviously ponder whether the people on the boat are getting wet as the whale crashes down on the water? Over the next few hours the whales are approached several more times, and each time the young Humpback goes on another leaping spree! It’s hard to judge whale behaviour but this youngster seems to be really enjoying itself, and I yearn to get out on the water. I tell myself that I have to be patient, as my tickets are booked for the following morning.
The next day I awoke early, opened my curtains and stared out with incredulity. There is only one thing worse than a storm for whale watching – fog! Dense, cold, pea soup; as thick as a hedge! “Fog is a big part of life around here,” said the owner of my bed and breakfast, “that’s why the local weather reports include separate ‘coastal’ and ‘inland’ forecasts.” Dejectedly I put
on some warm clothes and headed down to the quay where we were due to meet. At least skipper Tim would likely know when the weather might break.
On arrival I was surprised to see a number of people had already boarded the boat. At that moment Tim popped his head out of the wheelhouse and said, “We have a special technique for whale watching in the fog, so if you want to give it a go, jump onboard!”
We could just make out the silhouette of the lighthouse as we left port and headed out into the bay. It was cool, calm and eerily quiet. I knew that with all of his experience of tides and whales, Tim would head to the place that would give us the best chance of a sighting, but with visibility down to 50 metres could we really get a glimpse of the great leviathan? Half an hour later the boat slowed, and to my surprise Tim switched the engine off. Suddenly everything was silent, aside from the gentle lapping of waves on the boat’s hull..jpg)
It felt somehow as if we had gone back in time or to another world. It was just us and the sea, and maybe a whale? With visibility so reduced I found myself using my other senses
On arrival I was surprised to see a number of people had already boarded the boat. At that moment Tim popped his head out of the wheelhouse and said, “We have a special technique for whale watching in the fog, so if you want to give it a go, jump onboard!”
We could just make out the silhouette of the lighthouse as we left port and headed out into the bay. It was cool, calm and eerily quiet. I knew that with all of his experience of tides and whales, Tim would head to the place that would give us the best chance of a sighting, but with visibility down to 50 metres could we really get a glimpse of the great leviathan? Half an hour later the boat slowed, and to my surprise Tim switched the engine off. Suddenly everything was silent, aside from the gentle lapping of waves on the boat’s hull.
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It felt somehow as if we had gone back in time or to another world. It was just us and the sea, and maybe a whale? With visibility so reduced I found myself using my other senses
more acutely. Did I imagine the vague whiff of fish on the air?
I certainly didn’t imagine what came next; a loud whooshing
sound followed by a sharp intake of breath. A large whale was surfacing nearby. We heard it blow five times in all, each time sounding louder and louder, but we saw nothing.
Then everything went quiet for a few seconds, until we heard Tim shouting hysterically from the wheelhouse. “It’s under the
boat! I can see it on my echo-sounder!”
We waited, hearts in mouths for the whale to appear, but it simply remained submerged and disappeared off into the fog. Returning to port I noticed that everybody seemed strangely satisfied, and so, for that matter, was I! The atmosphere, the sounds and the close encounter had all contributed to a unique experience. I could safely say that this was the best whale watching trip I had ever taken in which I had not managed to see a whale!"
For more by Dylan check out www.csma.uk.com/magazine . . . and for more on Nova Scotia watch this space!
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