On the road: A bird and the loneliest killer whale in the world
By high-speed ferry from Canada to the USA
The distance between Victoria, the capital of British Columbia at the southern tip of Vancouver Island, and the city of Seattle in the northwestern USA is just under 75 miles as the crow flies. In between lies Puget Sound, a bay of the Pacific Ocean.
After three months in British Columbia, Canada, I am returning to the USA. These three months were so full of getting to know a country that was previously unknown to me, meeting people, and researching for radio features that I have only written about a few of my experiences. However, I want to catch up on what I missed before I move on. Because I would like you to accompany me on my journey. So I will take a narrative detour, starting with my return to the USA, then my stops in Canada and back to my current itinerary.
A lot to do... let me get started.
I book a trip with FRS Clipper, a US company, which is easy to tell from the blue, red, and white paint on the bow of the ship. The fast ferry takes passengers from Victoria, the capital of British Columbia on Vancouver Island, to Seattle, Washington State, in 2.5 hours – and the other way round. The alternative – taking the ferry from Victoria to the mainland to Vancouver and then continuing by train or bus to Seattle – takes more than ten hours. The second option, taking the ferry across Puget Sound to the American mainland to Port Angeles and then continuing by bus, would still have taken a good six hours. A plane would make it from one city to the other in just 51 minutes, but I’m environmentally conscious and, besides, after spending a month in Victoria on the Pacific Ocean, I want to see the sea for as long as possible – and maybe even spot some whales.
Customs and passport control are conducted at the pier before departure. Several acquaintances had expressed concerns about whether I might be turned away by US customs officials, or even worse, perhaps even detained. There are now many such cautionary examples. No, I wasn’t afraid. It was actually only through these inquiries that I first came up with the idea of not being “let in.” And my experience was: As soon as the customs officials notice that I’m traveling with a journalist visa, they treat me with particular courtesy. At least, that’s how I perceive it. Customs and passport processing runs like clockwork.
I’ve booked a seat in the cheapest economy class. I’d be standing outside on the deck anyway—looking for whales. That’s my idea. And that’s what I’m doing now. It’s a cloudy but mild day. I’m standing on the aft deck, leaning against the ship’s cabin so the wind doesn’t blow directly in my face. I let my eyes wander. I look primarily west—toward the side facing the open ocean, or rather, the tip of the US coast. Along the Olympic Peninsula stretches the gentle rise and fall of hills and the Hoh Rainforest.
I was there in September 2019, almost exactly six years ago, and I loved the rainforest. The reason for my trip back then was the dismantling of the two dams on the Elwha River, which was intended to revive the natural salmon run. I reported on this for German and Austrian radio. And about the sound tracker, Gordon Hempton, who, under the motto “The Earth is a solar-powered jukebox,” records the silence of nature with his microphone and has created “one square inch of silence” in the Hoh Rainforest, symbolized by a small red stone. I think of him, Hempton, as I look out at the silhouette of the Olympic Peninsula from the FRS Clipper.
But back to the present: My gaze falls on a small, black-feathered bird, flying alongside the ferry with quick, sharp wing beats. I can’t tell what kind of bird it is, only that it’s not a seagull. This bird is considerably smaller and captivates me. How can such a small creature fly so fast—and against the wind - as this modern vessel plows through the water with its two outboard motors? By the time I finally pull out my smartphone, minutes of our journey together have already passed. The ferry makes a slight left turn, increasing the distance to the small bird. It eventually turns as well and disappears from view in the diffuse backlight of the waves and clouds.
I don’t see a single whale on the entire cruise. Luckily, I think. Because it only takes a few minutes from my observation post on deck until I become aware of the deafening noise of the two onboard engines (which, moreover, run on petrol or diesel and thus pollute the sea water.) I remember all the articles about how noise from ships disturbs, and even endangers, whales in their habitat. On Facebook, I came across the group “Friends of Vancouver Island”. They criticize the high number of commercial whale watching boats on both the Canadian and US sides. They also say that the companies drive too close to the whales and their calves with their motorboats, sometimes pursuing them for days or even weeks. The administrator, Ryan Michael, therefore wants to raise awareness about land-bound whale watching.
Whales, specifically the mighty yet so gentle blue whales, are my favorite animals. I decide to do some in-depth research on whale watching soon. For now, surrounded by the roar of the onboard engines, I hope the whales avoid the noisy FRS Clipper ferries. And I promise myself that on my next trip to this area, I will allow more time and choose a more environmentally friendly and whale-friendly mode of transport.
As I write this text, bad news reaches me via the Friends of Vancouver Island: Administrator Ryan Michael writes that Marineland of Canada, an theme park in the eastern province of Ontario near Niagara Falls, has given the Canadian federal government a terrifying ultimatum: Either the government provides emergency funding for the feeding and care of the beluga whales still living in captivity or it faces the “direct consequence” - the euthanasia of the animals.
The theme park, Michael writes, has long been criticized for its treatment of marine mammals. Since 2019, 20 whales have died at the facility, including Kiska, “the world’s loneliest orca”. The female killer whale was captured in the North Atlantic in 1979 at about three years old and brought to an aquarium in Iceland, where she briefly lived with four other young orcas, including Keiko, the future star of the “Free Willy” films. Shortly thereafter, Kiska and Keiko were sold to Marineland. Keiko was subsequently resold to an amusement park in Mexico but later rehabilitated and returned to the waters off Iceland. Meanwhile, Kiska gave birth to five calves at Marineland. All died at a young age. Studies suggest that orcas’ capacity to experience deep, complex emotions rivals or even exceeds that of humans. “The bond between mother and calf is so deep that it’s hard to imagine the grief and trauma Kiska has suffered from losing each calf over the years,” emphasizes the Canadian Whale Sanctuary Project, which advocates for a sanctuary for whales and dolphins. From 2009 until her death in 2023, a total of 14 years, Kiska lived alone in her concrete tank. Although still on display, she no longer performed for the public. Video footage and eyewitness accounts depicted her behavior as repetitive and lethargic. Marineland officials were quoted as saying that Kiska “spends her golden years doing what she wants.”
Ryan Michael writes in his current Facebook post:
This text was first published on my German website and translated by me.