Swimming with beluga whales -- Bathing with belugas
Bathing with belugas
When the day to snorkel with the whales arrived, I woke up with a terrible cold. But I hadn't come this far to let a few aches and sniffles knock me out. I gathered my determination, pulled my wetsuit on and headed out -- but no matter how much I had prepared, nature had her own plans for me. Seven journalists and I were going to snorkel in the warm waters of Churchill River but instead, we dipped into Hudson Bay where the water was colder but the visibility better.
In Churchill, the polar bear capital of the world, my cold had me feeling like a polar bear was sitting on my chest. As soon as I slid into Hudson Bay, the icy water took my breath away and I had to remind myself that I could swim. Struggling to find comfort with the snorkel's breathing tube, I plunged my face into the water and immediately pulled it back out as cold water seeped into my wetsuit. I straightened up for a few minutes but was determined to force my face back in. I relaxed my body, controlled my breathing and dipped my face back in for a while. I couldn't see any whales so my thoughts quickly turned to the cold water on my chest. But at least I was distracted from worries about not being able to swim.My fear of drowning was gone -- perhaps it was replaced by a sudden fear of pneumonia that told me I should get out of the water. Back in the boat, I noticed another member of our team was still in the water when a pod of inquisitive belugas swam right below her and she was thrilled. Disappointed that I didn't stay out longer, I contented myself with a breathtaking view of a pod of about six gracefully rising and falling in the water. Once again, I was thankful for the experience; after all, I wouldn't have dreamed of taking part in this just two years ago.
Hope floats
My swim sessions have come complete with many personal lessons. I've learned that in water, just as on ground, expecting too much from myself can lead to disappointment; but not expecting enough can lead to missed opportunities and stunted growth. I've also learned to push my boundaries but kindly accept my limitations. Do I dive head-first into waters of unknown depths? Not if I can help it. Do I tense up when a huge wave threatens to swallow me whole? You bet! Even if this fear is hiding beneath the surface, I'm confident that I've splashed back at it, gained enough comfort to stay afloat and I've kept myself from drowning in it.
I imagine the day I'm completely fearless of drowning is the day that humans develop the ability to breathe, unassisted, underwater. Until then, I'll take my personal victories where I can get them. Yesterday it was in the deep end of a community centre's pool, today it's alongside beluga whales in Churchill, Manitoba. Tomorrow, I may visit a waterfall and laze in a river -- because I can. I'm a swimmer now, you know.
Not so fast!
As if to provoke, fate threw another challenge at me on my return flight home. After circling a few times under grey skies over Toronto, we finally landed but wouldn't be allowed to disembark until a red alert was lifted at the airport. There was a lightning storm hovering overhead. As antsy passengers grumbled about possibly missing connecting flights, I was preoccupied by other perils. Landings, and fuel, and lightning -- oh my! With one fear conquered -- sort of -- another one moved right in.
When the day to snorkel with the whales arrived, I woke up with a terrible cold. But I hadn't come this far to let a few aches and sniffles knock me out. I gathered my determination, pulled my wetsuit on and headed out -- but no matter how much I had prepared, nature had her own plans for me. Seven journalists and I were going to snorkel in the warm waters of Churchill River but instead, we dipped into Hudson Bay where the water was colder but the visibility better.
In Churchill, the polar bear capital of the world, my cold had me feeling like a polar bear was sitting on my chest. As soon as I slid into Hudson Bay, the icy water took my breath away and I had to remind myself that I could swim. Struggling to find comfort with the snorkel's breathing tube, I plunged my face into the water and immediately pulled it back out as cold water seeped into my wetsuit. I straightened up for a few minutes but was determined to force my face back in. I relaxed my body, controlled my breathing and dipped my face back in for a while. I couldn't see any whales so my thoughts quickly turned to the cold water on my chest. But at least I was distracted from worries about not being able to swim.My fear of drowning was gone -- perhaps it was replaced by a sudden fear of pneumonia that told me I should get out of the water. Back in the boat, I noticed another member of our team was still in the water when a pod of inquisitive belugas swam right below her and she was thrilled. Disappointed that I didn't stay out longer, I contented myself with a breathtaking view of a pod of about six gracefully rising and falling in the water. Once again, I was thankful for the experience; after all, I wouldn't have dreamed of taking part in this just two years ago.
Hope floats
My swim sessions have come complete with many personal lessons. I've learned that in water, just as on ground, expecting too much from myself can lead to disappointment; but not expecting enough can lead to missed opportunities and stunted growth. I've also learned to push my boundaries but kindly accept my limitations. Do I dive head-first into waters of unknown depths? Not if I can help it. Do I tense up when a huge wave threatens to swallow me whole? You bet! Even if this fear is hiding beneath the surface, I'm confident that I've splashed back at it, gained enough comfort to stay afloat and I've kept myself from drowning in it.
I imagine the day I'm completely fearless of drowning is the day that humans develop the ability to breathe, unassisted, underwater. Until then, I'll take my personal victories where I can get them. Yesterday it was in the deep end of a community centre's pool, today it's alongside beluga whales in Churchill, Manitoba. Tomorrow, I may visit a waterfall and laze in a river -- because I can. I'm a swimmer now, you know.
Not so fast!
As if to provoke, fate threw another challenge at me on my return flight home. After circling a few times under grey skies over Toronto, we finally landed but wouldn't be allowed to disembark until a red alert was lifted at the airport. There was a lightning storm hovering overhead. As antsy passengers grumbled about possibly missing connecting flights, I was preoccupied by other perils. Landings, and fuel, and lightning -- oh my! With one fear conquered -- sort of -- another one moved right in.
Advertisement
