TheTraveler

 
A cliché in Kaikoura?
By Stephen Chamberlain

We were in Kaikoura on the east coast of New Zealand’s south island preparing to go out searching for dusky dolphins and, if all went to plan, to swim with them. My friend had previously swum with hectors dolphins (why were they Hector’s, I wondered) and assured me that swimming with dolphins was very much the done thing to do if ever you get the chance. Always coming high on those lists of 20 Things To Do Before You Die, was it nothing but a tourist clich é ? I could certainly see the attraction. However, I was worried that the reality wouldn’t live up to expectation, thus leading quickly to overall disappointment and disillusionment with the supposed great experiences of life. Mentioning this to my friend, I was told to shut-up and just go with the flow, so to speak. I looked out at the brooding Pacific and pondered my size against it.

‘This will not be a Flipper experience,’ said our guide, his eyes resting briefly on each of the eleven ungainly creatures in stiff wetsuits before him.

‘If you want to be towed along by a laughing dolphin this ain’t the place for you. We are here for their entertainment, not the other way around.’

This very quickly became the credo for the day. Dusky dolphins are inquisitive animals and they like to be amused. We were given tips on how to do this when snorkelling; splash about, swim around in circles, dive down, don’t forget to swim back up, do somersaults underwater, sing and basically act the fool!

After some safety recommendations and the signing of forms seemingly absolving the company of any kind of responsibility for us, we were off. Though still choppy, the ocean had got over the worst of its bad mood and we sped out to where the pod had last been seen. Twenty-two eyes looked out eagerly in all directions. One of the guides said they might take some time to find this morning as they had been a bit skittish recently: killer whales had been in the area. Killer whales rarely trouble humans, and besides, the crew were keeping a look out for them from the boat. I thought whales could swim underwater and out of sight. Eleven hearts beat faster.

And then we saw them. They were a pod of about thirty slicing through the water at great speed. The boat roared and was in the middle within twenty seconds, a fatter and less elegant cousin. The horn sounded and in we jumped. Swimming face down, I tried to breathe normally but in my excitement inhaled water through the snorkel. Surfacing, I could see my group floundering around, bizarrely like fish left flapping on land. I cleared my tubes and tried again, peering into the depths. There were small jellyfish suspended motionless like the severed arms of an octopus, bits of plankton or other small organic matter, the odd tiny fish streaking past, but no dolphins. I could also hear the strange, otherworldly sound of ten people trying to hum and sing through their snorkels. I gave it a go.

‘La.’ Nothing.

‘Laa laa.’ Still nothing.

‘Laaaaaaaaah!’

A largish shape whizzed by on the periphery of my vision. I carried on singing. It happened again, this time materialising fifteen feet away as a very definite dolphin. It was about five feet long, sporting a two-tone livery of dark grey with an almost metallic silvery belly. It looked at me without fear before plunging off into the darkness. Suddenly, a group of three appeared. They shot past from right to left, not five feet away. I grabbed a lungful of oxygen, dived and spun around to follow them as they continued to circle round me. They must have been having a great time, playing with the funny human like a spinning top. They moved faster and soon I was feeling dizzy and light-headed. I needed to breathe but the cocktail of adrenaline and endorphins pumping through my blood kept me going. A pair flashed by, then one on its own. I stole a breath. Another three racing each other. Then five swam by me quite slowly. I didn’t realise I was that interesting and entertaining.

Afterwards, back on the boat, the day had been transformed. I peeled off the top half of my wetsuit and with the early morning sun beating down on my back drank a steaming cup of coffee, slowly warming up. We watched the pod frolicking and racing each other like children at playtime and revelled in their enjoyment. We slowly drifted with the flow of the current. I was happy to go with it.

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