On a gloriously cool and sunny day in late summer, as a friend and I kayaked in an estuary of the St. Lawrence Seaway in the Quebec Maritime near Baie-Comeau, an amazing thing happened. A beluga whale rocked my world.
As morning sunlight poured across the glacial water, Bard and I saw from a distance what appeared to be a small whitecap moving like quicksilver toward us. We stopped paddling right away as we instantaneously and startlingly realized the small wave was instead a beluga, her snowy white skin pristine and luminescent as she rose in and out of the water. With uncanny accuracy, she torpedoed straight toward our double kayak.
When she was but a few yards from us, the ghostly beluga raised her enormous, bulbous head above the water and then suddenly dived deeper, moments later sliding silently and directly beneath us, enough to slightly rock the kayak a foot or so but not overturn it, as if she knew exactly what she was doing.
It was then I realized I was shivering uncontrollably, not from fear but from a profound, primordial awe. In a moment of craziness, I wanted to jump in and follow her to discover her undersea world of marine majesty. Instead, I stayed put, Bard and I raising our paddles and shouting jubilant hallelujahs, the memory emblazoned in our souls forever.