By Katie Hall

Since returning home to the U.S. after my first field season in Iceland, I’ve been asked many times about the highlights of my experience. And I find myself repeatedly reflecting on how wonderful it was for life to revolve around whales again. It’s been a few years since I last had the chance to do field work, and I’d almost forgotten how spectacularly blissful it is to spend every waking moment thinking about whales and to be surrounded by people who get equally excited to see them.  

Don’t get me wrong… it can be exhausting. There are days we’re out the door by 4am. You won’t see me jumping up and down with excitement at 4am (though Tom will make up for that with his  boundless energy and enthusiasm). We may debate over whether the 4am start was worth it, but in hindsight, it always was. Outside of field season, computer work and the odd conversation allow me a daily dose of whales, but rarely do I have the opportunity to fully exist in the world of whales outside of field season. What a joy it is to live and breathe whales for a whole month and be surrounded by people who get it.  

During field season, we get to be the crazy whale people. We drive around in a yellow van and stand alongside the road in our matching blue Dryrobes, shouting with excitement as we stare at whales in the fjords. We could be a cartoon. When we receive a message from our friend Judith that there’s a blue whale in Steingrímsfjörður, we lose our minds. “Get in the [expletives] car!” rings perpetually in my mind as I remember us wildly scrambling to get in the van to go find  the elusive blue whale. I’m not going to lie, when we did see the blue whale, it was kilometers  away and we could hardly see it, but the excitement did not fade. That’s just how field season is.  

What’s beautiful about a month with whales–other than the beautiful whales themselves–is that it’s not just about the whales. I feel that it’s about focusing my thoughts and energy on this world that’s bigger than myself. It’s about finding joy in the life around us, including the marine life that spends most of its time below the surface but, just for a moment, invites us into its world.

When I start to learn the humpbacks by name, suddenly I feel as if I know those whale as individuals. And I start to care about them. When I make eye contact with a harbour seal, it’s as if the fourth wall is broken. Suddenly we’re coexisting in this world together. I might even start paying attention to the birds flying overhead and find myself worrying about that duckling we saw on its own earlier.  

Despite the moments of utter madness as we hurry to locate a blue whale or to hustle out the  door at 4am, we’re forced to slow down and take it all in. We might spend hours standing on the side of the road, flying the drone back and forth over the fjord as we collect aerial images of the humpbacks below. While we may be a few kilometers away, we’re fully present there with the whales, taking it all in. I find myself paying more attention to my place in this world and the role we as humans play in these ecosystems. As someone who’s been incredibly fortunate to have had the opportunity to spend time observing whales, I feel that I have to do more to protect them. 

There’s so little that we know and so much to learn about these animals and the ways they’re impacted by human activities. When life revolves around whales, the more curious I become and the more I want to make a difference. I feel increasingly inspired to do meaningful research that will inform impactful conservation measures. That’s why I’m so grateful to be a part of Whale Wise and work alongside a team of curious and passionate people who aim to make a difference in the world.