YOUNG CHANG -- Notebook

I’ve just discovered what’s in my own blue backyard, and I think it’s

done me some good.

My first whale-watching excursion: Dolphins splashed, sea lions

sunbathed, pelicans swooped dramatically onto the water, three boys

offered me trick gum with a wire trap that snapped at my finger when I

tried to take a piece, and I didn’t get seasick.

An elderly man gasped when I told him I was a reporter and ushered his

two granddaughters beside me for a quick photo.

The boat didn’t capsize, thunder didn’t roar, and sharks didn’t

attack.

Sure, the great whale didn’t show, but how could I complain? I’d just

spent my weekday afternoon on a boat called the Reveille in the open,

sunny air, under the blue sky and on an even bluer sea.

This is, I’m told, all part of whale-watching. If the whale appears,

great. If not, at least we soaked in the sun and saw the dolphins.

They were playful and plentiful. Schools of them splashed around right

next to and under the boat, gliding gracefully alone, in pairs or trios.

They jumped baby-jumps and dived back in, surfacing now and again and

splashing -- some louder than others, as if pleading, “Look at me!”

Little boys ran to the edge of the deck and pointed. A few leaned over

the rail. Others squeezed their torsos between the bars, sticking half

out of the Reveille. The mom who had been leaning against a wall with a

jacket draped over her head rushed over to look. The grandfather with the

two granddaughters and a camera around his neck took pictures.

Even I -- a boat-dreading, shark-fearing, seasick-getting,

non-outdoors girl -- watched. The dolphins were almost cute.

I think it was the proximity that got me.

The ocean was so close, I felt its turbulence at my feet. The dolphins

were almost touchable. The water ripped beside me against the walls of

the boat. The sun that beat on my legs was stronger than the sun at

poolside.

Sea lions lazed about as if it was tea time, and birds circled

musically above the water as they do in paintings.

Land, in the meantime, grew smaller and more faint. Newport Beach

faded, and Huntington Beach came slowly into view.

It was then that our Capt. Bill Scott’s words -- “People go to work,

come home. They don’t know that right in their backyard are dolphins, sea

lions and great whales” -- made sense to me. Me, of all people.

And no, the whales didn’t join us, but maybe next time.

* YOUNG CHANG is the features reporter for the Daily Pilot.