A Killer Whale Crush

North of the Arctic Circle, the black ocean water was below freezing at 30 degrees Fahrenheit and more than 6,000 feet deep in this hidden jagged icy fjord of Norway. Despite the freezing cold, horizontal snowfall and merciless Northerly winds this unknown part of the world is where a fantastical migration and feeding event collide - below the surface of the sea. Every October, hundreds of orcas (Orcinus orca) migrate thousands of miles across the vast ocean and somehow arrive precisely when millions of herring are spawning in the fjords. The onslaught is a sight to behold.

Our National Geographic mission was to get the behavior from underwater - brrrr! The sun had not shined in three months as I slowly slipped into the eerily, deep freezing water. The producer handed me my camera and asked, "How will we know you're OK?" I smiled wryly, "You won't. It's over a mile deep here, but don't worry… the camera will float to the surface...eventually." I bit on to the mouthpiece of my rebreather and disappeared into the inky black water.

As my eyes slowly adjusted to the dark the first thing I felt was a complete sensation of suspension in space. I could not tell up from sideways. I found myself surrounded in what I now call an endless isolation tank. Regardless of my thousands of hours underwater, my heart skipped a beat. Planning ahead and using US NAVY SEAL technology and techniques for this shoot, I checked my LAR V rebreather's systems, lifted my "Nav Board", and then started swimming straight and level towards the melee approximately 300 meters away where I descended. The swim time with camera was estimated at twenty minutes with the current at my back - and it was. Fifteen minutes into the swim I had my first underwater encounter with orcas, one that I soon will not forget. Out of the abyss at a speed in excess of 30 knots, three juvenile male orcas were coming straight at me. It was then I realized two things. The water was really clear and this was a dumb idea (when I was pitching it to the executive producer back in Washington D.C. I thought it was genius). I felt the ping of the orcas’ sonar on my chest through my dry suit and thermals. It was the first time I felt like prey in my entire career. I started rolling camera and they were soon upon me. They blazed by me within a few feet sending me tumbling towards the deep. They then surrounded me and began making contorted "S" gestures with their bodies at more than 20 knots (Klimley, P. 1976). A behavior termed the S-turn, a known sign of aggression. I simply turned and started swimming away from them as fast as I could - that's about 2 knots against the current. I looked back and I WAS BEING ESCORTED. We all knew they could tear me limb from limb in the blink of an eye. I kept wondering if I was going to lose a leg. When I looked back for the third time they had disappeared back into the abyss from whence they'd come. My heart was pounding from the swim and adrenaline.

It took several minutes to catch my breath and regain my bearings with the Nav Board. Slowly I began swimming back to the boat. I was disappointed with the results of my first attempt to film this epic event. I was running ideas through my head on how to try again. Only a few minutes into the swim of shame I nearly spat out my mouthpiece in shock as an orca, thinking killer whale now, pops up right in front of me. I hit the record button wondering if I was going to be joining that elite club of Darwinian Cameramen that film their own demise. I was fifteen feet below the surface in a horizontal swim position. The killer whale, a juvenile female, was in a vertical tail stand. Since killer whales have binocular vision they must roll to the left or right to get a good look at you. She was looking at me from her left eye and was perfectly motionless in the water, yet maintained an exact distance from me of 6 feet while drifting in the current. It baffled my mind how she did that. There are two things I have learned about filming marine mammals underwater. Look them in the eye and sing to them. I made sure the camera was recording and then lifted my head from behind the massive underwater housing. She looked right through me with her piercing black eye the size of a saucer. One of the cool things about a rebreather besides the extended durations is that there are no bubbles. It is completely silent underwater without the exhalation of gas bubbles. This is important since with no noise one can talk or even sing underwater through the rebreather. I started singing my lucky song the Beatle's Octopus' Garden. The camera rolling is picking up the audio of my singing the song as the whale starts to literally wiggle from side to side as if dancing. I know, I know, anthropomorphizing - but I was there and I have it on tape. Then after several magical minutes she slowly turned and disappeared.

I quickly checked to make sure the camera was still rolling. It was. My day had just gotten a whole lot better. I smiled and began swimming. Literally less than a minute into my swim she reappeared exactly as before. I started rolling camera and singing at the same time. I was thinking she really loved the singing as she began to allow me to drift closer to her…much, much closer. I was now singing while holding the camera less than two feet from her eye. She then slowly opened her mouth while rolling level to me and gently deposited an intact live but stunned herring right in front of my camera. Could one even write that script? I slowly reached out and grabbed it. I swear she smiled as she swam away... I still have that fish.