Lately, belatedly, I’ve started watching the documentary, “Whale Wars.” I’m fascinated how it’s a saga of greed, idealism, recklessness, and selflessness all collapsed into one narrative. The first episode saw an entire raft of activists dumped in the ocean with near fatal consequences, and the damaging of one of the search copter’s rotors. They are wonderfully klutzy, these anti-whalers.

I’ll have more comments later, but interestingly, the hunt of the Sea Shepherd for whaling ships reflects the original boring and difficult hunt for the whales themselves. Some people knock the Shepherd’s tactics, but ultimately, its crew is actually doing something rather than blathering on about it. They make  me think at least a small portion of the human race is worthy of survival. The cynical Japanese whaling fleet – which pretends killing the whales is about research – makes me doubt even that. Indeed, the Japanese tend only to be interested in researching is how much money they can make on the sushi market, not the well being of whales.

Gloomily enough, Iceland hasn’t been content to be merely a global failure and laughingstock for its finances. It also has to pathetically stimulate its economy by hunting whales – and illegally smuggling the meat out. Is there some sort of causal connection here? Maybe. What is amazing about the modern whaling fishery is that some of the most civilized and  modern countries, such as Japan and Norway, indulge in this most barbaric and ugly sort of marine exploitation.

There has been a lot of hubbub about the murderous killer whale. Orca morality is an interesting question. A bigger one is if humans are moral in any general sense. They are one of the few animals that kills for pleasure and hunts effectively in packs. So a killer whale has lived up to its name and gone “King Kong.” One cannot pretend a murderous predator like the Orca is anyone’s friend unless the Orca thinks that it is so. The “culprit” has rather given away the whole game–the entertainment industry ruthlessly exploits these animals–no one should be surprised when they bite back.

Finally watched “Inglorious Basterds” and found myself liking it more than I expected. It’s absurd, but not as violent as the tedious and repugnant “Kill Bill.” It’s a movie about movies, like all of QT’s work, but done very cleverly and the characters more or less work in their own terms–stereotypes of course, but sort of alive. Of course, as with all QT’s work, some scenes are too long and boring with endless chatter about nothing. Ultimately, evil but charming Nazi Christoph Waltz is worth the price of admission.

For those faithful few curious–I was unable for various reasons to paddle across Massachusetts Bay this season. It was due primarily through bad weather and a shrinking window of opportunity. But….There is next year. And this is mountain climbing and cross country skiing season.

Unlike many  other Bay Staters, I love snow. The more the better.

Stay tuned…..

Well, the kayaking  season is growing shorter and my life is not getting longer.  Building on last year’s trip from Marshfield to Provincetown, this year it looks like we’ll be moving from South Boston to Provincetown with the usual cast of characters. Can’t wait. Next year, Gloucester to Provincetown. Patience is a virtue–I think. With luck, we’ll just come under the belly of Stellwagen Bank–maybe even see a whale or two–wouldn’t that be lovely?

So it appears the Bush administration appointee to the International Whaling Commission is trying to legitimize the least legitimate commercial harvesting enterprise in the world. According to the Sidney Herald, the commission’s chairman William Hogarth was recently trying “to craft a pact that would permit a new type of ‘coastal whaling’ in exchange for a commitment by Japan to scale back its ‘scientific’ whale hunts.” Given Hogarth is a Bush holdover, there are no surprises there. But with Obama in, we should view it as a new game completely. The world needs to ban whaling and most commercial fishing. And that’s what the discussion should be about.

WETHERSFIELD, CONN.–I recently visited Wethersfield, Conn., where the hero and heroine of my book lay together in a family plot.

It always moves to meet descendants, friends, or relatives of the people I’ve chronicled. I met a number of the Williams descendants, which was a great honor for me.  The town itself is gently charming, with a main street that is quintessential New England, with a fine tavern and inn, and federalist and Georgian houses dotting either side of the road. Further down the leafy street is an intersection with a highway that is lined with malls, parking lots, and bars and is as ugly as any other part of America. A few miles down, and you’re in Hartford, and decide you want to go back.

It was odd, to me at least, that a man who spent most of his life on the open ocean had grown up in a landlocked town. Perhaps that was what drew home to the whaling life. I saw the church Eliza Griswold became Eliza Williams; the swimming hole on the Connecticut River where I believe Thomas learned to swim, and other small landmarks. In any case, it was sobering to look at the grave of Thomas W. Williams. In his day an accomplished mariner, whaler, trader, father, and husband. His thousands of miles traveled ended in this one solitary place. It seemed odd for me–I had spent so much time studying his adventures, and then seeing his grave.  I had caught up with him after his travels have finished, and he is stationary forever, or close to forever.

Also, death has a conspiratorial quality to me–it’s as if those that have passed and left have someone betrayed life and us and we can no longer reach them. I wasn’t sure everything about this experience was adding up to me.  It was haunting: to see where someone has come from, in a sense, gives you an intimation of that person, of the surroundings that created him. It gives you a glimpse of destiny, that same series of seen and unseen causes and effects that is living through you, as well. But somewhere between the documents, the photos, and the landmarks, I was hoping to find a person, an essence. I’m not sure I did.

It was as if someone had laid out a suit that perfectly outlined the shape of the person who was to wear it, but lacked that person’s presence. It was very empty. In any case, for a moment, I knew I had at least become close to that ever-receding past that we all become part of, eventually.

It’s been far too long since I pestered the world with a blog. The summer was full of activities–mostly kayaking: Wellfleet, Provincetown, Salisbury, Newport, Hull Gut to Boston Harbor, Cohasset, Vineyard Sound, Woods Hole, and other places. I hope to fill in the gaps with a longer blog. This weekend, we hope to do the first of several long voyages: Marshfield to Provincetown. Then, maybe, Gloucester to Provincetown. But I’m getting ahead of myself….more to come.

With luck, I’ll see a whale or two-which is the best way to see them. I know that from experience.