Do you see what I see? (And more importantly, is it a whale?)

3 hours ago 1

Opinion

September 13, 2025 — 7.00pm

The reception desk at the charming coastal hotel, which would be my home for the next few days, was working overtime to ensure I knew how charming and coastal it was. A wooden surfboard adorned the wall, book-ended by two vintage-style surf posters, the kind you might find on Etsy when you type in, vintage style surf posters. Everywhere you looked, parts of the sea had been repurposed for design: a giant clamshell bowl full of brochures, a piece of coral from which nautical-themed earrings hung, available for purchase.

Behind the desk, an unseasonably bronzed man whose name tag read Carlos was busy checking in guests. As with most of the hotel’s furniture, Carlos appeared lightly distressed, but when it was my turn to check in, his face transformed into a well-rehearsed grin.

The term ‘whale watching’ is a misnomer, given that you don’t spend any time watching the whales. It should really be called whale monitoring, or better yet, ‘Waiting for Whales.’

He explained that he was excited about my stay and that I would undoubtedly find the hotel a magical place to relax and unwind (but first, he needed a credit card for incidentals). With all that sorted, Carlos hit me with the front desk question of choice – What brings you to town? – for which I had the perfect answer: “Whales.”

Admittedly, this was only partly true. My wife had been sent to Tweed Heads for work, and I’d tagged along, only later learning that it’s considered one of Australia’s best whale-watching spots (after Googling ‘Stuff to do in Kingscliff’ while waiting at the airport).

According to my airport research, from June to October, thousands of humpback and southern right whales migrate from Antarctic feeding grounds to tropical breeding areas along Australia’s east and west coasts. Whale enthusiasts are so excited by this natural phenomenon, they’ve even given it a cute nickname: the Humpback Highway.

Technically, the humpback highway also passes through Sydney, but previous attempts to spot them had been unsuccessful, resulting in the disappointment that comes with paying $95 for a whale-watching tour and seeing no whales.

Whales dancing of the coast of Lennox Head. The Humpback Highway is normally flush with whales migrating across Australia.

However, with two days to myself and no other plans, I figured my chances were high, a view Carlos shared when he told me, “Your chances are high.”

Unfortunately, the first day was hampered by wind and rain, less than ideal conditions for the Humpback Highway. Despite the weather, I trudged up the headland motivated by the idea that this was all by design, part of the test. To witness the majestic humpback, mother nature’s most awe-inspiring achievement, I, too, must achieve something awe-inspiring (walking 20 minutes up a slight hill in patchy rain).

Arriving at the summit, I was relieved to see one other brave soul peering out at the horizon.

Over the next hour, we discussed at length whether the whales might arrive that day, the whole scenario feeling very reminiscent of my favourite play from the year 12 syllabus, Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot. Two people waiting for someone or something they believe will provide them with salvation.

Much like in Beckett’s play, salvation (the whales) never arrived, and while I appreciate that was his whole point – No one is coming to save you! Existence is meaningless! – I refused to give up hope.

Day two was clear, crisp and still; in the wise words of Carlos from the front desk: “Today is the day.” I retraced my steps up the headland, which was now crowded with onlookers. Apparently, the whales had been breaching on and off all morning. Salvation within touching distance, I trained my eyes on the ocean, scanning the water for any sign of life.

An hour passed, then another, and occasionally a ripple of excitement would murmur through the crowd, only for some killjoy to announce it was a false alarm. The longer this went on, the more desperate I became, wondering if we might make a secret pact. Let’s all say we saw a whale, and no one will be any the wiser? This was followed by a brief period of hallucination, spotting whales where there were none. Look, everyone, over there! Is that? Ah, damn, more marine debris.

Eventually, the crowd dispersed, but I stayed behind even as traffic on the Humpback Highway remained silent. It was at this point that I realised the term whale watching is a misnomer, given that you don’t spend much, if any, time watching the whales. It should really be called whale monitoring, or better yet, Waiting for Whales. Perhaps Beckett was right all along.

And then, in the distance, a quick splash and what appeared to be a flash of fin. Was it just a school of fish or a trick of the mind? Possibly. Did I care? Absolutely not. Salvation had arrived, and I couldn’t wait to tell Carlos.

Find more of the author’s work here. Email him at [email protected] or follow him on Instagram at @thomasalexandermitchell and on Twitter @_thmitchell.