In praise of being ordinary

Peaceful, stately, plump, playful, sociable and magnificent creatures. These were my first impressions, on seeing a humpback whale in the wild.

Last weekend I went on a whale-watching cruise, off the northern coast of NSW. The crew offered passengers tea and biscuits and free sea-sick pills; There was plenty of space for twenty passengers – tourists, families and amateur photographers - inside and outside the cabin, and rails to hang onto in a tossing open sea. Comfortable seats and tables inside the cabin, in case nature decided to give the hunters a touch of wind or rain. Quite unlike the morbid conditions for crew I’d read of in the whale-chasing book ‘Moby Dick’.

Twenty minutes out from the harbour heads we saw, and heard, a whale blowing to the surface. There was a pod of four humpbacks within a few metres of the boat, coasting north for the winter. There’s little wonder our first whales seemed so easy to find ; perhaps they found us. The ship’s captain said he’d had a hundred percent success rate in spotting whales each cruise. He said there were an estimated 10,000 whales migrating north along the coast this season.

This pod was enjoying a lazy day in sun stroked water. They idled along, a few minutes near the surface, then made a dive for about six minute, then back to the surface. They weren’t interested in performing spectacular tricks you see in tourist brochures, no spectacular leaps to break into the air; no rolling, no waving of their fins.

There was a healthy swell running, water rising about two metres, and the whales seemed determined to keep at least one swell between themselves and the boat. This gave them some privacy, they were down one dip in the ocean, we were in another, and a wall of water between us.

The swell meant some of the passengers on the vessel weren’t all that interested in the water or its whales; they tried to avoid eye contact with the swell. They had their faces buried in paper sea-sick bags, or were queued for a turn in the toilets. Some hung over rails, looking green and grey down into the blue sea.

I can say, with some luck, I didn’t fall victim to a churning stomach.

The boat followed the pod for 90 minutes. I assume it was the same pod all the way; sometimes we lost contact and waited till we saw more slicks on the surface of the water, and headed just north of that spot.

Photography was difficult. I didn’t know if the whales would surface one side of the boat, or the other., If I would be setting the exposure to shoot into the sun, or with the sun at my back. The sea moved, the boat bobbed up and down in the swell, the whales were moved up and down the swell, appearing and diving in seconds, and I hung grimly onto my camera, and the side rail, trying to focus. Of 250 shots, I accept three as OK.

On the return to harbour there was time to think about what I’d seen.

There’s nothing special about eating whale meat, that justifies slaughtering them. There’s nothing special about their blubber, except for their own survival. We humans can always find alternative sources to whale blubber products.

In my time I have seen whale skeletons in museums. I’ve seen a whale skeleton on the beach at Bicheno, in Tasmania. I’ve seen whalebones in corsets and carved bones in scrimshaws.. I’ve seen little whales in commercial aquaria.

I’ve read Moby Dick, and seen TV news of their carcasses being hauled onto modern whaling boats. But none of these second hand encounters prepared me for their size, and grace.

My brief meeting with the humpbacks, living, breathing and caring for each other was an unusual but also an ordinary experience;

More than just a nice afternoon’s amusement; this was nature behaving normally. I saw these whales as every-day creatures as ordinary as oxygen and as probably just as essential. The sooner they are recognised for not being alien, the better

Enough already of alpha males, managers, team leaders, committee chairwomen, gurus, captains, advisers, consultants and positive thinkers leading us all up the garden path.

There are too many aspirational chiefs paid too much money, and too few Indians. There’s too many bullying-cooks in the kitchen claiming credit for all of a restaurant’s stars, too little recognition of kitchen hands or dishwashers who make the stars shine.

I’m told that in the biblical beatitudes there’s a promise that the ‘Meek shall inherit the earth’. I can’t see that happening anytime soon.

There’s too much scoffing at the idea of anyone with a meek attitude inheriting anything of value. For example, writers James Joyce and William Blake condemned the meek philosophy, for advocating a “life without striving”.

I reckon its time for power-hoarders at the head table and those sitting on thrones on the top floor to share a balance of their powers. Time the silent majority were given a fair go.

With that in mind, I’d like to say a word or two in favour of the meek and mild amongst us. I’d especially ike to say a special word or two in favour of a particular branch of the meek – the wimps.

I don’t know how or why the word ‘wimp’ came to be a derogatory term. It is generally thrown about by some bully, as an insult to suggest an unmanly person.

But in a fair world a wimp is a soft spoken, generally conservative person who doesn’t rise to the bait of being dared to do stupid stuff. A Barney Rubble, rather than a Fred Flintstone.

A wimp is someone who might sit on the fence, seeing green grass on both sides. A wimp might own a small dog, or wear zinc cream in the sun. A wimp won’t cheat when playing. A wimp might simply be shy. A wimp is someone who takes her turn in a queue, rather than shoulder her way to the front of the line. Wimps might be found short on adrenaline, but that won’t stop them be heroes in necessary.

I didn’t find where the word was first used, but last century a couple of famous characters were Wimps with a capital.

J. Wellington Wimpy, generally referred to as Wimpy, was a character in the long-running comic strip Popeye, He was meek, peaceful, and a staunch friend to the Popeye family. This Wimpy really liked hamburgers, wore a bowler hat, and usually had gravy stains on his tie. He was my favourite character in the comic, and I hoped that I would grow up to be just like him.

Well before I was old enough to listen to old time radio, there was a popular comedy program called Fibber McGee and Molly. Sometimes I got to hear later episodes in Australia

One enduring character was Wallace Wimple, nicknamed “Wimp” by McGee. Wimple was a timid birdwatcher, who lived in constant terror of his “big old wife” named “Sweetie Face”

WIMPS also stands for “Where Is My Public Servant”, a project for little people with big ideas.  It is a project run by and for young people. Iin particular it is to  help young people to influence decision-makers.

In today’s creative science and technology fields, there’s a lot of important wimps.

In space there are the super physics heroes, Weakly Interactive Massive Particles, known as “Dark Matter”

Wimps were responsible for making computers accessible to non-technical people, in the late 1980s, with four contraptions called Windows, Icons, Menus and Pointers

Who knows what can be achieved for the prestige of wimps. if we can =together= bring wimps back into popular favour, we might see the annual tennis tournament in London renamed as Wimpeldon