Ever since Amy and I saw a few whales off the coast we have been wanting to go on a whale watching cruise. We finally got a beautiful sunny not so cold day and headed out. Everyone was in great spirits as we went through the harbour past the Opera House, past the Prime Minister's Sydney residence and out into open water. We were told the swells were pretty big, 10 to 15 meters, but not to be alarmed because our vessel was very sea worthy. Thinking back on the captain's comments now we should have had more reservations about our journey, i.e. very sea worthy? At what point is "very sea worthy" not sea worthy enough? 10 to 15 meters sounds reasonable until one converts it into feet, that's 30 to 45 feet people! That metric system has once again fooled us with its understated values. Here we are headed out to sea, like I said everyone in good spirits, laughing and joking with each other and highly anticipating the first whale sighting. As we went over the first coupe of swells the ship would rock back and everyone would yell in unison "Whoooa" like the first hill on the biggest coaster in the park. By the fourth or fifth swell it was more of a painful "Ohhhhh" but then there was the first whale sighting so everyone's attention turned to the reason we were there.
We followed the whales around watching them blow and I was ready with camera in hand eagerly anticipating one leaping out of the water right next to the boat kissing Amy on the cheek and covering the entire boat with the splash , at least that what I was dreaming about. But alas these are the best pictures we got. 
After chasing little geysers for about an hour the captain said it was time to head back. So with all the excitement of the hunt gone we were left to think only about the hundreds of swells between us and the calm waters of Sydney Harbour. Amy found a seat out of the wind up by the cabin while I was stuck out on the back of the boat in the wind. Our first clue that the trip back wasn't going to be an enjoyable one was when the first mate started passing out puke bags. I am not prone to motion sickness so I passed on the offer but to my dismay everyone around me eagerly accepted one. About half way home as the chorus of wretching all around me was getting louder and louder and the smell was nearly suffocating me I really started regretting eating that Big Mac for lunch but somehow I kept it down. When I looked over to see how Amy was faring, she had her head between her legs singing hymns. I'm not sure why the "Sacred Selections" help motion sickness more than say Bon Jovi but apparently they are the dramamine of the music industry. We both made it without seeing our lunch again but I can't say the same for most of our shipmates. As we disembarked the boat it looked like a war zone with people curled up in the fetal position on the deck, people bent over the side, those that could walk looked like zombies staggering towards the door. Amy and I still don't know what we want to do when we grow up but we can scratch off working on a ship of any kind.
