Bobbing on the lake, you have coffee in one hand and are squinting blue. Next—bam. Like it has a score to settle with gravity, a humpback soars out of the sea. Individuals gasp. You almost set down your cup. Worth every hundredth of a dollar. Check our full tour options and pricing on our website.
From mid-January through early April? Your window is that one. Miss it and you will only have sunburn and disappointment. Once spring arrives, the whales return to Alaska accompanied by their children. Say no; none of them warned you.
Skip the tours scheduled for 12:00. The ocean becomes jittery and the wind picks up at that point. Try to see sunrise. Less boats, more glassy water, better light. And it's quiet; just the splash of tails and your own pulse.
Although Lahaina is busy, she is solid. Maʻalaea has a more subdued approach. You get quiet surf from South Maui. Still feeling adventurous? Launch in a kayak from Mākena. Just you, the paddle, nothing except what decides to surface—no engines.
Boat size counts now as well. Go too far, and you are elbowing strangers for rail space. Go too little, and well, hope you enjoy splashing. sweet place? R rafts or catamarans. Less crowded, near the lake, they seem more personal.
Old timers swear allegiance to Captain Mo from Maʻalaea. Knows whale behavior better than his birthday knowledge. States they have personalities. Claims one humpback once, following his boat five days consecutively. Synchrony? Hopefully. Funny? Clearly.
Phones are good, but life through the prism. The actual show will be missed. The surge you experience as a tail smashes the surface twenty feet away? None of filters adequately addresses this.
Bring motionbands. Bring ginger chewing bits. Bring someone else who won't tell every splash. Not a theme park this is what I mean.
And, if you are fortunate enough to glance at a whale—just for a moment—say nothing at all. Allow it to soak in.