Waiting

The whales are in, following the capelin which throw themselves by the hundreds of thousands on the shore in the annual frenzy of breeding.

The whales come within about twenty feet of the shoreline and their surprisingly soft tomcat calls can be heard above the sheesh of the waves on the beach stones.

When the fog descends there isn't a hope in hell of catching a glimpse.

But these tourists hauled down their beach chairs and little tables and a picnic and a huge dose of patience to the very edge of the five foot waves.

And waited.