The Reality of Whale Watching: Seasickness and Zero Whales

When you think of Iceland, you might imagine majestic waterfalls, volcanic landscapes, and maybe even Björk. For me, it was whales, massive, awe-inspiring creatures that made the cold North Atlantic seem magical. So naturally, whale watching became a must do on my Iceland itinerary. What I didn’t expect was that the trip would involve no whales, just a lot of queasiness, and the unfortunate realization that the sea and I are not friends.


Booking the “Adventure”

It all started with a brochure filled with dramatic photos of breaching whales and promises of “unforgettable encounters.” I immediately pictured myself bundled up, sipping hot cocoa, as humpback whales performed acrobatics just for me. Romanticized? Sure. But I wasn’t about to let reality crush my optimism.

Reality, as it turns out, had other plans.

The day began with the crew handing out bulky thermal overalls. I waddled onto the boat feeling like an Arctic explorer or, more accurately, a Teletubby with delusions of grandeur. The guide gave a cheerful safety briefing, during which I confidently nodded along, blissfully unaware of the queasy fate awaiting me.


Setting Sail: Hope Floats

The first few minutes were promising. The water was calm, and the air was crisp. I stood at the railing, imagining the moment a whale would breach right in front of me. It felt like the beginning of an epic adventure.

But as we ventured further into the ocean, the gentle rocking of the boat transformed into a violent see-saw. The waves grew, and with each dip, my stomach turned. What began as a mild unease quickly escalated to full-blown nausea. I clutched the railing, trying to focus on the horizon, as recommended. Spoiler: the horizon does not help when it’s rising and falling like a roller coaster.


No Whales, Just Waves

Time passed in a blur of salt spray, nausea, and quiet existential dread. The guide’s voice crackled through the speaker, enthusiastically pointing out where we might see whales. But for me, it was all white noise. I couldn’t bring myself to care. My world had shrunk to two priorities: stay upright and don’t vomit on the nice couple standing next to me.

Spoiler alert: we didn’t see a single whale. Not a fin, not a spout, nothing. Just a lot of waves, a few seagulls, and one increasingly green-faced passenger (me).


The Ride Back: Land, Sweet Land

By the time the boat turned back toward shore, I had resigned myself to my fate. The idea of seeing whales had long since lost its appeal. All I wanted was solid ground and a chair that didn’t move.

When we finally reached the harbor, I stumbled off the boat and collapsed onto the nearest bench. The relief was immediate. I didn’t care that I’d just spent hours at sea for absolutely no payoff. The fact that I was no longer swaying was reward enough.


Lessons from a Seasick Adventure

Would I go whale watching again? Honestly, probably not. Don’t get me wrong—whales are amazing, and I’d love to see one someday. But the open sea and I are not compatible. That said, this experience did teach me a few things:

  1. Don’t Skip Breakfast: An empty stomach doesn’t help seasickness; it just makes you miserable and hungry.
  2. Take Motion Sickness Pills: Even if you think you’ll be fine, trust me, you won’t be.
  3. Lower Your Expectations: Nature doesn’t work on a schedule. Sometimes you’ll see whales, and sometimes you’ll just see the inside of a sick bag.

Final Thoughts

Whale watching in Iceland was, without a doubt, unforgettable—but not for the reasons I’d hoped. I didn’t see any whales, I didn’t have a magical moment with nature, and I didn’t get that perfect Instagram shot. What I did get was a story to tell, a deeper appreciation for solid ground, and a reminder that sometimes, the journey is more memorable than the destination (especially when the journey makes you regret every life choice that brought you there).

So here’s to whales—wherever they were that day. Maybe next time, we’ll actually meet. But until then, I think I’ll stick to land-based adventures.

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