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and used his tail like a giant brake, immediately stopping his forward momentum. He bailed out of the wave before it crashed and swam effortlessly toward me.
    And as he swam, he was immersed in the water. He was one with it and his swimming motions came from the core of his body. His head moved down into the water, the top of it tracing a U. His body followed his head until he reached the bottom of the U, then he slightly arched his back and did an enormous kick with his fluke. That kick thrust his body forward and he slid through the water cleanly with a circle of tiny waves surrounding his upper body. His dolphin kick was beautiful and efficient, and he was totally balanced in the water.
    He swam the most beautiful butterfly I had ever seen, but instead of pulling his flippers up over his head, which he wasn’t built to do, he kept his pectoral flippers by his sides, using them for steering and turning. He deepened the sideways U by diving deeper with the thrust of his fluke. With a stronger push of his fluke he could dive faster and deeper. He danced with the water and then at times seemed to be part of it.
    Taking a breath, I dove under the water and watched him coming toward me. He knew precisely how to move his fluke, balance his body, rotate, and stretch his body and breathe. He had great flexibility and a natural feeling for the water. He knew how to use his flippers, how to hold them out to gain more lift or drag and how to steer. He was the greatest and the most beautiful swimmer I had ever seen. And in only four months he knew more about the ocean world than I would ever know in a lifetime.
    But I watched him carefully and attempted to do what he did. Just because I was human didn’t mean I couldn’t learn something from him. If I simply watched and tried to do what he did, I would learn.
    Steve leaned over the railing and shouted to me that we had to try something different. This swimming back and forth along the pier and shore was wasting precious time. The longer the baby whale was separated from his mother, the less chance he had of surviving. If we didn’t find her, either he would starve to death or, without her protection, he could easily be eaten by a white shark or a killer whale.

five
    Steve devised a plan. He spoke with the local boat operators and fishermen and asked them if they had seen a lone mature female whale. None of them had, but they said they would get on their radios and check with friends working along the coastal waters.
    We decided I should return to the jetty, to the place where the baby whale first started swimming with me. We thought the jetty area could be the place where he lost his mother.
    “Okay, let’s go for a swim, baby whale,” I said, and I started swimming, hoping he would follow.
    He swam with me for a bit, but he really just wanted to play. He rolled onto his stomach, moved histail fin up and down a couple times, then flew past me like a rocket. He turned, swam back, rolled on his side, and dove underwater. I just kept swimming toward the jetty, sensing the urgency now more than before. Swimming with my head up like a water polo player, I scanned the ocean’s surface.
    The California land mass was quickly warming, and the sea breeze was gaining strength, crumpling the ocean’s surface into a mass of waves as reflective as aluminum foil. White sunlight caught the edges of the tiny curling waves, and they sparkled like white stars on a sea of blue. The light was so bright it was blinding.
    Squinting, I stared across the water, looking for a large spout, a ruffle of white waves, a hole, or a long wide groove caused by the mother whale swimming through the water.
    I couldn’t see her and I felt a sudden tightness in my heart. What could I do?
    The baby whale was swimming right beside me, so full of energy, speeding ahead, circling back, and bounding through the water with great exuberance. He turned and swam right under me, so close I could almost reach out and touch