Heyer / Sauvain Whales Calling

My life with the Whales and Dolphins in the Strait of Gibraltar
1. Auflage 2019
ISBN: 978-3-03763-779-1
Verlag: Wörterseh Verlag
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Englisch, 288 Seiten

Katharina Heyer had made a name for herself as a designer of fashion accessories and had built up a successful business, for which she travelled the world; she still had a good relationship with her divorced husband, two wonderful adult sons and a house on the outskirts of Zurich. Katharina Heyer had all the things you could wish for. And yet she was filled with one strong desire: to break out of the 'hamster wheel' in which she was stuck. Having just turned 55, she'd had enough of having to jet around, enough of business pressure and enough of having to meet the expectations of her customers. In 1997, prompted by this feeling of claustrophobia, she decided not to spend New Year's Eve in Switzerland, but with friends in southern Spain. It was a momentous journey, because those few days in Tarifa were enough for her find something that would give her life a completely new direction, something for which, from that moment on, she wanted to use all her energy, all her resources and all her strength: the protection of whales and dolphins in the Strait of Gibraltar. For this purpose, she gave up everything and got more than she had ever hoped for. Today, almost twenty years later, she is not only very successful in her work but is also still thoroughly happy and says: 'I just followed my inner voice; and that was good, because for far too long I had paid too little attention to it.'

Michèle Sauvain, born 1964, received her doctorate in law and has worked for many years as a journalist, producer and documentary filmmaker for Swiss Television, where she produced films and series such as 'Wir sind die Schweiz', 'Abenteuer New York', 'Chronik eines Missbrauchs', 'Alfred Escher - Superman' and 'Der Fall Zwahlen'. In 2010, she also produced the film 'Die Walfrau von Gibraltar', a report about Katharina Heyer, for the television programme 'Reporter'. Katharina Heyer has made it her life's work to protect the whales and dolphins in the Strait of Gibraltar. After the film shooting was finished, Michèle Sauvain knew that there was much more to Katharina Heyer's adventurous story. These two women never lost sight of each other, and now, years later, this has led to the publishing of this story in book form. Michèle Sauvain lives in Zurich.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Heyer, Katharina

Sauvain, Michèle

Leseproben

  Strange encounters
The sky was grey and it was raining heavily as Rita and I drove our car through the beautiful nature reserve at the most southern tip of Spain. From the green hills, I looked down to the Strait of Gibraltar for the first time. Speechless, I sat next to Rita in the car thinking: what a wonderful place. The coastal town of Tarifa, with its small off-shore island, lay directly below us, and, on the opposite shore, the hills of Morocco were visible behind the curtain of rain. How beautiful it must be here when the sun was shining. It was the 28th of December 1997. I had fled here, to Rita and her husband Peter, for a few days between Christmas and New Year’s Eve, hoping to get some rest. At that time, I was still jetting around the globe non-stop in my role as business woman and successful designer of handbags. Six months earlier, Rita and Peter had left their old life in Switzerland behind them and bought a piece of land in the village of Gaucín, a few kilometres from Tarifa, in the middle of a large orange plantation. There they wanted to make their long-standing dream come true: to build a finca and open a Bed & Breakfast. Until such times, they were living in a cottage nearby. I admired their courage, but I missed Rita very much in my everyday life. I was so used to sharing my sorrows and worries with her. When she was still living in Switzerland, we often used to meet spontaneously for tea. I was fifty-five years old at the time and had no idea how my life should go on. All I knew was that I didn’t want to carry on as things were. Although I led an exciting life, it was no longer emotionally satisfying. I wanted to make a difference socially – but what? It was Ara, my friend and life consultant, who’d encouraged me to drive down and spend the holidays with Rita and Peter. He’d mentioned in passing that I could use this opportunity to have a look at Tarifa. “There are supposed to be dolphins and even orcas there,” he’d said. Ara knew I loved diving. I’d already seen some dolphins on my dives, they’d always fascinated me: to look a dolphin in the eye is something very special, something magical, and the impression that these creatures must be extremely sensitive and intelligent is immediate. But I’d never met an orca before and would have given a lot for that experience. However, now was Christmas and not the ideal time for diving in the Mediterranean. So why had Ara mentioned it? It wasn’t the first time he’d pointed something out to me that I’d only been able to understand much later. Although we had only known each other for five years, he could “read” me well. Maybe it would really do me good to go to Spain and do nothing for once. It was also warmer there than in Zurich. I didn’t like the city during the Christmas period, it depressed me. That’s also why I had decided to flee to Rita. With a little luck, I might actually see my first orca. But now this rain … Rita and I were already discussing turning round and coming back when the weather was better, when a bright cloud suddenly formed in the cloudy dark-grey sky directly above the small island. I couldn’t believe my eyes. We looked at each other. “Rita, do you see what I see?” I asked her in disbelief. She nodded silently, but I insisted: “What exactly do you see?” “A big jumping dolphin.” The cloud really was the shape of a big jumping dolphin! I couldn’t believe it and got terribly excited. Ara’s remarks, the cloud … That wasn’t like me at all: I, the realist, standing firmly with both feet on the ground at all times, was looking at a dolphin cloud that seemed to be showing me the way, like something out of a fairy tale. There was no turning back. We drove down the narrow road to the harbour and parked the car on a large parking lot in front of an avenue of palms. The Tourist Office had to be here somewhere. We turned into a small street, and, after a few metres, we stood in front of the entrance. I wanted to go out to sea, to see if there really were dolphins and orcas here. I had to get to the bottom of this. The Tourist Office was certainly the place to find out if and how we could get out into the Strait of Gibraltar at this time of year. When I entered the room, my eyes immediately fell on a spotty, wrinkled ad on the info board on the wall. It showed the picture of a jumping dolphin and the inscription “Wanted, dead or alive”. I couldn’t figure the ad out. Who was looking for dead dolphins? At the bottom of the page, there was a Madrid telephone number, hardly legible. I asked the young woman at the desk if, by any chance, there was a fishing boat that would take us out to sea. She looked at me completely baffled and raised her eyebrows. “No fisherman takes tourists out to sea.” When she saw my disappointed face, she got a little friendlier: “What do you want to do out there?” “See dolphins,” I said. The woman laughed, and I felt rather stupid. “Dolphins? I don’t know whether there are any here at all,” she replied, “but he thinks there are too.” She pointed to the info board at the entrance. On an inexplicable impulse, I pulled out my mobile phone and dialled the number that was on the ad. A growling male voice answered, a bit grumpily, in Spanish – all I understood was “Diego”. I answered in English: “Hello Diego, this is Katharina. I’ve seen your ad and I want to ask you if you know where my friend and I can see dolphins here?” Diego’s voice became friendlier and more business-like immediately. “Oh, hello, Katharina. Yes, I know where you can do that, and I could offer you places on my boat next weekend.” “But we’d like to go out to sea right now. Maybe you know a fisherman who would still have time today,” I urged, because I didn’t want to wait until the weekend. The phone went silent, then Diego asked: “Why is it so important for you to leave right now? What do you have to do with dolphins?” “Actually nothing … they just always fascinated me somehow … and … er … maybe I’ll do something with dolphins …” I listened to myself and thought that this “Maybe I’ll do something with dolphins” had to sound pretty naive and stupid. Diego just said: “In this weather, no fisherman will go out with you. Come to Tarifa first, then we’ll look into the matter.” “We’re already in Tarifa! We’re at the Tourist Office.” He laughed. “Right, then just go outside and fifty metres down the palm alley you’ll find the Café Continental. Wait for me there. I have a moustache, I’ll be wearing a hat and I’ll come with a big dog. His name is Zacharias.” Then he hung up. Soon after, Rita and I sat in the café, waiting. “Why are you so desperate to get out today?” she asked me. I looked at her thoughtfully. “You know me, I just want to know if there are any marine mammals here.” Rita smiled. She knew me and knew that if I’d got something in my head, she wouldn’t be able to stop me. When Diego walked in the door half an hour later, I recognised him immediately. His appearance didn’t awaken much trust. He wore a dirty T-shirt and dirty jeans, his moustache grew in all directions, and a five-day beard spread across his cheeks and chin. He’d pulled his hat far down over his face so that his eyes were barely visible. As he approached, I noticed his yellow teeth and dirty nails – and the smell of his dog. A very large, undefinable street dog mix, Zacharias stank to high heaven. He was even more unkempt than his master. Normally, I would’ve backed out immediately. But today wasn’t “normal.” I stayed. Since it was still raining, Rita and I had enough time to listen to Diego’s story. I guessed him to be about forty and, despite his not very attractive appearance, I was somehow fascinated by him. Rita less so, she kept looking at him sceptically from the side. He actually came from Patagonia, he told us, and had lived in Argentina with his Spanish wife and children until four years ago. After the divorce, she’d returned to Madrid with the children. And to be closer to them, he’d also moved there. But now, he’d come here because he wanted to set up a whale watching station in Tarifa. As an orca researcher, he was convinced that there were marine mammals here. Whale watching is very popular in America, but not yet widespread in Europe. I found his remarks interesting, and we had a very lively conversation. He told us about the Argentine peninsula of Valdés, known for its biodiversity, where there are sea lions and sea elephants, dolphins and other whales. And he told us about “intentional beaching”, a hunting technique practised by orcas, which involves very intelligently driving the seals that live around this peninsula towards the beach so that they can intercept them in the surf. “I think I can learn a lot from you,” I said after an hour. “Why don’t we start right now?” he countered boldly. “Why don’t you come home with me and I’ll tell you more?” Rita and I glanced at each other. She’d already resigned herself to the fact that I would not let go and nodded to me with a grin. I was glad she was coming with me. A few streets further, Diego led us into a narrow side street and through a small entrance to the upper floor of one of those typical, white-tiled, two-storey Moorish houses in the old town. His tiny apartment, the width of a hand towel, was indescribably dirty and messy, and it stank dreadfully...