Madagascar: 14 Days of Majesty with Mejdi Tours

Day 12 – In which we met Humpback Whales

Paul S Bryers, July 28 2026

What a wonderful day. I’ve seen them in Antarctica and now I’ve seen them here, in Madagascar.

They come here on purpose. Every southern winter, humpback whales leave the cold, food-rich waters off Antarctica and swim the length of the Indian Ocean – thousands of kilometres, without stopping to feed – to breed and give birth in the warm shallows around Madagascar. They spend the summer eating and the winter fasting on what they saved, living off their own blubber for months. The ones we met had come a very long way, and not for us.

And there were many of them.

The sonic sounder marked whale after whale in the water beneath and around us, more sound than we could keep up with.

In the distance, full breaches. a forty-tonne animal throwing almost its whole body clear of the sea and coming down in an explosion of white. Nobody is entirely sure why they do it. To shed parasites, to signal across distance, to show off, to play, or simply because when you are that size and that powerful, launching yourself out of the ocean may be its own reward. The leading theory is communication – a breach is a percussion note you can hear underwater for miles – but I prefer to think at least some of it is joy.

Closer to us, partial breaches..

Then, close to us, one whale settled into something the guides said was unusual: not the full launch but a partial breach, the head and long pectoral fins heaving up and slapping down, over and over, for a quarter of an hour. Whatever it was saying, it said it many times, and with feeling.

And then the thing that stopped the boat going quiet: a mother with her calf. She had crossed an ocean to give birth in this channel, and the calf beside her – tiny, by humpback standards – will make the return journey south drinking hundreds of litres of her milk a day until it is strong enough for the cold. She fasts the whole time. There is a whole essay in that, about what mothers spend, but I’ll leave it where it lay on the water and not labour it.