Unfortunately, I have no pictures but an encounter with Orca still gives me goose pimples of delight.
In Summer 2015, I motored out of Thieves' Bay on Pender Island; I was still in the large bay at the exit when I saw Orcas and a small flotilla of whale watching boats well offshore. Where I was is an area with common Orca sightings, close inshore (so close I have been splashed by them as they pass the stone breakwater.) I shut down the engine and waited a little. Around the corner of the island where the breakwater starts, seven Orca abreast came along, straight off my port beam and headed my way. As they got closer, two separated astern and two others separated off the bow; the other three (including a large bull with a tall dorsal fluke, in the middle of the trio) just simply sounded under my boat. I jumped across the cockpit to watch them come out under the starboard side. The male obviously knew how tall his fluke was, because nobody bumped the boat.
As you could imagine, I was speechless; however, people at houses on the cliff top clapped and hailed me. Those folks know their whales and will hail to,
and report, any watch boats that get too close or pursue the whales.
Another, and funny story, maybe 2014 or 2015: Close offshore from the breakwater is a large rock, submerged at all times, with a large batch of kelp growing on the top. A group of Orca came around the bend, rising often and breathing fast as they frequently do. One must have been inattentive, because it rose to breathe, started to dive again, and made a panic turn to port. I guess that partway out of the water s/he lost sonar for a sec and submerged again aimed at the rock. I assume that it was a youngster.
Sailing a small boat in the Gulf of Mexico, off the Florida panhandle, regularly would bring Dolphins alongside to have a look at me; a real treat, once, was when a momma brought her baby alongside — I had a chance to talk to both of them, and managed to resist trying to pet the calf.
Lovely times.
Rod