Real Survival Stories - Saved by a Humpback Whale

Episode Date: May 13, 2026

An incredible mystery plays out beneath the waves. Marine biologist Nan Hauser is an expert in the behaviour of whales. One day, in the breathtaking surroundings of the Cook Islands, Nan is shooting footage for a nature documentary when a 45-tonne humpback comes charging towards her. In seconds, she’ll find herself picked up and swept along by the enormous creature, balanced on the tip of its vast jaw. What on earth is happening? And how can Nan hope to emerge in one piece? A Noiser podcast production. Hosted by John Hopkins. Written by Joe Viner | Produced by Ed Baranski | Assistant Producer: Luke Lonergan | Exec produced by Joel Duddell | Sound Supervisor: Matt Peaty | Sound design by Jacob Booth | Assembly edit by Rob Plummer | Compositions by Oliver Baines, Dorry Macaulay, Tom Pink | Mix & mastering: Ralph Tittley. For ad-free listening, bonus material and early access to new episodes, join Noiser+. Click the subscription banner at the top of the feed to get started. Or go to noiser.com/subscriptions If you have an amazing survival story of your own that you’d like to put forward for the show, let us know. Drop us an email at [e-mail] Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Imagine if today was the day your idea changed someone's life. Imagine if you could help someone pay for college. Help your community build a new playground or help a child make it to that dream competition. With GoFundMe, it's all possible. GoFundMe is the world's number one fundraising platform trusted by over 190 million people. Every week, ordinary people meet their goals and do extraordinary things. Your ideas matter. GoFundMe isn't just for emergencies.

want to raise money for your kids' soccer team or raise funds for a small business, a creative project or event? GoFundMe helps you turn ideas into reality. And help adds up. Fundraisers you start for someone else? Raise up to five times more. So think right now. Who could use your help? Change rarely comes from waiting. It comes from someone deciding, today I'll start. Don't wait for someone else to bring change. Today start your fundraiser in just minutes at gofundme.com. That's gofundme.com to start your fundraiser. GoFundMe.com. This is a commercial message brought to you by GoFundMe. It's September the 14th, 2017.

In the South Pacific, just off the coast of the Cook Islands, a shadow lurks beneath the waves, the dark outline of a massive creature. In the greenish gloom, it's hard to gauge the animal's true size. Parts of its immense body remain shrouded in darkness, while others catch the shafts of sunlight filtering down from the surface. The effect is of something too big to comprehend at a single glance,

so unfathomably large it must be taken in piece by piece. The sharp pectoral fins, the dark, unblinking eyes, the broad sweep of its humped back. The creature moves slowly but deliberately, powering itself through the water with swift, rhythmic swishes of its tail fin. Its attention seems to be fixed on something in the murky distance, on someone. The question of danger is very real. When I first started working with them underwater, I was pretty scared.

You don't realize how big they are until you're right up next to them. 63-year-old Nan Hauser kicks her diving flippers and slowly rotates her arms, treading water. A seasoned marine biologist, Nan has spent countless hours in this ocean, documenting the activity of some of its largest inhabitants. Experience has taught her to be cautious around her subjects. You do have to be really careful because each one has their own personality. Some will be more curious and some will be a little more aggressive, especially the juvenile males.

And yet, for all Nan's vigilance, There are still things that can catch her off guard, things that no amount of training could prepare her for. Floating above a dark abyss, she turns her head to one side, scanning the water, which is when she sees it. The pale, grey behemoth speeding towards her. This animal came towards me, and it was huge. It was this dark figure coming straight at me. Ever wondered what you would do when disaster strikes? If your life depended on your next decision, could you make the right choice? Welcome to Real Survival Stories.

These are the astonishing tales of ordinary people thrown into extraordinary situations. People suddenly forced to fight for their lives. In this episode, we meet marine biologist Nan Hauser. Based in the Cook Islands in the South Pacific, Nan is the president of a research organization devoted to the study and protection of whales. She has dedicated much of her life to these giant mammals. And in the course of her work, she often swims alongside them,

immersing herself in their world in order to better understand it. But in September 2017, Nann's research becomes a little too immersive when a 45-ton humpback whale comes hurtling towards her at full tilt. He didn't stop. He just kept coming. And it wasn't like he was coming slowly. He was coming. Full speed ahead.

I put my hand out to cushion the blow. But instead of a shattering impact, something else happens, something just as frightening and certainly more mystifying. Nan will find herself being picked up and swept along by the enormous creature, balanced on the tip of its vast jaw. My grandmother was 103, and she always used to say to me, please don't be swallowed by a whale. And here I am here right on his mouth.

All he has to do is open his mouth. But fear will soon turn to curiosity as she begins to wonder what this whale wants with her. The answer to that question will eventually become clear and will be both fascinating and terrifying in equal measure. I'm John Hopkins. From the Noiser Podcast Network, this is real survival stories. It's September 2017 in the South Pacific. Fanning out beneath a central spine of volcano,

volcanic peaks, the island of Rarotonga gently unspools through miles of verdant jungle until the land meets the sea. Along the shoreline, white sand beaches yield to impossibly clear water, where threads of sunlight stitch dappled patterns into the floor of the shallow, kilometer-wide lagoon. This is a picture postcard paradise. But beyond its holiday brochure good looks, Rarotonga, and the Cook-Eyte-Ira's, islands in general offer sanctuary to more than just tourists. The cyan waters that surround them are among the most biodiverse on the planet, playing host to a dazzling array of marine life.

All manner of creatures dwell within the bounds of the coral shelves that encircle the islands. While in the deep water beyond the reefs, larger animals move beneath the waves, humpback whales and spinner dolphins, tiger sharks and black tips. Due to their ecological richness, the cook, Cook Islands are home to numerous environmental charities and NGOs. One such organization is the Center for Cetacean Research and Conservation, which is run by American marine biologist Nan Hauser. Today, on this bright sunny Thursday, the sprightly 63-year-old is making her way along the

jetty of Rarotonga's main harbor. With her tattoos, sunbleached hair and golden brown tan, Nan clearly isn't the kind of scientist who spends her days cooped up in a lab. Her line of work demands active research in the field, observing whales and dolphins in the wild. She's lived in the Cook Islands for 20 years, and while the place has become her home, it's far from her native habitat.

My family immigrated from Europe, and I grew up on a Quaker Wildlife Preserve, on the top of a mountain in Pennsylvania. I spent luckily and very happily my childhood in nature, rehabilitating animals and loving every minute of it. Though she grew up around animals, it was the more elusive creatures that fascinated now, those whose lives played out beneath the waves, mysterious and rarely glimpsed. On childhood holidays to Bermuda, she became enchanted by the huge, gentle mammals that occasionally

surfaced beyond the reef, clouds of water vapor erupting from their blowholes. Ever since I could walk, I would watch the whales blow off the reef and see them out there. And I was so fascinated by whales. And they also had dolphins around that I fell in love with. And it's funny, I was so curious about it that I wanted to know what they did when you didn't see them. What were they doing underwater? And that drove me into this curiosity that I had all my life. And yet, for many years, Nann's interest in whales and dolphins would remain just that,

a curiosity. She pursued other opportunities, first getting a degree in nursing and becoming a midwife, then retraining as a therapist before later joining the U.S. Coast Guard. During this time, Nan got married, moved to Maine in the Northeastern U.S., and raised a family. But throughout all these career changes and life milestones, one thing never wavered. her fascination with marine mammals. Eventually the time came to turn passion into vocation. After I had had three children, I said,

you know, I really want to live out my dream. I'm going to study whales and dolphins underwater and see what they're doing. Soon that dream was her reality. Nan took a grassroots hands-on approach to conservation. Though she now holds a PhD in marine biology, the early days were largely self-taught. Late nights with textbooks spread open on the kitchen table, absorbing all there was to know about whales. But her education wasn't limited to books. I bought an underwater digital video camera and started filming myself and then seeing things that no one else had ever seen before and everyone kept saying,

write it up, write it up, you know, this is science. write a paper, keep track of everything. And my curiosity just kept getting stronger and more intense. And so even though I had children and I was a little tired of academia, I just dove right back into it and I'm still doing it since. Nan is interested in all aspects of Wales' lives. But one area intrigues her more than any other. Behavior is what fascinated me the most, and although I study genetics and acoustics

and population identity and abundance and so many other things, migratory pathways, I study all that, it's the behavior that really fascinates me. Wales are known to exhibit complex social behaviors, capable of forming close-knit friendships, hunting in cooperative family units, and even communicating through song. They're among the most intelligent animals on the planet. But over the course of the past century, their numbers have been falling dramatically. The result of overfishing, polluted oceans and climate change.

Whale conservation has traditionally been a well-supported cause. It's relatively easy to make people care about these amazing creatures, with their large brains, gentle natures and human-like traits. NAN supports the work of organizations like Greenpeace and Save the Whales, but when she started her career in conservation, she didn't see herself as another activist. She wanted to provide the scientific fact that underpins the activism.

And to do that, she needed to get organized. I realized that by having a research organization and a conservation organization, that it was more than standing up and down, screaming and shouting, which there's a place, definitely. for activism. I'm all for it. But I wanted to get the evidence. I wanted to get the scientific data to show why we needed to protect whales. In the 1990s, Nan founded the Center for Cetation Research

and Conservation, an organization devoted to advancing our understanding of whales and promoting the importance of their protection. She based her operation in the Cook Islands, after hearing reports of a local population of humpbacks that no scientists were monitoring. She moved to the South Pacific, with her three young children in tow, and started building a life there. Twenty years on, Nan has become a fixture of the community. During whale season, she can regularly be seen out beyond the harbor with her team of research assistants, diligently tracking and documenting. She's even earned herself an affectionate local nickname, the whale witch. Today, Nan is meeting up with the the documentary crew from the Netherlands who are hoping to capture some footage of humpbacks in the wild.

This is all in a day's work for Nan. The CCRC is non-profit, so the research depends on the donations of benefactors. Appearing in nature documentaries is one way to raise awareness for the cause. At the end of the jetty, the director and his crew are loading up a boat with camera gear. Nan links up with them and moments later she guides their boat out beyond the reef. They spend a productive afternoon following a pod of humpbacks and managed to capture some decent footage. Mission accomplished. But towards the end of the day,

just when they're getting ready to return to land, the director makes a request. The director said, I think we really need more footage of you underwater with the whales. And I said, okay, no problem. And I could see a couple of whales in the distance, and they were close to the reef. And so we went up.

over and I slid in. I had my GoPro, I had on a wet skin, and went over the side. Nan takes a deep breath through her snorkel and drops below the surface. She takes a moment to orient herself, letting her vision adjust to the watery gloom beyond her mask. She scours the depths for the whales, her eyes roving back and forth across the hazy emptiness. And then suddenly, there they are. It's a site that never gets old. Two humpbacks materialize from the ocean's blue fathoms like figures in a dream. As they loom into focus, Nan takes in their incredible size,

their wide, fan-shaped tails, the deep grooves that run along their pale throats, the distinctive geometry of their immense curved backs. Despite their vastness, they move serenely. And yet, Nan doesn't let her guard down. Years of experience have made her feel comfortable around whales, but that doesn't mean she takes her safety for granted. The question of danger is very real. When I first started working with them underwater,

I was pretty scared. You don't realize how big they are until you're right up next to them, and they can take their tail fluke or peck fin or their body to smack you, and you'd be dead. your bones would be broken and your organs would rupture or you would just drown. On one occasion, while filming two female humpbacks, Nan was charged from behind by a juvenile male. It's a miracle she wasn't crushed to death. Near misses like this are a reminder that no matter how intelligent they are,

no matter how sophisticated, whales are still wild animals, unpredictable and exceptionally powerful. You do have to be really careful because each one has their own personality. And some will be a little more aggressive, especially the juvenile males. Some will be more curious and some will be more allowing. But again, I let them come to me and I don't go to them. With her GoPro camera strapped to her head, Nan watches the whales from a safe distance, taking breaths at the surface when she can, recording the footage the director asked for.

And that's when one of them, a male by the gargantuan size of him, makes a sudden, unexpected movement. He lifts his head and with a downward pulse of his enormous tail fluke begins advancing towards Nair. At first, she just watches, waiting for the animal to stop or turn. But he didn't stop. He just kept coming, and it wasn't like he was coming slowly. He was coming. full speed ahead, I put my hand out to cushion the blow. Nan's hand meets the tip of an elongated snout-like jaw. She absorbs the force of the whale's momentum.

But instead of being knocked aside, as expected, she feels herself being swept up as the animal keeps swimming forward, pushing Nan through the water like a piece of debris shoved along by a bulldozer. He immediately just kept pushing me and then put his head underneath. me and I was sitting on top of his head. Sharp barnacles slice into Nan's skin and her body is rattled. She's blindsided, but also captivated. She's never experienced this kind of sustained physical contact with a whale before.

She can see up close the color variations of his skin. Feel its leathery toughness. Note the distinctive white scar that marks the top of his head. As a marine biologist, it's awe-inspiring. As a human being, it's completely terrifying. Then he flipped over, and I rolled on his head, and I was sitting on his throat. The whale speeds along on his back, with his human cargo now pressed against the curve of his pale, grooved throat. Nan is dizzy with shock.

She has studied humpbacks in minute detail. their feeding habits, their anatomy, their population numbers. But flattened against this creature's throat, as he hurtles through the water, one thing is abundantly clear. Nothing in her 30 years of research has prepared her for this. For now, there is one saving grace. Fortunately, the whale is swimming close to the surface, allowing Nan to occasionally suck air through her snorkel. But he could still dive at any moment. and take Nan down with him.

And that's not the only horrifying possibility. It wouldn't let me go. My grandmother was 103 and she always used to say to me, please don't be swallowed by a whale. And here I am, you know, right on his mouth. All he has to do is open his mouth. Despite the adrenaline, Nan manages to remain relatively composed. Decades in wildlife conservation have taught her never to lose her cool,

even in situations where her life is on the line. line. Moreover, the dangerous nature of her work means she's had to accept the high chance of a fatal incident. I always had this feeling that I was going to die with a whale, and I thought that that was probably the day that I was going to die. But I didn't panic. I grew up with so many animals that I know. Don't panic around any kind of animal. But that doesn't stop her pulse from racing. Right now, as she is helplessly borne along on this underwater giant, gasping for air when she can. A bad outcome seems far

likely than a good one. My heart was pounding, and I just thought that, yeah, he's just going to tuck me under his pectoral fin and take me down into the deep, and I had a mask and snorkel on, or he's going to hit me. I didn't really know

what he was doing. If these are to be her final moments, it seems both fitting and ironic that she should spend them like this, at the mercy of the animal she has spent so much of her life protecting. But just as Nan begins to resign herself to be inevitable, something else kicks in.

I started thinking about my grandchildren, and I really want to be here with my grandchildren. I mean, there's so much going on in your head. Your adrenaline's flowing, your heart is pounding so hard. And being a scientist, I was so curious about, what is this animal doing, and why is he doing it? Your thought of reality are coming in and out, but I really did, it did occur to me that, wait, I don't want to be killed today. I have a lot more time to be a voice with these animals and be with my grandchildren.

It's the afternoon of September the 14th, 2017, in the ocean of the Cook Islands. Bathe in brilliant sunshine, a documentary crew crowds the side of a boat, fretfully scanning the choppy blue water that surrounds them. Moments ago they lost sight of their resident whale expert Nan Hauser, as she was seemingly picked up by a humpback and carried off into the depths. The anxiety around the boat underscores a grim, unspoken knowledge. But if Nan has run into an aggressive male, it's highly unlikely shall come out of this encounter alive. And meanwhile, a few hundred meters away from the boat, several feet beneath the surface, Nan is still alive, trying desperately to establish some distance between herself and her 45-ton assailant. Seeing an opportunity, she pushes off from his body,

trying not to kick him in the process. The last thing she wants to do is startle the animal. I didn't want to kick him, so I just kept pushing myself away, but he really maneuvered beautifully to keep me on him or right next to him. Try as she might. Nan can't escape the whale's vast orbit. He seems determined to stick on her, shifting his body to keep her by his side. The animal flips around, deftly repositioning Nan on his head.

It just continued on and on. I slid down his back. He kept trying to put me under his pectoral fin. And his pectoral fin is huge. You know, they have the longest pectoral fins of any whale. They're about a third the size of the body. So if the pectoral fin is 15 feet long and very wide and very thick, he can get me under his pectoral fin. And that's what they do to seals.

They hide them under the peck fin. But with a snorkel and mask on, there was no way that I was going to survive under there. Down to her right, a pectoral fin, the length of a pickup truck, swings through the water like the mechanical arm of some giant machine. reaching for her. She pushes herself away, trying to avoid being pulled under by that formidable barnacle-encrusted limb. By now, though, Nan has started to notice something. The whale's body language doesn't appear aggressive, even as he tries to tuck her under his fin. If anything, he seems protective, less like an attacker and more like a parent trying to shield its offspring. It deepens the mystery about what is happening.

His mannerisms seem gentle, not threatening. Still, that could change at any moment. When the whale momentarily lowers his peck fin, Nan seizes her chance. She slides off his back and swims away until she's reached a distance of a few meters. Then she turns and eases herself backwards, pushing the water down with her arms,

looking back at the whale's side on. Whales have really interesting eyes. And when they're really panicked about something or interested about something, we call it eye widening and they open their eye so wide. It's like this intense, round, deep knowledge when they open their eyes really wide. Like, what the hell is going on? I was thinking, what does this whale know that I don't know? What is he trying to say to me? For a moment, curiosity supersedes any fear, and Nan just stares at the giant creature looking back at her.

What is going on here? Then, as she treads water, Nan glances over to one side where in the distance she can see the shadowy shape of another whale coming towards them. So that's when I saw another animal, but I just thought that it was another whale, a smaller whale. I mean, it's not that rare to see species together. I thought, oh my gosh, what is that? It's coming right towards me. Rays of sunlight filter through the murky water as Nan squint through her snorkel mask. The second whale gets nearer and nearer, and as it does, she clocks something unusual.

Its tail fluke is not moving up and down as a whale should, but swishing from side to side. side, a slow, menacing motion. Then Nan's body stiffens as a chill runs down her spine. That is not a whale. I've seen a lot of sharks. We have a lot of sharks around here. I've grown up seeing a lot of sharks. And it was that side to side and the peck fins down and the arched body.

And in my head I went, it's the biggest tiger shark I've ever seen in my life. Nan hangs in the water, heart thudding inside her ribs, staring in horror at the 18-foot predator streaking towards her. I always thought that if I was going to get attacked by a shark, you probably wouldn't see it because they're so fast. They just come in and grab you or circle you. But it was this dark figure coming straight at me. Turns out the danger Nan thought she was dealing with isn't the real danger at all. Highly territorial and extremely aggressive, tiger sharks are among the most feared species in the ocean. This one is in attack mode.

Fins down, body arched, and it has nan in its sights. Still, despite the immense danger, she again manages to keep her composure. I didn't go into a panic, but I took it a lot more seriously and I was afraid. especially tiger sharks or bull sharks. Those are sharks that I don't want to be around. I usually get out of the water when they're around. So I knew that it was a much more dire situation than I had imagined. Capable of reaching speeds of up to 20 miles an hour,

there is no way Nan is going to out swim a tiger shark. But that doesn't mean she isn't going to try. She turns. But just as she's about to start frantically past, paddling in the direction of the boat, something massive comes up underneath her. It's the whale. He just scooped me up. He must have felt my fear. He must have heard my heart beating harder because he just put me on his head and pushed me. Just like before, the whale carefully positions Nan on the curve of his head and keeps her balanced there as he swims away from the shark.

Except now, there is something different about the whale's demeanor. His movements change. There is a greater urgency. It was much faster. It was really deliberate. And it was like being rescued. It had that feeling of, okay, that's too close. And you need to know what's going on and pay attention.

I think he kept looking at me before that going. Do you have any idea what's going on? Nan can't see the shark. It's hard to know where it now is. All she can say is that the whale no longer seems to pose any danger. Quite the opposite. The reason for that seems too far-fetched to be true. But everything in the whale's behaviour seems to suggest he is protecting her,

shielding her from the predator lurking nearby. And so Nan yields to what is happening. She lets herself be carried along by the colossal creature. At one point he literally put me on his pectoral fin and lifted me clear up out of the water which, you know, I couldn't even dream this stuff up. He lifted me up on a peck fin. And it was kind of cool because I'd never really felt a live peck fin like that

and it was like a huge surfboard. Nan feels the rush of warm air as the whale holds her aloft. She catches side of the boat. It's straight ahead and getting closer. He lifted me up from the shark and then I was yelled to the boat, someone come help me. And then, poof, I'm right back down under the water again. Amid the adrenaline and exhilaration,

Nan manages to take a moment to appreciate the remarkable thing she's experiencing. If she wasn't holding her breath, she could laugh in amazement. All her years spent studying whales, their intelligence, their sociability. It is all being borne out in the most incredible way imaginable. When I realized what was going on, it became so profound. I was not alone in the water. In that moment, a 45-ton whale was demonstrating impulse control, precision, and what appeared to be responsibility.

seconds later they reached the boat. The whale eases to a stop, curving his enormous body and raising his tail fluke, allowing Nan to climb off his back and onto the boat. I was laughing at first because I was in shock, I mean literally in shock. And then I put my hands over my eyes and just started sobbing. I don't know why. I'm not sure what that sob was, whether it was joy, fear, craziness or just the realization that this whale was a hero. In the days that follow, Nan finds herself replaying her experience over and over.

She reappraises every detail pondering the creature's actions and how they might inform science's understanding of whale behavior. Fortunately, everything was caught on her GoPro camera, so there is video evidence for her to review. Despite Nan's initial certainty that the whale was deliberately protecting her from the shark, good scientific practice demands scrutiny and skepticism. There have been some studies into altruism in humpback whales, but as far as Nan can tell, nothing as clear-cut as what she experienced. As more time goes by, she becomes increasingly convinced that what happened to her was not a miracle, but a scientific clue, perhaps indicating something genuinely groundbreaking.

If I hadn't filmed the whole ten and a half minutes and if it hadn't been filmed from, you know, a distance from the boat, I don't think I would even believe it. So when we talk about what happened between the whale and me, we're not talking about a simple reflex. For ten and a half minutes, a forty-five ton humpback whale, positioned his body between me and a tiger shark, and he made repeated controlled contact with me. He never struck me. He never injured me. He maintained spatial awareness of both me and the predator. And this just shows that it really required self-regulation in this situation.

And that requires inhibition to focus without being distracted. that requires sustained attention. So it wasn't complete chaos. It wasn't random movement. It was deliberate. What the whale was doing was deliberate. The scientific debate is whether the behavior is instinctual, predator disruption, or something closer to what we humans call altruism.

As the weeks turn into months, questions mount. Did Nan experience a one-off, an arbitrary chance occurrence that has no real bearing on academic research? Or did she glimpse an aspect of whale behavior that science hasn't yet fully understood? As it happens, she will soon get a second chance to find out. It is one year later. On the south side of the island, Nan is at work, conducting field research with her team of marine biologists. Suddenly her phone rings. It's a colleague telling her that a humpback whale has been spotted near Raritunga Harbour.

So zipped up to the harbor, got there in about 15 minutes, and I saw in the distance a whale dive. And of course we identify them with their tail flukes. There were two notches, a notch on each side of his tail fluke that looked kind of familiar. Nan and her team board the speedboat. As it putters out towards the reef, she scratches her head. The details of the tail look familiar, but she has to get closer to be sure. Humpbacks can navigate with extreme accuracy, and it's not uncommon for whales to return to the same spot twice.

The boat comes to a stop, and Nan gets into her diving gear, her wetsuit flippers and mask. Then she peers into the wales. After a few moments, the dark silhouette of a humpback appears below them. Its bulky, elongated body parallel to the boat. All of a sudden, he surfaced, and he ignored everyone else on my boat. And he brought his head up right next to me and looked at me. Just looked at me.

And I recognized a scar on his head. And I screamed, it's him. It's him. him, he's back. I mean, it may have been one of the most exciting moments of my life to stand there and scream. He's back. Nan slides off the end of the boat and swims over to the animal. And the most remarkable of reunions ensues.

He very sweetly put his huge pectoral fin out and he put it underneath me and I just laid at the surface of the water on his peckerel finn. And there are tears in my mask. I mean, this was really emotional. She gently holds on to the wails fin. And for a time the two of them drift together calmly, eye to eye. It's an unforgettable moment. But again, one that Nan can say is rooted in scientific fact. You know, in mammals, emotionally intense events are encoded.

more strongly due to amygdala activation. So the emotion processing centers, the temporal lobes, detecting potential threats. And that shark encounter was definitely a high, intense event. If it was for me, it probably was for him, too. That's neuroscience, not sentiment. After their reunion, Nan bids a heartfelt goodbye to the whale. He rolls onto his side, lifts his tailflug, and with a gentle splash, slides serenely back into the deep.

Nan returns to land, goes to our office, and records the events of that day. Last year's encounter appeared to demonstrate humpback whales's ability to show altruism towards another species. This second encounter, a year later, seems to indicate something else, that humpbacks are not only capable of interspecies recognition, but can actually form bonds with humans. It's a small sample size, but if true, it points towards something fascinating. It's not a miracle story. Well, yeah, maybe it is.

It just shows that recognition is biologically plausible for whales. And I guess it is a miracle story in many ways, but it's also a very scientific story, perhaps as a shift in how we see our place in the ocean. Even now, Nan is hesitant to make any bold, categorical claims. More evidence is required before concrete conclusions can be drawn. But that's not to say we can't learn anything from her experience. It can teach us something, Nan says, about the natural world and about ourselves. This experience changed my life in many ways.

It really did. About kindness and altruistic behavior and the ocean and consciousness of whales, how important it is to protect them. We are only beginning to understand the cognitive lives of whales. But when a newly found awareness meets you in the ocean, theory suddenly becomes relationship and relationship carries responsibility. If whales can remember, regulate, and respond with such precision,

then perhaps the next evolution isn't theirs. Perhaps it's ours. Next time, we travel to Tasmania to tell a survival story centered on one of the strangest natural phenomena on earth, a sea stack. An impossibly slender needle of rock that rises from the turbulent waves. Over 200 feet tall, but just 13 feet in diameter, the fact that it remains standing seems to defy logic.

And it's while tackling this striking natural structure, but Celia Bull faces an extreme physical and psychological ordeal. When her climbing partner and boyfriend Paul is severely injured, he is left dangling from a rope on the side of the monolith. blood pouring into the ocean below. Suspended, quite literally between life and death, it is up to Celia to rescue him before the rising tide can claim him. That's next time on real survival stories. Listen today without waiting and without adverts by joining Noisa Plus.