When the Giants Return

I grew up in Ohio, about as far from an ocean as you can get. Whales weren’t something I thought much about. They existed mostly as shadows on a screen during Jacques Cousteau TV specials, or in passing glimpses on other nature programs. Vast, distant, and mythic. Definitely not part of my world.

That changed when I moved to the Pacific coast of Mexico. Here in Troncones, life meets the sea with very little in between. And somewhere along the line, whales stopped being a distant idea and became seasonal neighbors. Now, every year when the heat starts to soften and the water shifts, I find myself watching the horizon. Waiting. Listening. Because the giants are on their way.

Humpback whales, ballenas jorobadas, begin arriving off the coast of Guerrero sometime around December, part of a long, winding migration that spans thousands of kilometers. They come here to give birth, raise their calves in warmer waters, and rest. And for a few short months, we get to share the coast with them.

Some days they stay far out, visible only by the telltale rise and fall of their breath or the flick of a tail. Other days, they come astonishingly close. I’ve seen them in our little Manzanillo Bay, just a few hundred meters offshore, a mother and calf rolling gently through the swells. They breach. They slap the water. They disappear. It never stops being extraordinary.

Scientists believe that two overlapping groups of humpbacks use this region as a wintering ground. During the summer, they migrate north to feeding grounds in the cold, nutrient-rich waters off California, Oregon and Southeast Alaska. Some may travel as far as the Gulf of Alaska or Bering Sea. When they return here in winter, they aren’t here to feed. These are the quiet months, where the calves grow, the adults rest, and energy is saved for the long swim north.

In addition to humpbacks, our coast occasionally plays host to a few other marine visitors. Bryde’s whales are warm-water residents that sometimes slip by quietly offshore, often mistaken for their more famous cousins. Orcas have been seen on rare occasions, sleek, fast, and unforgettable. Once in a while, someone spots a pod of false killer whales [a type of dolphin] moving like shadows through deeper water. Several other species of dolphin are commonly seen here, including bottle-nose, spinners—sometimes in massive pods—and pantropical spotted dolphins. Even the Guadalupe fur seal, once thought extinct, has made the occasional appearance. I’ve personally seen two.

Whale watching has become a growing part of tourism here. More and more boats head out each season to look for whales, especially from Zihuatanejo and Troncones. This is a beautiful thing, people connecting with the wild in a way that matters. But it also comes with responsibility. That’s why I strongly encourage anyone going out to make sure their boat captain has completed the official whale watching training through the Whales of Guerrero Project.

The Whales of Guerrero Project has become a cornerstone of marine education and conservation in our region. They are the ones out there identifying individual whales by the markings on their flukes, tracking migration patterns, and helping to build the body of knowledge that connects our coast to the broader Pacific.

The Project invests an enormous amount of time and care into not just studying whales, but also educating locals, fishermen, captains, and students on how to coexist with these animals respectfully. If you're looking to support an organization doing real, local work that matters—this is one of the best. Donations go directly into education, research, and outreach right here in Guerrero.

Their trained captains know how to approach whales without disturbing them. They understand safe distances, legal limits, and how to read whale behavior. They know when to slow down, when to cut the engine, and when to let the whales be. A good captain doesn't chase whales; they earn their presence.

Unfortunately, whales in our waters face dangers beyond boat traffic. The most serious threats are gillnets and longlines, which can entangle whales and cause injury or death. These fishing methods are still widely used along the Pacific coast. Entanglement can prevent a whale from surfacing to breathe, or cause long-term injuries that slowly wear them down. It's a slow, silent threat, one most people never see.

So, yes, go out. Watch the whales. Marvel. But do it with awareness. And know that this place, this stretch of wild coast, is still a shared space. The whales are only here for a little while. They trust us to be decent while they raise their young. That feels like something worth honoring.

I never expected whales to become a part of my life. But now, when I hear that low exhale out at sea or catch the arc of a fluke against the morning sun, I feel lucky. And I hope that if you're here this season, you get that same feeling, too.

Not everything wild has to be feared. Not everything powerful has to be controlled. Some things are just meant to be witnessed. And if you’re quiet enough, still enough, you just might see a piece of that wild rise from the sea, breathe and vanish again.

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Learn more: https://www.whalesinmexico.com

https://www.laondatroncones.com/play/whale-watching

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