“Thar she blows!” someone cried as puffs of vapour sprayed out from a pair of blowholes. Chins stopped wagging, giving way to the whopping 40-tonne whale breaching. Or so we’d been informed, the day before we arrived at Guerrero Negro. The prospect of encountering a mammal—post their long migration—the length of a semi-trailer truck at 6,000-stone, got me going.