Eyes fixed on the horizon, you are standing at the port with already cold coffee. A forty-ton visitor doing cartwheels is somewhere out there. and Lahaina? Excellent place to catch the craziness. Want to know what makes Maui whale watching unique? Discover more on our blog.

The jackpot is midway through winter. The ocean around Lahaina is a procession of flukes, breaches, and baby whales learning the trade from January through March. Unless you prefer empty water, avoid bothering looking in July.

Locals claim that your best bet is the morning. It’s slower. Boats glide, not bounce. And the light is perfect—not that you would need it if a whale launches straight ahead of your raft.

Speaking of rafts—avoid alcohol cruises based on speaker wars. Get modest. It is personal in catamarans, rafts, or sailboats. The kind where the captain knows which pod has show-offs and which one hangs close to Puʻu Olai.

Captain Nalu relates a tale of a calf that swam under the boat and stayed fifteen minutes. Everyone just sat in startled quiet. He says the mother nodded somewhat before diving. Though nobody truly knows if he invented it, none cares. That’s a fantastic narrative.

One does not have to be a marine biologist. Knowing the difference between a spyhop and a breach, though, helps. Bring binoculars, but keep your face free from glue. The great events just waiting for the ideal zoom will be missed.

Store the drone at your house. Choose not to be that person.

A small tip: Use moderate sunscreen instead of intense one. Whales, most likely, can smell it. Alright; perhaps not. Later on, though, you will thank yourself when you are not ravenous for coconut.

Quiet is underappreciated. Sometimes the hearing everyone gasp at once makes the whale jumping less interesting. Like a group of breaths. Then the splash comes, and someone invariably says, “Did you see that?” Absolutely. You really did.