Nan Hauser

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.

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.

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.

I was laughing at first because I was in shock, 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.

If I hadn't filmed the whole ten and a half minutes, and if it hadn't been filmed from 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 10 and a half minutes, a 45-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.