Work Text:
Statement of Owen Bakken, regarding his experience inside a whale. Original statement given December 15th, 1998. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, the Archivist. Statement begins.
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I hated the book Moby Dick. I remember my father gave it to me to read when I had nothing else to do, and the first few times reading it were nice but after that: it all became bland. Ismael gets his leg bit off by the whale and seeks revenge. That’s that. Oh, the groans that’d come from me every time my father handed me the book.
I only bring this up now because I find it quite ironic. Last year, I was in a real puddle. Might’ve been one of the biggest low points of my life. I had no job and my ex-fiance of seven years found satisfaction in other places. I couldn’t rely on family since they were either dead or simply away and friends are hard to come by at my age. I lived off the tv for a few weeks until the realization of having no job hit me. I looked everywhere for one and gathered my options. One of them happened to be whaling. I remember being wary of it, at first, until I was shown the pay. I nearly jumped at it.
After that, a few days passed and I was aboard a ship with many other people. I remember our captain fondly. His name was Captain Holger Bradt. He was older and his hair was almost a pearly white. I remember meeting him for the first time. He simply introduced himself and walked off before I could. I found that interaction odd but overtime, I realized it was quite common. Everyone did their part on the ship and, while some were more close, the whole crew seemed to be content with themselves. I didn’t mind it. I adjusted to it quite easily. You’d be surprised how relaxing it is to hear the sea swash and swoosh against the ship as you do what you’re doing. So much so that Bradt would catch me doing things twice as if I forgot them.
This seemed to be routine until we actually started finding whales. A sudden change happened. People worked together to harpoon and lift these masses of blubber into the boat. It was quite energizing and I felt a rush from it; I’m a little ashamed to admit it. Something about catching your target with people was renewing and satisfying. It went on for a few days before the incident happened.
Thinking about it, I’m still not quite sure if it actually happened. It feels so unreal. We were hunting down a sperm whale. Bradt said it was huge and we took his word for it, not thinking much of it. I was excited to get a big catch. I think I was more excited than the others around me. That was until we saw it. I know that sperm whales aren’t hostile, usually. They aren’t unless you provoke them. But this felt different. We saw the top of the whale first and we were so astounded by it that we didn't even attack. I swear, it could’ve been its own island. I could’ve walked on it and be fine. This thought was torn from me quickly as I felt it pop up and it swam towards us, mouth open. It was not a sperm whale. It looked like one, I swear!.. But it was so huge, it couldn’t have been one. Everyone knew it couldn’t have been one. I remember seeing it close down on us, chewing us up. I think the worst memory of that was seeing Bradt get squished and spread out on its teeth. Red was all I remember seeing.
But, I managed to faint or pass out. I wasn’t conscious to see how I escaped its teeth. I only remember waking up in it. It was dark and humid and I swear I could feel a thick moisture throughout. I didn’t know what to do. I was confused and hopeless and, at that point, I believed that I was just going to die there in its stomach. It took me a few minutes to get up and look around but I eventually managed. I saw a few things. Bones mainly, probably of crews before us, and the thick sea fog. I could see the whale’s ribs and flesh. It was fascinating, actually. Maybe even intriguing. It’s a little hard to remember it all. I think at some point I started wandering but I felt so small. So insignificant. It looked like I could walk from one side of the whale to the other easily but as I walked, I realized that it was miles long. It had to have been, I swear on it. There was no end or beginning. Just a mass of ribs stretching.
As I walked, I remember there were lighter parts, darker parts, there were pieces of my old crewmates around. You’d imagine they’d be digested but they just look discarded. As if they weren’t enough to satisfy the whale. I spent a long time thinking why I was alive and why was this whale huge and how I should’ve taken a cashier position instead. I moped, cried, grieved, and screamed. It was all I could do. I had no one to talk to but myself and I didn’t know how I was still alive. I was just lingering there. With nothing to do, I’ll admit, I did some barbaric things. I won’t list all of them but one of them was trying to eat my way out of the whale. I had mouthfuls upon mouthfuls of its oily blubber. The taste was unpleasant but I was desperate. So, so desperate to leave. I even made myself a little dent in it.
Living in it made me insane, I think. It was all I saw, all I smelled, all I felt. That thick, nauseating moisture that surrounded me like a haze, I could feel it creep into all the pores and holes in my body, dragging me into the whale as if I was supposed to be absorbed. Despite it being humid, that haze made me feel cold. I remember shivering and laying there, feeling utterly helpless. My cycle of crying came again, and went, and came, and went as days flew by and weeks became hours. I couldn't discern what to do. There was a point, I think, where I thought I heard someone. Like, squishy footsteps. I was practically running to it but found nobody. I remember hearing voices and the sea and the whale and everything. It was becoming so loud yet it came from nowhere. It echoed in my head and throughout my body. I remember hearing the whale talk. I know that sounds wrong but it whistled to me. I couldn't make out what it said. Something like “no one is here”. It just kept whistling that.
The events happened so much that it all blends together and I find myself eating the whale again. I don't know how long it took me but I remember that last bite. I pushed myself out of the opening only to be shocked that I landed on ground. Hard ground. I relished in the feeling of it on my skin. It felt new and relieving. Suddenly I saw people too but I don't remember them and I passed out.
I woke up in the hospital. What they told me was that my ship and crewmates were missing for weeks and that I was squished into a sperm whale that had beached itself. I managed to escape but only while it was rotting. I asked if the whale covered the whole beach, due to its size, but they said it was a normal whale that managed to have an unusually big throat to swallow me.
That was the last time I saw the sea, and frankly I’m okay with it. I don’t know if what I saw was real, but it felt real. And I’m terrified of the thought of being the only one to survive something I should’ve died in.
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Statement Ends.
Our own investigations into Owen Bakken’s experience are– how do I put it? Surprising? We had to email his wife and the Hospital he was in since they’re in Norway. We were told a few things.
He died from heart problems, mostly pulmonary edema, five years ago; leaving his wife, at the time, a widow. Orkdal Hospital does have Owen’s files but states that he was miraculously comatose in a sperm whale for weeks. His crewmates were later found washed up in pieces near Hestvika. Reports on them are unknown, speculating that they encountered a storm that demolished their ship. Other than that, we couldn’t get much on a “Island-sized whale” or if anyone has seen it.
We tried asking his wife but all she provided was his frequent nightmares about ribs and moisture. Nothing much other than that.
Recording ends.