Or it might have been a duck. Or perhaps an early crow.

You get that whale watching.

Gazing into the abyss, like NASA's Webb space telescope, trying to determine the nature of existence.

At least that's what my offsider implied as they queried whether I had seen anything at all. Because they hadn't

I know I had, I think. Said with the kind of confidence you never want to witness in your treating doctor.

My self-belief eroded further after a second, long, hard, ultimately futile look.

Nothing but whitecaps, waves and all those blurry bits that float round the back of your eyeballs when you stare too much.

The coast is a humpback highway this time of year and there's an excellent chance you'll see something.

If you're in the right place at the right time and possibly in the right state of hallucinatory mind.

Again my offsider was white-anting my claim.

Remember that time you thought you saw a dolphin, and it turned out to be a log? they asked, suggesting I had form.

And yes, I did remember. It had been earlier on that walk.

I could have sworn the log spouted air, even though a dolphin laying that still that long in the water was probably in need of resuscitation.

Wishing too hard to see something can trick you into seeing things that way.

Watch enough NRL Bunker reviews and you'll know that.

Suck in your gut enough times in front of the mirror and you'll get the picture too.

Whales can hold their breath for long periods of time, I pointed out.

Particularly if they're spotted by a solitary single lone person on a reasonably crowded beach and obviously get startled by that person's remarkable yet unshared acuity.

I too was starting to think it sounded a tad unfeasible.

So I did what any chastened wannabe whale spotter would do under the circumstances.

I extended the walk unnecessarily for an extra 15 minutes by staring intently at the water seeking a sign.

And in the dying embers of the day under the light of a silvery moon, something splashed.

I duly pointed - somewhat hysterically - and may have yelped, as you do when you believe vindication is at hand.

Sadly, the alleged blowhole then promptly flapped its wings and flew off.

It had been a duck after all. Case closed.

Or maybe a shag, or perhaps evidence-based corroboration of wishful thinking.

In terms of my whale sighting credibility, you might say 'thar she blew'. For now.

Nothing left to do but swear I saw something all the way home.

You get that when people look but don't see and then don't listen.

But that's whale watching for you.

More from Simon Walker: The complete That's Life archive