Beneath a broad sky painted with the blush of summer, a ripple caught the morning light in Trinity Bay—Paula, the wanderer of these briny waters, was on the move. There’s a hush when she glides in, a kind of quiet that seems to invite the seabirds to pause and take note, too.

Back in late July of 2025, when wildflowers painted the meadows and capelin sparkled near the shore, Paula made her graceful entrance into Trinity Bay. The water was alive with the chatter of gulls, and folks on the cliffs looked out over the shining blue, hoping for a sighting of something rare and grand. Paula obliged, surfacing with her broad back tracing easy arcs above the waves, bringing a smattering of wonder to even the most seasoned watcher.

It wasn’t long before Paula turned up again, this time a touch earlier in July 2026, gliding into Bay Bulls. The fishing boats bobbed at their moorings while tourists leaned out, eyes wide, scanning the sea for signs of her return. There she was—unhurried, gin-clear spray misting from her blows, moving past the headlands. There’s a special pleasure in seeing the same whale return, as though she’s quietly tipping her fluke in greeting to those keeping watch year after year.

Though her tale is still being written, Paula’s choice of harbours hints at her fondness for both the quiet corners and lively inlets of Newfoundland and Labrador. The stories she weaves are stitched together by every set of eyes lucky enough to spot her.