On a day when the sea glimmered with the promise of adventure, Florence made her quiet entrance, her presence as steady and dependable as the old fishing boats that dot the bays of Newfoundland and Labrador. She is a traveller by heart, finding home in both tropical warmth and northern breezes.

Florence first turned heads down in the balmy embrace of Samaná Bay, Dominican Republic, on a January morning. While most folks back home were still shovelling snow from the walkway, she was gliding through turquoise waters, likely savouring the comfort of gentle swells and sun-dappled tides. It's always a treat to see these northern visitors basking in southern seas, a reminder that the world is a lot smaller than it sometimes feels.

By the time July arrived, Florence had made her way all the way to Gull Island in Newfoundland and Labrador. The cliffs echoed with the calls of seabirds and the air danced with the scent of salt and sun-warmed kelp. There, amongst the bustling life of the island’s summer, she surfaced, unfurling her fluke to the delight of onlookers. It's quite a journey, that leap from the Caribbean up to our bold North Atlantic coastline—a feat that would make even the hardiest outport mariner tip his cap.

Florence’s routes remind us that these whales connect distant places, tying together communities and shores with each passage. Her journey is a piece of a much larger story, painted on the canvas of two hemispheres.