Few sleepers are more recognizable than sperm whales.
Not for how long, but for how they rest.

The animals drift upright near the surface for just ten to fifteen minutes at a time—despite diving thousands of feet for up to two hours. They rest for only about seven percent of the day, making them among the least sleep-dependent animals on the planet.

With most wildlife, you aren't hoping to find them asleep.
With sperm whales—it's the holy grail.

On my first day, I had already seen a large group socializing at the surface. After splashing and rubbing their massive heads together in a chaotic pile, they began to slow. The energy in the water shifted. They dove, then rose again—pausing partway up to float in place.

When you piece together what’s taking place, a mix of adrenaline, stress, and awe hits you—a combination hardly conducive to free diving, especially on your first day shooting underwater.

Before, the action had unfolded around me. Now, all the work was mine—diving for better angles, repositioning for light, trying to frame each massive body in this eerie formation. Breathing quickly becomes an inconvenience; every trip to the surface costs time with the scene below.

For what felt like an extended moment, time froze. Only the bubbles from their breath offered movement in an otherwise still scene.

Sleeping giants—motionless, but alive.

And just as suddenly as they paused, the spell broke. They stirred and slipped away, returning to the darkness below.