# You'll Have to Take My Word for It

*By [Ansh Chokshi](https://anshchokshi.com) · Oct 2, 2026 · 7 min read*

Canonical: https://anshchokshi.com/write/youll-have-to-take-my-word-for-it

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it was the first solo road trip of my life. also the first mireye company offsite.

well, a one-person company offsite.

after the craziness of the batch and the fundraise, i had been looking forward to a weekend with a very short agenda. read, write, go on hikes, and stay off my phone, social media, and ai.

i found a hostel tucked away in point reyes. while looking up things to do, i came across the lighthouse and the possibility of spotting whales. if you know me, you know how little encouragement i need when wildlife is involved. even the slimmest chance will do.

when i got to the hostel, i found a lounge with books, board games, and a pair of binoculars on the bookshelf. i already knew where i wanted to go the next morning. the plan was to wake up early and head out.

my lazy ass woke up at 10 instead.

after breakfast, i asked the host if i could borrow the binoculars. just in case. she was really sweet about it and brought out her own pair from the back, better than the ones on the bookshelf.

the drive to the lighthouse was pleasant, but by the time i got there, it was windy and hazy. the midday light wasn't doing much for photographs either. still, i kept scanning the ocean for any sign of movement. the lighthouse was supposed to be the attraction. most of my attention was somewhere beyond it.

there was a juvenile gray whale's skull on display, which i thought was pretty cool. i overheard a guard mention a humpback sighting that morning. i asked which direction and spent another half hour searching that part of the water.

nothing.

i eventually made my way back to the car. as i drove away, i noticed a couple of cars turning toward chimney rock. i had nowhere else to be, so i followed them.

the trail didn't look like much at first. it climbed along a narrow headland, with ocean on either side, then levelled out. there weren't many people around.

about ten minutes in, i wanted to take a photo of a small house by the water. that was when i realized my phone was still in the car.

i could walk back, but i was supposed to be staying off it anyway. besides, this hike hadn't even shown up in my research. it looked a little mid. what was the worst that could happen without it? i kept walking.

a little farther along, a couple coming the other way told me there were whales everywhere. i asked where. they said to the right.

i hurried ahead and lifted the binoculars. within twenty seconds, a humpback surged through the surface, mouth open.

then i began to see them everywhere.

thirty or forty humpbacks, feeding and lunging out of the water. birds and seals were feeding around them.

i had watched scenes like this on discovery channel as a kid. i remembered hearing how rare it was to see so many animals feeding together. upwelling brings cold, nutrient-rich water up from the depths. plankton thrive, small fish like anchovies feed on them, and when those fish gather in dense schools, everything else shows up to eat.

that afternoon, they had all gathered in front of me. an entire stretch of ocean had become an all-you-can-eat buffet.

the water was alive with them. after all that searching at the lighthouse, i could barely look anywhere without finding another whale. i eventually stopped counting.

i have always loved wildlife photography. as a kid, i dreamed of becoming a wildlife photographer. i have been lucky enough to travel and photograph all kinds of animals in the wild, and i am usually prepared even when the chance of seeing anything is close to zero.

there i was, watching one of the most extraordinary wildlife spectacles of my life, with my phone sitting in my car.

every few minutes, i felt the urge to take a photo. it kept coming back. i would see something and immediately want to capture it, then remember that i couldn't.

at one point, four humpbacks rose together, mouths open, feeding at the same time.

four whales in one frame.

i kept thinking about the photograph it would have made. and how strange it would feel to tell this story later without being able to show anyone.

i sat there for two hours, just watching and smiling, without a worry in the world.

later, on the walk back, a gray fox appeared on the trail, coming straight toward me. it saw me and kept walking. i expected it to turn away, but instead it stopped near a small hole. for a few minutes, it watched the same spot.

then it pounced. missed. and tried again. i was about thirty feet away, watching it hunt. on the fifth attempt, it caught something and ran off with its catch.

when i got back to the car, i grabbed my phone and texted my mom, excited to tell her everything.

usually, i have someone to share these encounters with or photographs to share. this time, i had been on my own, and all i could send her was the story.

writing this is the closest i can get to taking you with me.

on the drive back, i kept replaying how casually it had all come together. i had borrowed binoculars just in case, followed a few cars down a road i hadn't planned to take, and happened to pass two people who knew where to look. i could have driven straight home after the lighthouse and never known how close i had been.

i have spent most of my life thinking in terms of logic, math, probabilities, and things i can explain. but that afternoon left me with a sense of connection i couldn't quite put into those terms. there was something almost spiritual about finding myself, alone and by chance, in the middle of so much life. i felt a kind of gratitude i didn't know where to place.

for the past few months, i have been putting everything into mireye, doing my [life's work](https://anshchokshi.com/write/lifes-work) of [making something people want](https://anshchokshi.com/write/make-something-people-want).

i was feeling burnt out. that afternoon gave me the energy to keep pushing.

i wish i could show you. maybe in another life. in this one, you'll have to take my word for it.

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More essays by Ansh Chokshi: https://anshchokshi.com/llms.txt