Lots of Porpoises for Fowey Regatta

Fowey is good.

(Gig race in )  Fowey

It’s a great place to go kayaking, and in my opinion the most scenic and paddle-friendly estuary/ria in SW England.

Providing you can clench your teeth hard enough to handle the savage price for parking your car, it provides quick access to the open sea via a very pleasant one-mile paddle between Polruan and Fowey.

I was surprised to see the small cruise ship ‘Hebridean Princess’ moored-up in mid river. My last encounter was on a very wet day in Loch Sunart in 2014 during my month-long kayak trip up the west coast of Scotland.

Hebridean princess at Fowey

Once out of the mouth of the estuary I headed directly out to see but not before I heard a couple of Whimbrel ‘tittering’ on a rocky shore. They are migratory waders, very similar to Curlew but slightly smaller and with that distinctive monotone ‘seven-whistle’ call.

Whimbrel

The sea was lovely and flat with little wind so it wasn’t long before I heard my first porpoise ‘piffing’, although it was minutes before I was actually close enough to see it.

I swung round a couple of miles off Gribbin Head and met up with two  bigger pods of Porpoises, about ten in each. I just sat and watched as they surfaced all around, but always frustrating from a photography point of view because they constantly change direction and pop up where you least expect them to do so (like directly behind).

You can here the characteristic piff quite well in this video, as they pass in front of distant Mevagissey:

 

 

Porpoises are small and very easy to overlook and I’m pretty sure none of the many passing boats noticed this little posse going about its business.

There was at least one juvenile amongst the group which was probably only two foot long….no wonder they don’t get seen.

Porpoise and calf

I think there must be a reef stretching out well offshore from Gribbin Head, because it does seem to focus the feeding activity of a mixture of sea creatures. A handful of tiny Storm Petrels, always a thrill to see from a kayak, (because they are only seen far offshore as well as being diminutive…the size of a sparrow) zipped past.

Storm Petrel

Their name is accurate because they always fly a bit closer to the shore during poor weather. Today was drizzly but fortunately not windy:

Pencarrow Head

Dodgy day

Also off Gribbin Head I saw the fin of a small Ocean Sunfish flopping at the surface. I was hoping to get close for an underwater shot but it spooked surprisingly early.

 

 

The grand wildlife finale was a mini feeding frenzy of Gannets off the headland. I could see little white dots circling and dropping into the sea a mile, possibly two, in front of me. They are big birds with a six foot wingspan so can be seen from a huge distance (a bit different to Storm petrels). I have learnt from (bitter) experience that even if I crank the kayak up to its top cruising speed of five to six mph, the feeding event will probably have finished by the time I roll up.

This nicely summarises the extreme challenge of trying to observe offshore wildlife from a kayak, and is probably the reason why nobody else does it. Another Gannet seeing the ‘work-up’ from afar (which is precisely what they look out for when cruising about) can cover the distance in a couple of minutes. They just dip a wing and disappear off at staggering speed. A wildlife-watching speedboat could cover the distance a little slower than a Gannet but in time to see what is going on. The Lone Kayaker generally arrives on scene when all that is left is a few fish scales rotating about in the swirled-up water.

Despite all this I stoked up a head of steam because the circling birds were on my way back anyway, and arrived twenty minutes later to just in time to witness the end of the action. In fact it was definitely the end because there was only one mackerel of the baitball left, and the last two Gannets to dive in ended up fighting over it. Both had their beaks locked around the same fish as they flapped about in a melee at the surface. See it for yourself in this video…..I’ve slowed down the action because it’s all a bit of a blurr otherwise. You will notice the porpoises are still busy looking for any escapee fish.

 

 

 

Here’s another pair of diving gannets at normal speed. It’s great to hear their cackles of excitement which they only utter when they are involved in feeding…they are completely silent the rest of the time.

 

 

Back nearer to Fowey the profusion of wildlife was replaced with a plethora of sailing boats as the annual regatta was in full swing. A tremendous sight despite the grey conditions.

Fowey sailing Regatta

Fowey sailing Regatta

The sea in front of the town was heaving with action and I had to weave amonst entrants of the gig race, which seemed very competitive.

Fowey gig boats

The water around the slipway was similarly choc-a-bloc with water enthusiasts in the style of fellow kayakers.

Caffa Mill kayakers

For the lone kayaker the most impressive performance of the day was by the porpoises.

 

 

 

Dashing Teignmouth Dolphins

Today exemplified the all-or-nothing nature of my chosen pastime. Six hours of offshore paddling with hardly any wildlife to see at all. A couple of Gannets, a single Common Scoter and a handful of Sandwich terns fishing at the mouth of the Teign estuary. My enthusiasm dipped, my arms began to ache and I could feel a yawn coming on.

The sea was so calm I would have seen a fin a long way off, or heard the piff of a porpoise. But nothing. Until…….

Far away between me and the shore I could just see the red shape of a wildlife-watching RIB cruising slowly round in circles, and I knew they must be looking at something. As I slowly paddled closer I knew it must be something interesting because it stayed there for a long time…and I suspected dolphins. So I cranked up the speed and then glimpsed the sun sparkling off the back of a large number of dolphins that were heading straight towards me. I primed the cameras and waited for their arrival. They didn’t disappoint.

 

It was a school of twenty-five to thirty with at least a few calves in amongst them. I was hoping a posse might come over to say hello, but suddenly all hell broke loose. The entire lot disappeared from view for a second and then all exploded from the surface simultaneously. I recorded the splashes on the Gopro and the image is reminiscent of the scene in Das Boot when the German submarine gets strafed by a Spitfire.

Twenty dolphins leaping out simultaneously

They then reformed and proceeded to cruise about in a (slightly) more relaxed state:

Dolphins in front of the cliff railway at Torquay

Posse of Common Dolphins

And then they were off again at top speed. I think they even gained some ground on a jetski that was skittering past in the far distance (which could have done with a bit of strafing)

Leaping Common Dolphin

Motley mass of dolphins

For a final fling they put on a supreme display, all conveniently down-sun to assist my photographic efforts. I don’t know how fast they were moving but it must have been thirty mph. You can see Teignmouth in the background at the end.

 

Wow. I have never had such a good view of a pod of speeding dolphins, apart maybe the school of about fifty offshore Bottlenose dolphins last December at Penzance, when my camera decided to freeze!

Thanks to the dolphins my day ended up fantastically exciting; without them it would have been thunderously tedious.

When I got back near the shore Teignmouth seafront was buzzing with August activity:

Teignmouth

and Shaldon was even busier because the regatta was in full swing.

Watery fun at Shaldon

Dolphin fatigue…..never!

What is this Dolphin doing?

Although the Lone Kayaker is dedicated to bringing you the best of wildlife from the British coast, he occasionally ventures to foreign lands (seas) to check out the marine scene elsewhere…….

 

 

Off the Mediterranean coast of Spain, within sight of Gibraltar, I managed to find myself at the epicentre of a feeding frenzy of Common Dolphins. This is the first time I have seen a pod in such a flurry of activity, with a large number of dolphins splashing about all over the place and causing disturbance of a large area of water, and a lot of splashy noise. Fantastic.

When all the commotion had died down and the sea settled back to its more normal sleepy state, a single dolphin arrived on the scene as if it was trying to catch up with the action which had just finished. It had a very strange surfacing action involving a bit of a bellyflop every time it breathed. The video clip shows that in fact there was another dolphin which surfaces a second after the ‘bellyflopper’ takes its first breath.

 

 

The second dolphin is breathing normally…..why on earth does the first lurch so far out of the water before flopping back down in what must be a very energy-expensive effort.

I noticed from a couple of still photos that the ribs of this dolphin were very visible, something I have never observed before.

So you wouldn’t have to be a top physician to deduce that this dolphin had a chronic health condition, or maybe was just old. Or perhaps injured by a jetski:

Look at the clip again in slow motion:

 

 

 

It really does seem like the sick dolphin is getting a bit of an assisting shove from below. Is the other dolphin helping it to get to the surface to breathe?

After  it surfaces for the second time there is an extra surge of water behind the sick dolphin which could well be the ‘flukeprint’ of the assisting dolphin.

Is this a remarkable example of a dolphin’s superior intelligence and social cooperation or am I being a buffoon and the dolphin is just taking a look around?

 

 

 

 

The Lone Kayaker Loves……Merlin’s Cave

 

Merlin’s Cave is excellent for a multitude of reasons. It’s a catchy name, the whole place is wrapped up in a blurr of mediaeval mythology, and its an awesome place to paddle in a kayak. In fact paddling it in a kayak is definitely the way to appreciate this dramatic place because the approach from land is a bit over-commercialised. Or so I’ve been told, because every one of over thirty visits to this amazing place has been by sea.

Legend states that wannabee monarch baby Arthur was washed up on the sand at the entrance to the cave.* . He was discovered by the wizard Merlin who lurked within** and was nurtured to his place on the throne of the castle on top of the cliffs high above.  Surrounded by Sir Lancelot et al.

*lucky it wasn’t high tide or he would have gone right through                                                   **hope he had a good set of chest waders

It’s all good stuff, and the knights and their entourage could not have chosen a more spectacular location for their castle. Tintagel island is great hulk of a rocky peninsular which is lashed by wind and battered by a booming swell for most of the year. It’s only on a handful of days during the summer that conditions are anything like suitable for a (relaxed) visit by sea kayak. For exploring the caves and tunnels the open sea swell has really got to be less than two feet….which isn’t very often.

Access by kayak isn’t that straightforward. It’s either a two mile paddle up from Trebarwith which is an exposed surf beach, or a four mile paddle down from the much more sheltered launch site of Boscastle Harbour. This has got to be the best route because it takes you past a couple of superb islands and the sandy beaches at Bossiney.

Merlin’s cave is even more remarkable because it passes through the neck of Tintagel island and for the  kayaker bypasses almost a mile of the most savage rocky coastline imaginable around Tintagel island. Vertical black cliffs and a sea which is restless even when everywhere else is flat calm. It’s a hostile place and I’ve had a hairy moment or two here.  This is the tip of Tintagel head:

 

The cave is in such a perfect place for sneaking between Tintagel Haven and West Cove, you can’t help thinking that a bit of wizardry was involved in its creation.

 

Approaching from the other direction (west) is not only magical from a scenery point of view, but also because the door of the cave seems to suddenly opens before you as you paddle towards blank cliff.

The tunnel is one hundred metres in length which, I’m pretty sure, makes it the longest in SW England. I’ve paddled the whole coast and don’t think I missed a better one.

It is only the realm of the kayaker from two or three hours either side of high tide when the sandy base of the cave is covered. During that time it is heaving with land-based tourists.

 

 

 

 

THAT Seal Again

After several major offshore paddles recently, to Eddystone, Dodman Point and Tintagel, a downturn in the weather forced The Lone Kayaker to a return to coastal paddling.

Although I find being far out to sea the most exciting environment for paddling, with the possibility of a whale appearing at any second, following the shore is more interesting from a scenery point of view. Also there are more boats and people to look at, if that is your thing. Maybe even 007 himself……

The real James Bond?

Or watching some poor devil getting a ticket because he was parked slightly on the grass because the carpark was completely full.

Out along the coast there is always something to maintain the attention in the ornithological department. For example, incessantly piping Oystercatchers,

Oystercatchers taking a break from piping

stands of reptilian-looking shags resting on the offshore rocks,

Shags

and a handful of very confiding Turnstones creeping about amongst the barnacles. Beautiful little birds, but extraordinarily difficult to spot amongst the acres of rocks exposed at low tide.

Turnstone

As I was watching the Turnstone a seal popped up beside me with a snort. I was pretty sure it was the same individual that had climbed onto my kayak a couple of weeks ago…a smallish Grey Seal with the look and behaviour of a youngster. It wasted no time in checking me out and then starting to sniff the deck of my kayak, probably looking for a snack. You will see from this video that it once again appears to be excited and playful  and throws its head about a bit while working out what to do.

(p.s ignore the date stamp….havn’t got to grips with GoPro fully.)

 

 

 

In anticipation of its next move I paddled alongside a rock and hung on tight, and sure enough the seal decided to hop on board. Hardcore science types would say that this action is purely motivated by food, and indeed the seal did do a lot of sniffing about and close inspection of my dry bag on the back deck, which contained nothing more stimulating to the appetite than some moderately stale Custard Creams. However watching the seal’s behaviour closely, I am sure that a bit of horsing about was involved.

 

 

 

It finished off with an inverted swimpast.

 

 

It was then joined by a pale-coloured friend and they had a bit of an introductory twirl.

Other larger and maybe wiser members of the group watched from a distance, and I made sure I didn’t approach too close to frighten them into the water, so took a long loop around the reef out to sea when I moved on.

Only the friendly seal came along to accompany me, porpoising along beside the kayak and  bumping into the rudder regularly. At one stage a gull flew over about six foot above the seal’s head and the seal playfully snapped at the bird.

It got even more excited when a local tourist boat appeared round the corner and it benefited from a handout in the shape of a mackerel.

Fishy snack for seal

As I paddled across the bay the seal eventually disappeared and I reverted to admiring the shore-based wildlife. A juvenile Buzzard on top of the cliff was constantly whining at it’s unseen parents. This is the main soundtrack of the countryside at this time of the year when all other birds have largely fallen silent.

Buzzard mewing

I pulled up on a tiny beach for a coffee break and as I did so a Kingfisher flashed past with a whistle, and a flash of orange and brilliant turquoise. This was the first one I have seen on the open coast this summer, presumably a bit of post-breeding dispersal as they nest in holes along river banks. It was a typical fleeting view, summed up quite nicely by this indistinct photo:

Kingfisher blurr

And so back to something resembling civilisation, and the buzz of the beach.

Busy beach

The last nugget of wildlife before I got back to the slipway was a Little Egret hunting little fish as the tide surged in.

Little Egret

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Blue Sharks at the Eddystone

From a kayaking perspective the Eddystone has got it all: remoteness, wilderness, isolation, challenge, mysteriousness and the possibility of a sensational wildlife encounter. This is where I met my BIG whale two years ago:

(probable) Sei Whale

and an ultra-rare Wilson’s Petrel last year:

Wilson’s Petrel

and the only place I have ever seen any superb White-beaked dolphins.

White-beaked Dolphins.

It’s not just wildlife that grab’s the attention….. on my first trip for 2018 out to Eddystone a few weeks ago I wasn’t aware that Thursday morning is wargames day and the passing frigates don’t seem to be too happy about a little yellow kayak messing up their planned path of attack.

 

 

I think I’ll stick to other days of the week from now on.

Interestingly I saw absolutely no cetaceans on this particular day (the first time in fifteen visits to Eddystone by kayak), and I have no doubt it was because of the loud pings of the sonar from the warships which I could hear emanating from the water sounding like a stone bouncing across the ice of a frozen pond. At one stage there were whistles as well….all a bit spooky. I could still hear all this noise pollution going on when the ships were a good five miles away, although I suppose they could have been coming from a submarine lurking only a few feet below me.

I doubt if there were any dolphins or porpoises within twenty miles of that racket.

At least I had a fantastic encounter with a couple of Puffins on this first trip, one of which was extraordinarily tame and paddled right up to the front of my kayak for a bit of a look.

Eddystone Puffins

Eddystone Puffin close encounter

The weather was stunning on my most recent trip a couple of days ago. Sunny and still and warm enough to just be wearing a vest beneath my lifejacket.

As usual virtually every Gannet I passed, and there must have been several hundred, diverted from their flight path and circled around me once before giving up on me as a source of a fishy snack.

Gannet

Hundreds of Manx Shearwaters flashed past at eye level, some only feet away, and amongst the rafts of resting birds were one or two of the very much more uncommon Balearic Shearwaters, the first I had seen this summer.

Balearic Shearwater

It’s a twelve mile paddle out from Plymouth sound to the Eddystone lighthouse, so quite a commitment. I do my homework thoroughly and know precisely what the tidal currents and the weather, particularly the wind, are doing. I will only go if the wind is forecast to be less than seven or eight mph all day. In fact today looked perfect because the wind was going to be light northerly in the morning, so helping me on my way out, before turning southwesterly to aid my paddle back. Perfect.

Today I called in with Rame Head NCI to report my journey plan and did a radio check with them.

I couldn’t see the lighthouse initially because the visibility was only about five miles so I had to keep on course using my GPS, but it soon cleared so I could navigate using eyeballs.

On the way out I saw and heard, a lot of Porpoises. In fact the total for the day was twenty-two, the majority on the outward trip. It’s funny how all wildlife seems to be more active in the morning and goes a bit quiet after lunch, when everything seems to go a bit sleepy .

Porpoise

A sturdy fishing boat from Penzance passed close in front of me as I approached the lighthouse.

As usual the last couple of miles were interminable and I kept having to check the speedometer on my GPS to make sure I was still actually moving.

But after four and a half hours of paddling I was beneath the enigmatic lighthouse:

 

 

I didn’t stop for a rest because there were a lot of recreational fishing boats around, but aimed to get back to less cluttered waters in the middle of nowhere to stop for lunch. I wonder how many people would consider the Eddystone lighthouse with half-a-dozen boats nearby to be a bit claustrophobic.

As I settled in to chew my way through a couple of dried out ham sandwiches, I saw a fin sweeping at the surface only a few yards away. Two or three feet in front of the moving fin was another cut the surface which was presumably a dorsal fin.

 

OK it wasn’t that big and wasn’t that dramatic but this was clearly a small shark (about five foot long), and a close look at the caudal fin shows that it is clearly blue, so I’m pretty sure that this is a Blue Shark.

Blue Shark caudal fin

Nearby was another, about the same size. I’ve seen this sort of thing way offshore before but never got a definite diagnosis on the species before. This is the first Blue Shark I have seen from my kayak.

The (very) long paddle back was quite quiet although my interest was just about maintained by a lot of Compass Jellyfish just below the surface. The most attractive of the UK jellyfish.

 

Seawatch National Whale and Dolphin Week 2018

After my spectacular failure to see a single cetacean during last year’s National Whale and Dolphin Week, I was keen to make amends. It’s a great event, an intensive effort to record as many whales and dolphins (and porpoises) as possible from right around the UK, between 29 July and 5 August. It raises awareness of the superb marine life on our doorstep and gets people’s enthusiasm going because everybody absolutely loves this stuff. Especially me.

Ultra close scrutiny of the weather forecast suggested the wind was going to be lightest in South Cornwall to the east of Falmouth. A smooth sea surface means maximum chance of seeing that fin…..even the slightest ripple reducing the chances significantly. So that’s where I went.

As usual I got out of bed TOO early (4.30am) and was ready to paddle out from Carne Beach FAR too early. It was misty and quite cool and there was a bit of a breeze making the sea look grey and unwelcoming. Having looked at the forecast my upper half was clad only in a vest (and lifejacket), and the suncream seemed a bit unnecessary at this stage. I got a bit cold and felt morale starting to dip. (This over early thing is quite normal for me)

Carne Beach launch

There was nobody about but a few really hardcore dog-walkers.

As I paddled out around Nare Head there were a few whitecaps sloshing the side of the kayak and I was not happy. I was hoping it was just the early morning offshore wind that you sometimes get in the summer. So I persisted with the original plan and headed offshore towards Dodman Point, just about within my comfort zone. I rang up Portscatho NCI (coastwatch) to inform them of my plans. Actually I tried three times because they hadn’t opened up shop on the first two attempts.

Distant Dodman Point

Yippee! I glimpsed a fin away to my right and paddled over to investigate…..it was a pod of about five Common Dolphins but they sped away before I was anywhere near close.

A couple of miles off Dodman Point the wind suddenly dropped and the sun came out. And dead ahead I saw a LOAD of fins break the surface:

I could hear a load of puffing and sound of surging water as a tightly packed pod of about fifty Common Dolphins surfaced repeatedly. Wow. I took a big loop around the pod to get up-sun and then just sat and watched at a good distance to avoid any possible disturbance. And the whole lot came straight towards me:

Just in case I hadn’t appreciated the show they then swam past again, only even closer:

The sort of wildlife experience I have only ever dreamed about.

There were several interesting things about this pod. One is that there were a few calves in amongst the throng. There was such a mass of action it was impossible to see how many, but I think was was a maternal group of dolphins and the reason it was so compact and slow moving was to nurse the calves along (yes, this might be complete rubbish).

Common Dolphin calf

Secondly one adult dolphin had a severely damaged fin, almost certainly an injury caused by a boat propeller.

Dolphin with chunk of fin missing

After sitting amongst the action for twenty minutes I looped back for the ten mile paddle back to Carne Beach, but it was so lovely and warm and relaxing I wasn’t in any hurry. However I did crank up the speed when I was suddenly joined by another small group of dolphins, who wanted to get a ride on my pathetically inadequate bow wave.

I stayed several miles offshore because that is where the sea seemed most busy with wildlife. I could hear the dolphins splashing in the distance long after I lost sight of them, and several small groups of porpoises popped up as I was paddling past.

Porpoise pair

In fact it was one of those special days where rarely a minute went by without the sound of a dolphin splashing or a porpoise breathing or the ‘thoomph’ of a Gannet hitting the water at speed.

Hunting Gannet

There was a constant trickle of Manx Shearwaters zipping past and I had a coffee break in the company of a resting raft of Shearwaters. I was also thrilled to see a couple of tiny Storm Petrels twisting their way past low over the surface….this sighting alone would have made my day a success.

Manx Shearwater

Beneath the surface there was a supporting cast of jellyfish….mainly Compass jellyfish but also Moon and Blue.

Compass jellyfish

Back into Gerrans Bay I ran into yet more dolphins. A group sped past at distance and then a pod of about fifteen approached. These looked very big and at first I thought they were Bottlenose, but as they passed I could see the characteristic yellow sides of Common Dolphins. But they certainly were all hefty and I think this was a pod of male dolphins (once again, this could be tosh).

BIG Common Dolphin

My last dolphin of the day was unusual. I heard a clear, short, explosive puff which I was sure sounded like a porpoise, but when a fin surfaced at its next breath it looked tall and sharp, more like a Common Dolphin. I doubted this because it was all alone (very undolphin-like) so set off in pursuit. I thought maybe it was a rare species of dolphin but eventually caught a glimpse of its yellow side….so just a ‘Common’ after all.

As I made my way back inshore some very large lines of Gannets cruised lazily past, one line consisting of upwards of fifty birds.

Squadron of Gannets approaching under the radar

Nare Head looked rather more attractive in the afternoon sunshine, compared to the cold grey of dawn.

So my cetacean tally for the day was approx eighty Common Dolphins (50+15+5+5+4+1) and sixteen porpoises in small groups. Maybe a Minke Whale next time……..

Common Dolphins off Nare Head