I’m a bit wary of paddling far offshore during the winter, for obvious reasons of safety as well as feeling a bit less secure when it is cold. However if the sea surface is flat calm it is definitely worth heading out to have a look around.
I havn’t been to Dodman Point for six months. It is a bit of a foreboding place with a reputation of swirling and choppy seas. My plan was set off from the sheltered waters of Portmellon, close to Mevagissey, and paddle for a few miles directly offshore before swinging south towards Dodman. If it got a bit lumpy I could always head back in and enjoy a saunter along the coast.
I was relieved to see the sea was like a lake as I rolled up. If anything broke the surface I would see it from half-a-mile away. Excellent.
Before I veered away from the coast I spied a young seal bottling in a sheltered cove. It appeared to be fast asleep and snoring impressively. I drifted past without a sound and more importantly without disturbing the seal. It didn’t open an eye.!
My offshore adventure started quietly. Any sort of bird activity increases the chance of a big sea creature sighting, but there was not a lot happening. A few Guillemots dotted about on the surface and one or two wandering Kittiwakes and Gannets flying past. I scrutinised every Gannet until it disappeared into the distance. Nothing made them deviate one inch from their flightpath…apart from me!!
Two miles offshore I stopped for a cup of coffee and heard a porpoise puff. It’s amazing how often this happens when the slosh of the paddles stops. I couldn’t see it initially, but slowly it worked its way closer, taking four or five puffs before a dive lasting a couple of minutes. Then it surfaced right beside me.
After I watched the porpoise disappear off, puffing merrily, I swung south and headed for Dodman. I could hear the seals bawling on Gwinges rocks two miles away.
The sea remained very devoid of life and I was about to turn round to investigate the inshore waters closer to Fowey, when I saw a blurr of bird activity on the horizon, like a distant smudge. I immediately paddled flat-out towards it. I knew there would be some cetacean or large fish activity beneath the circling throng, and if I didn’t pile on the speed it was all going to be over before I turned up.
Twenty minutes later I was approaching the mass of seabirds swirling around low over the surface. Every so often I could see a splash at the surface beneath them, and the whole area was stippled with disturbed water with whatever was feeding beneath. A massive and violent splash left me in no doubt…these were Tuna. The splash of a dolphin is very much more controlled and polite.
I was just a bit surprised that more of the big fish weren’t breaking the surface. They were actually feeding more in the manner of dolphins, and swimming quite slowly, for tuna!
So this video might be a bit of a disappointment for Tuna fans, although you can clearly see their spiky fins.
I sat around watching the activity for about three hours. Absolutely extraordinary. Not five seconds went by without the sound of a ‘Tuna splash’, a very characteristic noise because they are (usually) moving so fast.
The action was strung out along the current line past Dodman Point. Most frenzies of gulls consisted of Kittiwakes and a few Common Gulls, so they were probably feeding on sandeels. Easy to catch so no need for the Tuna to do too much leaping about.
You can see this Tuna pass in front of my kayak with its mouth open.
Other circling groups consisted of larger gulls and some circling Gannets, so were feeding on larger baitfish such as sprats or pilchards. The Tuna here were a bit more animated.
On two occasions I heard a roar like a huge waterfall in the distance, and could see the surface boiling with scores of big fish. It only lasted a few minutes, and I wish I was closer to witness the action at close-hand. I tried to film the action, but with not much success. Take a close look…there are probably hundreds of tuna involved. The entire horizon goes momentarily dark.
I had to settle for a more modest performance closer to my kayak…
I thought it wasn’t going to be too long before a pod of Common Dolphins came along to join in with the feast, but the way they did it gave me a bit of a jump. Three youngsters bursting out of the water just in front of me:
They swum about feeding in amongst the Tuna in a leisurely manner, although being dolphins they couldn’t resist the occasional leap…
The wind started to pick up so I paddled at a fast cruise pace to Vault beach an hour a way, where I demolished a (disappointingly small) chunk of Lemon Drizzle.
So all in all quite a remarkable day for late November.
2-300 Tuna actually seen; I wonder how many more are just beneath the surface? 10X this number, 20X, 100X !!!
At least thirty Common Dolphin and half-a-dozen Porpoises. Not to forget the charming seals as well.
To finish off, I heard the laugh of a Loon (Great-Northern Diver) as I re-entered Mevagissey Bay. This was followed by a burst of a full-blown Loon cry, like something from the Canadian wilderness. Only for a couple of seconds, but a fitting end to a great day out.
I never actually saw the bird.
The Lone Kayaker 