A couple of very early-morning dashes to Fowey during the last ten days demonstrate nicely all that I find thrilling about wildlife watching from the seat of a kayak. They also highlight the challenges and why chasing after highly mobile sea creatures in a tiny craft powered by chicken-wing arms is a really stupid thing to do.
Very early morning has been necessary because there have only been a couple of lulls of just a few hours when the wind has not been blowing hard. Wind makes the open sea a kayaking no-go. It’s not just for reasons of safety…a choppy sea makes seeing the fins difficult and a moving observation platform doesn’t help.
It’s a one mile trip under the gaze of the town of Fowey to access the open sea. It must be my favourite ‘urban’ paddle in the whole of Devon and Cornwall. Their is always so much going on and today a sumptuous cruise liner, ‘Silver Shadow’, had just arrived and was tying up in the middle of the estuary. Sleepy-eyed, pyjama-clad punters leaned over their balconies to take in the lovely scene.
There’s wildlife too, above and below the water. A nice relaxed build up to the potential excitement to come.
As I exited the estuary into open water I unconsciously engaged top gear because the sea was super-flat and I could see a lot of Gannets milling about in the distance.
Milling Gannets means fish which usually means big fish-munchers under the surface as well.
A mile or so offshore I thought I heard the puff of a porpoise so stopped paddling and cleared my earholes by doing that jaw thing. Even though kayaking is incredibly silent the quietest of sounds, such as a distant porpoise puff, can be masked by the slight splashing of the paddles and the scuffing of clothing during the paddling motion.
As I drifted to a halt it was really, REALLY, silent. And there was that puff again, so far away I knew I didn’t have a hope of seeing the porpoise which are small and have fins only about four inches tall.
I was about to set off in the direction of the puff when I heard a series of loud sploshes behind me. Distant and powerful. When I swung round I saw a succession of splashes which I initially thought were waves breaking on the distant headland. It was only when the splashes proceeded across the bay that I realised they must have speeding mega-creatures and judging by the size of the impacts when they hit the water…they were BIG.
My adrenaline levels maxed out so quickly it made my eyes bulge and the chicken wing arms whirred into action as I tried to close the gap on the speeding creatures that I had yet to see. What on earth were they? The splashes were far too big to be dainty and streamlined Common Dolphins. They were more like the raking swoosh of a hunting Giant Tuna, but Tuna rip the surface apart in a chaotic manner and do not progress in a specific direction like these splashes were doing.
I had never seen anything like this before.
I could see I wasn’t going to close the gap on these fast-moving creatures. They must have been moving at twenty mph. I kicked myself for being too far offshore. Typical! I usually don’t get to see stuff because I am not far enough out.
I just managed to get close enough to see glimpses of the creatures poking out of the plumes of spray.
I stopped paddling and fired off a few shots with the camera as they powered past in front of me. Although I had a fair idea that these were Risso’s dolphins, it was only when I reviewed the pictures later that I saw their blunt noses which confirmed their identity. I was staggered to see in the photos that there were some tiny calves accompanying the thumping great adults. Astonishing! How on earth can those little creatures power along at that sort of speed?!
Maybe it was a training session for the youngsters. Who knows?
Whatever, it was something I have never witnessed before and I was very envious of the gentleman in the yacht who had just emerged from Fowey as the pod of about twenty Risso’s ploughed close past in front of his bow.
Although I’m not entirely sure that he noticed them.
I lost sight of them as the splashes disappeared into the distance. They just kept on going…fast.
Incredibly, exactly the same thing happened four days later. Incredible because I had never seen Risso’s at Fowey before during dozens of previous visits.
The sea was even calmer and this time I heard the blows of the dolphins rather than seeing the splashes, as they were proceeding across the bay at a much more leisurely pace.
The blows sounded very powerful and I could estimate that there were about twenty in the pod even before I could see them. Probably the same group as four days previous.
Once again I was too far offshore and once again I only managed to close the gap enough for me to see them passing in the distance. It would be so much more sensible to have a boat with an outboard engine. The trials and tribulations of marine wildlife watching from a kayak!
Just like before, I only noticed that their were tiny calves accompanying the big fins when I reviewed my pics later.
Incidentally, Risso’s dolphins fins really do have the wow factor. They are up to twenty inches tall, so bigger than the fin of a Minke Whale. In fact they have the biggest fin of all the local cetaceans.
Phew, all pretty exhausting, but thrilling stuff.
But the action wasn’t over yet. A quiet little pod of Common Dolphins cruised past in the orange glow of the early morning.
And to wind up proceedings I sat in the middle of a pod of about ten porpoises as they merrily puffed around doing their busy porpoisey thing.
I missed a seriously impressive photo opportunity when this porpoise jumped clean out of the water. Autofocus didn’t quite have time to react!. Grrr. A porpoise in mid air is a rare event.
Photography from the kayak seat isn’t particularly easy. Neither is paddling out to sea looking for marine magafauna in a tiny human-powered craft.
That’s why I enjoy it so much.
ps…oh yeah I forgot another bonus of early morning paddling. It’s before the jetskis wake up…
‘ve made a couple of dashes to Fowey recently to make the most of a few hours of early summer morning calm before the wind picks up. The weather is exceptionally disturbed at the mo so careful planning is the key to success.
My efforts have paid off with two very memorable ten-mile circuits of the bay which nicely demonstrate all that I love about offshore kayaking.
The Lone Kayaker 