Winter Wonderworld

Under the Gaze of St. Mawes

It’s been a tough start to the year in the wildlife-spotting-from-the-kayak department. The weather in 2024 has kicked off in the same manner that 2023 concluded…non-stop wind and rain.

As usual the Lone Kayaker has set himself some really ludicrous targets for the year. Top of the list is to see a total of one thousand cetaceans, from the kayak seat, in Devon and Cornwall.

This sort of idea fits very well with my punk ethos. In fact the whole Lone Kayaker thing does. Like punk it is original, highly likely not to succeed, burns off a bit of energy and is a lot of fun. So it gets a big thumbs up from me.

If it’s all a bit daft that’s even better.

I havn’t quite managed that milestone figure of a thousand cetaceans in a year yet, as you can see from this high-tech bar chart that I created using AI and some old felt tips that were lying around in the corner of the kitchen:

Lone Kayaker Cetacean Stats. Not quite a thousand in a calendar year, but nearly

This year has got off to a stumbling start to say the least. There are plenty of ‘fins’ around the coast at the mo that are feasting on the seasonal abundance of pilchards (aka Cornish Sardines), but the sea conditions have not been at all kayak-friendly.

I have seen a handful of porpoises slinking about and half-a-dozen dolphins. That’s about it…until I had a big surprise a couple of days ago.

A morning of light winds was forecast…the briefest of lulls between two storm systems. A residual choppy swell from the east precluded a visit to my favourite sheltered east-facing hotspots, so I headed west to the huge open estuary of Carrick Roads.

I could then paddle along the shelter of the east shore with an open coast sort of feel even though it is a giant inlet.

As good as it gets at the mo

It’s excellent for seabirds if nothing else. There are always a few Great Northern Divers around, enough to make a paddling day special.

Great Northern Diver. Dripping Magnificence.

When I emerged from my launch creek I was pleased to see that the open sea didn’t look too hostile so headed out to take a look. And far ahead there were the fins! Quite spiky and fast-moving…dolphins for certain.

I approached with caution but the dolphins were up for a bit of sport and I was soon surrounded by a playful mob:

Fantastic. The thrill of being in the thick of a gang of dolphins never seems to wear thin.

However the thrill of bow-riding a very slow-moving craft powered by an old geezer did wear thin on these hyper-energetic Common Dolphins, and they soon sheared away to join up with another scattered group that were clearly feeding.

They were diving for long periods and constantly changing direction.

I just poured a cup of coffee and sat and watched the show.

Noselifting dolphin

They were absolutely fascinating as always. When cruising one of the group repeatedly lifted its head clear of the water when it surfaced. I used to think this was abnormal behaviour. In fact the only Common Dolphin I have ever seen twice, which I nicknamed ‘Noselifter’, behaved in this manner all the time.

They are probably just taking a look around.

Whatever, it makes for a nice pic:

Under the gaze of Pendennis Castle

After an hour of looking I started to get a bit twitchy. If there were 30-40 dolphins here, there might be something even more exciting just out there in the open sea. There wasn’t, but it was worth a couple of hours of investigation. I came across ‘just’ another handful of dolphins.

St Anthony Head Dolphin

Persistence pays off. The more time you spend on the water, the more you will see. That is the only rule, because if you head out with the expectation of seeing any particular type of sea creature you will probably be disappointed.

In fact, weirdly, the more confident you are the more likely you are to fail.

This rule applies to otters as much as it does to dolphins.

Even so, when I am paddling up an estuary I spend the ENTIRE time in complete stealth mode, straining my eyes as far ahead as possible, looking for that unexplained swirl at the surface.

If I don’t see anything a great time was had anyway, because the scenery is always absorbing:

However the other day my persistence really did pay off. I had paddled this stretch of south coast estuary for hundreds of miles since I last saw an otter.

Having paddled upstream with the incoming tide I was on my way back so thought the opportunity had passed. Otters like early mornings and it was now getting late. However I was still looking, looking.

Was that a swirl behind that tree stump close to the shore? I immediately skulked into the reeds on the opposite bank and sat in absolute silence.

Yes! An otter popped up and began swimming upstream towards me. Surprisingly fast, as usual, and surprisingly difficult to see, as usual. And even more slithery than usual.

It then completely disappeared, but I was confident that it hadn’t seen me so I just sat still with camera raised in anticipation. Staring for a glimpse of movement on the opposite bank.

There was not a sound apart from a singing Robin.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a swirl at the surface on my side of the river and a trail of bubbles rapidly approached the front of my kayak.

Here’s what happened next…a whole lotta champing and a whole lot of huffing…

Unquestionably one of my best Cornwall and Devon otter encounters ever. Of the couple of hundred or so I have seen, none has ever approached my kayak as close as this.

The encounter was slightly tainted by the potential disturbance to the otter, but although it was cursing me it was only mildly perturbed. I saw it continuing on up the river after it has finished giving me an earful.

If an otter identifies you as human it will disappear and you will not see it again. (Mmmm…not sure what that says about me)

So although winter paddling around SW England has many challenges, particularly so in this stormy season, it can be very rewarding. The feeling of adventure is enhanced by the almost complete absence of any other recreational water users at this time of year.

These encounters have fired up the enthusiasm for the rest of the year.

Only about 950 cetaceans to go….