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….

‘Ere we go…First Dolphins of 2024

Common Dolphin Duo…Falmouth

We’re out of the starting blocks! Just when I was beginning giving up hope of a day without the howl of the wind and the drench of the rain, my faith in the great British weather has been restored.

Sunday was the perfect crisp winter’s day, very memorable for a multitude of reasons. If the glace cherry on top of the Belgian bun was the little pod of dolphins, the icing was my eminent paddling companion.

It was Mike Conroy, who circumnavigated Ireland last year…in appalling weather…and is quite happy to clock up sixty plus miles in a day. His quicksilver speed makes me wonder if he has a secret propeller sneaked somewhere beneath the waterline and makes me feel as though I am paddling through a sea of Evo-stik.

Mike and St. Mawes

As we exited our little launch creek, I was very pleased to sea the open sea looking kayak-friendly. No whitecaps and minimal swell.

Even so, having nosed around Black Rock at the mouth of Carrick Roads, we decided to head for the super-smooth water in the direction of Truro.

Black Rock

I was intent on seeing something with a fin attached and a smooth surface makes this an awful lot easier. An observation platform that is bouncing around doesn’t make for good wildlife spotting.

The many Great Northern Divers dotted about made a good start. They are really impressive diving ducks with a great spear of a beak, They spend the winter here after migrating from Iceland.

St. Anthony

The Cormorants and Shags on the rocks at St. Anthony Head were just starting to get into the swing of the impending breeding season.

A few Shags were sporting their new punky-style quiffs…

Shags

While a Cormorant was showing off his new white-flecked headgear. It was still getting over the excesses of Christmas and New Year though, judging by his cavernous yawn.

Cormorant

The further up the ‘roads’ we paddled, the smoother the surface became. I had seen half-a-dozen porpoises here a few days ago during the briefest lull in the wind, but not the rain, so when a couple of fins sliced the surface ahead I suspected porpoise.

Wrong. When they broke the surface again with a little bit of a splash they were clearly dolphins.

Common Dolphins, Carrick Roads

It turned out to be a little pod of six or seven. They were busy feeding…surfacing very unobtrusively four or five times then disappearing for a minute or two.

For Common dolphins, which are hot-wired to be energetic, they were very quiet and slinky, although the couple of youngsters which surfaced right beside their mums just couldn’t resist the occasional surge or tail-slap.

Junior trying to contain exuberance

Mike and a moderately close encounter

The dolphins cruised slowly south. We headed north with lunch very much top of the agenda. A fine location for a feast is the cornerstone to the perfect kayaking day out.

Mike absolutely nailed it. He located a sun-drenched mini-beach, completely out of the wind, overlooked by the grandeur of Trelissick House.

Trelissick

We weren’t alone. Shanks, both Red and Green, shared our undisturbed little corner.

Greenshank. I love Greenshank

Redshank. I love Redshank.

Lunch was a sumptuous sandwich with a tinge of tastelessness. No complaints about the giant triangle of Toblerone for afters, though.

The trip back was a dream. Light following wind and gentle tidal assistance.

17.4 miles on the clock. Not bad for a winter paddle for me.

I got the impression that Mike could have done the whole thing again. And possibly again after that.

Mike. Still going strong

Dolphin Rescue at Percuil

Percuil Perfection

My day of kayaking started off like any other….absolutely fantastic. Cunning scrutiny of the weather forecast led me to the picture-perfect Percuil creek near St.Mawes, where, as I had planned, the wind fell light and the sun came out just as I arrived at 8am.(more like sheer luck, in reality)

 

 

 

 

 

Slicing across a sheet of glass-smooth water in absolute silence in this sort of place is kayaking at its best. Nothing to hear but the piping of Oystercatchers, Green- and Redshanks, the kraark of Herons, the whistle of a speeding Kingfisher and cackling chatter of Shelduck. Even the seven-note call of an unseasonal Whimbrel.

Greenshank

This Greenshank seemed to be as thrilled as I was with a bit of December sun.

 

 

 

 

 

Paddling back down the creek towards St.Mawes was directly into the sun but very scenic in a monochrome sort of a way.

Percuil River

Just before I came round the final bend in the river I heard a snort and saw a disturbance on the smooth surface. I assumed it was a seal but to my incredulity a couple of dolphins surfaced. In over 21,000 miles of paddling I have never seen dolphins this far up a creek.

Common Dolphin

I sat tight in an effort not to disturb them, and watched.

 

 

 

 

 

I was even more surprised to see the yellow patch on the side which showed that these were Common Dolphins, and not Bottlenose as I had initially thought. Bottlenose Dolphins are at home in shallow water as they sometimes like to eat shellfish and crabs, whereas Common Dolphins are creatures of the open sea, and probably not wired-up for navigation along a narrow creek which was rapidly getting narrower as the tide went out.

However they seemed to be quite happy and swimming strongly, although when |I left them they were heading upstream which was not a good plan.

Dolphin, St.Mawes

To make my trip complete I intended to paddle out around Black Rock in the middle of Carrick Roads where it opens up into the sea, and although there was quite a swell running, and the tide was going out, the wind remained light and the sun was still out so the sea looked pretty benign.

Out past St.Mawes

December sun over Falmouth Bay

Of course I was hoping to see some ‘open sea’ wildlife, and was rewarded with a couple of Loons out near Black Rock.

Carrick Road Loons

I looped around Black Rock and let the current suck me out towards the lighthouse at St.Anthony Head before heading back up the shoreline.

Black Rock

St. Anthony Head

All the time I was looking out for the pair of dolphins, hoping that they were making their way back out to open waters. I stopped for lunch overlooking Falmouth as a Merlin helicopter was being very noisy:

Merlin over Falmouth

I wound my way back up the Percuil river between all the mooring buoys, and as I passed the entrance to Porth creek saw the fins of the dolphins zigzagging about like a couple of sharks. Not a good idea to be in such a shallow creek as low water was approaching. This is the domain of egrets, not dolphins.

Little Egret

 

 

 

 

I watched them from a safe distance for a good half-an-hour, and then things started to go wrong.

They moved close to the northern bank of the creek and the smaller dolphin halted, apparently  grounded on a mud bank, but still submerged apart from fin and blowhole. The larger dolphin swam a hundred yards further up the creek and deliberately started to beach itself on the mud.

I paddled towards the scene as I saw members of the British Divers Marine Life Rescue  (BDMLR) (who had obviously been tipped off by an astute observer and had been watching from the shore), moving down to the water’s edge to help.

One heroic medic waded into the muddy water to try to divert the dolphin back into the channel:

 

 

 

 

This was temporarily successful but the dolphin swam round in a big loop and started to run aground again. I offered my assistance and attempted to steer the dolphin away from the shallow water.

 

 

 

 

Unfortunately my efforts too were only briefly successful and the dolphin ran itself aground.

This initiated a full rescue operation by the four BDMLR volunteers present, and for the next three plus hours they worked tirelessly to maintain the dolphins during the critical time they were out of the water.

BDMLR volunteers caring for a stranded Common Dolphin

Under the instruction of BDMLR vet Natalie, the dolphins were covered in sheets and/or seaweed and had seawater poured over them constantly to stop their skin from drying out. Natalie assessed their health and decided to move the dolphins together. Definitely a good idea but moving 100kg of struggling dolphin about on a plastic sheet over slippery seaweed is not a straightforward procedure. Fortunately another two BDMLR members arrived to ease the lumbago.

BDMLR vet assesses the smaller dolphin

The dolphins are reunited, and recorded

The initial plan was to put the dolphins onto a boat and take them a couple of miles out into the deeper water of Carrick Roads although failing light would have made this very challenging, so it was relief all round when the incoming tide came to the rescue and refloated the dolphins.

Unfortunately I had departed at this stage because it was nearly dark, but I hear that both dolphins were seen swimming strongly out into deeper water and hopefully made it safely back into their more familiar oceanic environment.

Their is a lot of mystery surrounding cetacean strandings but it seems likely that these pair had made a navigational error. Common Dolphins spend most of their time well offshore and range widely , and these may have ventured into the (exceptionally) deep water of the outer part of Carrick Roads, and accidentally headed into the mouth of the Percuil River when they meant to head east in the open sea. Maybe they were lured in by the easy feast of lots of Grey Mullet which I saw as I was paddling and which they seemed to be chasing.

And once into the very shallow water of Porth Creek it would be very easy to become disorientated and confused, especially with a dropping tide……but who knows???

Whatever, today was a triumph for the BDMLR volunteers. They responded quickly enough to be on hand when the dolphins beached and had all the expertise, experience and equipment (and muscle power) to deal with the situation and care for the dolphins and get them back into deep water. Good job!

 

 

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

Trio of Top Trips along the South Cornwall Coast, and even one on the North!

MOUNT’S BAY

Lighter winds and an easing of the Atlantic groundswell lured Paul and myself down to Penzance for a tour around Mount’s Bay.

It’s one of my favourite circuits: from Penzance harbour along the coast to slingshot around St. Michael’s Mount, then three plus miles of open sea across to Mousehole and then back along the coast to Penzance with a nose around Newlyn harbour on the way.

St. Michael’s Mount was looking even more impressive than I was expecting….it always does even though I have paddled past it dozens of times.

St.Michaels Mount

Although there was more of a rolling swell than I was expecting for the sea crossing to Mousehole, the wind was light and the sun was trying to appear so Paul and I didn’t feel uneasy about the level of exposure. He did however intermittently disappear behind the swells.

Is that Paul or is that Jose Mourinho?

Phew, it’s Paul

I was a bit disappointed not to see any sea mammals on the way over. I have encountered several species of dolphin and a whale around here and was expecting a porpoise at the very least but it wasn’t to be.

We ventured a little way down the coast past Mousehole but the current combined with increasing wind and steady swell made it feel a bit less safe so we headed for the extreme cosiness of Mousehole harbour. Always a few seals hanging around St. Clements Isle just offshore.

Seal plus flatfish snackette

Around the corner in Newlyn there was a lot going on as usual with a constant movement of fishing boats. Tucked in behind the harbour wall out of the wind it, at last, felt really quite warm as the strong sun emerged from behind a cloud.

Newlyn

Half a dozen chattering Sandwich Terns floated past along Penzance promenade to confirm that Spring really had arrived. Yaroo.

GERRAN’S BAY, ROSELAND PENINSULAR

Next day took me to Gerran’s Bay and a launch from the stunning Carne beach. Even better that there is no parking charge here (unlike £8.50 for the day at Penzance….blooming heck!).

Carne beach (aka Heaven)

I swung offshore at Nare Head where I caught a microglimpse of a Chough after drew attention to itself with its animated call before disappearing. I checked out the Guillemot colony on Gull Rock before a long looping circuit out to sea, after reporting my journey plan over the radio to Portscatho NCI.

Nare Head

Wandering Gannets passed and the occasional Porpoise puffed, as well as a scattering of Guillemots, Razorbills and a few passing shearwaters.

Gannet

Guillemot

Razorbill

Manx Shearwaters

Fifteen miles later I arrived back at Carne beach which was now buzzing with activity and echoing to the shriek of holidaymakers finding out how cold the water still is.

Gerrans Bay Paddleboarders

Just offshore was a handful of loons (the ornithological ones, not the Paddleboarders), and I was extremely pleased to see some of these spectacular birds had moulted into their stunning breeding plumage, making them even more impressive to look at.

Stunning Black-throated Diver in Summer Clothes

FALMOUTH BAY

I could hardly believe that another day of light winds was in prospect, especially as we were in the middle of a low pressure system so the weather was far from settled.

This time I paddled out from a small side creek of Carrick Roads at Percuil (another absolutely excellent launch location) and out across glassy waters past St.Mawes and the lighthouse at St. Anthony and into the open sea. This time I was really hopeful of a BIG cetacean sighting as the water was completely smooth.

I could hear the Gannets hitting the water with a ‘thoomph’ from half-a-mile away, but when I came upon the mini-feeding frenzy which also involved a load of Manx Shearwaters, the only cetacean involved in the show was a single Porpoise, which was however unusually animated and surged at the surface while on the hunt.

Plunging Gannets

Although I had registered my offshore paddle with Nare Point NCI, a couple of fishing boats came over to see if I was OK, which I suppose was quite understandable as a kayak bobbing about motionless (as I was eating a cheese ‘n pickle sandwich at the time,  and cheese ‘n onion crisps with a handful of cherry tomatoes to provide the healthy bit) a couple of miles from the shore, is a bit weird.

Porpoise on collision course

The most surprising wildlife sighting of the day was a lone Puffin that was squadron leader at the front of a V-formation of Guillemots.

There is alot of hardware in and around Falmouth Bay but I was much more interested in the natural history which was made even more photogenic by the exceptionally smooth conditions.

Falmouth modern hardware

Falmouth Old Hardware

Porpoise on Glass

PADSTOW BAY

The North coast usually looks like this:

Hostile North coast of Cornwall

or this:

Calm canal, savage sea

So it was nice for it to ease off for a day or two to allow sea kayak access.

This was my first decent paddle trip on the North Cornwall Coast since last Autumn. I set off from Rock which is another of my favourite launch sites. Unfortunately the excitement of the day was a little bit soured by the slipway attendant who first told me I wasn’t allowed to use that particular slipway (which left me struggling for words as I had trolleyed my kayak down the water from the carpark and there was absolutely nobody else in sight), and then informed me I had to pay a £3 launching fee. It would be the same price if I was to slide the QE2 down the slipway. Someone hasn’t quite thought this through, methinks.

My clenched teeth slowly relaxed as I slipped out silently into the watery wilderness, serenaded by squadron of Sandwich Terns and their ‘kirrick’ calls.

Sandwich Terns

Out of the mouth of the Camel Estuary I crossed over to Pentire head and then into the more swirly water of Rump’s Point.

Newlands, Rumps Point and Pentire Head

A ghostly white shape below my kayak was my first Barrel Jellyfish of the year, quickly followed by two more.

Fist Barrel Jelly of the Year

As I watched the seals and Auk colony on the Mouls island I was joined by a couple of huge RIBs bristling with tourists on a Wildlife cruise. They sped off North while I followed a smooth patch of water, along which the Shearwaters tracked, back to Newlands island and then back to the Camel.

Shearwater

These sheltered waters reverberated to the sound of boat engines as people enjoyed the last few days of the Easter holidays.

Noisiest is the ‘Jaws’ speedboat which looks like it has been lifted from a scene from a James Bond movie from the seventies (or possibly sixties). A bit of a contrast to the stealth of a kayak.

Jaws speedboat

Looking for Humpbacks

After my encounter with the suspected Fin whale near the Eddystone rocks last August, and a couple of brief sightings of Minkes, I thought that would put a pause on adventures with large cetaceans, at least until late summer.

It is still completely pretty amazing that a Humpback would appear in South Devon at all, and beyond belief that it would spend over six weeks cruising about the sheltered waters of Start Bay, wowing the crowd of assembled whale watchers with some unbelievably close passes to the beach at Slapton. The very fact that the carparks at Slapton Sands are so convenient and close to the steep shelving shingle beach (and therefore in close proximity to deep water), and usually swell-free because it is east facing, is a remarkable coincidence. Its about as perfect a place for whale-watching as you are going to get.

Slapton Sands

If you were to put a pin in the map for the best pace for a whale to turn up for the maximum number if people to enjoy viewing it, you would choose Slapton sands. Even the bus stop is only yards away.

The View down to Torcross

Needless to say I wanted to see the whale from my kayak. My first view from my Gumotex Inflatable was when the whale was trapped in a lobster pot rope. Hardly very memorable.

First Slapton whale encounter

Ten days ago the sea at Slapton was just about flat calm and there was no ‘dumpy’ waves on the beach which can make launching here interesting/embarrassing/entertaining for the crowd. Apparently the whale was still around.

In my Scupper Pro kayak, which I had brought because it drags over the shingle well, I paddled a mile or two offshore. Lots of small parties of Guillemots whose guttural call could be heard for amazing distances over the millpond sea, a few Gannets and a pair of porpoises.

Guillemot

Harbour Porpoise

But no whale…yet.

I hadn’t really expected to see it because yet another remarkable feature of this remarkable whale is its habit of coming close inshore late in the day. Many seem to think this is tide-related but it can’t be because in the space of two weeks the tide has gone through its complete cycle, yet the whale still turns up at roughly the same time.

I slid my kayak into the water and sat around fifty metres from the shore, on a surface so calm I could have been in a lake.

To my toe tingling astonishment I heard the whale blowing half a mile away towards Torcross, and saw the bushy cloud of spray slowly disperse. Good grief, it seemed to be heading straight towards me. I fumbled for my camera but already my hands were trembling with excitement.

The Blow

It surfaced and dived once more. I then saw patches of smooth water appearing in a line like giant footprints coming towards me at the surface as the whale approached….fluke prints caused by the whale swimming along just below the surface! Amazing!

It surfaced and blew only twenty yards away and I got a very unsatisfactory photo. Like a complete idiot I thought the action had finished when the bulk of its body disappeared and I lowered my camera, but then the tail flukes came up in perfect humpback-style as it deep dived. Moron…would have been a pic to remember.

Slapton Humpback

However it was an absolutely extraordinary encounter. Who would have believed you could see a whale like this within a stone’s throw from the shore in South Devon. I had spent a fair amount of time during the winter researching where in the world you could see Humpback’s from a kayak, as it has been number one on my kayaking wishlist for some time. Hawaii or British Columbia were on the  shortlist.

Wherever it was going to be, I hadn’t expected it would only require about ten strokes of the paddle to get far enough from the shore to achieve the ideal position for viewing! Thinking about it, there probably isn’t anywhere else in the entire world when you can be loafing about  eating a Bakewell tart on the beach one minute, and having a Humpback swim more or less dirctly underneath your kayak less than five minutes later.

Four days ago a wildlife viewing boat (AK Wildlife Cruises) had absolutely incredible views of a Humpback breaching in the middle of Falmouth Bay right beside their boat. Crystal clear pictures and video, you couldn’t hope for better.

So a couple of days later I set off in my Cobra Expedition Kayak for a twenty-five mile paddle around Falmouth Bay, cutting right across the middle to the Manacles rocks, and then following the coast back. Tremendously exciting, calm waters, huge expectation, but no whale.

St Mawes

I had a reasonable consolation prize. About three miles offshore I sped towards a mini feeding frenzy of gulls which had attracted a handful of Gannets which appeared from nowhere and wasted no time in plunging in. As I approached I could see fins of dolphins slashing at speed across the surface, and the pale patch behind the fin to show they were Common Dolphons. Superb. They appeared a couple of times more but were only momentarily visible in a burst of spray. And suddenly they were gone, the gannets drifted off, and the gulls settled on the water. The lone Manx Shearwater also winged away. Feeding frenzy over.

Feeding frenzy participants including gannet and Manx Shearwater

This is not the first time this has happened. It is quite difficult to get to a feeding frenzy before it finishes. One of my objectives for this year is to see a big frenzy. The only time I have ever achieved this was off Bude over ten years ago, when I threw out some mackerel for the gannets and they dived in beside my kayak to catch them.

Other wildlife highlights were five Sandwich Terns, four Great Northern Divers, a Whimbrel, six Purple Sandpipers on the Manacles and several swallows coming in off the sea.

Purple Sandpiper on the Manacles

And an excellent Barrel Jellyfish in the clear waters off Swanpool beach.

Barrel Jellyfish

Nipped in for nice lunch at Porthallow and met up with former work colleague Andrew who is training for Lands End- John o’ Groats ! (by bike, not kayak)

Kayaker meets Cyclist

Looking closely at photographs of the Slapton and Falmouth Humpbacks, it would seem they are different whales. This seems even more likely because the Slapton whale has been seen in its usual area since the Falmouth whale has been sighted, and it is unlikely the whale would backtrack sixty or seventy miles when it is supposed to be on migration.

So, probably two Humpbacks. Even more amazing. And on my ‘local’ patch. Thank goodness I hadn’t booked a whale watching by kayak trip somewhere on the other side of the world, which would never have been so much fun. (actually it might have been, but I’m a huge fan of wildlife in the UK, so it would have had to have been exceptional).

More please.

 

 

 

Gorgeous Gerrans Bay

With a weather forecast exceptional for early April I couldn’t resist a beefy offshore paddle across the relatively quiet waters of the south coast of Cornwall east of Falmouth.

I set off from the beautiful sandy beach at Carne in the heart of Gerrans Bay. It has parking close to the beach, a slipway….and it is free! There are only a few parking spaces however, which tend to rapidly fill with dog walkers, so you’ve got to get there early.

Carne Beach in Gerrans Bay

Gerrans Bay is possibly the best site in Cornwall (and probably the whole of SW England) for wintering sea ducks and Divers, and there were still plenty on show today. Great Northern Divers do not seem to hurry north to their breeding grounds in the Spring, and of the fifteen to twenty I saw today only a couple were in their smart summer plumage. Some were still in their winter outfits, most in transitional moult.

Great Northern Diver still in winter plumage

Great Northern Diver moulting to summer plumage

Several uttered their querulous contact call which for some reason always sends a shiver up my spine. It is a true sound of the wilderness,

At Nare Head I swung south and dug in for a ten mile open sea stretch to a giant bulk carrier ship anchored in Falmouth Bay. It provided a good target and kept me over a mile offshore so I might see a dolphin.

Bulk Carrier in Falmouth Bay ten miles away

More Divers and lots of small groups of Guillemots which were also in a variety of plumages. Some were pretty tame.

Guillemots

It was more or less windless so I heard the puff of a porpoise clearly. I surfaced quite close and popped up a couple more times as it went on its way. It was probably the biggest porpoise I have ever seen  and I looked hard at it because I thought it might be something different. Definitely a porpoise-like triangular fin but it just seemed very stout with quite a broad back, and was moving with unusual purpoise for a porpoise (!). Mmmm.

I crossed the mouth of Carrick Roads and approached the mighty ship which was closer to the Helford River than I had thought.

The guy with the hard hard wandering around on the deck returned my greeting with an uncertain wave as he seemed a bit surprised to see me out there.

I slungshot around the Cape Veni and again dodged the many craft entering and exiting Falmouth, and headed for the beach at  Porthbeor  for lunch. I had it entirely to myself.

Around the Bulk Carrier ‘Cape Veni’

Then it was offshore again to cross the mouth of Gerrans Bay, and a loop around Gull Rock. A few Gannets smacked into the water in front of me, sending a plume of spray up always higher than you would think.

Gannet and Gull Rock

Back past Nare head again for the final leg. Nare head always cricks your neck because it is a particularly spectacular promontory that demands close scrutinisation.

I was thrilled to hear the musical call of a Chough which was prodding about with typical restlessness on the cliff, before floating off around the corner. Fab.

Cornish Chough

I exited the water after an eight hour 22 mile trip. Had a chat with a few more dog walkers (and there dogs), and off for a McDonalds drive thru. Large Chicken Legend Meal (mayo, large Coke), followed by Strawberry Sundae. The perfect day