There’s Always Something

We couldn’t resist the lure of a rare calm winter’s day. Hardly any wind and minimal groundswell meant an open coast day with a chance of offshore paddling was on the cards.

Torbay was our destination and dolphins were our target species.

I met up with son Henry in the car park. He was keen to add to his impressive wildlife portfolio in ‘Henry Kirkwood Filmmaking.’

Henry Kirkwood Wildlife Filmmaker

Our usual two-pronged approach, with me on the water and Henry on dry land, was today enhanced by the use of a pair of Christmas walkie-talkies. The desperate panic to answer a mobile with wet fingers without send it spinning into the depths was a thing of the past. Instant and simple communication…yippee.

The only issue was there were no dolphins. I paddled around for four hours up to a mile offshore and there just weren’t any around. Hezzer, with his eyes sharper than any Peregrine, saw a large pod many miles offshore with a few individuals leaping. I wasn’t going all the way out there in my floating steed of the day, my Gumotex Safari inflatable kayak.

No problem…that is the challenge, and fun, of looking for dolphins. They are highly mobile and a no-show is common. It makes it all the more rewarding when they do appear.

Porpoise approaching

However, there is always something to enjoy, and today there were Porpoises. They are resident in the Torbay area and hunt along the current interfaces off the headlands which are conveniently marked by lines of smooth water at the surface. They are extremely unobtrusive and surface without a splash and cruise around singly or in small groups so are very much more difficult to spot than a pod of dolphins.

They are overlooked by most.

Porpoise. Being slinky, as usual

They are a speciality from seeing from the silence of a kayak because you can hear their characteristic puff as they surface, especially the first one after a dive, which is the loudest.

Today one gave me quite a jump as it popped up just a few feet behind me.

Our total for the day was ten or eleven… a couple of groups of three including a calf, and a few singletons.

Pair of porpoises. Being slinky, as usual

It’s always a bit of a pity when cetacean observers report that they had ‘only’ seen porpoises. OK, they are not a showy, splashy sociable or as engaging as dolphins, but their shy aloofness makes them none the less endearing. Nothing ‘only’ about them at all.

They are the Thomas the Tank Engine of the cetacean world. Small and chuffy but with lots of personality.

Out on the sea, there are always seabirds, especially in this area. The headlands of Torbay generate swirling tidal currents which mix up nutrients that attract fish. Kittiwakes and other Gulls dipped to the surface and the occasional Gannet roved overhead.

Guillemot Squadron. Loose Formation.

Most remarkable were the large number of Guillemots, most already sporting a smart breeding plumage, who were crammed together on their breeding ledges. A bit early for that sort of thing, I would have thought.

Guillemot cleared for landing. Undercarriage down.

Every so often the entire lot would pour off the cliffs like a liquid, do a circuit around the bay and then attempt to squeeze back onto their favourite spot like commuters on the underground.

A bit tight for space.

Just getting ready for the forthcoming season, I suppose.

After enjoying the Guillemot show, I couldn’t resist an interlude of high speed kayak-caving…

A handful of Purple Sandpipers were dotted about on the most exposed barnacle-encrusted rocks. They are also very endearing, because they are exceptionally tame. They are overlooked by all but dedicated ornithologists because they are small, cryptically camouflaged and spent a lot of time immobile.

Purple Sandpiper. Plump and Personable.

They are also another eyeball speciality from a kayak. You will only see them if you spend your whole time scrutinising long stretches of coast for long periods of time. Fortunate, because that’s what I do.

The action didn’t stop there. Back in the marina I was befriended by an extremely playful seal pup who started his performance by pulling at my kayak fin with his teeth and bumping the bottom. He then followed very closely, swimming upside down, before being distracted by a couple of absurdly fluffy dogs on the breakwater.

Impish seal pup take 1

Impish seal pup take 2

After losing interest in all things human and canine, it locked on to a Garfish and chased it with an exasperating turn of speed. The unfortunate fish repeatedly leapt clear of the surface while the bow wave from the seal was surging just behind.

Needless to say, the seal caught it’s lunch.

For a view of the day from Henry’s perspective, watch https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PKtXLPK6Gn0&t=504s

It’s always worth turfing out because there’s always something. In fact there’s usually quite a lot.

pic: Henry Kirkwood

Dolphins Again…At Last!

November has provided lean pickings for the Lone Kayaker.

My camera has made very few excursions from the cosiness of its dry-bag.

The weather hasn’t helped. Most of my paddling trips have been along the rivers and up the estuaries to provide a bit of protection from the wind. I’ve seen a few Kingfishers, a handful of seals and several otters which is always a thrill.

Most have been fleeting glimpses although during the one prolonged view of a otter fishing in the River Torridge my camera decided to go on strike.

Out along the coast I have encountered the occasional porpoise and witnessed a tremendous dogfight between a pair of peregrines and a woodpigeon. Clouds of feathers flew everywhere but amazingly the woodpigeon made a successful escape into a chink in the cliffs.

All of which I failed to capture on film.

The big kick up the pants came a couple of days ago.

Fantastic Fowey

A day which promised blue skies and oily calm seas. BIG excitement.

I didn’t decide my launch location until I was in the car heading for the south Cornwall coast. It had to be Fowey…such an easy kayak put-in and only a mile paddle to the open sea. There are no real tidal currents to worry about so I could spend as much time as I liked far from the shore in about as relaxed a manner as possible.

As I emerged from the mouth of the estuary I checked in with the National Coastwatch Observers at Polruan and paddled directly offshore.

It was all worryingly quiet. No Gannets, very few gulls and no sound of any splashes or puffs. I kept stopping but all I could hear was deafening silence.

Until I reached about four miles offshore, that is.

That’s where things suddenly started to hot up. I paddled over to investigate a little flurry of Kittiwakes that were circling around a fizzing patch of water.

Pilchard baitball

It was a compact baitball of small fish which looks like Pilchards (aka Cornich Sardines).

Also in attendance were a large numbers of auks that were scattered about, croaking in a strangely primeval manner.

They were mainly Razorbills…

Razorbill, looking smart in winter plumage

With a handful of Guillemots thrown in for good measure, and comparison…

Guillemot

I was intrigued by a very small, pale floaty bird which I thought may have been a Phalarope, but it turned out to be a Little Gull. I’ve only seen two or three of these before from the kayak seat…

Little Gull

A short distance further out the BIG action started to kick off.

The silence was torn up by an explosion of water behind me which I knew must have been a tuna. I swung round just in time to see an enormous fish, far bigger than a dolphin, jump clear of the water.

In keeping with my photographic failures of the last month, I spectacularly missed the opportunity for the big pic and just managed to snap the spiky fin as the fish disappeared. It didn’t reappear, needless to say.

Where a tuna was.

I was relieved when I heard a small posse of Common Dolphins approaching, with their characteristic polite and delicate splashing…in great contrast to the explosive chaos of the Tuna.

Even better, they were swimming towards me so all I had to do was wait.

Dolphin and the Dodman

As usual the little group came over to investigate the weirdo in the mould-covered kayak and then seemed to lose interest and moved on.

Dolphin and Fowey

But then they seemed to have a change of heart and came back to the side of my kayak, as though they had decide that I might be an item of interest after all.

In the manner of puppies waiting for the ball to be thrown, they seemed to be egging me on. So I stoked up the boilers and cranked up the speed.

The dolphins responded as I had hoped and somehow got some enjoyment out of my pathetic pressure wave. They seemed to be gliding along beside me without twitching a muscle.

I spent a prolonged period staring eye to eye with one adult dolphin as it cruised effortlessly just below the silky smooth surface. As it tilted on its side to get a better look I tried to convey a similarly relaxed expression even though I was twanging every fibre of my being in paddling fast enough to keep their attention.

Dolphins are far to clever to be fooled, however. They took pity on me, probably when they saw the veins on my temples starting to bulge, and dashed off to look for a fishy snack.

A memorable minute of dolphin magic…

Yesterday the mini-dolphin bonanza continued, this time off the South Devon coast in Torbay. The see was bursting with little silver fish. Kittiwakes were circling everywhere with Guillemots, Razorbills, Gannets and a few Divers joining in the feast.

Where there are feeding seabirds, there are usually porpoises and/or dolphins. On this occasion it was both!

Juvenile Dolphins attacking small shoal of baitfish in mouth of Torbay

Fowey, Fizzing with Fins

No time to wallow in jet lag. A super-flat sea off Cornwall cannot be ignored even though we only lurched in through the front door from our Orca-spotting trip to Canada late the previous night.

Fowey was my chosen destination…access to the open sea is close if one is feeling a bit jaded and it rarely disappoints when it comes to wildlife.

Last Saturday was no exception.

Five hour trip, fifteen miles paddled, three pods of porpoises, three pods of dolphins, three tuna ‘explosions’.

Common Dolphin, Fowey

It was so calm and quiet that I heard all of these before I saw them…porpoises puffing, dolphins sploshing, tuna ripping the surface apart.

Tuna ripping it up

This is why I love the silence of the kayak, any engine noise would have drowned out the sounds of the sea. And the sound is 50% of the fun.

I paddled five miles directly offshore, had a cup of coffee and then headed back. That is when most of the action occurred.

I thought my ears were malfunctioning when I heard about twenty quiet puffs all very close together. Paddling towards the noise revealed about fifty dolphins in a tight pack. They were cruising about in a very relaxed and peaceful manner.

Their leisureliness was entirely in keeping with the ambience of the day.

It’s usually porpoises that are more chilled and the dolphins more animated.

Today they performed a big-time roll reversal. A pod of porpoises came charging directly towards me. Listen to those Puffing Pigs puff in this video.

It is unusual to see porpoises making much of a splash, but they were clearly late for lunch and were soon feasting on a ball of unseen baitfish nearby. The scraps kept the local gull population happy.

Porpoises feeding at Fowey

I sat around watching the action for quite a while because I felt sure that the mini-feeding frenzy would not go unnoticed by the tuna that I had seen earlier. They are a mega-aware predator with super-tuned senses and would not miss an opportunity like this.

Sure enough a couple exploded from the surface nearby. I’m tempted to say this one looks a bit startled.

Atlantic Bluefin Tuna showing the whites of its eye.

It was just a tiddler, only about six foot long.

All this was the perfect jetlag antidote…no time for moping about having an afternoon nap…it was just too exciting.

With some extremely photogenic scenes…

NCI Polruan on the right.

Risso’s in a Rush…at Fowey!

Risso’s Dolphins. Mum ‘n junior.

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.

Fabulous Fowey

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.

Silver Shadow at Fowey

There’s wildlife too, above and below the water. A nice relaxed build up to the potential excitement to come.

Sleepy Heron

Compass Jelly

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.

Gannet looking…always looking

Milling Gannets means fish which usually means big fish-munchers under the surface as well.

Early morning Offshore Heaven

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.

Mysterious splash

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.

Hefty creature, hefty splash

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?!

There’s a little tacker in their as well!

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.

Speeding past the yacht

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.

Risso’s with calf, Fowey

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.

Dolphins at Dawn

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.

Porpoises being porpoisey

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.

Missed Opportunity. Never mind, only another 30,000 miles to paddle till it happens again.

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…

Jetski at Fowey

‘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.

Dolphins, Dolphins, Dolphins…and a few Porpoises

Flurry of Torbay Dolphins

I hadn’t seen any dolphins in Cornwall or Devon for many a moon, so I was keen for a reunion.

A suitable day arrived and as usual the lightest winds were in south Devon. Calm sea surface is the priority in order to see those fins from afar. Success rate is further enhanced if you are fortunate enough to have a spotter on the nearby headland. Even better if it is eldest son Henry who has the eyesight of a Peregrine Falcon and is a very accomplished wildlife photographer, so has his finger on the pulse of all things natural.

Eye in the Sky. Henry’s eyrie.

20/20 vision was not required to spot the first pod of dolphins, however. They were just off the headland. I have rarely seen Common Dolphins, which are essentially an offshore species, so close to the shore.

They were busily feeding and scattered about over quite a large area. It was a mix of ages as usual, although I didn’t observe any tiny calves.

The juveniles came over to have a nose at me as I sat quietly observing.

The younger individuals, although still irresistibly curious, stayed by mum’s side:

Common Dolphins, Torbay

The stiff current was dragging me south fast so I cranked up the paddle rate and was joined by an energetic and sploshy escort as I struggled back uptide…(video)

The thrill of this kind of encounter cannot be overemphasised. I am pleased that I can still generate enough of a pressure wave, by paddling as fast as my gnarled old guns will allow, to encourage a bit of dolphin bow-riding. It’s just about as good as it gets for a kayak-based wildlife enthusiast. Apart from a whale encounter, maybe.

By the time friend Will joined me out there the entire pod had disappeared, but Henry guided us in to a group which were cruising slowly about a mile offshore. This is not as easy as it sounds for those of us on the water in self-powered crafts that have a maximum speed of about 5mph.

Through binoculars Henry can see dolphins up to about three miles offshore, a distance that would take us the best part of an hour to cover. These were not that far out but were very tricky to locate. We were just about to give up the search when they suddenly appeared to our left and passed just in front of us.

One large dolphin, which must be an adult male, provided a memorable encounter:

Totally excellent.

It’s easy to overlook the porpoises that inhabit the edge of the tidal current off the headland. They are small and inconspicuous and not inquisitive like the dolphins. They are however very charming and have a characteristic explosive little puff that brings a smile to the face.

They hardly ever jump out, but one leapt right in front of Will as he was pressing the camera shutter!

The porpoises have to muscle in with all the other wildlife and boat traffic in the area. Torbay is a busy place.

Torbay Porpoises

Part of the fun of watching dolphins is there appearance is totally unpredictable and success is directly proportional to the amount of time you spend on the sea. You really have to grind out the miles.

Fortunately, when the dolphins are not around the sea is never dull because there are plenty of feathered friends for The Lone Kayaker to enjoy:

Razorbill and Guillemot

I was thrilled to see one of my favourite seabirds, a Pomarine Skua, pass a mile off the headland. En route from the South Atlantic to polar regions although possibly a bit lost as it was heading south.

Adults are stunning birds…this is an immature and my hastily snapped blurry pic certainly does not do it justice…

Immature Pomarine Skua

When Simon arrived as the sea glassed off in the evening all was quiet on the wildlife front, so we had to contend with some absorbing coastal scenery including exploring a cave or two.

Tough.

Simon

Let’s hope this is the start of a flourishing dolphin season

Henry (background). Dolphin (foreground)

The Lone Kayaker and Chums (pic: Henry Kirkwood)

(Title pic: Henry Kirkwood)

First Fins of 2023

Porpoise, with a smile, on collision course

2nd January, yesterday, was forecast to be a day of sparkling winter sunshine. Just one blue-sky day to interrupt the endless run of wind, rain and monochrome dreary greyness. I can’t remember when the last one was, and there is no sign of another for the foreseeable.

So a coastal kayak trip was not an option…it was a necessity.

Torbay was the venue as it is so reliable in terms of protection from winter swells and consistency of wildlife encounters.

We were a motley trio indeed. I cut a thoroughly unprofessional image in my Gumotex inflatable kayak* which I thought would be easier to lug about following a hip replacement only a month ago. Simon looked slick in his Disco although he too was nursing an injury (or two). Isabelle probably cut the sportiest image on her SUP.

*although it is astonishingly seaworthy

Snack time already?

A very large number of seals were enjoying a hint of warmth in the winter sun in the heart of the harbour.

Hat-trick of Grey Seals. Dead to the world.

Given our state of questionable fitness and post-festive paddling power, we initially headed into the protected water of the inner bay.

For me, having spent a large part of the previous month flicking between Bargain Hunt and Homes under the Hammer, it was an absolute thrill to be out on the water. Even better when one of my favourite seabirds, a Great Northern Diver, popped up from a dive right beside me.

Great Northern Diver. What a beauty!

Poking about amongst the barnacles which encrusted the old jetty was another of my winter favourites, a Purple Sandpiper. A little bird with a big personality. Knowing that they have flown thousands of miles to get here makes them even more appealing. Like the Great Northern Diver this bird may well have come from Iceland.

Purple Sandpiper

Astonishingly there was one more bird from the north which may too have flown from Iceland. This was the rarest…a Long-tailed Duck. Known as an Old Squaw in North America.

Long-tailed Duck

It always makes me smirk when the British name is so scientific and a bit dull, in comparison to the more spontaneous sounding American name.

The same applies to the American name for the Great Northern Diver, the ‘Common Loon’.

All was going so well in terms of thermoregulation and enjoyment of the day that we decided to take a look out by the headland for some dolphins. Our urgency was fuelled by a report from Henry, who was installed on top of the cliff, that he thought he had seen a ‘blow’ far to the southwest. If it was indeed a blow, it was probably a Humpback.

Eyes in the Sky. Henry (right) on the cliff top.

We saw no whales and no dolphins, but enjoyed a great display from the resident porpoises who rolled and even surged all around. 50% of the fun of a porpoise encounter is hearing their explosive little puff as they breathe…a speciality from the silence of a kayak…or SUP!

At least half-a-dozen, probably double that number.

Porpoise in a hurry. They usually roll with barely a ripple.

If the year continues in this sort of a manner, it’s going to be a good one.

Loon with a Drip

Hunting for Giant Tuna from a Kayak. It’s Really not a Good Idea.

Atlantic Bluefin Tuna erupts. (Plus a very, very lucky mackerel)

Tuna are the local marine mega-beast that makes me say ‘Wow’ most often. They are unbelievably big and even more unbelievably fast.

It’s really great that the tuna species found around SW England, The Atlantic Bluefin Tuna, is the biggest in the world. You might assume that there is something larger cruising the waters of the Pacific, but there isn’t.

The name Giant Bluefin Tuna applies to the very biggest which are over 150kgs. They can actually be a lot more than this but 150kgs, which is considerably more than the average dolphin, is plenty big enough for me to say ‘wow’ and ‘wow’ again.

In fact everything about what is arguably the sea’s most impressive top predator is amazing. Not least its reappearance around Devon and Cornwall when everyone assumed it was gone forever following the unregulated industrial fishing blitz of the 1970s.

Going out looking for Tuna in a kayak is a pretty stupid thing to do. Mainly because it is almost guaranteed to end in failure as their appearance at any one place is completely random. This is generally the same for dolphins and whales but at least dolphins and whales have to come up to breathe. Tuna can leap at the surface once and then be submerged for minutes, hours…or maybe days!

My first encounter was completely unexpected. 17 November 2017. A monstrously-sized fish leapt clear of the water just in front of me when I was a couple of miles offshore at Fowey looking for dolphins. I think ‘wow’ was one of the lesser expletives.

Since that first astonishing encounter I have witnessed a couple of major tuna events involving hundreds of fish. Eddystone in August 2020 and Dodman Point in November 2021.

Bluefin Tuna, not looking too happy with life, Dodman Point, Nov 2021

If observing Tuna from a kayak is borderline bonkers, trying to get a photograph of one from the kayak seat is just about impossible. You can’t have your camera ready because you need both hands (which are permanently wet) to do a bit of paddling.

If you hear that explosion of water as a tuna bursts from the surface, you won’t have your camera primed and you probably won’t see it again. Also in my case it is more often than not behind me so I probably didn’t see it in the first place.

The photo of the fish at Dodman above is the best of over 800 pics I took on that day. Most are of an empty sea, a few contain some flying water and just a handful show a fin or two. So it ain’t easy.

Not to be deterred by previous history of failure, I arrived at Sennen Cove on Tuesday with tuna in my sights. There have been a lot of big fish seen recently so I was keen to join in the fun. I had seen two tuna breach at Fowey a few days before, but absolutely no chance of a pic.

Sennen Cove

I had a quick scan with binoculars from the car park and immediately saw a giant fish, the size of a large dolphin, leap clear of the water. Even better, there were dolphins dotted around all over the place. Gannets diving everywhere.

The surface was flat calm and there was hardly any swell. Rare for this very exposed location. Tidal currents are a concern for kayakers here but today the tides were small. Excellent.

I loaded the kayak up with all the essentials (chocolate digestives back on the menu now it’s a bit cooler and they won’t melt) and was paddling away from the harbour in super-quick time.

Straight out to sea where I had seen the tuna and the dolphins from the carpark. And I saw absolutely nothing for an hour. I couldn’t believe it…everything had scarpered. Although I’m aware that through binoculars you can see an entire seascape in an instant that would take an hour or more to cover in a kayak at three mph.

Mind you the surface was staggeringly smooth so I was still full of expectation.

3 miles out from Sennen Cove. Lands End in distance

At last I heard some distant sploshing and could just see a few fins in the distance. Dolphins…excellent. I paddled over quietly to investigate.

A pod of about 25 Common Dolphins cruised past in their usual polite and aware sort of manner. Shepherding the small calf that you can see towards the end of this clip.

That stick on the horizon is Wolf Rock Lighthouse.

I paddled towards Longships lighthouse and encountered another pod:

Common Dolphins and Longships

Another sedate group, also with calves ‘at foot’ passed by providing a stunning vista down-sun to the north. The Brisons (the island) and Cape Cornwall.

Lovely to watch the adults, which were being all sensible…

Adult Common Dolphin

Plus tiny calves, which were throwing themselves around like spring lambs…

Common Dolphin junior

All very pleasant and quiet and relaxed….

But then things suddenly hotted up. Just as a couple of dolphins came over to say hello, they must have detected a nearby shoal and engaged top gear with quite a bit of wheelspin as they passed beneath my kayak. Resulting in me doing a considerable wobble and being very restrained and only saying ‘woops’ as my £500 (unwaterproof) camera nearly took a dunking.

You will see the front of my kayak being significantly swirled around in this clip. Could’ve got my choccy digestives wet. Disaster!

The surge of cetacean action didn’t stop there. A couple of outlying dolphins came piling in to join in the feeding fun, and I was DIRECTLY in their way.

Apologies for any inconvenience caused.

Over a hundred Common Dolphins in total. Plus at least twenty porpoises. The latter appeared from nowhere churning up the water in a very dolphinesque, and very unporpoise-like style. There was no mistaking their characteristic puffs and those little triangular fins, however:

Harbour Porpoise

An absolutely fantastic day, but what about the tuna, which I knew were around because I had seen them from the carpark?

I had hoped that when the dolphins herded the shoals of baitfish into a ball, the tuna might not be able to resist joining in with the feast. Tuna have got he most advanced bodywork design of any fish. They even have flush-fitting holders to fold their fins into to make them go even faster. So I guess their fish-sensing onboard computer is just as formula one as their exterior.

You will have to wait till my next blog to find out, because this one’s gone on longer than I had planned.

But here’s a tantalising taster…

The McFlurry Challenge…Last Chance for Glory.

After a near miss on the previous day with otter, seal, porpoise, dolphin, whale and a bonus Puffin but no eagle, I had rather given up hope of the complete McFlurry.

Even so I was on the water early and paddling out of Mallaig harbour, trying to avoid a confrontation with the mass of boat traffic including Calmac Ferries which looked like they meant business.

Mallaig Harbour

Once again there was no wind and the sea was smooth. The only down side to the weather was that it wasn’t actually sunny and a bit of cloud clung to the tops of the nearby hills.

My plan was to paddle the three miles across the mouth of Loch Nevis to the super-remote Knoydart peninsular. I could see a few tasty-looking sandy beaches in the far distance which needed to be lounged upon.

However I was only half-a-mile offshore when I was distracted by the wildlife. This is not unusual, but the scale of the spectacle was quite remarkable.

The background noise was provided by a mass of Guillemots and the occasional Razorbill.

Razorbill

Their was an incessant chatter between the squeaky juveniles and the more raucous-sounding parents. Interestingly none seemed to be able to fly because they were all moulting their flight feathers. There was actually no need to fly anyway because they seemed to have as much food as they needed just down below.

Have a listen to the noise. Must be exhausting as a parent.

Above the water the Manx Shearwaters wheeled around. Nice to see them en masse in front of their island home, the Isle of Rum, in the background. 100,000 breed there.

Manx Shearwaters and Rum

Manx Shearwaters (in front of Skye this time)

I was very surprised to see a single Balearic Shearwater zip past. Didn’t realise they made it this far north.

A porpoise puffed and a whale blew loud behind me so I swung the kayak round to watch the action. I am forever cranking my neck around when I hear exciting stuff behind me and have cricked it on numerous occasions, so am a bit more self-preservative now. Restraint is not my strong point when a whale is around.

However it was all very relaxed. Two Minke Whales spent half an hour criss-crossing the area in a very leisurely manner.

Minke Whale

I lost track of where they went when I was mugged by an exuberant pod of Common Dolphins which appeared from nowhere.

One pair were particularly jumpy.

This was all totally tremendous and exactly what I was hoping for when I drove the 635 miles from home in West Devon a couple of days previously. I never expected to see all these marine mega-creatures only a mile from the coast, however.

The dolphins settled down a bit and made a perfect foreground to the Knoydart hills behind:

Common Dolphins, Loch Nevis

After soaking up the scene with a cup of coffee and a Viennese Whorl I continued across the neck of Loch Nevis towards Knoydart. This is a truly magical place as there is no road access, so there are virtually no people.

Fantastic for wildlife. When I camped here in 2014 and was supping a cup of tea in my tent, a Pine Marten bounded across the beach a few yards away. The first one I had ever seen.

It was the same today. The unmistakable slow motion bulk of a White-tailed Eagle came in to land on a promontory straight in front of me. Looks like a youngster.

Juvenile White-tailed Eagle

Hang on a minute! I’m on for a Mcflurry! I’ve seen porpoise, dolphin, whale and eagle…only need to see seal (piece of cake) and an otter (rather more tricky).

And it’s not yet 10 o’clock. Challenge on!

I should point out that all six of the monumental wildlife species that I have selected for the McFlurry Challenge are creatures which roam the open ocean or open sky. So it’s impossible to know where they are going to turn up. Failure is almost guaranteed. Seals are the exception because they are quite common around the coast here. I threw them in because I didn’t want to go home with nothing.

Otters are enormously difficult to observe, especially when you are specifically looking for them. They are not uncommon but are unbelievably slinky. They are super-shy and preferentially nocturnal but in really remote locations like this they will come out in early morning or even during the day if it very quiet. Anywhere that a dog will show up they will avoid completely.

They also prefer low tide so that the can slither through the cover of waving fronds of kelp. It was currently high tide.

To make things worse, conditions didn’t feel at all ‘ottery’ to me. They seem to feel much more inclined to venture out on a dark and dreary day with a bit of drizzle. It was currently dry and bright.

Anyway, I was going to do my damnedest to find an otter, so I tucked in tight to the coast and paddled along slowly and completely silently.

Lovely to see a couple of beautiful Red-throated Divers fly in, crooning in an exceptionally loud and wailing manner which suited the wildest of environments perfectly.

Red-throated Diver

I could see the silhouette of a couple of hauled out seals on a mini offshore island, so paddled over to investigate, keeping a respectful distance as usual. It’s completely unreasonable to frighten them into the water.

I certainly didn’t disturb this one. He was absolutely flat out and loving life!

Harbour Seal in relaxed pose

Out of the corner of my eye I glimpsed the slightest swirl in the water between me and the seal…it was a blooming Otter!

Coming straight towards me…

Otter approacheth

I slammed into super-stealth reverse gear and managed to keep out of the otter’s panic zone. It started to dive for food and was completely unaware that I was sitting in my kayak, completely enthralled, less than twenty metres away.

Otter munching a crunchy thing

If the otter sensed I was there it would crash-dive and be gone for good. Not so the juvenile Harbour Seal that arrived upon the scene. The are as inquisitive as the otter is wary. They just can’t help it.

Harbour Seal with puppy-dog eyes.

This individual was bursting with personality and seemed a bit irritated that I was paying so much attention to the otter. Couldn’t take its eyes off me.

Harbour Seal, Knoydart

As I had been distracted by the seal the otter had slunk on to the island and was having a snooze. Video:

Otter having a nap

In typical restless otter fashion it was only ever completely still for a few seconds before it changed position or had a bit of a scratch. Cracking set of gnashers…

For just a minute it took a tip from the hauled out seal and stretched out on its side completely flat out. Legs all over the place. As relaxed as I have ever seen an otter.

Super-relaxed Otter

I had been watching it for forty minutes and was absolutely determined to depart without it being aware of my presence, so paddled away without making the slightest splish.

McFlurry Challenge completed!!

It hadn’t taken all day, it had taken precisely two hours and twenty-eight minutes from my first sighting of a porpoise to when I saw the Otter. Unbelievable, though I say it myself.

Maybe I should have made it more difficult.

Precise timings, as recorded on my photographs, were: Porpoise 0841, Dolphin 0920, Whale 0939, Eagle 0957, Seal 1108, Otter 1109.

Just one more mysterious marine creature to add to today’s list. The mesmerising Lion’s Mane Jellyfish:

Lion’s Mane Jellyfish

That makes it a Jelly McFlurry!

The McFlurry. My Greatest Challenge Yet.

The McFlurry Challenge: to observe and photograph a Seal, Porpoise, Dolphin, Whale, Otter and Eagle in a single day. From a kayak. In the UK.

Minke far, far away

It is a concept inspired by the McNab, a sporting challenge detailed in a John Buchan novel which involves catching a salmon, shooting a stag and blasting a brace of grouse between dawn and dusk on one day.

It is the perfect combination of ludicrous and slightly nerdy, so is right up my street.

Ludicrous because it is doomed to fail. You need to be far out to sea to see a whale, close in to land to see an otter and looking up to see an eagle, but not any of the others.

A still day and smooth sea surface is absolutely essential for a chance of success. Any sort of chop reduces the chance of see a fin at the surface significantly, and any wind makes hearing the puff of a porpoise, the splash of a dolphin or the blow of a whale more challenging.

Conditions were looking irresistible in Western Scotland last week. Light winds (in blue) for five days!! What?! Unheard of.

Mallaig forecast 26-31 Aug 2022. Looking Good!

So I headed up north and the day after leaving West Devon I was slicing across a glassy sea just after sunrise towards the jagged Cuillin Ridge on the Isle of Skye.

Over the sea to Skye

In total silence and complete stealth mode, I looked hard for a slithery creature. Otters never venture far from dry land because they take their bigger prey ashore to crunch it.

There was plenty of distraction in the ornithological department. A personal favourite of mine is the Black Guillemot, because they are just so perky. They are now dressed up in their non-breeding plumage:

Black Guillemot

How beautiful is this Ringed Plover, that breed on the islands around here.

Ringed Plover

It was also lovely to hear the cheerful chatter of terns, both Common and Arctic, who will very soon be heading south. It’s hard to believe that these delicate little Arctic Terns have the longest migration of any bird and will be quartering the Antarctic seas in a month or two.

Juvenile Arctic Terns

The first McFlurry ‘tick’ of the day were the seals. Harbour Seals and plenty of them. Hauled out on the rocks as well as snorting and splashing and generally being disruptive all around me.

This pair appeared very serene, however:

Harbour Seals

I weaved around a few small islands but my eye was drawn towards the smooth open sea that beckoned me on. Maybe the otters will have to wait till later. I’d just have one more look around the next corner before heading offshore.

Hah! Would you believe it? An otter popped up right in front of me in the clear water and busily crunched through a snack. McFlurry on!

Otter

Sunshine, smooth water, stunning backdrop, super cool creature. Superb. It was worth the 635 mile drive already.

I watched the otter fishing for twenty minutes. I was right on the edge of its wariness comfort zone and every so often it ‘logged’ on the surface and stared hard at me, so I very, very gingerly backpaddled out of harm’s way.

This is a nice little video for any of you who are wannabee otter spotters. It is quite easy to confuse a small Harbour Seal with an otter at a distance. Here’s the definitive difference. When the Harbour seal (in the background) dives all that can be seen is a back rolling smoothly through the water. When the otter dives it always flicks its tail up.

I gave the busy otter a wide berth and headed out to sea without disturbing it, pointing my kayak towards the island of Eigg, eight miles away. This was my destination for a light lunch of two day-old sandwiches (bad) and maybe an eagle (good).

Destination: Eigg

All was quiet for the best part of an hour as I really got my teeth into the offshore zone. I ran into a whirl of shearwaters with Guillemots and Razorbills sitting on the surface, parents being relentlessly squealed at by their offspring.

A little pod of Porpoises puffed their way merrily through the middle of the throng.

Harbour Porpoise

Lovely, lovely. Three down, three to go. I hadn’t even had my coffee yet!

I paddled onwards and outwards in low gear. There was absolutely no hurry and more time out here means more chance of seeing the stuff.

When I stopped to reach for the coffee thermos I heard the blow of a whale directly in front, shortly followed by another directly behind. Although I looked hard in what seemed to be the right direction I saw nothing when they surfaced again. It was so calm the sound travelled further than I could see.

I was thrown into a bit of turmoil when I heard a mass of splashing approaching from the south and saw a load of dolphins leaping out of the water.

Stay with the whales or check out the dolphins. I opted for the dolphins because they were just so dynamic:

Common Dolphin, Eigg

Common Dolphins just can’t resist throwing themselves around!

Common Dolphins, Isle of Eigg

Dilemma. Should I go back to look for the whales, or carry on to Eigg? Although time was mine, I didn’t want to add too much on to my planned 22 mile trip. Plenty enough for an old geezer.

So I ploughed on. Good move, because when I was a couple of miles from the island I saw a long black back roll slowly at at the surface in the far distance…a Minke Whale.

The excitement filled my muscles with rocket fuel and I powered towards the distant location. I needn’t have bothered, because I heard another whale blow behind me. Maybe even a third. So I just sat and watched and waited.

Minke Whale, Eigg

Initially they surfaced far away, but I was hoping that one might appear a bit closer.

It did. A lot closer…

Minke Whale, Eigg

Nice to be able to see the Minke’s characteristic white ‘mittens’ on its pectoral fins. This is only the second or third time I have ever been close enough to observe this feature.

Minke’s white mittens (Skye behin

It was absolutely thrilling to experience these mega-beasts in such a super-scenic amphitheatre, and I struggled to drag myself away. However I had a McFlurry Challenge to complete and if I was going to see an Eagle, it was going to be hanging around the escarpment on Eigg.

It was good to have a bit of a leg stretch on the island. The lunch was definitely not so good. The only upside was that the lettuce had liquefied into a sort of alcoholic soup which was an unexpected bonus to an otherwise inedible meal.

North-east Eigg. About as remote as you can get. Cuillins of Skye behind.

I spent an hour scrutinising every crag of the escarpment till my neck ached, but saw no eagle. Pity, because this time a year ago I saw a Golden Eagle exactly here.

I was getting a little bit edgy because the cloud was thickening and a few spots of rain were falling, which had not been forecast. It was going to take me two to three hours to get back to dry land across the sound, so I headed back.

A bonus on the return trip was this scruffy-looking Puffin. It was an adult in non-breeding plumage and probably came from the nearby Island of Canna which is their nearest breeding colony.

Puffin

That was it. No Eagle, so my McFlurry attempt had failed. However I did manage to achieve the second tier of attainment…a Puffin McNugget.

Puffin, Seal, Porpoise, Dolphin, Whale and Otter.

There was always tomorrow for a second attempt. The rain had cleared and the orange sunset promised a fine day…

Sunset over Rum

Did I succeed or did I fail? Find out in my next blog.

Coming soon.

‘The McFlurry Challenge…Last Chance for Glory’

Whales all over the Place… Plymouth, Padstow and Bude.

Four Minke Whales in three separate locations around Cornwall and Devon over a four day period.

Plus a tantalising encounter four miles off my nearest beach at Bude. Unfortunately I only heard a single blow and despite straining ears and eyes to the horizon I saw and heard nothing more.

So, mega-excitement involving mega-Minkes matched only by the totally tropical conditions that have enveloped the south of UK over the last week or so.

The first whale was off Plymouth, the day before my really extraordinary close encounter with an inquisitive Minke off Fowey, reported in my last blog.

The omens for a good wildlife day were good as I eyeballed seals and a few Fallow Deer along the coast as I was waiting for the stiff offshore wind to drop.

Fallow Deer

I would have missed the quiet little pod of Common Dolphins had I not heard the deckhand aboard the Crabber PH385 ‘Shiralee’ say ‘Hello’ with the sort of intonation he would if his favourite pet had just appeared. I just knew he addressing a dolphin.

Common Dolphin, Shiralee, Rame Head

Sure enough there was a handful of fins quietly cruising along beside the little fishing boat. In sunshine and calm conditions. Superb.

As you will here the captain say in this video clip…’you can’t get much closer than that’.

I continued directly offshore towards the Eddystone lighthouse, visible as a tiny stick on the horizon ten miles away. This might have been my 22nd (or is it 23rd) trip out to that remote and iconic location, but I knew the wind was going to pick up and I probably wouldn’t get all the way.

I didn’t, but mainly because I was distracted by the wildlife. As I approached the half-way buoy I heard the puff of porpoises, the splash of dolphins…and the blow of a whale! As usual that prolonged and loud blast of air made me surge into action even though the whale was still too far away to see.

Ten minutes later I was in visual range and saw that long back roll at the surface…

Minke Whale off Plymouth. Looe island 12 miles behind.

Was it in Devon? Because a whale in Devon is a very special sight. The majority of Minke sightings are in Cornwall as they venture in from the open Atlantic.

mmm… not entirely sure it crossed the border, which is a line from Plymouth Sound to Eddystone.

I about-turned a couple of miles from the lighthouse and was briefly checked out by a pod of dolphins on the way back: (video)

Eddystone Dolphins

Eddystone Dolphin

Close to the half-way reef I glimpsed a sparkle near the horizon far to the east. It must have been sun glinting off a fin, and it lasted too long for a dolphin. Fifteen minutes of hard paddling later I saw the whale roll at the surface again and this time it was most definitely in Devon. Excellent.

To wrap up the cetacean bonanza for the day there were a few more porpoises and another pod of Common Dolphins:

Porpoise, Pont Avon

Dolphins, Plymouth

The next day was the extreme whale encounter at Fowey, followed the day after by a cetacean-free trip with Dave as we paddled the coast near Lands End. However we had arguably an even more extreme sighting. I could hardly believe my optic nerves when I found myself staring eyeball to eyeball with an otter. Along the open coast in bright midday sunshine….whhaaat?

No time for a pic unfortunately, so here’s the Fowey whale again instead:

Minke Whale, Fowey

Plus a nice pic of Dave and the tremendous granite cliffs near Land’s End:

Logan Rock and Dave

Incredibly, chum Cush happened to be flying overhead at 1000ft in a helicopter flight from Land’s End, and somehow spotted us looking like little tiny minnows in the cobalt-blue sea below:

Dave and Myself…top pic, Cush!

The following day there was a window of glass calm sea off the north Cornish coast, so that’s where I went.

A couple of miles offshore near Rumps Point, Polzeath, I heard that amazing blow again. Absolutely astonishing and my first ever Minke Whale off the north coast.

Camel Estuary

It was very mobile and it took me half-an-hour of ‘hunting’ before I even got a glimpse of it. This was all at long-range apart from one fairly close surface about 100 metres away.

I was distracted by a small pod of dolphins but ventured off elsewhere when three large eco-safari RIBS came along to look.

A mile to the north I heard another whale. Or was it the same one? It seemed smaller than the first but I can’t be sure it was a different individual. I’ll record it as one…scientifically cautious, as always.

No pics of this whale but it was great to get an image of another ocean wanderer, a tiny European Storm Petrel. A real offshore speciality.

Storm Petrel

All in all an incredible whale-fest facilitated by some equally incredible weather.

Here’s a couple of interesting Minke facts/observations I have made/mulched over the last few days:

1.Most people at sea do not notice Minke Whales. Despite being up to 30ft long, they are very easy to overlook. They roll at the surface without a splash like a giant porpoise, and spend less than thirty seconds above the water every ten minutes. I watched many a speedboat and yacht pass the whale off Plymouth the other day, and nobody saw it. No change of conversation onboard, no shout of exclamation, no change in direction (as there always is when a pod of dolphins is spotted).

2. It is often thought that Minke Whales do not have a visible blow because they breathe out underwater before they break the surface. This is in fact not the case, as you can observe, and hear, in this video. The whale does not exhale until the blowhole is well above the surface. And that is definitely exhalation, because you can hear it breathing in afterwards.

More whales soon, with a bit of luck.

Plymouth Minke