The Rise of the Risso’s

My very first book of British Mammals, which I won as a school prize when I was eleven, states that Risso’s dolphins are rare visitors to the coasts of Europe.

Either it was a dodgy book or numbers of Risso’s have increased. Or maybe it’s because no-one went out looking for them in 1971.

Whatever the history, this year is a bumper one for Risso’s sightings around Cornwall. No doubt because their food, cuttlefish, are also booming. Whether this is all part of the normal annual fluctuation of creatures below the surface, or the result of climate change…who knows?

Anyway, I was beginning to have second thoughts about paddling across Mount’s Bay, Penzance yesterday as the wind-driven waves started to slosh across my deck. Spotting wildlife ain’t easy when you are being bounced about by chop.

My spirits and motivation were given a boost by the cheerful chattering of a trio of Sandwich Terns passing overhead, plus the sight of a strip of calm water close to the coast on the far side of the bay, a couple of miles ahead.

Half way across the bay a tall fin appeared to my left. Big and quite slow-moving…Risso’s! Soon joined by several others.

They slowly swung round behind me but were very difficult to follow as they spent a long time underwater and moved big distances between breathing sessions. I dared to take my camera out although I didn’t fancy my chances of being able to hold it still. I cranked the shutterspeed up to compensate. My camera is not waterproof and sea water was splashing everywhere. It was also not particularly cheap so I had a feeling of impending disaster.

By incredible luck I had my finger on the shutter just as one dolphin breached…and it only jumped once.

Riisso’s and Penzance

The scattered pod overtook me and disappeared so I ploughed on across the bay. I was very pleased to tuck in to the shelter of the coast, where there was smooth water with only the occasional gust of wind trying to pluck my peaked cap off my scalp.

Unbelievably, as I sat supping a cup of coffee, a pod of Risso’s came round the corner. Slowly and deliberately as usual, close enough for me to hear their impressive blows.

Risso’s blowing

They loitered in the swirl of water right at the tip of the point…perfect viewing. The low viewing position from a kayak, with backside just about at water level, really does give the most thrilling perspective of these big creatures.

The tip of their dorsal fins, which are nearly two foot tall, are just about level with the eyes when they roll to dive.

Trio of big ‘uns in front of Penzance

It’s not very often that I have actually been looking UP at a marine creature. But that’s what happened next. I was hoping that a fin would conveniently appear in front of very photogenic St. Michael’s Mount which was three miles in the background.

A fin didn’t appear, the whole blooming dolphin did…whooaahhh!

St. Michael’s Leap. Risso’s dolphin performing in front of Cornwall’s premier landmark.

Once again couldn’t believe my luck with the pic, because it only jumped once.

Although it re-entered in as perfect a Tom Daly dive as it could, Risso’s are bulky creatures so it made a very satisfactory splash. Wouldn’t have impressed the judges.

Risso’s rentry…nil points

I just sat and watched agog as a pod of about ten mooched about. Individual Risso’s can be identified by the patterns of scars on their fins so I photographed as many as I could. I imaged about a dozen different dolphins out of a total of about 20-30 I saw during the day. It was probably a lot more than this as despite being large Risso’s are surprisingly slinky and pods can be scattered over a wide area.

These pics will be sent to Hannah and Duncan at Marine Discovery who keep a database of all the local Risso’s sightings…good to be putting in a shift for citizen science.

Typically scarred-up Risso’s, with distinctive fin.

Another pod of about ten grouped up a little further offshore. By sheer good luck (again…it seemed to be my lucky day!) the wind blew me towards the gathering so I could just sit absolutely still as I drifted closer. Risso’s are notoriously shy and usually actively avoid boats, although I’m not sure whether a dolphin would consider a kayak to be a boat or a very slow-moving log.

The next five minutes were just about as exciting as I have ever had in all my 31,273* miles I have paddled over the last twenty years, watching wildlife from my kayak. Topped only by the occasional encounter with a whale.

(* yes, that is accurate…I’ve just totted it up)

I’ll let the photographs do the talking…

Risso’s Emerging

Risso’s taking off

Risso’s full flight

A really tremendous spectacle.

One thing that does stand true about Risso’s from my sepia-paged book from the seventies is that they are described as mysterious.

They certainly are. Not least because they have a crease down the middle of their forehead:

Risso’s creased forehead

Big, robust, aloof, mysterious, unusual…these descriptions are what make an encounter with a Risso’s pod so magical.

There’s one feature that the textbooks miss, however, which I think is the most appealing but not very scientific.

Their contented expression.

Pleased to be…a Risso’s Dolphin

To quote my daughter: ‘smiling away…it just looks so happy to be Risso-ing’

Monumental Mullion

The five miles of coast between Mullion Cove and Kynance Cove is nothing short of awesome. As cliffy and intimidating as any other stretch of Cornwall.

If you were just dropped in here you would swear it was the North coast because there is always a restless sort of underlying swell, even on the calm days. It is because this southern section of the lizard peninsular sticks out beyond the protection of the Land’s End peninsular and so receives the full force of whatever is going on in the Atlantic.

It is only on the days when the swell is minimal that it is any fun to do this bit in a kayak (which is not very often). There are large sections of vertical cliff which reflect any waves and so would make it very lumpy in a larger swell, or onshore wind.

I chose a recent day with a small swell and moderate easterly wind. Even this swirled around the headlands and, as usual, seemed to spend much more time blowing in my face than from behind.

At least it was blue sky and the lack of rain over the previous few weeks made the water as clear as I think I have ever seen it.

I set off from Poldhu Cove, a perfect sandy beach a mile or so north of Mullion. Every headland around here seems to have a hotel perched right on top.

Although I have paddled this section twice before, I wasn’t quite expecting the fantastic location of Mullion Cove, squeezed into a gap in the cliffs surrounded by huge buttresses. It seemed to be bigger and better than the last occasions….probably enhanced by the sun.

Mullion Cove

I bypassed Mullion island with a view to ‘doing’ it on the way back, and ventured round the corner to start the very committing and potentially hostile cliffy bit.

Mullion Island

However I was soon completely absorbed in the excitement of it all (as usual) but my excitementometer suddenly lurched off the scale when I saw a fin break the water a hundred metres further out. I changed direction to observe and was thrilled to see the grey backs of a couple of Bottlenose Dolphins appear. The first ones I had seen in the UK for three years. They looked big, not surprising as they are up to five times the weight of a Common Dolphin.

Bottlenose Dolphin

I was rather hoping they would come over to ‘play’ but they didn’t, they just cruised on past at a speed that I wouldn’t be able to match.

Craggy headlands alternated with wide bays backed by tall cliffs. Ogo-dour Cove, Pot Cornick, Gew  graze and Pigeon Ogo. None of these names really bring out the friendliness and softer side of the area. 

I nearly leapt out of my skin when an unseen seal snorted and simultaneously splashed just a few feet behind me.

After rounding ‘the Horse’ a sliver of golden sand of Kynance Cove a mile further on provided the promise of a safe haven and a target for a leg stretch. As I approached the water became progressively more turquoise and when hauling my kayak onto the sand I could well see why Kynance has the reputation of the most beautiful beach in Britain. It was high water but only a neap tide so there was still a strip of dry sand. And I had it all to myself because the state of the tide made it inaccessible to walkers. Absolutely superb. I loafed about and slurped coffee from my Thermos and munched a couple of Cookies and felt very Caribbean (apart from the drysuit and thermal underwear side of things).

Kynance Cove

A minute or two after starting the return leg I encountered a very confiding Razorbill (still in its winter outfit) that was dipping its head underwater to look for fish even when I was only a few feet away.

Razorbill

Before I took a circuit around Mullion island, and its pungent odour of guano, I pulled up onto another excellent strip of sand just exposed by the receding tide.

Another ‘kayak only’ beach

Back at Poldhu the beach was a bit different to the zero number of people on it when I set off this morning at 8 am. It echoed to chatter and laughter and the sea floated surfers, paddleboarders and the odd swimmer. Pretty remarkable for mid April. And the sea is still only eleven degrees! (so the swimmers weren’t in long)

Just before I started my ‘final approach’ a seabird with a white belly sat up in the water for a quick wing flap. A Great Northern Diver in full breeding plumage! What a stunner. All the Diver species look a bit ‘plain’ in their winter dress but morph into the most fantastic designs in the summer.

Unfortunately in the only photo that was in focus the bulk of the bird’s body was hidden behind a wavelet.

Great northern Diver

Another cracking day enhanced by the continuing Spring sunshine.