Uncategorized – The Lone Kayaker

Complete and Utter Pants

March 20, 2024 by rupertkirkwood, posted in Uncategorized

It is easier to do that thing with the camel, the needle and the eye than find a few hours of calm sea for wildlife-spotting-from-the-kayak over the last few months.

Even when the wind does briefly abate, there is enough residual swell from the last storm to make the kayak bounce around so much it could dislodge your fillings.

It’s complete and utter pants.

It’s not that a lumpy sea is particularly dangerous…in fact for many sea kayakers it is their preferred conditions…it just doesn’t suit my particular branch of the sport. I use a sit-on-top kayak with all my gear, including camera, stowed in dry bags on the deck.

Because I am always in a desperate rush to get on the water and these bags might not be sealed as securely as they should, I try to avoid too many waves sloshing over the deck. Water does have a habit of sneaking into the the most unexpected and unwelcome of places, as I found out in a dramatic and unpleasant manner a month ago.

I had clambered in to my drysuit in record time and everything seemed good to go…until I couldn’t locate my phone. I eventually found it in a zipped pocket of my gilet beneath my securely fastened drysuit. It was completely inaccessible should I need it in a hurry if the unthinkable happened…like somebody ringing me up.

The only way to extricate it without the enormous effort of taking off all my waterproof gear was to writhe an arm in through my relief zip and reach up to the zipped pocket. It was a manoeuvre of such contortion it would have got an approving nod from Houdini.

Camera rescued and returned to its usual pocket in my lifejacket…time to set off. Fast, to make up for lost time.

There was just one rogue swell to tackle as I was paddling out from the beach. It’s weird how the biggest wave of the day always happens to roll up just as I paddle out.

Whooosh! I am completely doused as the wave crashes over the deck, but all seems to be well. Half-a-second later all is definitely not all well. A gallon of freezing cold English Channel is sloshing around my rear end inside my suit, having gained unhindered entry via a gaping relief zip which I had forgotten to do up.

Idiot! My planned four hour trip around the bay will now be one of misery. Four hours of wet and cold underpants (if that is what they are still called) has the same effect on body temperature as an afternoon spent in a meat chiller. I have personal experience of this but I won’t explain as it’s a long story. Actually it’s quite short, but boring, unless you are in to the study of bacterial contamination of topside of beef.

Anyway, as expected, I was chilled to the marrow by the end of the trip.

So, where were we? Ah yes, calm spells have been few and far between. Even more irritatingly, the brief ridges of high pressure which pass over fleetingly have all happened during the night, so by dawn the wind is increasing again.

A couple of days ago I woke up early and as I was lying in bed slurping a cup of tea I watched the stars, and a couple of planets, being snuffed out by a curtain of cloud approaching from the west. The next storm was on the way.

The winds were forecast to stay light for only an hour or two after sunrise.

Long enough!…it was time to get one over on the weather!

I leaped out of bed and the rest of the tea went down the hatch like floodwater down a storm drain and I was off to the south coast at Torbay and heading out to sea. I hope the speed camera on the A30 wasn’t working.

There were just a couple of Gannets roving about and I watched them intently. If one circled, that’s where I was going. More often than not a circling Gannet indicates a feeding porpoise or a dolphin below.

Two Gannets circled and one dived so I ‘powered’ over to have a look…and was joined by a dozen juvenile dolphins…

Superb…even better, the sea was still smooth. But it didn’t last long as the first gusts soon arrived.

Will and Sam appeared in the distance and I did my best to lure the dolphins over to them with a bit of a burst of speed. This was only semi-successful (ie mainly unsuccessful) but they did get to enjoy a bit of dolphin action when they appeared upon the scene.

The increase in wave-chop made us head back towards the coast…giving us the chance to do a bit of kayak speliology. Caving is not really my thing but I am happy to have my arm twisted if it is in aid of a bit of a chuckle…

So the ultra-early start to beat the weather paid off:

Hopefully it won’t be pants…if that is what they are stilled called…for much longer.

2023: A Good Year for Risso’s

February 22, 2024February 22, 2024 by rupertkirkwood, posted in Uncategorized

Part of the mystery of the sea is that the abundance of different species varies enormously from year to year.

It’s always been that way. Even in the heyday of pilchard fishing some years the fish didn’t turn up at all. In others the fish were so thick you could walk on water.

Last year was a bumper season for Risso’s Dolphins around Cornwall. The Lone Kayaker had the pleasure of observing more in 2023 than in all the previous ten years added together.

Here’s the stats:

Risso’s Dolphins observed from the kayak seat. Cornwall and Devon.

In addition I saw several more pods from the land, and another thirty or so individuals in Western Scotland from the kayak.

So it was definitely the year of the Risso’s.

Everything about Risso’s is exotic, not least their name. It is entirely appropriate that the surname of amateur French naturalist, Antoine Risso, has stuck. He found a beached dolphin on the Mediterranean coast at Nice in 1811 and submitted his findings to the big cheese zoologist of that era called Georges Cuvier. Cuvier referred to the specimen as the ‘dauphin de Risso’ and that’s more or less how it has stayed.

It is so much more suitable for this extraordinary-looking creature than the alternative names of Grey Dolphin…yawn, boring!…or Grampus…slightly better but not as fitting as Risso’s.

‘Grampus’ could lead to a spot of identity confusion as it is also one of the local names for the mighty Orca aka Great Killer Whale.

Strangely, or perhaps not strangely considering they sometimes share a name, Risso’s are often mistaken for Orcas.

They have a particularly tall and spiky dorsal fin which always produces an ‘OMG’ reaction when first observed. It’s a big fin on a big dolphin which understandably causes confusion amongst those who are not familiar.

At nearly two feet tall, the Risso’s fin is even bigger than that of the local whales, the Minkes and the Humpbacks.

Everything about Risso’s is remarkable. Not least their bulk. They are big and beefy as can be seen by the impressive ‘wooobooomph’ they create when they start to throw themselves around.

They weigh up to half-a-ton and are very nearly as long as my kayak. I felt distinctly small and insignificant as an impressively massive, almost completely white, individual approached me last year. A really extraordinary encounter.

Risso’s approaching! (pic, Henry Kirkwood)

I was aware that Risso’s are notoriously shy so I was sitting absolutely still to avoid spooking it. Even so, it took evasive action and swerved to the side when it sensed my presence.

If they take fright at a small, silent and stationary kayak it is perhaps no wonder that very little is known about the biology of Risso’s in the wild. They actively avoid all boats and if there are too many craft in the area they will just clear off, as I witnessed last year near Penzance.

Having said all that, they very occasionally bolden up and do a bit of bow-riding, although with me yet, unfortunately.

However I was once ‘threatened’ by a pair of large white Risso’s that squared up in front of me like a couple of living torpedos and were clearly discussing what course of action to take.

Needless to say they just swam past silently. Perhaps, in retrospect, they were just having a powernap.

The astonishing facts continue…Risso’s are a worldwide species that prefer to inhabit deep waters on the edge of the continental shelf where their main prey, octopus and squid, lurk.

They occasional nudge inshore to feast on a tasty change to the menu, cuttlefish, when they (the cuttlefish) move into shallower water around the fringe of Cornwall and Devon to breed in early summer.

So when I come across one of these, a cuttlefish with all the squishy bits chewed off…

I know that not very far away there will be a pod of these…

Last year my eyes came out on stalks when, during a day of zero other significant wildlife sightings near Fowey, I saw a series of huge splashes approaching from the horizon. I had absolutely no idea what was going on until I saw the chunky outline of a Risso’s in the middle of a cloud of spray.

Unfortunately the powering pod of 8-10 veered away before they came close and I watched in amazement as the splashes sped past at top speed. It was only when I reviewed the few and blurry photos I managed to take that I noticed some small calves accompanying the adults.

It was astonishing that these little nippers managed to keep up with the blistering pace. And why on earth were they going so fast? They certainly weren’t being chased by a predator so I suspect it was a training exercise for the youngsters.

And there’s more phenomenal features of remarkable Rissos’:

The mermaid tail:

The Striated Skin…caused by scrapping with chums/mates, and that Happy Smile:

The excellent Risso’s season was topped off by a unique sighting made by wildlife filmmaker son Henry in June. It was a rare flat calm day so I had spent all day out on the water and Henry had spent all day watching from land.

We had watched a pod of Risso’s at close range and seen Common Dolphins and a Minke Whale so as far as I was concerned it was a job well done and it was back to the Air BNB to celebrate a thrilling day with a beer.

Henry, however, stuck it out down on the shore until the sun went down.

Sacrificing a significant volume of blood to half a trillion midges paid off with a sighting that we think is a UK first.

A newborn Risso’s calf. All floppy and rubbery and almost certainly only a few hours old.

So it’s been a Risso’s year that will be hard to match in 2024…but yer never know…

ps. Being an octopus in UK is not as cushy and squishy as you might imagine.

The Lake which isn’t there (Most of the Time)

December 21, 2023 by rupertkirkwood, posted in Uncategorized

I needed a break from the open coast after a frightening encounter with an unseen sea monster that flew into a strop, which involved a lot of huffing and puffing, as I paddled too close to its lair.

What evil lurks within?

So I headed far inland and stumbled across a vast lake that was a mosaic of green fields dotted with cattle last time I looked.

I paddled up the River Parrett against a stiff current and then portaged over the bank into the flood waters. The water level in the fields was actually a couple of feet higher than the rivers.

The church at Muchelney seemed like a good target to aim at. Getting lost amongst the random hedges and scattered copses was a real risk although I could have used my GPS for navigation, or even my paper map which I had thrown into my dry bag. You can’t beat a paper map!

A minor road guided me in nicely to the heart of the village…

Even the major road to the village was deep underwater. I glanced nervously over my shoulder for the hidden speed camera.

As usual, where there is water, there is prolific wildlife.

A large flock of Lapwing were resting on one of the few patches of green that were visible. They are very attractive birds, made even more so by their heartfelt mewing calls.

I approached just a bit too close and the flock floated away, settling down again on the next grassy patch. Intermixed were some smaller waders which I hadn’t initially noticed…half-a-dozen Dunlin.

I hopped back over into the Parrett and flogged another few miles upstream through the brown flood water into a howling wind. It was all a bit drab and monochrome, so I was thrilled to see a couple of big, white herons glide past.

Great White Egrets. They are a symptom of climate change as a decade ago they were an extreme rarity in the UK. They have moved up from the near continent and been encouraged to stay by the restoration of a large area of suitable peatland habitat nearby.

It didn’t take long to get back to my starting point with the stiff current and wind in my favour.

Final highlights of the trip were a couple of Kingfishers and using my paper map to assist a DPS delivery driver to navigate around the flooded main road. I knew it would come in handy sometime!

Canada: Dolphins, Bears, Eagles, Otters and the Little Stuff

October 3, 2023 by rupertkirkwood, posted in Uncategorized

Wildlife is sparse in the pine forests of Vancouver Island. You might hear the chatter of a Red Squirrel, the laugh of a Pileated woodpecker, the cackle of a Steller’s Jay or the ‘cronk’ of a pair of Ravens. A few Turkey vultures float overhead.

Most of the action is concentrated down by the shore and out into the swirling channels, because the sea, and seashore is BURSTING with life. The tide is a delivery lorry stuffed full of goodies that arrives, regular as clockwork, twice a day.

The headliners are the Orcas and the Humpbacks, with Sea Lions and Bald Eagles a reliable back-up.

The Eagles are a guaranteed crowd-pleaser because they are very big, very striking and very common. They sit high on a tree overlooking the forward waiting for a meal-sized fish to loiter just a little too long at the surface. Not a lot evades that piercing gaze.

Bald Eagle. If your a fish, it’s time to make yourself scarce..

In the manner of a Bald Eagle, we too were straining our eyes for anything that moved as we slid silently through the glass-calm water in our kayaks. We were in extreme wildlife-watching mode.

Not a lot escaped our gaze.

Knowing precisely where to look is always a challenge, however. Typically, if you scrutinise the open sea the wildlife appears on the shoreline:

And then when you look along the shore a load of fins pop up out to sea:

Pacific White-sided Dolphins. Packed in like sardines!

I had an excellent early-morning encounter with a pod of these beautifully-marked Pacific White-sided dolphins, with their snappy-looking swept back dorsal fins. It was before any of the local boat engines had fired up so it was perfectly peaceful:

Video

The dolphins seem to get really excited when the sea surface livens up a bit…

White-sided dolphins. Pedal to the metal.

And when it comes to bow-riding boats…as far as the dolphins are concerned, the bigger the better. Cruise Liner…yes, please!

A pleasant surprise during the final day of our six-day kayak camping trip was an encounter with a Sea Otter.

It is impossible not to like these teddy-bear photogenic and gentle creatures and be impressed by their relaxed approach to life. As they float buoyantly on their backs it is hard to believe that they are not supported by an enormously comfortable sun-lounger just below the surface.

To make their lazy Sunday afternoon aura complete, they even seem to be sporting a pair of carpet slippers.

Their cuddly and cosy appearance is the result of wearing the most dense coat of any mammal on the planet. This was known by eighteenth century fur traders as ‘Soft Gold’ and when the ‘Great Hunt’ for the pelts of these innocent little creatures had run its course, there were only one or two thousand left in the wild.

Since 1911 they have been protected and a recent reintroduction program on Vancouver Island has been a great success.

Phew, there would be a gigantic void if they weren’t around.

We didn’t want to leave Vancouver Island without a satisfactory bear encounter, as we had only seen a few crossing the road, including a mother and cubs. Just fleeting views.

Whilst we were lying in bed in a creek-side house in the early hours, we could hear large stones being rolled over on the beach followed by a munching sound as the crunchy creatures that were hiding below were consumed.

When the light of dawn filtered through we could see the crunching muncher was a Black Bear.

Over the next couple of days we watched this one plus several of its chums feeding along the low-tide shoreline. No disturbance caused, lovely and peaceful, prolonged views…bear watching at its best. Absolutely excellent.

Even better, I ticked off another mega-species seen from the seat of a kayak.,,

Bear and The Lone Kayaker (pic from video: Henry Kirkwood)

We spent our final week in the south of Vancouver Island on Mayne Island. It is much more populated than the north of Vancouver Island so we were quite surprised that the most showy creatures here, surprisingly, were North American River Otters.

There were lots of them. They are very similar to our European Otters and hotwired to be slinky and very wary, but they seemed to be quite happy to fish along the shore during the day. There are very few dogs around to chase them which I’m sure makes them a bit more tolerant of human activity nearby.

Unlike Sea Otters that don’t need to come ashore because they extract the water they require from the food they eat, River Otters need a source of fresh water to drink and frequently scamper up the beach to find a freshwater pool.

We saw two families of five plus another group of three and several pairs so they seemed to be thriving on this island..

There is certainly no shortage of their favourite food…crabs…although this feisty little crustacean seems to be putting up a bit of resistance:

Otter vs Crab* (pic from video Henry Kirkwood ) *crab loses

I absolutely love otters. So all this was an unexpected bonus.

Familiar faces amongst the wildlife smorgasbord were Ospreys, Great Northern Divers (Loons) and Harbour Seals, a handful of the very few species that have a circumglobal distribution.

Now onto the REALLY little stuff. Wildlife gems that are often overlooked.

Most of the offshore seabirds of the North Pacific have an astonishing tale to tell as they migrate long distances and breed in extreme places. Such as this extremely unremarkable looking, but excellently named, Marbled Murrelet.

Most of their near relations that spend most of their time at sea are essentially black above and white below. But Marbled Murrelets in breeding plumage are a warm buffy brown and there is a particular reason for this.

Although common, nobody knew where they bred until 1974 when a nest was found far inland 200ft up a Douglas Fir in a clump of moss!

And of you are nesting in a mossy clump, brown is the best camouflage!

During the winter when they are exclusively out to sea they revert to a more conventional black above and white below outfit.

They were joined on the water by close relations with an even better name: Ancient Murrelets…

And flitting about over their heads like bats were Fork-tailed Storm Petrels:

I am aware this interest in these small seabirds is a bit niche, so I’ll just tell you about one more.

The stunning Red-necked Phalarope. It’s another little beauty with a tremendous name. They were busily picking at plankton.

To see a Phalarope from a kayak in UK is big event. I’ve only ever achieved it four or five times. In Canada they were common but the excitement of seeing these dainty little birds was still there…

The Cassin’s and Rhinoceros Auklets will have to wait for another time.

That’s it from Canada.

Cheerio.

Canada: Orcas and more Orcas

September 20, 2023 by rupertkirkwood, posted in Uncategorized

Three weeks family holiday on Vancouver Island.

Phwoaa, what a place. Friendly smiling people, endless vistas of pine-clad mountains, empty roads, not a scrap of litter anywhere.

Most excitingly, a sea bursting with life. Forests of kelp close to the shore…

…and the water so chock-full of salmon there were not many moments when one wasn’t airborne:

Orcas were top of our wish-list. They were going to be best enjoyed from the kayak, I felt (surprise, surprise) so we were booked in on a six-day kayak camping trip in the heart of Orca territory…The Johnstone Straight. Extraordinarily deep, dark swirling waters with savage tidal currents and plenty of whirlpools!

Just in case we were unsuccessful on the organised trip we took along Puffing Pig 2, my inflatable double kayak, to maximise our chance of a whale encounter during the remaining fortnight.

Puffing Pig 2. The perfect Orca-spotting craft. (pic by Henry Kirkwood)

The kayak-camping involved more conventional, more robust boats…

And we did have some really extraordinary and memorable encounters with the world’s most visually impressive whale. The problem was that when they came REALLY close we couldn’t see them, because they chose to visit our bay, just outside our tents, at 3am!

We were all awoken by a succession of very loud puffs, very similar to a porpoise but ten times the volume, as they came round the corner. For the next two hours they sploshed about and huffed and puffed, seemingly right on the shoreline. They were probably rubbing themselves on the smooth boulders in the shallow water.

It was dead still so we could hear every squeak and snuffle but we saw precisely nothing apart from the odd flash of phosphorescence. The occasional moment of silence was spiced up by the prolonged blow of a Humpback further offshore, the quieter splishing of a pod of White-sided dolphins or the croon of a migrating loon.

Extraordinary. The best worst night’s sleep I have ever had.

Amazingly, this night-time Orca visitation happened three times at two different campsites. Irritatingly they chose not to visit during daylight hours.

But we DID have one close encounter with an Orca pod…

We were making a crossing of the Johnstone Straight. Glass calm, sunny, warm air…20 degrees but chilly water…8 degrees…yes, no kidding.

Eagle-eyes Peggy saw a distant puff of spray from the blow of a whale a mile to the east, and a glimpse of a fin…Orca!

Nothing more happened until a pod of a dozen Orcas just rose up in front of us like a pack of U-boats. They just sat there motionless, blowing away, the mist from their breath swirling in the chill from the cold water.

Ripples of excitement were mixed with mutterings of concern from our group and the three guides. Adrenaline was certainly surging for one reason or another. These very large creatures were very close and it seemed as if maybe the pod were planning something…

The head guide was worried we were within the 400m legal approach limit so insisted that we backpaddled frantically and perhaps her repeated commands rather detracted from the wonder of the moment (which you can unfortunately hear in slomo in the next video clip)

Whatever…this is precisely what we had come all this way to see:

After their brief afternoon nap the pod went back to do what the do best…hunting. These were clearly the fish-eating and not mammal-eating variety of Orcas because the local Pacific White-sided dolphins were joining in with feast. Many of the kayaking group were relieved to discover this.

The size of the big male Orcas is mind-boggling…the dorsal fin is as long as an adult dolphin. See from this pic:

Male Orca and leaping Pacific White-sided Dolphin

Thrilling stuff. Thanks to Henry and Peggy’s fin-focussed super-vision we saw Orcas over a dozen times during our three week stay on Vancouver Island.

Peggy. Eyes which make a Cheetah look miopic. (pic by Henry Kirkwood)

The pods around the Orca hotspot in Johnstone Straight were easy to spot during office hours because they were pursued by a whole load of tourist boats. These whale-watching boats were scrutinised very closely by the Orca police who were very diligent in ensuring the whales were not disturbed. Good.

Our most atmospheric visual Orca encounter was a few days before the organised kayak trip and happened very early one morning. So early, I very nearly paddled out to see them in my pyjamas.

I had only just gone back to sleep after lying awake in bed listening to a bear turning over stones on the beach and munching the crunchy snacks beneath.

Henry yelled ‘Orca!’ outside the bedroom window and within five minutes I was heading out onto the water in Puffing Pig 2. Not without trepidation. It was cold and overcast, the current was flowing at a rate faster than I could paddle, the wind was making the surface look even more hostile and Puffing Pig had a bit of a leak in one of the chambers.

However I was lured on by the blows I could see far out across the sound. Initially too far away to see the actual whales. I was losing heart as I was starting to feel very small in very disconcerting and unfriendly-looking waters, when the pod suddenly veered towards me and I started to see those huge fins rising up from the surface. They appeared weirdly slowly, but only because the owners of the fins are so big. The size of a Minke Whale!

I just sat and watched in a gormless sort of way. The sounds of the blasts of breath were almost as remarkable as the sight of those huge fins.

There were two adult males in the pod of about fifteen. When the fins of these huge beasts appeared they just kept on rising and rising. A gigantic fang sticking out of the water.

Watch this video closely:

It was time for me to bolt as I was being dragged by the current where I didn’t want to go and the fins were starting to look worryingly like a set of tombstones:

One more glimpse of the big male, which made me feel smaller than ever, and I was off back for breakfast.

Thelonekayaker (small), Male Orca (big). pic by Henry Kirkwood

All these Orca sightings were way beyond our expectations.

When we were watching from the quayside at Telegraph Cove, which is the hub of whale-watching in the area, Peggy saw a pod of whales come round the corner and when she announced ‘Orca’ the entire place went bonkers as everybody streamed towards a vantage point. Pulse-rates soaring across the board.

Orcas are very big business here.

There’s not just Orcas to enjoy in the area. There’s Humpbacks, dolphins, porpoise, bears, otters, eagles and all manner of seabirds with incredible names.

Plus plenty of massive ships.

All to be revealed in the next blog.

The Lone Kayaker and Chums in Thailand…The Hot and Sweaty Search for the Pink Dolphin

April 17, 2023 by rupertkirkwood, posted in Uncategorized

Our time in Thailand was coming to an end. In terms of wildlife sightings, it had been way beyond my expectations. 50 new bird species, otters, elephants, monkeys and monstrous lizards to name just a few.

However there was one species I wanted to see more than ever…the legendary Pink Dolphin. It’s a subspecies of the Indo-Pacific Humpback Dolphin that often comes in a nice pink version around the east Thailand peninsula. It might even be more exciting than a Smooth-coated Otter.

So we based ourselves at Khanom which is reputedly the epicentre of the Pink Dolphin. We spent four nights at the absolutely excellent Margarita Beach mini-resort, a small group of shacks right on the edge of the sand of stunning Nadan Beach.

The shacks are beautifully laid out around a restaurant and a bar. And hey presto…they have kayaks for hire.

Margarita Beach kayak hire…let’s go looking for dolphins

Although there was a niggly little onshore wind which threw up a bit of a chop, I paddled up and down the beach several times hoping to see a fin break the surface. I had no joy but as usual there was a host of collateral creatures to enjoy.

I was very pleased to see a new species of tern for me…an exceptionally white and exceptionally beautiful Black-naped Tern. A real cracker to see from the kayak seat.

Along the shore the Ghost Crabs were an endless source of fascination. As soon as the tide dropped low enough they spent hours digging a hole. As soon as it was complete the tide would come in again and fill the hole in. Then their endless labour would start all over again as the tide dropped once more. What a life.

Perhaps even more extraordinary is that they were wary and fast enough to avoid being caught by the local dog who spent much of its time hunting them.

Unfortunately it seemed that eyeballing a Pink Dolphin from a kayak was not going to be easy. A real pity but we did not have enough time to cover enough ground (water) in our remaining two days.

So we booked a tour in a longtail boat. Big disappointment. Although we found some dolphins, one of which was slightly pinkish, the guide quickly whisked us off to look at a geological formation and an unremarkable island with a freshwater spring which was catastrophically dull. We didn’t get much more than a glimpse of the dolphins.

Dolphins first encounter. Not a great one.

I gave up hope of a really good session as the next day was travel home day. However Becky worked her negotiation-skills magic and somehow engineered a three hour dolphin-dedicated tour. Just the two of us on a longtail boat. En route to our bus.

Becky was chief spotter…and there were the dolphins!

The first two dolphins were pale grey. An absolute thrill to see but a pink one would be better.

I think the grey one heard me muttering so put on a bit of a show for us.

They were actually exceptionally difficult to observe and photograph. Generally they rolled at the surface, very unobtrusively, three or four times like a porpoise and then dived for several minutes. I got the impression they were feeding at the bottom.

Only occasionally did they do a bit of larking about.

Then, yippee, a pink dolphin rolled up. Fairly pink anyway…good enough. After about an hour of very unremarkable viewing and no decent photograph in 38 degrees and under a roasting midday sun, even our driver started to shuffle with discomfort as the sweat trickled into his eyes.

Just as we were about to pull the plug the dolphins switched to fooling about mode. The pink one started to nip at its grey chum…

At last, after firing off over 2,000 images so my camera was almost red hot, I managed to get the photo I wanted…a pink dolphin’s eye. And what an eye it is, bursting with personality. Well worth the wait, the heat, the sweat.

The Intelligent Eye of a Thai Pink Dolphin

Ironically these most mythical of creatures decide not to hang out along the stunning coastline that adorns 99.9% of Thailand’s shore.

They choose to fish for mullett in amongst the multitude of ferries plying to and from Ko Samui. In the most industrial dock area imaginable with thudding engines and banging hammers as an audio backdrop.

I suspect the churning mud that is thrown up by the ferry propellers stirs up some tasty morsels for the dolphins.

It puts a geographical stamp on the photos, anyway…

A fitting end to our very memorable time in Thailand.

The Lone Kayaker and Chums in Thailand…Otters, Eagles, Elephants

April 16, 2023 by rupertkirkwood, posted in Uncategorized

In terms of jaw-dropping scenery the four nights we spent in our floating bungalow in Khao Sok Lake were the most memorable we had in Thailand.

Khao Sok lake, also confusingly known as Cheow Lan Lake, is a reservoir of staggering proportions created in the eighties.

It is forty miles long with a bewildering numbers of side-arms surrounded by craggy and heavily-forested limestone mountains.

There was a chorus of gasps from the passengers on our longtail boat as we approached our floating accommodation at Panvaree Resort. It was matched by the chorus of howls from the Langur monkeys who seemed to be welcoming us in:

I wasted no time in taking a tour in one of the fleet of kayaks. Apart from the whooping calls from the monkeys, we had not seen any remarkable wildlife all day and I was not particularly optimistic that would change as I paddled along the shore of the lake. Freshwater is nothing like as productive as the sea.

Even so, I paddled along in complete silence and stealth mode, scrutinising every inch of the shoreline as I do in Cornwall and Devon, just in case. Camera primed and ready.

After an hour I turned back and settled for some scenery shots. A not too shabby consolation in the apparent absence of wild creatures, I suppose.

As I headed for ‘home’ I could not quite believe the signal coming from my retinas, which were trying to tell me that an otter had just rolled at the surface a hundred metres ahead.

I lurched into action mode and sneaked up on the patch of water where it had been, keeping well away and downwind.

Incredible…an otter pupped up and started to crunch its way through an eel-like fish, exactly as I had seen them do on the River Torridge with Henry only three weeks previously.

As I watched a familiar sound pierced the silence… the high-pitched ‘chirp’ of a young otter. It came from over my left shoulder so I rapidly but carefully paddled backwards as I was right in line if mother and pup were to reunite.

Not one pup, but two!

They met up in typically speedy and slithery manner and started to work along the shoreline, unaware of my presence. They did show a bit of concern at a Longtail boat, with a very noisy engine (silencers don’t seem to be a thing here), passing at distance.

However the threat did not deter mother otter from checking out a sprainting site on the corner of the mini-headland.

You can see the youngsters peering at the noise of the engine in this short, and shaky, clip. Or maybe it is the cheering and laughing of the Thai ladies group celebrating their joint 60th birthdays onboard that causes the otters to stare.

The pups then joined mum out on the dried mud, in the heart of the BIG scenery as the longtail boat chugged past in the background…

I was very keen that Becky should share the enjoyment of this encounter so I stoked my boilers up to maximun pressure and ploughed back towards the floating bungalows. This was not as straightforward as it might sound even though they were less than a mile away.

I had to overtake the otters without spooking them so looped far offshore which took me into the teeth of a fearsomely gusty headwind. Secondly the double kayak I was paddling was a streamlined as a kitchen sink. Thirdly the otters were progressing along the shore in the same direction as me at only a bit less than my flat-out paddling speed.

However my mind was set so I bludgeoned on with great intent. Fortunately Becky detected my sense of extreme urgency as I came around the corner into her view (even though I was half-a-mile away) so was all ready to hop aboard.

We powered back in silent mode and soon relocated the otter family. They all lolloped up the bank and enjoyed a prolonged dust bath. Great to observe.

Otter pups dust-bathing and generally having a great time.

We watched them working their way along the shore towards the ‘resort’ for about twenty minutes. Mostly in the water, slippery as snakes, sometimes venturing ashore.

Mum otter had to make a bit of a decision when she reached the final corner before the bungalows. There were quite a lot of humans a bit too close for comfort. I didn’t know whether these otters were as shy as their European cousins back home, but they seemed almost as wary.

After a good hard look she returned to the pups and led them on a short-cut across the headland to avoid the human melee. It was happy hour at the camp so audio disturbance was at a maximum.

We followed them a little more until they all disappeared amongst the rocks beneath a limestone bluff, probably for a nap.

This was an immensely exciting wildlife encounter as otters are currently right up there as one of my favourite animals. They are very definitely a kayaking speciality as stealth and silence is essential to stand any chance of eyeballing one. You’ve really got to be on your game. No chatting, no phone stuff.

So…what species were these particular otters. They clearly had less-pronounced noses than the species in the UK. Here’s a couple of those in Scotland…

I had assumed they were the familiar Asian Short-clawed Otter but they are small and teddy bear-ish, and I could see that the species in question had moderately long claws:

So maybe they were Smooth-coated Otters which are a little bigger than our own and have a silky coat and a slightly flattened tail…and that’s indeed what they were!! You can see all of that stuff in this pic…

Smooth coat, flattened tail, long claws.

Fantastic…a fifth otter species for me, to add to European Otter, Pacific Sea Otter (both seen from kayak) plus Speckle Throated Otter and Cape Clawless Otter seen in Africa long, long ago when the Bangles were top of the charts.

We really got in tune with the wildlife of the jungle around the lake with a glimpse of a water buffalo and excellent viewing of an elephant and calf. It’s a pity that this was from a motorised boat as it would have been much better by kayak. But I’m not complaining…it was a superbly serene encounter.

Absolutely lovely to see and the calf was a charmer:

Peace and Tranquility. Mother and Calf Thai Elephants

It was great to welcome Tim and Jess back for a last couple of days at the lake. There ensued plenty of swimming and needless to say some kayaking.

More effort than loafing…but only just. Magnificent Khao Sok Lake.

I was very pleased to clock two more Hornbill species from the kayak…both really whoppers. The first was the exceptionally attractive Great Hornbill, the pin-up bird of Khao Sok National Park.

The second was a really distant view. Spotted by Tim as it flap-flap-glided high over the tree tops far away. It was so big I thought initially it was a stork, but the briefest view through binoculars showed a massive beak, black wings and white tail. An excellently named Rhinoceros Hornbill.

Several species of Eagle winged by along the shoreline. The very large White-Bellied Sea Eagle, the moderately large Grey-headed Fish Eagle and the not very large Lesser Fish Eagle.

Final excitement, and this WAS from the kayak seat, was a huge monitor lizard that Becky and I heard scrunching through the leaves towards us for ten minutes before it appeared out of the jungle. It was all a bit sinister and I was quite glad we had fifty metres of water between us and it.

All very Jurassic Park.

Six foot from tip of tongue to tail, we reckoned. That’s a lizard and-a-half!

Phew, there’s only one thing to do after all this excitement…have a cuppa!

Sadly, it was time to say goodbye to Panvaree Resort and Khao Sok Lake and move on to our final Thailand destination.

It got a thumbs up from me…

Next Stop…Pink Dolphins!!

The Lone Kayaker and Chums in Thailand…Hornbill Island

April 13, 2023 by rupertkirkwood, posted in Uncategorized

For the next step of our Thailand adventure we chose an off-the-beaten track theme. It was rough and ready from the start. In Donsak, as the full-moon party goers were pouring onto the fancy ships to Ko Samui from their air-conditioned waiting room, we were just down the road at the town quay walking across an insubstantial gangplank to board an ancient double-decker ferry. Under a blazing sun, sweat trickling into eyes.

Destination: Ko Phaluai.

Fortunately this kind of stuff is right up our street and we were full of excitement and expectation as we approached our desert (ish) island. Just 400 local inhabitants and virtually no tourists.

The locals on the top deck with us thought I had blown a fuse when I got very animated about some boring-looking brownish seabirds that swung in behind the wake. Pomarine Skuas!! One of my favourite offshore birds and something I have spent hundreds of hours trying to see as a tiny dot passing off a Cornish headland. Failing, nearly always.

Here they were in the gulf of Thailand.

Thrilling if you’re a birder, dull as ditchwater if you’re not. Especially as this pair look particularly scruffy. Probably last year’s youngsters.

When we had clambered up the side of the pier upon arrival we were taken to our eco-lodge accommodation. Wow, what a spot…absolutely stunning. No aircon and no shower (just a dustbin full of water) but who cares…it was wilderness heaven.

Ko Paluai Eco-Lodge. Not that rough at all!

As we admired our sea view Becky eyeballed the signature bird of the island as it winged past a few feet in front of our noses and landed in an adjacent tree. An Indian Pied Hornbill…and what a cracker.

It looked around in a rather sinister and peering-type manner which we came to realise was its hunting technique. Bad news if you are a Cicada trying your hardest not to be noticed. In this next video you can hear the insects are making quite a racket which probably isn’t a wise idea.

It’s also lovely to hear the bubbling boom of a Great Coucal in the background. One of the biggest Thai bird characters.

Indian Pied Horbill seeking out Cicadas

It wasn’t long before it spotted afternoon tea with its beady eye. It can’t be easy catching stuff when you’ve got a beak that size between your eyes. No binocular vision.

Hornbill…360 degree view, but not binocular, vision

Clearly no-one has ever explained this to the Hornbill, because it effortlessly caught a large Cicada and tossed it in the air before it went down the hatch. But not to be swallowed, as we were to find out later.

For our first full day we decided to go on a kayak trip (surprise, surprise). There was only one little problem…there were no maps of the island, we had no wifi, and communication with the very friendly hosts was virtually zero due to mutual difficulties with language. So we had no idea where we were going or where the nearest beach around the next headland was.

It was not really an issue as it was hot and sunny and the sea was like a bath so we were going to have a great time anyway, but I like to have a kayaking plan and wondered if it might be possible to paddle right around the island…

Our daybag contained thermos, tea and packet of gingernuts…the recipe for a top day out.

Water clear as gin, sky blue as a Kingfisher’s rump

We paddled steadily round the island in a clockwise direction. Our first tea-break beach was not that inspiring but the second was an absolute stunner, with a sandy isthmus connecting to a steep wooded island. Nobody else within sight.

It got the thumbs up from me as one of the best beaches I have set foot upon.

Koh Kang Tak. (The Island, not the grizzled geezer in front)

It was decision time after a gingernut (and another cuppa). Did we turn back and enjoy a relaxed two jour paddle back the way we had come, or do we venture on for a full circumnavigation of the island?

Option B promised to be by far the most exciting but we had no idea how far the full circumference was and no way of finding out.

Even so we couldn’t resist the challenge, so decided to ration the tea and gingernuts in case the situation got sticky. We would be paddling on the side of the island exposed to the wind and yesterday the sea conditions got quite lively.

Two hours of fairly intense paddling later I was a bit worried that the sun was still behind our heads so we were still heading north…oops. We hadn’t even got half way round.

There was plenty of scenery to enjoy however.

At last we turned the corner and started to nose south but we maintained a pace that would raise an eyebrow at a competitive event as we still had no idea how far we had to go. A few monstrous bloat-boats from Ko Samui threw up a huge wake as they sped past en route to the fanciest restaurant on the island.

When we felt as though we were making progress we felt we deserved a pitstop and pulled up on another gobsmacker of a beach. Just half a biscuit to celebrate, and a wee sip of tea. No restaurant for us.

Morale dipped a bit as we flogged down the island’s east coast and fatigue kicked in. We had been paddling for the best part of seven hours in a bathtub (but very seaworthy) double kayak with heavy paddles from the era of the Beatles. It was also excessively hot under a clear blue sky but this was not really a problem as we could regularly douse ourselves in water.

Weariness was counteracted by the unleashing of more spectacular vistas as we rounded successive headlands, as well as nuggets of wildlife. A vast White-bellied Sea Eagle lumbered overhead carrying a fish, and Becky did well to spot a small troop of Spectacled Langur Monkeys hidden in the forest. They also are known by the excellent name of Dusky Leaf Monkeys.

All went quiet on board when we thought we were nearly back but realised that the sizeable mountain that reared up behind our chalet was nowhere to be seen. So we paddled on.

Eventually we knew it wasn’t far to go to the little port as the longtail boats were coming in after a day’s fishing. The longtail boat skippers are very cool customers and the engines to their boats, with exposed cam belts and other whirring parts, are very Mad Max-esque.

Longtail boat

At last we hauled out on the beach we left eight hours previously. A few eyebrows were raised by onlookers as we hinted at where we had been by waving hands in a circular motion.

I was definitely ready for a sizeable Pad Thai.

There was one bad bit of our big day…the only one. Many of the beaches were piled deep in plastic rubbish, mainly water bottles. A terrible pity and a problem that is only going to continue as nobody seems to trust drinking water from a tap.

The Ko Phaluai Hornbills were unceasing entertainment. We found their nest in a ceramic urn placed in a tree by the eco-lodge owner. The young Hornbill nestling had been cemented in with mud by its parents, with just a vertical beak-shaped slit for access for food. As you will see from this video, this system seems to work very well.

Mango was on the menu on this occasion, followed by a Cicada regurgitated from the adult’s crop. Maybe the one from earlier!

I’m not sure what the provision for waste was…

So that was about it for our short visit to the magical island of Ko Phaluai. A remarkable little blob of land, every minute memorable.

Next stop was the amazing floating bungalows in the middle of the Thai peninsular. Elephants, otters, eagles. Watch this space.

Here’s a sniff of what is to come…

The Lone Kayaker and Chums in Thailand…Mudskippers to Monkeys

April 10, 2023April 12, 2023 by rupertkirkwood, posted in Uncategorized

Thailand’s appeal was immediate. There are hardly any signs telling you what not to do and everyone ignores them anyway. There’s no car park charges or ANPR to fill you with terror. The population have an extraordinary cheerful and positive attitude about everything. For the four weeks of our stay we never heard a narky voice or a grumble of discontentment. No doubt the sunshine and soaring temperatures contribute to the relaxed approach to life, but it’s all very appealing.

But not so laid back that the trains didn’t run on time…

The overnight sleeper from Bangkok…Bang on schedule

Becky and I spent a month exploring the lower end of the Thailand peninsular, starting with a week with Tim and Jess on the island of Ko Lanta. The perfect place for a spot of kayaking and wildlife encounters of a tropical kind.

Although the mangroves resembled a muddy south Cornish estuary at low tide, the inhabitants had a rather more exotic appearance. Such as these amazing Blue-spotted Mudskippers that seemed to be more at home out of the water than in.

Mudskippers involved in a testosterone-fuelled stand-off

This Fiddler Crab is quite extraordinary. Two-thirds sludge-coloured; a third bright pink and orange, as though caught by surprise whilst fiddling about in the fancy dress cupboard.

Our paddle through the mangroves took us past a colony of Macaques. They didn’t need much encouragement to hop aboard to raid our supply of mangos and melon.

One took an instant shining to Jess and spent the next five minutes holding her hand.

Monkeys seem to express their personality through the look in their eyes more than any other animal. This one is definitely a worrier.

The next kayaking adventure was a circumnavigation of a small offshore island. No lifejackets in sight, all very relaxed. At least the water is as warm as a bath if anyone took a spill, and sit-on-top kayaks means an easy re-entry (theoretically). The guide grinned from ear to ear the entire time…great chap.

Trying to get to grips with an entirely new melange of birds was a challenge for eyes and ears, as well as neck. Irritatingly every new bird call seemed to come from directly behind me. Despite the alarming grinding noises from my cervical vertebrae, I managed put a name to most to the extraordinary jungle-style calls that we heard in the morning before it got too hot and everything slunk off into the shadows…the cat-like calls of the Common Koel, the bass booming of the Great Coucal, the high pitched twitter of the sunbirds.

Some birds, such as Bee-eaters, kept going all day, the lovely liquid calls of a migrating flock carrying far over the sea. They have superb eyesight and will fly out to pursue an insect from a range of hundreds of yards. On several occasions we looked up when we heard an extraordinarily loud buzzing overhead and saw a Bee-eater coming in with a huge insect, a Cicada, in its beak. Alive until the bird thwacks it on a branch in the same manner that a Kingfisher deals with a small fish.

Life as a Cicada in these parts isn’t lust one big buzz. They are also at the top of the lunch menu. We witnessed them being hunted and swallowed by five different species of bird including the local sparrowhawk…called a Shikra.

Sometimes a Bee-eater doesn’t even have to leave the branch to catch a snack…what on earth was this fly thinking??

Snack is served for Chestnut-headed Bee-eater

My favourite mini-bird contained more orange than Terry’s Chocolate. It was also about the same size…just three-and-a-half inches of feistiness. Constantly chasing other birds which were all very much bigger than itself, off its patch. The excellently named Orange-breasted Flowerpecker.

Pocket Rocket…the Orange-breasted Flowerpecker.

There were a few familiar faces around too. Although most of the swallows were of the Pacific variety without long tail-streamers, there was an incessant trickle of familiar Barn Swallows, the same as we get in the UK, flying north on migration. Even far out over the sea we saw them flitting past just above the waves, just as they do across the entire planet.

Another familiar feather-covered face, also one of the few species found right around the globe, was the occasional Osprey. The last one I saw was in Fowey in October!

Perhaps the most surprising old feathery friend was the source of the sparrowy chattering in every town, just as it is (or used to be) in the UK. However these were not the familiar House Sparrow, they were the very unfamiliar but still very British, Tree Sparrow. They have very sensibly decided that life in the town is easier than life in the countryside, so have moved in to ‘become’ the local House Sparrow in Thailand. Good move, because in the English countryside they have suffered a catastrophic decline as a result of intensive agriculture.

It was good to stop squinting into the heavens and look down on occasion. Some of the butterflies were outstandingly exquisite. Perhaps my favourite was this floaty beauty…a Dark Blue Tiger.

Cranking the grinding neck even further down revealed a variety of lizards. Some exceptionally large, some exceptionally intricately marked. Such as this one…the Eyed Butterfly Lizard. It scuttles about on sandy ground and lives in holes. Apart from that, very little is known about it.

As much of a mystery as the staggering cheerfulness of the population of Thailand!

next blog coming soon…. ‘The Lone Kayaker and Chums in Thailand…Hornbill Island‘

Get ready for some extreme tropical island action…plus a bit of loafing around.

Becky embracing the totally tropical lifestyle

The Dolphin Lady works her Magic

November 20, 2022 by rupertkirkwood, posted in Uncategorized

At blooming last! A day with a few hours of light winds to provide the opportunity for a bit of offshore paddling. For the last two months the open sea has been too lively for exploration, with high winds plus a hefty swell. Not only would venturing far from the coast be daft in terms of safety, but also the movement of the kayak and the confused sea make the probability of seeing any fins, for any wannabee wildlife watchers like me, small.

Much as I love looking for Ospreys or Otters in the shelter of the creeks, or hugging the coast and enjoying the huge variety of scenery around Devon and Cornwall, you can’t beat the thrill of paddling far out to sea.

It’s just such an adventure. My heart is permanently in my mouth in anticipation of what might appear in front of the kayak at any moment. For hours and sometimes the entire day nothing actually does emerge, but that doesn’t seem to detract from the appeal.

When I rolled up beside Torbay yesterday and the nagging wind was making the chill of a November dawn feel even colder, I though it was going to be one of ‘those’ days, involving a lot of effort and expended energy with diddly squat to show for it.

But I was wrong.

It started off well with a load of seals, catching a lot of fish, in the harbour. Off the end of the breakwater the fishermen were pulling in three mackerel at a time with successive casts. Always a good sign. But then it all went quiet as I paddled across the bay for a couple of hours. Just a couple of Great Northern Divers and their much more shy and slinky cousins, a couple of Red-throats. Distant views across the choppy water.

The wind was due to drop at 10 before it swung round to the southwest. That is precisely what happened and incredibly the sea smoothed off completely as Isabelle, The Dolphin Lady, arrived in the carpark. Timed to absolute perfection.

And, would you believe it, a pod of dolphins showed up in the bay as we paddled out into the blue yonder. Extraordinary. It is precisely what we had planned but both knew full well that almost certainly wouldn’t happen. You can’t just conjure up a pod of dolphins like that. Common Dolphins tend to keep well offshore and range over huge distances so a sighting from a kayak/paddleboard is really quite a challenge.

By sheer luck the dolphins were porpoising directly towards us. It was a reasonably large pod of 30-40 individuals so was making a very satisfactory sploshy noise. Amazingly, I could see another group of a similar number throwing themselves about on the horizon about a mile away.

The close pod veered off right in front of us and cruised away at a deceptively leisurely pace. We followed at a respectful distance but they left us floundering in their wake (so to speak). Chasing after dolphins in a kayak (or on a paddleboard) is very frustrating. They always seem to cruise just a little bit faster than your top speed, which has a very eroding effect on morale. I’m sure they do it on purpose.

Fantastic. A decent lot of dolphins slicing through calm water under blue skies. Not bad for the end of November. Like a relaxed day during the height of summer.

We set out to find some more but although we got the occasional distant glimpse of a fin we saw nothing more.

A great few hours on the water nonetheless.

When Isabelle headed for the shore I ummed and ahhed whether to carry on for a bit. The forecast for the next week was terrible, so this was the only window of light winds. In fact the great grey slab of the next weather front was already unfurling from the west. I might as well go the extra mile while conditions were half decent.

So I couldn’t resist a little more offshore exploration. It was worth it.

As usual the action kicked off just as I was about to turn back. The cloud had arrived, the wind was increasing and the sea had changed from a warm and welcoming Caribbean blue to a hostile battleship grey. I didn’t want to get caught out when I was an hour’s paddle from the shore.

Then I saw two huge splashes in front of me. Really violent explosive-type splashes so they must have been Tuna. They had more raw power than the elegant splash of dolphins. By coincidence a pod of thirty dolphins then appeared to my left. Luckily they too were heading straight towards me so I just sat tight, and they swam right past. In fact the pod split in half around me and for a couple of minutes I was surrounded by curious dolphins.

Time to head back, although not without a quick peek around Berry Head first! I dug in for the long haul, made longer by a stiff tidal current which was not in my favour. Two huge silver-coloured Tuna exploded from the surface with a roar a hundred yards away, followed by another half-a-dozen ten minutes later. Really big fish, larger than a dolphin I would say. Extraordinary.

Unfortunately no photos as by the time I scrambled my camera out of its drybag the action was over.

As I had expected, there was a Porpoise hunting in the tideline off Berry Head. There’s always some around here. It was quiet and unobtrusive, but as charming and as busy as they always are. With that sneezing little puff as it breathes.

Polite Porpoise, entertaining the occupants of Katie ‘M’. (good for them, the vast majority of boat owners don’t notice porpoises)

Very unusually you can see the porpoise’s eye in this photo. They don’t usually come that far out of the water as they roll.

The ‘piggy’ eye of a Porpoise. (Apologies for any offence caused)

Porpoise numbers around Berry Head seem to be declining. I have seen only handfuls this year whereas previously it has been up to twenty, especially late in the year. If there is a problem it is likely to be linked to the number of powered boats that round the headland which is the gateway to Torbay. It really is a very busy place, even in late November.

Anyway…wow, what a day.

How The Dolphin Lady conjured up that pod in precisely the right place at precisely the right time during the two hour slot of slack winds, I will never know.

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