Another extraordinary day, mostly far offshore.
I encountered the first patch of ‘boiling’ water about half-a-mile out as I paddled straight offshore from the mouth of the Fowey estuary, on another day which was forecast to be flat calm.
The surface was fizzing with small fish and making an amazing prolonged, sploshing, roaring noise, like a tropical deluge. Every so often a wave of splashing would move across the shoal, as an unseen predator attacked from below.
The attackers were possibly mackerel, but judging by the size of the fish which I saw later, more likely to be a bass. I was a bit surprised that the Tuna did not join in with what would prove to be an easy feast for them, but during the whole day I only saw one school of Tuna slashing about , and they were a lot further out.
I think the shoals consisted of Sprats, a member of the herring family, and a constituent of whitebait when they are younger.
And I passed huge shoals of these fish, marked as distinct dark stippled patches on the completely smooth surface, all day. Hundreds of them. Many were so loud with sploshing that I could hear the roar from so far away, I couldn’t see the shoal.
By the end of the day my neck was so stiff from being cranked round suddenly with a ‘what the heck was that’ moment’, that I could hardly move it.
You can see from my track that I was constantly zigzagging all over the place to see what was going on.
Lots of Gannets roving around means lots of fish and probably porpoises and dolphins. And there were dozens of Gannets on view the whole time…..not to mention scores of the local Fowey Gulls lured off the shore by the fish-fest. A bit different to some similar offshore paddle trips in June when there are no seabirds around at all, and the surface of the sea is completely devoid of activity.
Gannets hunting…..
and Gannets resting……
My first pod of Common dolphins were four miles from the shore, and as usual a pair of ‘bouncers’ came over to check me out as I drew alongside the group, carefully. When the rest of the pod of about twenty were given the green light that I was not a hostile, they attempted to ride my bow wave, but soon lost interest despite my best efforts to stoke up the boilers for max power output. (Can’t compete with a 200hp outboard)
One larger dolphin had a strange surfacing action. It would leave a trail of bubbles at the surface for several seconds before its head would appear out of the water, more vertically than is typical, and then flop down with a small splash after a bit of a waver with its nose.
That’s curious, I saw one doing precisely that near Eddystone a couple of weeks ago. A quick bit of detective work hunting through photos….and BINGO….it’s the same individual!
It may not be a surprise that the same dolphin is within twenty miles of where I last saw it sixteen days ago, as Common Dolphins wander far and wide. However the chances of me getting a usable photo of the same dolphin twice is slim indeed (photographing dolphins is not easy, especially from a kayak). Not to mention the minimal chance of considering looking through past photos for a match…..the ultimate needle in a haystack. Only a weirdo would do that.
Here’s today’s pic….note shape of pale patch on fin, horizontal scar behind eye, and circular ‘spot’ (looks like a pellet hole) midway between eye and base of fin.
And here’s the pic taken near Eddystone 31 Aug. Scar and spot more clearly visible in this pic taken under full sun.
Yep, definitely Noselifter (couldn’t think of a more catchy name), on both occasions.
Here is my only snip of video of this particular dolphin. He (or she) is back left, with the pale fin patch, and you can clearly (fairly clearly) see the hesitant sort of breathing sequence. Maybe due to an injury….speedboat???
As I was expecting with the unprecented number of shoals of Sprats, the wildlife action continued.
Fifteen porpoises, including a pod of approx eight, five small cetaceans too far off to identify, and at least sixty dolphins. It could easily have been twice that number but they are tricky to count.
And this little chap. Sitting right in the middle of nowhere. Just over five miles from the shore. A Grey Phalarope. Fantastic.
Fantastic not just because they have a really great name, but because of their unusual migration and behaviour. They are technically a ‘wader’, but they don’t do a lot of wading. They breed in the arctic, migrating down past the UK, but usually far out to sea, and wintering in (on) the tropical ocean off the west coast of Africa. Where I have seen them! From the RMS St.Helena…..flocks of many thousands milling about on the surface, in the fertile green waters off Senegal, out of sight of land.
So this was a very special gem. Here it is in action, picking at plankton. In a frantic sort of way (like me with a chunk of Victoria sponge).
On the paddle in I couldn’t resist veering to the west where they was a particularly loud continuous roar of fish shoals. A fisherman in a speedboat got a bit of a soaking when a couple of dolphins leapt out right under his bows, and spattered him with their splash. Pity I was just too slow for the photo.
I sat about and watched them for a while, hoping that maybe an even larger beast from the depths might join in the fun. But on this occasion nothing appeared…..can’t see a whale every time I suppose.
So I had to settle for more dolphin action……
and watching the astonishing sploshing phenomenon of the shoals of fish. Which I have rarely seen before, and never on this sort of scale.
Millions, probably billions of fish. (and the creatures that eat them).
The Lone Kayaker 