Just when I thought the offshore paddling season was coming to a close and I was going to be forced back into more sheltered waters by the autumnal weather, up pops a completely still day.
My destination had to be Fowey. Although heading further west to Falmouth or Mounts Bay would increase the chances of a big cetacean encounter, I really couldn’t be bothered to drive that far having clocked up seven hundred miles over the weekend.
Fowey ticks all the right boxes for the perfect day’s sea kayaking. A superb and busy launch site at the slipway in the Caffa Mill carpark, a great super-sheltered paddle out past the town with the tide running in your direction (hopefully) to get your muscles warmed up, and then out into the wide open sea. A vista bounded by Dodman Point to the southwest and Rame head to the east, although it was so clear today I could just see the South Hams as well.
The only drawback is the savage carpark charges which always grind with me.
I hadn’t really made up my mind where I was going so turned southeast once I was out of the harbour and paddled directly into the bright low sun, heading offshore. A single gull which was circling ‘with intent’ attracted my attention and I could hardly believe my eyeballs when I saw a load of fins appear beneath it. I was less than half-a-mile from the shore and was yet to get ‘in the zone’.
I diverted towards the group of dolphins and moved up a couple of gears but had a bit of a struggle closing the gap as they were cruising along at 4-5 mph. I was careful not to go too close because I could see at least one juvenile in the group but as usual they came over to me for a bit of a look. Not quite as interested as my previous few encounters but a thrill nonetheless, enhanced by the flat calm water and blue sea under cloudless sky.
The biggest dolphin slapped the water with its tail every time it surfaced. I’m not sure whether this was a ‘warning’ thing because I was there, or whether it was just a sort of habit. It certainly acted, and looked like, group leader.
Being Common Dolphins they were extremely active and did an awful lot of splashing and I was very keen to get that much sought after image, which I have yet to achieve, of one completely out of the water. As usual I failed, but only just. Somehow my camera wasn’t pointing in quite the right place! Aaargh.
To complicate matters my memory card became full up and the dolphins sped away as I was fiddling with my camera trying to decide what to delete. How often have I moaned at people staring at a screen while missing the wonders of the real world, and now I was prime offender number one.
Fired up by this encounter and the sea state which seemed to have become even more smooth, I paddled further out. It was a very rare day where there was so lttle movement of the kayak that binoculars could be used, and through them I could see a lot more diffuse gull activity another mile or so ahead. I piled on the steam and glimpsed something the size of a dolphin jump clear off the water directly ahead, but then nothing more. Mmmm, I would have expected to see a dolphin surfacing for a breath.
A little further one I came upon a sedately cruising group of about eight Porpoises which were rolling at the surface in their unobtrusive and quiet manner, drawing attention to themselves with their surprisingly loud ‘piff’. In contrast to Common Dolphins they don’t very often splash, although I have seen them get fired up on occasion.
Excellent, the day had already way exceeded my expectations.
I munched lunch ( endured one jam and one peanut butter sandwich so I could luxuriate in a heavenly slab of coffee cake) about five miles offshore, sporadically entertained by Guillemots, Gannets and a couple of compact flocks of Common Scoter flying past. Also one Dunlin which I would have probably thought was something more rare had it not uttered its characteristic ‘dzeep’ call.
Shortly after I swung back towards Fowey for the return leg I saw a big splash several hundred yards ahead directly in front of me. Moments later two dolphin-sized creatures leapt out of the water and re-entered the water in a great splash. But hang on…they weren’t dolphins. I sped towards the scene but saw absolutely nothing more. No fins and nothing coming up for a breath. It was so flat calm I would have seen or heard any dolphin if it came up within half-a-mile.
It was only a split second view but I’m virtually certain these were Giant Tuna. I am aware that they are now regularly seen in the Autumn around Falmouth Bay, and am pretty sure I saw some there last year, but once again it was a frustratingly brief glimpse.
I also think that this is what I had seen jumping an hour previously.
I hung around waiting for a repeat performance but had no joy.
However as a consolation I was treated to yet another Common Dolphin encounter on the way back in. This group of about eight were a bit more sociable than the earlier pod and surged all around me and went for a bit of bow-riding when I paddled flat out.
The biggest problem of today, apart from the car park charge, was thermoregulation. As I set off it was only a couple of degrees above freezing so was layered up inside full drysuit gear. However the absolute lack of wind combined with bright sunshine and several cetacean-watching sprints tested my thermostat to the limit. Lightly poached would be an understatement.