Despite a few lockdowns and time off with a health issue, 2020 has been my best year yet for cetaceans in terms of numbers.
In Cornwall and Devon: 936 in total, compared to 836 in 2019, and 764 in 2018.
This 936 consisted of 688 Common Dolphins which I saw on 26 days, 239 Harbour porpoises which I saw on 39 days, and nine Minke Whales on six days.
I didn’t see any Bottlenose Dolphins, Risso’s Dolphins or Humpbacks in SW England, but if you are a fan of any of these don’t log off because I have some new pics and vids of these charismatic creatures at the end of this blog, taken from the kayak seat of course, but overseas.
You can’t read too much into these statistics, because on one day in early August I saw a superpod of over one hundred dolphins, so I only need to come across a couple of them a year, and dolphin numbers would look very healthy. However it did seem to be a good year for Common Dolphins, probably because the very sunny and settled Spring favoured the survival of schools of shoaling fish. I noticed this little boom of fish all around the coast in mid-June.
I had some really memorable eye to eye encounters with some inquisitive dolphins, including some small calves, and even managed to see the same dolphin in two separate locations, twenty-five miles apart. This might not surprise you too much, but if you have ever tried to photograph a common dolphin from a kayak, and then sift through five hundred images from each of the two occasions, and then some little bell rings in the back of your head that you might have seen that dolphin before (when they all look more or less the same), it’s no mean feat.
My Harbour Porpoise records are maybe a little bit more worrying. 239 individuals on 39 days in 2020, compared to 257 on 34 days in 2019, and 327 on 44 days in 2018. This apparent decline is probably not significant, but the coastal waters during August, when their numbers peak, was a cacophonous din of motor boats and jetskis. More than usual due to staycations. If I was a shy and unobtrusive little creature like a porpoise I might just clear off somewhere else. If boat engines are loud above the water, they’re deafening below.
The Minke Whale sightings were, as usual, excitement off the scale for me in my little craft, far far out to sea, all by myself. I know I go on about it a lot, but the blow of a whale is just the best sound in the animal world. And a kayak is the best platform to experience them, because it so silent you can hear the whales blowing when they are still too far away to see.
The Minke action was focused around the Eddystone reef off Plymouth, with two or three there on 22 July, another on 29 July, and three or four on 11 Aug.
I also saw single Minke Whales at Penzance and Looe but my best view was in completely glassy conditions five miles off Fowey on 10 September. This whale looked quite big, but the shape of the fin and the fact that it had no visible blow, makes me almost certain it is a Minke.
That brings my whale total, since I started going to look for them in earnest in 2014, to twenty one. Sixteen Minkes, three Humpbacks, one possible Sei. I look forward to adding Pilot, Fin…..and hopefully Orca to the list soon!
My most extraordinary, and unexpected sighting last year was the enormous number of Giant Bluefin Tuna that were shredding the sea off Plymouth. They were ripping up patches the size of a tennis court as far as the eye could see. The first feeding frenzy kicked off so quickly and with such an explosive roar, I cricked my neck when I turned round to see what was going on. Just for a second I thought it was a surfacing submarine.
I saw about a hundred fish break the surface, but there must have been many, many more below. Amazing. It was definitely a good year for tuna, and by far my best ever. I saw them on thirteen occasions from late July to early December, all along the south coast from Land’s End to Torbay. Mostly over a mile offshore.
Seals are always a welcome sight, and are very inquisitive and interactive when they are in the water. Even though they seem to be increasingly tolerant of human activity, especially the ones that inhabit the sheltered water with more recreational craft further east, I steer well clear of seals hauled out on land. It’s unfair to disturb them when they are resting. Their nervousness out of the water matches their confidence when they are in it.
So I was very careful to stay well out to sea and use my camera on maximum zoom when I came across a couple of white fluffy seal pups on a shingly beach. It was great to see Mum patting and smoothing her little baby with her huge flipper with incredibly dexterity and gentleness.
Up at head of the creeks near the high tide mark I had my four best ever Otter sightings in Devon and Cornwall all in a ten day period in late November. Two, one of a dog otter that stared so hard at me that it ended up on tiptoe, and the other of a mother and chirping cub, were on the same day an hour apart.
I saw the same cub, still calling his mum, but even louder this time, a few days later, And just when I thought that I wouldn’t ever get a better view of an otter, I came across a family of three on the River Torridge.
I could hear a pup chirping over the loud roar of a weir. In fact it was amazing that the sound of the rushing water drowned out all other sounds except the chirp of the otter. No doubt that is why the call is set at that pitch.
Anyway, I had plenty of advanced warning and tucked in close to the bank to watch. A great, prolonged performance by an exuberant couple of cubs, plus mum trying to keep their over excitement in check. All on the Torridge, legendary home of otters.
Best birds of the year were undoubtedly the pair of Roseate Terns that were resting on a headland near Mevagissey, trying to summon up the enthusiasm for the long migration to west Africa. Absolute stunners, they were still in full breeding plumage, and I think you can even see the pink flush on the Persil white of their tum!
I wouldn’t have known they were Roseates unless they were perched….in flight they are very similar to Common and Arctic terns, to an amateur birder like me anyway.
It’s important not to forget the attraction of the local birds. Some are more often heard than seen. The skulking but beautiful Water Rail spends much of its time wailing like a tortured cat from a patch of reeds, only occasionally creeping out into the open beside the canal.
It was lovely to see this Snipe before it saw me first and scarpered, which is what usually happens 99.9% of the time. What a beak is that!
Finally in the bird department, I have learnt a new call this year. The ‘pik’ warning cry of an adult Oystercatcher to tell its offspring to go and hide. As a result, I have found a lot more Oystercatcher families around the coast than were previously known. Good stuff.
To finish off, lets go back to the cetaceans. I will never forget the multitude of Humpbacks we saw in the Antarctic at the end of January. Loads from our mothership, the Greg Mortimer, and a dozen from the kayaks. They are just bursting with personality and gentle curiosity. The juvenile which repeatedly swam under our kayak could have flattened Becky and I with a twitch of its flukes or flippers, but was very careful not even to cause the slightest swirl to disturb our kayak.
A week in Spain during the lockdown ‘gap’ in late summer allowed me to venture out into the Med, within sight of Gibraltar. The Mediterranean doesn’t have a great reputation with regard to pollution and overfishing, so I was very pleased to come across some big pods of Common Dolphins, which appeared nearly all to be juveniles, a couple of Bottlenose dolphins close to the shore, and a pair of really big Rissos dolphins well offshore. The latter were blowing as loud as whales, and one had a gnarled-looking dorsal fin with a white tip, looking like a snow-capped mountain.
I was going to include only one of the dolphin videos, but because its still lockdown so you havn’t got any pressing need to be anywhere else, here’s the whole lot for you to enjoy. Just listen to those splashes, puffs and blows! The magic of watching from the kayak.
2021 has already got a bit of catching up to do. I managed to see six porpoises at the mouth of Plymouth sound on 2nd Jan, and that’s it so far. I’m looking forward to being allowed out again soon. I don’t suppose the animals mind.
The Lone Kayaker 