Why do whales get runover by boats? The following video holds some clues.
Did you find the sleeping whale? Did you notice that even on a calm day it is difficult to spot a whale resting just under the surface of the water and barely breathing. Some days even strong blows won’t be visible due to atmospheric conditions. Add a brisk breeze and half-meter waves to people in a hurry and it’s a recipe for disaster.
Tragically, strikes on whales by speeding recreational or crew boats, fishing boats, cruise ships and tankers are increasing. More boats and ships are occupying whale migration routes and plying the coastlines where whales feed, mate and give birth to their babies. Whales are showing up with more split dorsal fins and propellor scars striping their backs. Careless fishers, crabbers and prawners abandon nets and traps or leave floating polypro lines and bouys which entangle baleen whales. Unlike dolphins, baleen whales don’t have the advantage of echolocation to help reveal hidden dangers in often murky waters.
Here is a site where you can find Best Practises to avoid whale entanglements in Fishing gear and what to do if you see an entangled whale.
https://www.pac.dfo-mpo.gc.ca/fm-gp/mammals-mammiferes/whales-baleines/docs/entanglements-empetrements-pub-eng.html#best-practices
Whales are large and strong so they can carry heavy loads of fishing gear long distances for a long time. Nylon and steel lines don’t break in the way that kelp does when twisted so whales often become wrapped in lines and nets in their twisting attempts to break free.
An entangled whale or dolphin on the west coast of Canada has only one shot at getting help. The DFO (Department of Fisheries and Oceans) in their wisdom has assigned only one person, Paul Cottrell, to monitor the entire Pacific Coast. He alone can officially initiate and direct disentanglements. This means that he flies to wherever a whale is entangled on the whole Pacific coast with its many islands and inlets. It’s no wonder so many whales, pinnipeds, turtles and fish are dying.
Check out this article on the Tyee news website. https://thetyee.ca/News/2022/03/30/Whales-Back-BC-Fishing-Gear-Killing-Them/
This video shows some of the Dangers marine mammals endure.
You can help. If you are in a boat for any purpose watch for whales and SLOW DOWN in waters where whales are going about their business. Watch for whales the way you would watch for deadheads or reefs that could damage you and your vessel.
“I don’t know how many whales are out here! 6 of them – at least.” Terry is counting whales diving, surfacing, circling. They’re almost rubbing together they’re so close. I wonder: “Are they fishing? They must be fishing”.
It’s common in Alaska for humpback whales to form large feeding groups where each whale has a role to play. The iconic shot of all the whales surfacing together, mouths agape and pleated throats bulging is in every humpback whale documentary. Here in the Salish Sea we have yet to see anything like this group feeding buffet. Perhaps the schools of fish are bigger in Alaska or maybe the schools are in deeper water here and the whales finish gulping under the water. Even without the lunging at the surface half a dozen whales swirling and moving together is fascinating to see.
“Do you recognize anyone?” I ask camera man Terry as he zooms in on the action. “One is definitely ‘Zed’, with the chewed off left fluke.”
“Yeah” Terry answers “and I see Nick with them. See that white fluke? Could be Apollo or maybe even Neptune” Neptune is Apollo’s calf.
“Snouter!” I exclaim as a whale rostrum partially emerges from the water. Snouter is our affectionate name for a whale’s “face” also known by whale lovers as “pickeleface” because of the many bumps on a whale’s chin. Each bump contains at least one single sensing hair. Biologists are not sure what tubercule hairs are sensing but a good guess would be movement and vibration. Like the whiskers of seals and sealions humpback whales could sense schools of fish from the “trails” of disturbance their swimming leaves in the water. Tubercule hairs may even sense electrical charge or something more mysterious since they are rich in nerves.
Mother whales like to support their babies on their rostrums so they might have other functions as well – smell? There is an organ in a humpback’s chin whose function hasn’t been identified as yet. Could it have an olfactory function along with the tubercules? The deeper down the whale whole one ventures the more questions bubble out!
These are the sounds we were hearing on Halloween night. Terry and I anchored off Savary Island in our little old sailboat Blue Parrot. A lovely end-of-October eve on the Salish Sea filled our senses. I dropped my 2 hydrophones over opposite sides of the boat about 4 metres deep into 8 metres of water. We were watching the full moon rise through ribbons of cloud over the mainland mountains. Mars rose orange in the East. Brilliant Jupiter appeared over Vancouver Island in the South with smaller, dimmer Saturn a little further Southeast. Silver moonlight lit the sky. Below, a calm silky ocean shimmered, where the occasional belch of a seal or cry of a gull drifted across the water. Moonight revealed the mainland contours on one side of the Strait and Vancouver Island on the other as far as we could see. Blooms of neon purple, green, red, indigo, yellow and white flowered over both shores chased by muted boombiddy-booms as adults and children around the Salish Sea gathered to enjoy the Halloween fireworks displays.
CLICK HERE TO LISTEN to this whale who was quite far away – probably 6 – 8 km. You can hear the sea splashing against the hull. The odd creaks and knocks are the boat rudder knocking and the crackles are shrimp talking on the bottom under the boat! One whale is singing all the notes – the very high squeaks and the low growls. He is practising his song for performing in Mexico or Hawaii. The song becomes more complex and developed in December before the whales leave on their southern migration.
It was Magic – perfect for a Halloween reverie accompanied by the haunting music coming through from the hydrophones. was this music the eerie wails of long departed souls? or aliens trying to communicate with receptive earthlings? No. The ghoulish notes in my headphones were the eerie wails of eerie WHALES – Whales who are very much alive on planet Earth right now. This is the music of humpback whales you are hearing. They’re practising their song here in the Salish Sea of BC before they begin their long migration to Mexico or Hawaii or even Japan. Once they have perfected their song, which slowly changes every year, they will perform it in the warm waters of their southern destinations.
No human knows why humpback whales sing or what the whales are singing about. Only the males sing and a singing male will attract other males who will often join in the song. In the 5 years we’ve been listening underwater for vocalizing humpback whales in the Salish Sea, the end of October and beginning of November are the only times we’ve heard any vocalizing at all. It’s another whale mystery that, along with so many whale mysteries, only adds to the awe that 2 tiny, curious humans feel when in the presence of these majestic beings.
Undoubtedly whale biologists feel it too, even while they conduct precise, tightly structured investigations and analyze the data. Whales are so much like us. Mothers feed, care for, teach and protect their babies. Whales often hunt and feed together with every whale having a prescribed job. They socialize and play with friends. Male Humpbacks sing and compose complicated songs. Whales from different areas have different languages, cultures and food preferences. They communicate vocally and with body language. But here is where we begin to differ. Aside from the obvious differences of size and body shape whales and humans have evolved very different physiologies in order to thrive on land or in the sea. We both have 2 eyes and 2 ears but what whales see and hear both underwater and above the water is very different from what humans see and hear. We humans do not have nostrils on top of our heads or mouths that gape open to our bellies while consuming more than 1 ton of fish per day.
Here is the biggest mystery of all in my humble opinion: Whales and dolphins are conscious breathers. They have to be awake in order to breathe. But, like every other mammal, they must sleep and dream. So they have evolved a clever work-around to allow them to sleep and breathe simultaneously. All dolphins and whales sleep with only 1/2 of their brain at a time. One hemisphere is off in dreamland while the other is monitoring the immediate environment and initiating breathing in realtime. Have you ever woken in the middle of the night and hovered in that half asleep/half awake horizon where dream characters populate your consciousness but you are also aware that you are in bed? or that the click you are hearing is your digital clock? or that you might have to pee? Is that how whales experience their sleeptime? I wonder what kind of consciousness that produces in whales?
And here is the real kicker. Humans have been learning about our planet from other animals and plants forever. We also use their special gifts to help us thrive in the environments we share. We use a dog’s sense of smell and hearing to help us hunt. We use the hawk’s eyes to scan the landscape. We tune in to the alarms of birds to notify us of predators in the forest. Plants, trees and fungi transform minerals and vitamins in soil and water into compounds that our cells can use to keep us healthy.
So why sit here in front of your screen googling for information on the internet when you can be outside letting your dog take you for a walk through a park or forest? Have you sat with your cat on the porch or balcony or slightly opened window of an apartment? Can you observe what she’s observing? Lots of folks can watch flowers, or fish, or listen to birds for hours. Try it. The world you’ll discover is the world that goes on around us 24/7, mostly unnoticed by humans.
As the dominant large animal species on Earth today we get lost in our own human stories. We root out ways we are different from each other while we are surrounded by beings who are more different from us than any human is from any other human. And what a cornucopia of differences there is – so many ways of perceiving the universe, more than we can ever know. So many stories to explore. Find someone to share your adventures and stories with. You will be constantly amazed as well as amused – and healthier and happier in the bargain.
We moored Blue Parrot on the dock with her nose toward shore. At low tide with a NW wind blowing us towards moored boats in shallow water it’s a bit tricky getting off. We time for a gust to blow Blue P off the dock and pull a 270° turn to head out into Evans Bay. The NW wind sweeps across low terrain on Read Island from Hoskyns Channel, Johnson Strait and Bute Inlet. White caps on the crests of short steep waves rile up the mouth of the bay. Wind and waves blow us around the point all the way into Burdwood Bay.
Baby Breaching!
Terry assesses the possibility of an anchorage for later tonight. “Looks good at low tide here. I think we’ll be OK. Let’s head out.” Blue P angles across the frothing mouth of Evans Bay to the Penn Islands. We’re getting ready to raise the sails when the water suddenly flattens and the wind dies. “Typical” Jude mutters as another attempt to sail is foiled yet again.
All thoughts of sailing evaporate as we spot 2 humpies close to the shore of the middle Penn. They’re moving slowly, making their way around the outside island closest to Cortes. “Sleeping” Terry notes wryly. He notices one of the whale watching boats emerging from Whale Passage and reports the whales. We decide to move a little closer when “What was that? Up ahead – a breach – towards Von Donnop” We hear the WHHOOMP of WHALE hitting Water. “Let’s Go!” Jude steers Blue P over as the whale watchers speed past.
We approach slowly and cut the engine “Is that a baby?” Terry wonders “Yes! A Mom and Calf! Look! The baby is breaching – she can’t quite make it all the way out of the water” —–“Is this a good position?” Jude calls to Terry who is perched precariously on Blue P’s bow manouvering carefully around the furled jib.
“WHOAH!” Mom is tail lobbing. Half her body is up out of the water. Baby is so close it looks as if Mom is going to land on top of herm – but she doesn’t. “Looks like they’re playing” Terry shouts during a brief lull in activity. He’s performing some fancy footwork to keep the whales in focus as they circle around Blue P at about 100 meters. Their play is so exuberant and Baby’s ingenue breaches are so adorable. Then Mom BREACHES – WHHHHUUMMMPPPP! The SIZE of HER!! There are no words equal to the AWESOMENESS of a 40 TON WHALE leaping clear out of the ocean into the air. “Sky Hopping” as our friend Martha thought it was called – A much better description of defying gravity!
So special to finally witness a Mom and Calf playing together like this. We are so juiced! We’ve waited 5 years for this moment – and to capture it on film so we can share it with you was worth every minute of boredom and discomfort.
Mom and Calf are moving north. They’re getting farther away as the wind blows Blue P south. Then “Looks like playtime is over. They seem to be resting now”. Terry observes. “Heads up!” Jude calls. She swings Blue P around in the direction of a nearby cove where half a dozen boats are congregating. “There are a couple of whales over there. Maybe they’ve finished sleeping” We hang around with them for a while but they’re not interested in people. They dive and easily give us all the slip.
Meanwhile it’s getting pretty windy so we decide to head back towards our evening anchorage. Evans Bay has once again erupted in white caps and heavy winds. We angle across the waves, navigating around another whale who is also crossing. “Happy sailing friend”
There are 2 other sailboats already anchored in Burdwood Bay so anchoring is a bit tight. But it’s protected from the NW waves and the gusts will blow us off shore not towards the other boats, so we settle in for the night.
It’s morning in Burdwood Bay and we’re up and away before the tide drops too low. “Let’s head NE again.” I suggest “we can sail to the Penns and check for blows as we go.” I unfurl the jib and we manage a short sail before the breeze completely dies (typical) as we reach the Penn Islands.
We float around scanning the scene but don’t find any whales. Terry notices a whale watching boat speeding out of Whale Passage towards Calm Channel. “Hey! I think they’ve stopped. They’ve probably found a whale” he says “Let’s go over there. I’ll get my camera” I fire up the engine. We head over and start to line up beside the whale watch boat when the 2 whales begin to jump. “They’re coming our way Terry” I yell “I’ll have to get out of the way!”
“A breach! Another breach! A double breach! They’re too close! I need my wide angle lens!” Terry yells. ” Shit! I can’t get them both in the frame. I’m just guessing where they’re going to come up. I focus on this whale and that whale breaches. I don’t know where to point the camera!” I find the wide angle lens sitting in the cockpit and run to the bow to hand it to Terry. Then I run back to the tiller to steer the boat away from the whales who are getting closer. “Why is there always wind when we’re with the whales?” I opine. Blue P skims over the waves past the boats on the other side of the whales. Meanwhile the pair begin to fin slap. They execute a few more breath-taking breaches which we miss because Blue Parrot has sailed away from the action.
This is a perpetual problem with the Parrot ship. She’s a sailboat and the wind moves her even without sails up. And she has a lot of inertia when she’s moving unlike a runabout which will simply stop when you kill the motor. Add to that the joy of an engine with no true reverse. She’s not the easiest vessel to control. With lots of other boats around and whales close to us all my attention has to be on the helm. This means I don’t have time to get my hydrophone into the water to record any possible vocalizing between the whales. I also have a skookum stereo mic onboard but all this takes about 5 minutes to set up. We really need a larger boat with a dedicated skipper to be in charge of it. (This will not be news to anyone who’s been following these blogs.)
“Terry, I’m going to have to turn the boat with the wind. You’ll have to move to the other side.” Poor Ter. It’s hard enough to find a place on Blue P to shoot video that’s not obstructed by shrouds, stays, mast, boom, life lines or other hardware blocking the camara’s view. Then there’s all the buttons and wheels on the GH5 which all have different functions depending on the various positions of each one. It’s too easy to hit one accidentally and shut off something or turn on something else you didn’t intend to turn on – or turn record off altogether – especially if you’re 6’4″ and have big hands. And that’s even before you have to decide which lens to use – telephoto or wide angle? Whales don’t stay in one place for long. And, if there’s more than one which whale is going to jump? It’s hard to fit a bunch of whales into one frame. After pondering on that controlling a tender sailboat seems easy in comparison.
Meanwhile Terry observes something on the back of one of the whales “Are those propellor marks?” he asks. He’s peering through the camera. As the whales settle down Blue P drifts over to one of the whale watching boats. The skipper is Nick. He’s an expert guide who has been on the water for years and can identify most of the humpbacks and orcas individually. “The one with the propellor wounds on her back is Raza” Nick tells us. Later we learn that the other whale may be Harlequin.
Meanwhile half a dozen recreational boaters who have gathered to watch the show disperse into the channel. “Let’s try anchoring in Von Donnop tonight – we’re already here” Terry suggests. “It’s Saturday night – do you think there’ll be space?” I ask “There’s lots of anchoring space all through there ” Terry responds. “OK, but I need a swim first. I’m so hot. I’m going to head into the calmer water and jump off the bubble boat.”
40 minutes later I finally exit the chop of crisscrossing currents to find calmer water. Since the evening wind will probably come up again soon I jump into the ocean for quick frigid dip “EEEEEE!”. I haul out to let Terry have a turn. Terry perches on the edge of the bubble boat gingerly splashing his too HOT skin and ruminating on whether he’s up to getting in when “Hey Ter, there’s 2 whales coming up the channel. They’re headed this way – maybe 150 meters.”
PLOP! He’s in like Flynn! – no hesitation – splashing his long arms like fins to attract the whales. “Take a photo of me with the whales” Terry yells moistly. I drop into the cabin and grab the camera – but the whales aren’t cooperating. They just keep on truckin’ past us up the channel. Oh well. We amuse ourselves shooting video of Terry fin slapping and being a whale in the water with the magnificent mountains as backdrop.
Then the wind comes up and it’s a wild ride into Von Donnop with the wind on our heels.
Aahh! A rare perfect breeze for a downwind sail. One broad reach from Cortes Reef to Drew Harbour under mainsail alone affords us 2 1/2 hours of relaxed pleasure. We find a great place to anchor and spend a delightful quiet night on the hook.
Of course there is always another repair job sneaking down the rigging of a sailboat. This go ’round it’s the forestay and jib furler that need adjusting. It’s the 3rd day we’ve been attempting to loosen the nut on the roller furler that will allow us to tighten up the forestay. Terry’s super strong wrists twist the nut against my vicegrip assisted countertwist on the adjoining nut but nothing budges. We even borrow penetrating oil from a retired couple from Victoria on another sloop to no avail.
Oh well, time to look for whales, tight nuts be damned! “There are 2 whales in Heriot Bay” says Hawkeye Terry, “1 tail down – couldn’t see who it was. Let’s get out of the harbour and float around. Maybe they’ll come up” And they do – about 250m out further. we keep them in sight as we head towards the Breton Islands. “Are they fishing?” I ask “They’re doing long dives” Then we lose sight of them – stealth whales! Amazing how 2 40 ton creatures can disappear so completely.
“Let’s head up to Evan’s Bay and see if John and Tom around” I suggest. So NE it is. We catch sight of our 2 whales further on down the channel but we’re too far away now to catch up with them. Besides, I’ve wanted to get back to Evans Bay for the past year. As we round the point and approach the dock it’s looking fully occuppied with sailboats. There’s a pistachio and cream-coloured steel hulled sloop “Silvaticus” as well as a handsome 40 footer rigged for offshore.
As we approach we see John, the salty dog whose tales of sailing the BC coast enthralled us last year. “Is there room for us?” We call. “Oh yeah” calls John “I’ll move this runabout back and you can sneak in in front.” “Thanks John” We tuck in nose first and hop off to greet John and his 12 yr old granddaughter who promptly climbs the mast of Silvaticus in bare feet.
John might buy the sloop from Chris who is sailing around the Salish Sea looking for land to buy where he can plant a hazelnut orchard. He’s investigated most of the islands for land deals during the past few years. Chris knows of a year ’round dock and cabin on North Rendezvous Island, a location I’ve been wanting to check out this year. “Pete and Karen are looking for people they want to live beside – not the general recreational market. Make an offer. The dock is good but the island tends to get “Buted”. Getting “Buted” means getting hit by the bone rattling cold outflow winds from Bute inlet. Evans Bay also gets riled up by the winds from Bute as we experienced last year.
Chris has studied and worked in a plethora of diverse fields. His latest passion is nut trees but he is a general arborist. He studied anatomy for 5 years to become a coroner and deisel mechanics so he could fix the engine of his boat independently. He’s also worked in the oil patch. In the northern “man camps” the guys have everything from laundry to house cleaning to meals and entertainment supplied for them. Listening to Chris share stories of the lifestyle – huge salaries, no obligations, no family life, little incentive to work or to save – I can understand the strain this unbalanced existence puts on their wives, their children and the men themselves. Many don’t know how to manage their lives or free time and spend their off-work hours in bars with lots of cash to spend. Chris says a lot of those guys would be completely lost without those high paying jobs where you just do what you’re told and never have to think for yourself. I’ve heard some of this before but this is not the news that resource companies like oil, mining, logging etc want to publicize about the downside of that boom and bust far from home lifestyle.
So how do folks in more remote areas make a living? Currently John’s son-in-law is working for DFO on prawn boats up north and another couple are planting trees up north as well. Memories of living on Nelson Island in the 1970s and working treeplanting contracts resurface – so many great stories.
The Pelagic Cormorant uses its own guano (feces) to solidify its nest materials and to cement its nest to the steep cliff face.
How delicious it is to dream away the night in a gently rocking boat. The NW breeze blew away all the mosquitos and flies so we could sit in the cockpit and enjoy the evening darken into starlit skies. Blue Parrot is moored off the southern end of Cortes Island when a morning message announces a whale closeby near the reef. Away we go, sailing on a NW breeze out into the Strait. We’ve reefed the mainsail just in case the wind strengthens and we’re moving along at 4 knots towards Mitlenach Island, the seabird santuary in the middle of Georgia Strait. No whales in sight as we pass the reef so we continue on a beam reach out past the island. But the wind is dropping and willy-wally wooing around from NW through S. So much for my cunning plan of circling the island under sail. However we do manage to sail to the SW side of Mitlenach where 3 species of cormorants have constructed nests of sticks on ledges and crevices in the steep cliffs. The nests are large elaborate structures. They look like 40L vats. Dozens of cormorants are gurgling and grunting on the cliff while gulls wheel overhead keening and squawking. Further on 200m or so sea lions are barking and growling.
The sonorous sounds of Mitlenach’s roosting residents must be recorded without motor noise to mask them. “i’ll sail the boat so you can get sound as well as video” I say as Terry lines up the camera for a close pass by the bird rocks. A cormorant runs across the water like a “Jesus lizard” and takes flight. The light breeze swings to SE and then E as we reach the midpoint of the island. I gracelessly flap the sails through 180° as we pass sea lions in blubbery heaps piled on top of each other. “Can you manage another pass?” Terry asks. It takes 3 untidy tacks to turn around and find an approach that will take us close to the shore without landing us on it. Another round of barking and grunting and sails flapping ensues. The acrid stench of gull guano stings our nostrils. We pass signs that warn in bright red letters “Trails closed, No Visitors”. The usual island nature guides are absent because of the corona virus. But nature is far from closed. Camas lilies are in flagrant yellow bloom. Life without human visitors is leafing out in more shades of luminous green than human eyes can perceive. Effusive purple and gold blossoms nestle against myriad mosses blanketing the rocks. No whales around today but here is so much flamboyant life.
We float offshore under a blue sky enjoying the view. All around us on Vancouver Island, the mainland and the islands to the north clouds dump showers over the land. It’s no surprise that cacti grow on Mitlenach in this rain shadow where winds cross each other. We sling our sunshade, a clear plastic tarp with a floral bedsheet velcroed to it, over Blue P’s boom and bungee it to the toe rails. Aaah, shade! relief from the intense sun. Time for a snack and an afternoon snooze. It’s a short snooze though. A sailor must always have her nose to the wind. When it shifts to NW I peek around the sun shade to watch a dark line on the water approaching from a distance. “Time to take down the sunshade. The wind’s coming” I tell Terry. We quickly dismantle it, batten the hatches and start the engine just as the wind hits.
“Turn it off! Turn it off!” yells Terry as the motor starts up ” Whhaaat? What’s Wrong” I stutter and kill the engine.
“The bubble boat rope’s around the propellor” Terry cries. “Oh No!” I groan as I spot the line pulled taut over the rudder and disappearing under Blue P’s stern. “Shit! We’re going to have to cut the line! I’ll get the sea snips”
“I’m going to try to unwrap it” Terry is reaching over the stern to grab the line. But the waves and wind are picking up. Blue P is on a beam reach under bare poles. The bubble boat line draws tighter.
“I’m going to cut the line” Terry yells “Get me the painter”
“Here’s the painter and here’s the sea snips. I’m going to swing us onto a downwind course to take the pressure off the rest of the line and the bubble boat.” I say as I grab the tiller and swing Blue P’s stern into the wind. The bubble boat eases along behind as Terry threads the painter through its bridle loop and secures it. He cuts the fouled polypro line pulling all the free line into the cockpit. “I think i can unwrap the other end” he says, reaching his long arms down into the waves. “Hold on!” I warn as the waves build and more wind rattles the halyards. “Got it!” Terry exclaims holding the problem line aloft. I cheer and start the engine listening carefully for any irregular rhythms in its familiar sewing machine patter. “Tick tick tick tick…. “Whew! sounds normal to me. We’ve got power.”
On a 335° compass heading, nose into the wind we take the meter high waves a quarter off our port bow. Amazing how quickly the waves build in the Strait. But quartering takes most of the pressure off the tiller and we make 2.94 knots in the 15 gusting 18 knots of wind. It’s enough to get us back to the sheltered waters behind Cortes Island where we fuel up to continue on towards home.
Now that the wind is blowing over the port beam it’s ripe for sailing again so Terry hoists the main and disappears below with his camera. I unfurl the jib and happily sail in a brisk breeze across Lewis Channel into the mouth of Malaspina Inlet. It’s a good day when you can hang out with critters AND sail.
It’s finally our first cruise of the season. Our inflatable dinghy is held together mostly by glue, epoxy, 5200 and lots of repair hours. We offer prayers to the gods of small appliances “Please let him make it through another whale season.” SV Blue Parrot is so far in pretty good shape. Unfortunately she hasn’t grown any over the Winter – still too small for Giant Terry.
We enjoy a few days at anchor in a beautiful bay to relax and get back into the rhythm of weather and tides. There is no cell or internet service in the Bay. Our VHF radio intermittently transmits weather statements from Environment Canada. Reception depends on Blue P’s position in the arc of her swing around her anchor.
We weigh anchor in light rain showers. An occasional breakthrough of sunrays through rainclouds plays rainbow prisms over dark mountains with snowy peaks. A report of a humpback whale near Cortes Reef comes in. “Let’s Go!” We’re on our way through Baker Passage when Terry shouts “Orca! They’re coming this way. 3, no 4 of them. I’ll get my camera.” He hands off the tiller to me after I’ve quickly grabbed my hydrophone gear. ”
They’re traveling really fast.” Terry announces. “They’re through the passage. Maybe they’re going to the rubbing beach – no they’re headed across to the mainland” I drop the hydrophone anyway in case the orca are vocalizing or communicating with others we can’t see. I listen. “Nada. Maybe they’re hunting and they’re in stealth mode. They’re obviously mammal eaters” (Transient Biggs orca). I reel in the hydrophone.
Nearby, gulls are crying and swooping down in a frenzy! Guillemots and loons are also diving underwater at the same place. As we approach, bald eagles start flying in and grabbing fish from the surface. A Bait Ball is happening!! Herring or anchovy are being forced to the surface by salmon below them, making them available to aerial predators. S-c-r-e-e-e-e-e-ching eagle cries join with the gulls’ screaming in a cacophony of sound matching their chaotic flying and swooping. Soon there are a couple dozen eagles vying for fish and more keep coming! Where do they come from? Are there that many within sight of the bait ball? Or do they hear the sounds of birds or do they call each other, or . . .? Mysteries abound and every day in the natural world brings more questions we want to answer! Questions, questions, questions . . . always more and more!
There is a light SW breeze and the tide is with us so we float off Marina Island for a while and duck into the cabin to get out of the now intense midday sun. Terry sticks his head out for a quick check just as 2 humpback whales breach off Francisco Pt. We fire up Lazarus (our WWII engine) and beetle over as fast as we can (4.85 knots/hr) while the whales breach and fin slap. 20 minutes later we arrive on the scene and carefully line up with the 2 recreational boats who have been enjoying the show. But the whales are finished being active. They proceed with their usual mode of activity when they are close to us – they go to sleep!
“OOOO Whale Breath” Terry groans as a piquant perfume of rotting fish with sulphurous accents wafts over us. But I am in whale heaven. I just love to BE around them even when they’re sleeping. Terry starts to talk about the challenges of shooting good video of whales from a sailboat. One of the whales gives a single gentle tail slap and both whales swim away.
Did we disturb them by talking? it’s so hard to know what that tail slap meant. [see Humpback Body Language Blog April 2020] We don’t follow them since they obviously left us.
The light SW daytime breeze is a harbinger of summer winds. We hoist the sails and sail to Drew Harbour on a broad reach. Sutil Channel is covid 19 quiet. There aren’t the usual fishing and tourist boats around. Our ears perk up – a breath. It’s another humpback whale – a smaller juvenile – and s/he is snoozing mid-channel. We sail serenely on.
Drew Harbour is a shocker. We round the end of the spit to find flotillas of flotsam and floating logs filling the anchorage. “It looks like a boom broke up in here” i say. We weave our way to our favourite anchorage and set the anchor just as the tide starts to ebb and the wind switches to NW 10 – 20 knots. Just in time! Sure cools off a hot day though.
