Big Water ABCs: Albatrosses, Blue Whales, and Cassin’s Auklets
Blue whale sighted off central California during a research survey. (Photograph taken in accordance with NMFS ESA/MMPA Permit No. 21678)
For two weeks, Jim and I have been helping survey blue and humpback whales off the central coast of California. Being out on the open ocean—in 4 to 8 foot swells—has been demanding, but exhilarating. I'd expected to experience a couple days of acclimation seasickness, but living on board for a month inside the San Francisco Bay and Delta tuned my inner ear to the sea. So far, we’ve observed and photographed about 15 blue whales—three times as many as we'd seen in our collective 90-year careers as biologists. The dorsal fin shape and pigment patterns below it allow researchers to individually identify blue whales for estimating population size, reproductive rates, movements, and more.
S/V Resilience under way in four-foot head seas.
Oddly, sheltering for the pandemic and attending writing critique and committee meetings via Zoom, have made being away from home several weeks minimally disruptive. We're excited about contributing to John Calambokidis's longterm blue whale research, and it feels good to put our sailboat Resilience to work. She handles the big seas well and runs smoothly thanks to Jim's constant attention.
A week ago, we made it out to Cordell Bank National Marine Sanctuary, 50 miles northwest of San Francisco. Currents near the seamount generate upwelling of deep, nutrient-rich water, which fuels the base of a food web topped off by seabirds, marine mammals, and sharks.
The mix of birds shifted as we motored west. Closer to shore, Common Murres and gulls dominated. Further off, Sooty Shearwaters and tiny Cassin's Auklets with their blond always-surprised eyebrows appeared.
Cassin’s Auklet
Sooty Shearwater
Along the north end of Cordell Bank, we watched Black-footed Albatrosses glide on seven-foot wingspans. One regal bird's wingtip came within inches of scraping water, as it rode pressure fields above giant swells, never flapping while in our view.
For safety and balance and to keep both hands free to hold the camera, I clip in around the rolled jib sail at the bow. During one round of waiting for a blue whale to re-surface, I glanced down.
Below my feet in the water was a six-foot, charcoal-gray animal. Dolphin! I thought. As soon as it swam off, propelled by a sideways tail undulation, I corrected myself: Shark! I wanted to tell Jim, who was at the helm, right then, but kept my focus on the water ahead. Even the largest animal to have lived on Earth is capable of disappearing.
Out on big water—no land in sight—I feel like a kid again. There is so much to see and learn and love.
---Beth Ann Mathews
S/V Resilience