Enough! Let me get on with the tale...
On August 16th, one of my dreams came true. After a beautiful 2:30 hours of sleep (damn you greyhound!), I awakened to a now familiar sound: Neil waking me up. Soon I was standing beside my great companion once again. This time, a third matee leaned out from the bow as we set sail on a misty morning through the harbour of San Diego. He was known as Kenny, the third companion.
THE FLIGHT OF THE BOOBY
This was no beautiful tanned mermaid. It was a brown booby, a bird that all people want to see. Unlike white boobies, they come from Mexico.
The pervertedly good view launched us into our 48 hour, 2 night voyage to the high seas, in search of great and mysterious sights. Our vessel: the Grande, a sturdy craft that could carry a full deck of scallywags over 100 miles from land, and plow huge ocean sunfish in its path.
A HUMAN BIRD MACHINE
The booby was not the first pelagic bird seen. In fact, Steve Howell spotted about 100 storm petrels and shearwaters before any other person saw one. Then the lower, earthly people spotted them, one by one. A pink-footed shearwater, a couple black storm petrels. A least storm petrel flew by. The lifers were stacking up.
(Black Storm-Petrel, courtesy of Bob Doe)
WILL WE GET SCURVY?
"So, what did you bring for us to eat this time, Neil?
- Peanut butter and banana burritos."
So you slather some Jiffy peanut butter on a tortilla and wrap it around a banana. Thus, the Banito was born. Over the course of the journey, we came to love and hate the Banito. Luckily he had some trail mix also.
DAWN AT SEA
The next day I woke up in a tiny bunk just as the sun was about to come up. It was dark and I could feel the sea wind blowing through the open door into the quarters. I could already hear people talking on the deck, so I dragged myself out and joined the onlookers. There was a flock of Sabine's gulls with red-necked and red phalaropes circling the boat. They just circled and circled, who knows why. To add to the bizarery, a common yellowthroat was doing laps of its own.
Not only does a pelagic offer a long span of time in which to see rarities, it also allows for immense periods of boredom in which to contemplate seeing rarities. Then, when you least expect it, a bird sitting on some kelp is a south polar skua!
Often, the boredom, or long lazy conversation is violently broken by chaotic YELLING!. TROPICBIIIRD!!!!!!!!
(photo courtesy of Bob Doe)
And everyone lunges to the side of the boat, bashing into eachother to get by. Even elderly ladies that look like they might normally have trouble walking are plowing through the bodies, and not afraid to throw a couple bows for a bowel-loosening view. Hold onto your diapers!
Such situations are also a prime opportunity to scan the cabin for left scraps. Like skuas, we searched for pancake remnants, but were unsuccessfull, except half an unfinished pancake I managed to scrounge up.
TERRY HUNNEFELD AND THE BAIRD'S BEAKED WHALES
We were graced with having a exuberant leader on the captain's stand, the amazing Terry Hunnefeld. He graced us with some inspiring words on the intercom, after viewing 36 Baird's Beaked Whales. "The North American coast population is estimated to be around 400 Baird's Beaked Whales, so we just saw about 10 percent of all the Baird's Beaked Whales in North America!...they typically remain submerged when they dive...A truly unforgettable experience, and one that I will remember, for the rest, of my life."
And we will.
THE AIR FORCE CAME
Occasionally, after hours of scanning the naked horizon, it is beneficial to relax in the cabin to avoid starting to spot birds that aren't really there. One such time, my conversation with Neil and Kenny was interrupted by a massive and violent noise screaming over the boat. We ran outside to see if we were under attack. It appeared we were. An F-18 had just done a low pass right over our boat, and was coming back. It headed toward us again, then banked steeply. Then it circled around the boat, pulled up, and flew straight up into the low clouds and off into the distance.
THE EXCREMENT OF THE WHALE
After an exceptionally long period of boredom, Steve Howell spotted a whale blow ahaid of us that "looked like a blue whale". He told Terry to tell the captain to steer our course left and head full throttle to try and intercept it. It was a mile away. There was little hope of accomplashing this, but we floated around the target region anyway. As we were about to give up...SPPPLLLUUUSSHHHH! BLUE WHALE! Then, a second whale spouted, and its extremely long back arched out of the water and it lifted its tailfin in the air as if to waive goodbye. Terry informed us on the intercom that a blue whale's heart is as big as a VW beetle.
We could not see the whales anymore, but we could see a large orange mass. "Is that krill" someone asked. So we got closer, and saw that it was an orange chunky raft with a sharp odor to it. There probably was some krill in there.
As the last albatross sailed into the sunset, so we started our overnight journey to shore. I reclined in my lawn chair until it was dark, reflecting on the awesome journey.
For a different take on things, click here:
http://ocbirding.blogspot.com/2010/08/two-seas.html
More to come in Part 2.
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