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Duncan Murrell - A Whale of a Time

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Duncan Murrell - A Whale of a Time

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  • The biggest challenge for the trip was being able to carry sufficient water and ration it because after I left Loreto there were only two places between Loreto and La Paz that I was aware of where I could replenish my water supply, and this small fishing village called Puerto Agua Verde that I’m setting off from was one of them. The photo was taken by a British couple that I met there who were also kayaking to La Paz. I was using my large French Nautiraid folding double kayak, which has a large open cockpit and ample storage space for an extended trip like that. When I started the trip I was only able to buy a limited selection of fresh fruit and vegetables and it was also a major challenge preserving them in the constant heat and ensuring that I had sufficient nutrition to get me all the way to La Paz. There were many contrasting benefits of kayaking in the Sea of Cortez compared with Alaska. Firstly, there is minima tidal range in the Sea of Cortez compared to Alaska, meaning that I didn’t have to drag the kayak up and down the flat sandy beaches and secondly there were so many places that were suitable for landing, whereas in Alaska there are very few accessible beaches and most of those are steep and rocky. This stop was the last human habitation until the ranch near the ruins of Mission Dolores.
    Kayaking- Gulf-of-California12.jpg
  • The town of Loreto is a regular staging post for commercial kayaking tour groups. I enjoyed mixing with some of them but farther down the coast I was I was shocked by the territorialism of some of the kayaking tour leaders. I encountered a dispute between two “rival” American tour groups that each laid claim to a nearby beach to camp on. The beautiful “unclaimed” beach that I gratefully accepted to camp on was evidently less desirable. The next day I stopped at an empty beach to stretch my legs when one of the groups that was involved in the dispute came into view and their leader paddled towards me. I greeted him politely as always and he promptly retorted by just asking me where I was heading. I told him that I was just heading south, to which he curtly replied, ‘I just wanted to let you know that we’ll be camping at the next beach, OK.” I didn’t take it as an invitation to join them for a campfire dinner or to share kayaking stories; I had no desire to detract from their wilderness experience or pollute their airspace with smoke from my campfire. The commercial kayaking groups don’t venture very far south of Loreto so it wasn’t long before I had left that bewildering attitude behind me and could embrace the infinite solitude that Baja had to offer.
    Kayaking- Gulf-of-California8.jpg
  • I started my kayaking trip from the Isle of Mull, the second largest island of the Inner Hebrides (after Skye). I camped alongside the grazing cows near Ardmore Point at the northern tip of the island, and spent a week exploring the area in my kayak before making the crossing to the Isle of Coll to the west. I was more accustomed to taking precautions against potentially dangerous brown bears in Alaska than ensuring that grazing cows didn’t trample on my tent, so I knew that it was going to be a very different kind of trip. There was a small, well-protected beach sandy beach there along the rocky shoreline of Ardmore Bay that made the launching of my kayak easier. I was going to experience the same problems as in Southeast Alaska where there are very few sandy beaches along the rocky and pebbly coast.
    Kayaking-West-Coast-Scotland1.jpg
  • Every time I passed any coastal communities in my kayak I attracted so much interest from the local people and especially the children, because I they had never ever seen a foreigner kayaking along the coast in Madagascar before.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey19.jpg
  • It was great to suddenly have a fun young American kayaking companion after many weeks of solitude paddling from Loreto. It was also great to come across a well that we could draw cool fresh water from to wash. Corrie remained with me during the time that I was on La Paz, where I was able to catch up on some urban treats like dining in restaurants and disco dancing. La Paz is a really nice medium sized city with an attractive promenade and a lively nightlife that attracts a lot of foreign visitors and cruisers. I managed to meet a lot of interesting cruisers on their yachts. I had a good social time in La Paz before setting off on the long return journey, which started with an epic close to drowning experience!
    Kayaking- Gulf-of-California40.jpg
  • This was my first ever memorable day kayaking with humpback whales in Southeast Alaska; an amazing day that set the tone for another 20 years of involvement there with the whales. It was a beautifully flat calm day out on the water and there was a large pod of humpback whales feeding in the vicinity of the Brothers Islands where we were moored with “Avalon”. It was the day when I realized that a kayak was the only way that I could really appreciate being around the whales without disturbing them or interrupting their natural feeding behaviour. I discovered that they are completely safe to be around and that I could manoeuvre the kayak more than adequately to stay out of their way. It was such an adrenaline-rush to be so close to them, and to be able to feel their power and energy transmitted through the water.
    Alaska-camping-kayaking1.jpg
  • Duncan Murrell kayaking with humpback whales in his Nautiraid folding kayak, Point Hayes, Chatham Strait, Southeast Alaska, USA. Photo courtesy of Francois Gohier.<br />
<br />
This was another photo taken by Francois Gohier when he was also photographing the bubble net feeding whales around the Morris Reef. After I won the Mammal Category of the BBC Wildlife Photographer of the Year Competition in 2002 I was commissioned to write an article for the BBC Wildlife Magazine and this photo was used on the cover of the magazine, which was indeed an honour for me as I have been reading the magazine since I was a young boy.
    Whaleman-9.tif
  • I bought my Klepper Aerius 1 folding kayak from a couple in Petersburg who were retired schoolteachers. Carolyn and Jay Pritchett were wonderful people who were passionate about the great outdoors, and every summer they conducted kayaking trips up in the Alaskan Arctic. This kayak was Carolyn's kayak and it was a veteran of several trips up to the Arctic. Klepper folding kayaks have been manufactured since 1907, and have been used on many expeditions such as the Germany-India expedition 1923 by Karl Schott, the North Pole expedition 1926 by Roald Amundson, the First Atlantic Crossing in 1928 by Captian Romer, the Atlantic Crossing in 1955 by Dr. Lindemann, the expedition to the magnetic Northpol 1985 by Arved Fuchs and the Circumnavigation of Cape Horne 1989 by Howard Rice. They have a wooden frame, canvas deck and hypalon hull, making them relatively easy to repair. Eventually the deck had so many canvas patches that it looked like a pair of my old jeans. It was badly damaged when it was swept off the deck of my boat in a storm, and I had to completely rebuild the stern, but unfortunately my challenging repair job was completely undone when a brown bear found my kayak and completely destroyed the stern again!
    Alaska-camping-kayaking3.jpg
  • My Klepper Aerius 1 kayak on a beach on one of the Brothers Islands, Frederick Sound, Southeast Alaska, USA.<br />
This was a truly idyllic location that I loved visiting. I can tell this was taken in my early years kayaking in Southeast Alaska because I was still using the heavy wooden Klepper paddle. It made so much difference to paddling when I started using a very lightweight fibre-glass paddle. It made a big difference to reducing arm fatigue when I was paddling for long periods. But arm fatigue was a minor problem compared to my bottom and back aching, and I experimented for years to try to find the perfect seating and back support. I ended up with several layers of foam until I finally bought a special  inflatable kayak seat and back-rest.
    Alaska-camping-kayaking6.jpg
  • Tenakee Inlet penetrates deep into Chichagof Island, and at the far end there is an old portage with a rail-track and cart to get across to Port Frederick, which leads to the native town of Hoonah. Nearly every September my summer kayaking trips ended up in Tenakee Inlet, when humpback whales usually arrive to feed on herring cooperatively using bubble nets. They often followed the herring up and down the inlet with me in tow in my kayak. This photo was taken over half-way up the inlet.
    Alaska-camping-kayaking17.jpg
  • In my Klepper folding kayak, with sailboat Avalon moored at the Brothers Islands, with Admiralty Island in the background,  Stephen’s Passage, Southeast Alaska, Alaska, USA. <br />
<br />
My Alaskan partner and I worked together at a salmon cannery in the fishing town, Petersburg on Mitkof Island. We bought a 26 ft gaff cutter from an English boat builder who sailed it to Alaska from Oregon. My partner Anne, named it “Avalon”, because of a special interest in Arthurian legends. I then bought a Klepper Aerius 1 folding kayak from a local high-school teacher who did kayaking trips to the Arctic every summer with her fellow high-school teacher husband. I was now fully equipped to explore Southeast Alaska with my partner. The Brothers Islands is a pair of small islands in Stephen’s Passage a short distance from Admiralty Island. It is a beautiful, safe anchorage, with a commanding view of Stephen’s Passage and humpback whales commonly frequent the area. There is a Steller sea lion haul-out a short distance from the islands, where I saw many entertaining performances by those most endearing of sea creatures.
    Whaleman.tif
  • This is one of my favourite photos because it captures the serenity and hypnotic bliss that I felt when I was kayaking in Southeast Alaska. It wasn’t easy at times, and sometimes the distances seemed interminable, especially when I was tired and hungry, but at the end of another rewarding day with the whales I felt like I was imbued with their power and resilience, and could glide across the surface effortlessly for eternity.
    Alaska-camping-kayaking27.jpg
  • Seymour Canal, which almost bisects Admiralty Island was one of my regular boating and kayaking haunts in my early years in Southeast Alaska. I always used to anchor Avalon in a beautiful little anchorage called Pleasant Bay, on the east side of Seymour Canal, but this camp was on the opposite side on the Glass Peninsula. This is where I was camped when I had one of my most amazing experiences when I witnessed a pod of orcas killing a big bull Steller's sea lion and attacking humpback whales in the middle of Seymour Canal.
    Alaska-camping-kayaking7.jpg
  • I was on my way to explore two offshore islands just to the south of Isla Carmen, Isla Monserrat and Isla Catalina in thecBahia de Loreto National Park, when I encountered a pod of short-finned pilot whales; this was my first ever encounter with pilot whales in my kayak. This was my first ever encounter with pilot whales in my kayak. They are very impressive cetaceans, with a prominent melon (acoustic swelling), like big black shiny torpedoes. They were very inquisitive about me and were frequently spyhopping to get a better view of me. Spyhopping is when cetaceans elevate themselves vertically out of the water to be able to get a better view of something.
    Kayaking- Gulf-of-California70.jpg
  • I was discovering how unpredictable the weather is along the coast of Madagascar and got caught in a few bad squalls including one on the afternoon of my 50th birthday. I paddled back to the mainland from Nosy Boraha and camped on the long spit that extends out into the channel. Shortly after setting off the next day I had the next mishap; the wooden rudder yoke of my kayak broke, making it virtually impossible to steer my kayak in the big ocean swells and get ashore without capsizing in the surf. I had heard the usual surfeit of shark attack stories involving tiger sharks along the east coast so I decided to err on the side of caution and not enter the water to attempt a repair so I had to try to do it by crawling along the back deck of the kayak and reaching out with extended arms. As I was doing it the kayak was drifting ever near the breaking surf on the steep beach, and waves were swamping the cockpit, so I had to keep crawling back into the cockpit to pump out the water. Eventually, with my arms fully extended and frequent duckings of my head underwater, I was able to make a splint for the broken yoke using some wooden cooking utensils all held together with tape, straps and cable ties. It wasn’t a moment too soon as my kayak was just about to be swept ashore into the pounding surf! But that wasn’t the end of the day’s mishaps because when I got back into the kayak I realized that I had omitted to secure my paddle and it had been swept away by the waves! Fortunately I always carry a spare paddle and I spent the rest of the day paddling around the area trying to find the lost paddle but to no avail. Everything just kept going from bad to worse, and I was less than a month into my trip.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey15.jpg
  • This was an unforgettable wild encounter! The sea was very cold so I had to haul myself back into my kayak to warm up, with my legs dangling over the side and my flippers slapping the surface like a stranded fish. Moments later I was surprised to see another kayaker paddling towards me; It was an American called Corrie who told me that he had just made the long sea crossing from Isla San Jose. It was great to be joined by another kayaker and even greater when I discovered that he had a wetsuit! There was no holding back now so I returned to the underwater circus. I discovered that there was one juvenile sea lion that was bolder than the others. At first it was trying to bite my mask and then it was nipping my chest as if it was trying to suckle from me; I think that the black neoprene wetsuit had transformed me into a marine mammal! This apparent attempt at bonding with me was taken to the next level of hilarity when all of a sudden I was aware of its flippers being wrapped around my body from behind and then feeling the little clown clinging tightly to my back! I reached behind me to feel it and it was very smooth, soft and spongy, making it conform to the shape of my back like an orthopaedic back-support. I continued swimming along with this unexpected diving accessory still firmly clamped to my back like an air cylinder. It eventually released me and disappeared momentarily; then Corrie exclaimed, “look at your kayak!” and to my amazement I watched it hauling itself onto the back of my kayak! It promptly settled down for a snooze on the most comfortable and exclusive bed available. Corrie climbed into the cockpit of my kayak to take some photos of me with my new friend, or should I say foster child, as photographic evidence was surely required. Corrie tried to evict the stowaway with my paddle, but the little rascal nipped at it and promptly slid down inside the cockpit to confirm its status as a stowaway but it was eventually evicted after much protest.
    Kayaking- Gulf-of-California38.jpg
  • I was driven to Foulpointe and had to reassemble my kayak on the beach in torrential rain. I attracted a large crowd of onlookers including lots of excited children just as I did when I first assembled and launched my kayak at Tamatave. The local people were fascinated that I had a folding kayak inside two bags. Unfortunately I wasn’t able to impress them with any degree of composure and speed with which I assembled the kayak, because the wooden frame became covered with sand in the pouring rain, making the assembly much more difficult. One sweet little girl held an umbrella over my head as I struggled to re-assemble it, with blood running from cuts on my agitated hands; it was one of those situations when I could have done without an audience! <br />
Eventually I was able to launch my kayak with much clapping and cheering from my faithful audience. I paddled around the point and discovered that beyond the protection of the coral reef in front of town there were still ranks of intimidating breakers extending as far as the eye could see. I didn’t want a repetition of the first day so I decided to exercise caution and find another car to take me to Soaniarana-Ivongo. From there I would catch the ferry to Isle Sainte Marie, a popular tourist destination from where the migrating humpback whales can often be seen. I wasn’t too discouraged by the sea conditions beyond there because I knew that north of Isle Ste. Marie there are long stretches of coastline sheltered by coral reefs – according to my maps anyway.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey8.jpg
  • I was on my way to explore two offshore islands just to the south of Isla Danzante, Isla Monserrat and Isla Santa Catalina in the Bahia de Loreto National Park, when I encountered a pod of short-finned pilot whales; this was my first ever encounter with pilot whales in my kayak. They are very impressive cetaceans, with a prominent melon (acoustic swelling), like big black shiny torpedoes. They were very inquisitive about me and were frequently spyhopping to get a better view of me. Spyhopping is when cetaceans elevate themselves vertically out of the water to be able to get a better view of something.
    Kayaking- Gulf-of-California71.jpg
  • I was on my way to explore two offshore islands just to the south of Isla Carmen, Isla Monserrat and Isla Catalina in the Bahia de Loreto National Park, when I encountered a pod of short-finned pilot whales (Globicephala macrorhynchus); this was my first ever encounter with pilot whales in my kayak. They are very impressive cetaceans, with a prominent melon (acoustic swelling), like big black shiny torpedoes. They were very inquisitive about me and were frequently spyhopping to get a better view of me. Spyhopping is when cetaceans elevate themselves vertically out of the water to be able to get a better view of something.
    Kayaking- Gulf-of-California73.jpg
  • After leaving Antanambe I faced a 15 mile paddle across a stretch of unprotected ocean, with the biggest ocean swells that I had encountered. The waves generated by the steadily increasing wind were really daunting, especially as sometimes they seemed to be coming from two different directions. My kayak is very stable, but the deck was leaking quite a lot, so I had to keep stopping to pump the water out, and at the same time stop the kayak from being swung around broadside to the oncoming waves, which would have risked getting swamped and capsizing. Unfortunately the prevailing wind was from the SE, and because of my required course to get to the islands the waves were approaching too close to my beam.<br />
To counter this I had to keep tacking and trying to head to the east of the outer island to compensate for any drift. I also had to avoid running directly with the waves because they were so big that they would have washed over my stern or slewed me broadside to the wave, and an inevitable capsize! I had to maintain my concentration to keep the waves on the quarter. As I got closer to the islands I could see the massive breakers smashing onto the rocks; it was one of the most unnerving situations that I have ever been in. I was level with the closest island in the group and rather than trying to run with the waves I decided to go in reverse. The safest angle for any boat to handle big seas is to head into the swells and ride up over them; you offer the least resistance and can maintain the best possible control of your craft. I was allowing the oncoming waves to drive me backwards to where I wanted to go. My heart raced every time a monster wave bore down on me and I rode up and over it. It took a long time but I had no choice. When I was close enough, I could see a break in the coral reef protecting the islands, and I turned my stern into the waves, and surfed towards safety whilst glancing over my shoulder to brace my kayak with my paddle for each surging wave.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey24.jpg
  • After leaving Antanambe I faced a 15 mile paddle across a stretch of unprotected ocean, with the biggest ocean swells that I had encountered. The waves generated by the steadily increasing wind were really daunting, especially as sometimes they seemed to be coming from two different directions. My kayak is very stable, but the deck was leaking quite a lot, so I had to keep stopping to pump the water out, and at the same time stop the kayak from being swung around broadside to the oncoming waves, which would have risked getting swamped and capsizing. Unfortunately the prevailing wind was from the SE, and because of my required course to get to the islands the waves were approaching too close to my beam.<br />
To counter this I had to keep tacking and trying to head to the east of the outer island to compensate for any drift. I also had to avoid running directly with the waves because they were so big that they would have washed over my stern or slewed me broadside to the wave, and an inevitable capsize! I had to maintain my concentration to keep the waves on the quarter. As I got closer to the islands I could see the massive breakers smashing onto the rocks; it was one of the most unnerving situations that I have ever been in. I was level with the closest island in the group and rather than trying to run with the waves I decided to go in reverse. The safest angle for any boat to handle big seas is to head into the swells and ride up over them; you offer the least resistance and can maintain the best possible control of your craft. I was allowing the oncoming waves to drive me backwards to where I wanted to go. My heart raced every time a monster wave bore down on me and I rode up and over it. It took a long time but I had no choice. When I was close enough, I could see a break in the coral reef protecting the islands, and I turned my stern into the waves, and surfed towards safety whilst glancing over my shoulder to brace my kayak with my paddle for each surging wave.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey25.jpg
  • They obviously viewed me as a playmate or someone to tease and as soon as they saw me they started their pranks like this one darting towards me at high speed and then veering away as soon as I flinched. Their most annoying and clever prank was to keep picking up the anchor stone that my kayak was secured to on the ledge, swim out to deeper water and drop it so that my kayak would start drifting away and I had to keep swimming after it. I don’t know how they figured out how to do that; maybe it was something that they had already learnt to do from other kayakers, but they certainly appeared to relish my immediate reaction every time they did it. Eventually I had to wedge the rock firmly into a crack in the ledge to stop their merry prank.
    Kayaking- Gulf-of-California36.jpg
  • It was hard to tell from my nautical chart exactly where I could expect to find protection from offshore coral reefs. There appeared to be stretches where I would have to take my chances and run the gauntlet on the open sea and then hope to find a way of getting back inside the next stretch of protective coral reef. Sometimes they abutted right up to the shore or there were too many breakers to negotiate. It was a constant maze that I had to negotiate and make the best choices for. I stopped at a village called Vinanivao to see if I could pick up some of the usual provisions like baguettes, biscuits, onions, tomatoes and bananas. I limped through the hot streets dragging my bloated foot beside me and having to seek out the shade because the hot sand was scorching my feet. It wasn’t just the sand and my bad leg that made me feel uncomfortable, as the locals only stared at me as if I was an alien invader. It was the first remote village that I had passed through where I didn’t feel completely welcome. Sitting down was always a great relief now, even if I still had to keep moving my foot around to find the least uncomfortable position. By contrast, the next village that I passed afforded me a memorable welcome even if I decided to stay in my kayak. I skirted the beach and was spotted by a group of young boys frolicking in the water. They came rushing over to me and started clowning around, plunging, splashing, wrestling and plenty of funny faces. I could have spent the day with those little clowns enjoying their simple life but my bad foot meant that I had to keep pressing on to reach a doctor. Sometimes the pain was so unbearable that I had to lay on my side and recite a rhyme until the pain abated. But eventually the sore on the back of my ankle burst open and erupted its suppurating contents, leaving a gaping hole, but at least the pressure and some of the pain was relieved.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey42.jpg
  • It was hard to tell from my nautical chart exactly where I could expect to find protection from offshore coral reefs. There appeared to be stretches where I would have to take my chances and run the gauntlet on the open sea and then hope to find a way of getting back inside the next stretch of protective coral reef. Sometimes they abutted right up to the shore or there were too many breakers to negotiate. It was a constant maze that I had to negotiate and make the best choices for. I stopped at a village called Vinanivao to see if I could pick up some of the usual provisions like baguettes, biscuits, onions, tomatoes and bananas. I limped through the hot streets dragging my bloated foot beside me and having to seek out the shade because the hot sand was scorching my feet. It wasn’t just the sand and my bad leg that made me feel uncomfortable, as the locals only stared at me as if I was an alien invader. It was the first remote village that I had passed through where I didn’t feel completely welcome. Sitting down was always a great relief now, even if I still had to keep moving my foot around to find the least uncomfortable position. By contrast, the next village that I passed afforded me a memorable welcome even if I decided to stay in my kayak. I skirted the beach and was spotted by a group of young boys frolicking in the water. They came rushing over to me and started clowning around, plunging, splashing, wrestling and plenty of funny faces. I could have spent the day with those little clowns enjoying their simple life but my bad foot meant that I had to keep pressing on to reach a doctor. Sometimes the pain was so unbearable that I had to lay on my side and recite a rhyme until the pain abated. But eventually the sore on the back of my ankle burst open and erupted its suppurating contents, leaving a gaping hole, but at least the pressure and some of the pain was relieved.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey43.jpg
  • It was hard to tell from my nautical chart exactly where I could expect to find protection from offshore coral reefs. There appeared to be stretches where I would have to take my chances and run the gauntlet on the open sea and then hope to find a way of getting back inside the next stretch of protective coral reef. Sometimes they abutted right up to the shore or there were too many breakers to negotiate. It was a constant maze that I had to negotiate and make the best choices for. I stopped at a village called Vinanivao to see if I could pick up some of the usual provisions like baguettes, biscuits, onions, tomatoes and bananas. I limped through the hot streets dragging my bloated foot beside me and having to seek out the shade because the hot sand was scorching my feet. It wasn’t just the sand and my bad leg that made me feel uncomfortable, as the locals only stared at me as if I was an alien invader. It was the first remote village that I had passed through where I didn’t feel completely welcome. Sitting down was always a great relief now, even if I still had to keep moving my foot around to find the least uncomfortable position. By contrast, the next village that I passed afforded me a memorable welcome even if I decided to stay in my kayak. I skirted the beach and was spotted by a group of young boys frolicking in the water. They came rushing over to me and started clowning around, plunging, splashing, wrestling and plenty of funny faces. I could have spent the day with those little clowns enjoying their simple life but my bad foot meant that I had to keep pressing on to reach a doctor. Sometimes the pain was so unbearable that I had to lay on my side and recite a rhyme until the pain abated. But eventually the sore on the back of my ankle burst open and erupted its suppurating contents, leaving a gaping hole, but at least the pressure and some of the pain was relieved.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey44.jpg
  • I had my first sighting of a humpback whale as we approached Nosy Boraha in the ferry. Isle Sainte Marie is a popular tourist destination with a few expensive resorts. I reassembled my kayak at the main port, Ambodifotra, and headed south along the sheltered inside coast to visit a whale researcher based at the island’s most well known resort, the Princess Bora lodge. It was wonderful to be paddling in calm sea conditions for the first time on the trip, and being able to land anywhere without having to contend with large breakers. I paddled close to the coral reefs and was dismayed to see how degraded and barren they have become; there were very few fish and most of the coral was bleached and dead. Many of the local people that I passed were coming down to the water’s edge to investigate the mysterious voyager in a bright red kayak; they are only used to seeing the traditional wooden dugout pirogues. I passed these two boys on their small homemade raft, who were very inquisitive about me, but understandably very shy.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey14.jpg
  • I gave up on trying to find my paddle, and tried to find a quiet stretch of beach to make camp; I wasn’t really in the mood for attracting a big audience that evening. But as I was racing through the surf towards the beach I saw some people pouring out of the trees and racing towards me, and they eagerly helped to drag my kayak away from the surf. Looking along the beach I could see a line of huts set back from the beach, and there were more people swarming towards me! Greetings ensued and then I started collecting firewood. I assembled a big pile of wood to be fed to the fire gradually whilst cooking my dinner and when I turned around I was horrified to see that they had set the whole pile ablaze; it was party time and the occasion called for a blazing bonfire to celebrate my arrival. It was time to chill out, so I relinquished any prospect of dinner and a quiet evening, and joined the party. I made tea and tried to find as many drinking containers as possible. Darkness settled and the crackling fire illuminated the circus of animated laughing faces around me. My phrasebook once again became the centre of attention and everyone wanted to have a go at trying to speak some English. The trials and tribulations of the day were soon forgotten amidst the laughter.<br />
I camped near the village for a couple of days, doing more repairs and trying to heal my sores. I continued to be the centre of attention of the village, and many people stopped by to observe the strange piece of flotsam that had washed up on their beach. The apparent village leader milked me as frequently as possible for new English phrases. His big opportunity came when it was time for me to leave, and he put his newly learnt expressions into practice by giving a running commentary on my departure - “Duncan Murrell is leaving today and the sun is shining, it is not cloudy, he had a good time here” – all perfectly enunciated like David Attenborough describing the actions of a wild animal.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey17.jpg
  • When I was camping on one of the Los Candeleros islets, I was sharing it with three ravens. They were rolling and tumbling acrobatically in the updraughts that were whipping up the precipitous face of the island. I have developed a special affinity with that most ubiquitous, intelligent and successful of all birds over many years in Alaska, where their amazing repertoire of calls is an integral feature of the ancient forests. I have even learnt how to mimic some of their calls and capture their attention. After a few days cutting the ice with my fellow residents one of them started flying out to my kayak to seemingly greet me whenever I returned to the island; it would circle overhead whilst calling out and then escort me back to shore.<br />
After a couple of weeks of familiarisation my glossy black friend vanished. A few days later I landed on a nearby beach at Ensenada Blanca to visit an American living in the local fishing village. As I stepped ashore I noticed a raven flying demonstrably towards me. I replied to its raven calls and it flew overhead and did a few rolls as if it was showing off. The acknowledgement was plain to see, rather like a dog wagging its tail. Then it flew ahead of me and proceeded to harass and dislodge the turkey vultures that were perched in the trees. After each successful assault it called out and then proceeded to dislodge another vulture in the next tree; within seconds the sky was full of screeching, disgruntled vultures! It seemed as if the raven was clearly intoxicated with its own sense of bravado, and maybe it was even trying to impress me. When I arrived at the American’s house at the end of the beach I told him about the hilarious encounter with my shiny black friend and when he looked out of the doorway to see if the raven was still out there he looked at me, laughed, and informed me that it was waiting outside for me, and sure enough it was perched on a cactus just a few metres from the door!
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  • On the journey back from La Paz I had an exhilarating encounter with a large pod of Bryde’s whales lunge-feeding on a shoal of fish in this channel between the Baja Peninsula and Isla San Jose; Bryde’s whales are medium-sized baleen whales, specifically rorqual whales belonging to the same group as blue whales, humpback whales and others. They closely resemble their close relative, the sei whale, are found in tropical waters and are easily identified by the distinctive, three longitudinal ridges on their rostrum ( the extended dorsal surface of a whale’s head ). After many years of having hair-raising close encounters with feeding humpback whales in Alaska I was taken aback by how much faster the Bryde’s whales were; they can accelerate up to 15 mph compared to their usual cruising speed of 1-4 mph. I was just thinking that I would have to shift into a higher gear of alertness when a dorsal fin suddenly burst into view right in front of me, and it slid beneath my kayak with barely a whisker between us ! A few days later I had my first ever encounter with a grey whale. I had already seen a breaching humpback whale between La Paz and Isla San Jose but I was still yet to see the big one – a blue whale.
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  • I had plenty of good weather to enjoy this beautiful, isolated location. I didn’t see anybody while I was there and very few boats passed by. Most of the marine vegetation was the same as what I was used to in my home of South Devon, with species such as thrift and white campion. But the summer peaks at an earlier date than South Devon so a lot of the plants had already finished blooming. After about a week I was ready to continue my journey towards my next island destination, Lunga in the Treshnish Isles to the south of the Isle of Mull. I first had to paddle along the east coast of Coll to reach the main settlement on the island, Arinagour, located at the head of Loch Eathara. On the way I stopped for a break and came across a very small dilapidated house on the beach with an old fisherman living in it. He was very welcoming and gave me an insight into an isolated and traditional subsistence lifestyle that seems so far removed from the majority of the UK now. Unfortunately before I could reach Arinagour I encountered my first really bad weather on the trip and I really had to fight to get there safely. It was a good test for the stability of my new kayak, as well as my nerves, because the sea conditions were so horrendously chaotic with waves coming at me from all directions. I can clearly remember being so relieved after entering the stormy loch to see the Caledonian MacBrayne ferry approaching, because up until that point I didn’t see any other boats if a rescue had been necessary. I camped near the shore there and the next day I enjoyed exploring the quaint settlement of houses and shops scattered around the loch before heading off towards Lunga. What a different life they have to most places on the UK mainland. I was used to living in, and visiting isolated island communities in Southeast Alaska, but the communities that I encountered on this trip seemed more removed from the influences of modern amenities – street lights for example.
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  • At the end of the bay I camped on an island within the boundaries of another marine park.  I had heard that the snorkelling there was the best in the bay - I wasn’t disappointed. I couldn’t believe how many species that I saw in a short space of time;  I lost count at about 20. Being in the water brought some relief from the pain of my swollen ankle and foot, and also from the swarms of mosquitoes, by far the worst that I had encountered so far. Up until that point I had been pleasantly surprised at how few of the jungle nasties, like mosquitoes and leeches, I’d encountered. Although I was supposedly camped within a protected marine park I witnessed several fishermen searching for lobsters in the area. It wasn’t so much that they were just catching lobsters but the very destructive manner in which they were doing it; they were using a long pole to probe the rocks with some considerable force, which would undoubtedly damage the coral.<br />
<br />
 I continued northwards through waters protected by offshore coral reefs and camped near Cap Masoala. I received a visit from two park rangers in a very impressive looking kayak. They were very interested in my trip and examined my swollen foot. They had no idea what it could be but one of them pointed to a hard black spot on my toe, one of a few I’d noticed, and informed me that a parasitic flea had laid its eggs in there, and that they had to be scraped out. I had suspected that they were more than just calluses. He had obviously had plenty of experience with them so I handed my knife to him and invited him to scrape them away; sure enough, once he had removed the black “crust” it revealed a small cavity packed with tiny eggs. He told me that it was very important to remove every last one to prevent my foot being turned into a flea hatchery. I was renowned for hosting uninvited guests on my travels but this was beginning to look like the definitive, open door trip to add to my ever-growing collection of body invaders.
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  • I gave up on trying to find my paddle, and tried to find a quiet stretch of beach to make camp; I wasn’t really in the mood for attracting a big audience that evening. But as I was racing through the surf towards the beach I saw some people pouring out of the trees and racing towards me, and they eagerly helped to drag my kayak away from the surf. Looking along the beach I could see a line of huts set back from the beach, and there were more people swarming towards me! Greetings ensued and then I started collecting firewood. I assembled a big pile of wood to be fed to the fire gradually whilst cooking my dinner and when I turned around I was horrified to see that they had set the whole pile ablaze; it was party time and the occasion called for a blazing bonfire to celebrate my arrival. It was time to chill out, so I relinquished any prospect of dinner and a quiet evening, and joined the party. I made tea and tried to find as many drinking containers as possible. Darkness settled and the crackling fire illuminated the circus of animated laughing faces around me. My phrasebook once again became the centre of attention and everyone wanted to have a go at trying to speak some English. The trials and tribulations of the day were soon forgotten amidst the laughter.<br />
I camped near the village for a couple of days, doing more repairs and trying to heal my sores. I continued to be the centre of attention of the village, and many people stopped by to observe the strange piece of flotsam that had washed up on their beach. The apparent village leader milked me as frequently as possible for new English phrases. His big opportunity came when it was time for me to leave, and he put his newly learnt expressions into practice by giving a running commentary on my departure - “Duncan Murrell is leaving today and the sun is shining, it is not cloudy, he had a good time here” – all perfectly enunciated like David Attenborough describing the actions of a wild animal.
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  • I had read about this small mammal, which is actually a member of the racoon family and not a cat, and it didn’t disappoint. They have obviously become habituated to the procession of kayakers that camp on the island, and on one particular beach. One of them crept into our camp even when we were awake and cooking on a campfire, and came very close to us; I could hear the sound of it clattering around with our cooking pots.
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  • My partner and I eventually separated and I had one last fantastic summer alone cruising around Southeast Alaska with “Avalon” and my Klepper folding kayak. After that I just used my kayak and took everything that I needed to travel around with the humpback whales and camp out for many weeks alone in the Alaskan wilderness. It became a big challenge to be able to pack so much food and equipment in drybags into and onto my small folding kayak; everything had its place in the intricate jigsaw puzzle. Packing the kayak was always a chore but a necessary one to enable me to have so much freedom all summer. I developed a good system for taking the right dried food along with a certain amount of fresh food that could be hung up in the trees and eaten in the right order. That was supplemented with a growing knowledge of wild food that could be harvested from the beaches and the forest.
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  • This amazing day was probably one of the most seminal days in my whole life; one of those days, as many were that I can still vividly remember, like the first really close encounter on this day when a whale surfaced right in front of me, but then it stopped abruptly and its massive rotund back rolled like an enormous ball right up against and beneath my kayak without creating barely a ripple. It gave me a sense of exhilaration that I had never ever experienced before. I may have just been paddling on flat calm water but it felt like I was gliding in the air because I was as high as a kite.
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  • In the early 90s I bought a new kayak; a small double kayak that would enable me to carry more supplies and take anybody out with me if I ever wanted to. The French Nautiraid Raid double kayak is designed to have the versatility of being paddled well as a large capacity single kayak as well as a double. I ordered it from my regular supplier of kayak gear in Sitka, Baidarka Boats, and it was delivered to Tenakee Springs. At that time I was also using an old pilot boat, “Selena”, that I had bought with the help of a natural history filming company that I was going to do some work for, but it never really worked out, and my filming career was very short-lived. Although I had progressed to using a larger kayak it was still a challenge to get everything in, including myself. The two clear containers strapped above the blue dry bag on the bow are my mobile “garden” in which I grew bean sprouts. The wheels strapped to the deck are for a kayak cart that didn’t survive very long. I had always used two polystyrene crab-pot floats strung on rope as rollers to haul my kayak up and down the rocky beaches. I discovered very few sandy unobstructed beaches in Southeast Alaska to make launching and landing any easier. Packing and launching, and then beaching and unloading was always time-consuming especially when I was either impatient to get underway, or tired from a hard day’s paddling and just wanting to make camp, a fire, cook dinner and sleep.
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  • After many years of good service from my ageing Klepper Aerius 1 folding kayak, I invested in a new French Nautiraid Raid double folding kayak, which is a small double that is very adaptable to paddle as a solo kayak. It gave me more carrying capacity and a larger, more comfortable cockpit to work from and move around in, but such a large beamy kayak required more effort to paddle it. It was much easier to pack than my old kayak and it was also incredibly stable, even in rough sea conditions. I very rarely used the cockpit cover and sprayskirt, which sometimes got me into trouble in heavy seas. After a few years of heavy usage the deck leaked quite badly, which was a serious  problem in heavy seas, and contributed to one of my worst near-death experiences when I got caught in bad weather crossing Chatham Strait, and my kayak filled up with icy cold water. I had to keep stopping to pump out the water but part of the pump came out so I had to use my cup to bale out the water after that. I only just made it and was shaking from being so chilled and the trauma for a long time even though it was a warm sunny day.<br />
This photo was taken by fellow whale photographer Francois Gohier from France. I had been familiar with his work for a long time as one of the most published whale photographers. He was shooting from a boat at one of my regular locations and camp sites, where the whales often perform bubble net feeding. He was kind enough to send me some of the photos that he took of me and commented, “You really know how to do things the hard way!” I couldn’t disagree with that comment because that’s my style, and even to this day I still do things the hard way because it’s the only way that I know how to be.
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  • The LeConte Inlet and Glacier were only a day's paddle from Petersburg so it was a good day out for me whenever I was living in the town. The glacier is the southernmost tide-water glacier in the Northern Hemisphere. I always enjoyed the challenge of trying to navigate my way through the congested ice floes, and then trying to photograph the seals without disturbing them, which most of the time I was able to do because of the stealth that a kayak provides. Being in a kayak also enabled me to get very close and low to icebergs so that I could take close-ups of the amazing icebergs sculpted into infinite shapes and forms, and luminescent with ethereal shades of blue and green. I always used the Indian method of anchoring with a rock tied to an anchor line resting on the bow, and then an additional longer bow line with the last half metre wrapped around the rock, so that when I pushed the kayak out and yanked on the long bow line the rock and anchor line were dislodged and fell into the water.
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  • This was one of the very rare occasions when a humpback whale ever showed any aggression towards me. I always tried to avoid obstructing the passage of whales but with so many encounters it was inevitable that sometimes I didn’t have enough time to get out of their way, especially if they surfaced in front of me without any warning. Even then I was often amazed at how they would just roll beneath me like a gigantic ball caressing the soft hull of my kayak with barely a ripple. But on this occasion I encountered a slightly more irritable whale and as it was sounding (diving), instead of just lifting its flukes up before sliding gracefully out of view, it rolled its flukes sideways, creating a large wave that surged towards me, over the bow of my kayak and onto my lap. The icy water of Southeast Alaska was always cold enough to give me a sharp intake of breath, and some degree of punishment for not giving way to a much larger vessel fast enough!
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  • It was always a relief to get everything packed into and onto my kayak. I broke all of the conventional rules regarding how much could be loaded onto the decks, but I was carrying such a heavy load with all of my camping and photographic equipment as well, that my kayak was still very stable, if not a little heavy to paddle. But after paddling so many miles like that and keeping up with the whales day after day I developed a very efficient strong paddling style all of my own. It became very metronomic and relaxing with the sound of the water gliding past me.
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  • This was one of the very rare occasions when a humpback whale ever showed any aggression towards me. I always tried to avoid obstructing the passage of whales but with so many encounters it was inevitable that sometimes I didn’t have enough time to get out of their way, especially if they surfaced in front of me without any warning. Even then I was often amazed at how they would just roll beneath me like a gigantic ball caressing the soft hull of my kayak with barely a ripple. But on this occasion I encountered a slightly more irritable whale and as it was sounding (diving), instead of just lifting its flukes up before sliding gracefully out of view, it rolled its flukes sideways, creating a large wave that surged towards me, over the bow of my kayak and onto my lap. The icy water of Southeast Alaska was always cold enough to give me a sharp intake of breath, and some degree of punishment for not giving way to a much larger vessel fast enough!
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  • I always felt completely safe in my kayak with the whales. If anyone ever asked me if I was afraid to get as close to the whales as I did, the answer was always a resounding yes because I always trusted them not to be aggressive towards me because I always tried to ensure that I posed no threat towards them. I often stayed with a pod for an entire day from morning to night and they would often surface alongside me and accompany me as if I was one of them. I became a familiar and unthreatening shape and presence to them, with no potentially deadly slashing propeller to concern them; I was virtually no different from other marine creatures like sea lions that often accompany them.
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  • The view of a pod of humpback whales sounding from the cockpit of Duncan Murrell’s Nautiraid folding kayak, Peril Strait, near Chatham Strait, Southeast Alaska, USA.<br />
<br />
I always felt completely safe in my kayak with the whales. If anyone ever asked me if I was afraid to get as close to the whales as I did, the answer was always a resounding yes because I always trusted them not to be aggressive towards me because I always tried to ensure that I posed no threat towards them. I often stayed with a pod for an entire day from morning to night and they would often surface alongside me and accompany me as if I was one of them. I became a familiar and unthreatening shape and presence to them, with no potentially deadly slashing propeller to concern them; I was virtually no different from other marine creatures like sea lions that often accompany them.
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  • Duncan Murrell photographing bubblenet feeding humpback whales from his Nautiraid folding kayak, Morris Reef, Point Hayes, Chatham Strait, Southeast Alaska, USA. Photo courtesy of Francois Gohier.<br />
<br />
This was another photo taken by Francois Gohier when we were both photographing bubblent feeding humpback whales on the Morris Reef, near Point Hayes. I was very familiar with the underwater topography around the Morris Reef and became very good at predicting the movement of the feeding whales along it as they herded the herring. The main problem there was the sea conditions because it is near the junction of Peril Strait and Chatham Strait, so there are usually very strong currents and any wind can exacerbate the conditions as well.
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  • Kayaker paddling through a natural sea arch, Isla Partida, near La Paz, Sea of Cortez and the Baja Peninsula, Mexico.<br />
We came across this beautiful natural sea arch on the way from Isla Partida to La Paz.
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  • It was fascinating to be able to view the geomorphology of the landscape so clearly on the Baja Peninsula, and in many places the past was revealed by the presence of fossilised shells indicating the changing sea levels. The geological strata were clearly visible along the coastline of Isla Partida.
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  • It was fascinating to be able to view the geomorphology of the landscape so clearly on the Baja Peninsula, and in many places the past was revealed by the presence of fossilised shells indicating the changing sea levels. The geological strata were clearly visible along the coastline of Isla Partida.
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  • The crossing to the Isle of Coll was good, but I was already experiencing the difficult sea conditions and ocean swells resulting from strong currents and variable wind patterns. I landed at the northern end of the island, and camped on a nice sandy beach between the extensive sand dunes and offshore rocks that create a labyrinth of pools and channels. There is an unmanned lighthouse on one of the offshore rocks. Coll is about 13 miles (20.9 km) long by 3 (4.8 km) miles wide with a population of around 220. Coll has no street lights and little other light pollution, and has been recognised as only the second location in Scotland with dark skies, enabling spectacular views of the heavens, including the Milky Way, when the sky is clear, something that I have also been able to enjoy whilst camping in Alaska and Baja.
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  • Up the next river I found a variety of stick insects and was able to watch a frog chirping at very close range. The frog chorus started in unison at about the same time very day, each species with its own distinctive call. I saw an incredible bird called a helmet vanga with the most ostentatious bright blue beak and paradise flycatchers trailing long ribbons of feathers behind them; this was the tropical paradise that I had been dreaming about. I was glad that my foot had healed sufficiently well enough to give me almost full mobility again. The next river that I paddled up was much larger than the others and there was a fishing village at the entrance and several dwellings along the lower reaches. I paddled as far as I could to find the greatest sense of solitude. I was well provisioned and I planned on camping there for a few days so that I could explore the surrounding forest. Just past my camp I found a beautiful tributary with a series of small waterfalls. When I hiked up the stream in the evening I entered frog heaven. I found six species, many of them very small and cryptic. The largest one was perched on a small branch and was not disturbed by my presence. I was able to photograph it from every conceivable angle.
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  • I would say that apart from the sea birds crabs were the most ubiquitous creatures that I encountered on the trip.
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  • I had stopped for a rest along this stretch of coastline and came across this mummified carcase of a dead minke whale. I removed a small section of its baleen plates, which I was later able to use in my school presentations to show the children exactly what baleen plates look like and how they work. I also found a lot of nautilus shells washed up on that stretch of coastline and miraculously managed to transport the incredibly fragile wafer-thin shells back to England. They are some of the most exquisitely beautiful objects that I have ever collected.
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  • Pair of magnificent frigate birds (Fregata magnificens) soaring in the thermals, Sea of Cortez and the Baja Peninsula, Mexico.<br />
I fell in love with the frigate birds and watched them endlessly soaring above me. They are true masters of effortless flight like the albatross. I was fortunate enough to examine one at close quarters, or I should say unfortunate enough because one of its wings was broken, meaning that it had no chance of survival. I was amazed at how slight and fragile their wings are, and in fact their entire body, hence how easily broken they are; presumably when they are engaged in an aerial dogfight with other marauding birds. They never swim because their long wings, adapted for gliding, and tiny feet render them unable to take off from water; all their food is snatched from the surface or stolen from other birds. The male is all black with a red throat pouch, which is inflated like a balloon for display. The female has a white breast and dark head. They have a scissor-like tail that is often folded in a point.
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  • I camped on one of the three Los Candeleros islets just to the south of Isla Danzante in the Bahia de Loreto National Park for three weeks on the way back to Loreto. From the top I had a clear view of the southern end of the channel between Isla Carmen and Isla Danzante, a passage frequently travelled by whales and dolphins. I was hoping for my first view of blue whales. I had only seen the second largest whales, fin whales, up to that point. When I wasn’t scanning the horizon for whales I was being hypnotised by the graceful magnificent frigate birds circling overhead in the thermals. They are the ultimate gliders among birds, able to hang in the for hours with harly a movement of their long, thin, angular wings. The shallow water around the islets was excellent for snorkelling although the water was much colder than I expected. It was wonderful to camping under the clear skies, with the stars so vivid because of the absence of light pollution from people. The temperature at night was perfect without any need for a sleeping bag or any protection from insects.
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  • It was such a relief to set foot on my first beach along the Masoala Peninsula and what a beautiful beach it was. There was a small river flowing out from the dense forest and I couldn’t wait to explore it. But I was physically drained and the next day was a day of recovery and quiet, relaxed contemplation of my verdant surroundings. When I finally paddled up the river and walked as far as I could I was mesmerised by the vegetation. There was such a wonderful variety of different trees, tree ferns and palms, many of them undoubtedly endemic to Madagascar or even to the Masoala Peninsula. This is what I had been dreaming of when I first made plans for this trip; to be alone in a remote part of Madagascar with the means to explore rivers and penetrate one of the most scientifically valuable rainforests on <br />
the planet. I continued along the peninsula looking for more rivers to explore.
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  • This was one of the most amazing things that I witnessed on the trip. I was on a beach where large numbers of squid were beaching themselves after mating. Once they were stranded they started flushing red rapidly back and forth along their bodies, presumably as a sign of agitation. Then I saw several large moray eels wriggling through the shallow water following them right up to the water’s edge and then to my amazement I watched them engulf and swallow the squid whole in the blinking of the eye. I could see why the moray eel has such a large head with wrinkled skin to allow it to swallow large prey whole rather like a snake.
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  • This natural spring was the first water that I had encountered since I left La Paz. There was a small trickle of water from above this pool and I had one of the most heavenly showers ever in that most welcome oasis. It felt strange to see so much lush greenery and living creatures after so many miles of dry arid coastline. I have always been a dog lover and throughout my travels I have befriended dogs, usually by feeding them and showing them some unfamiliar kindness. I teamed up with a dog from the ranch and he accompanied me on a hike up the rocky canyon, where I had to traverse one large boulder after another and often have to help my canine friend along the way. He stayed with me and slept at my camp with me right up until when I left. It had been nice to have a loyal companion for a few days but sad to watch him wandering along the shoreline rather disconsolately as I paddled away.
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  • The Jesuit missionary Ciamente Guillen founded Mission Dolores in 1721 on the coast of the Baja Peninsula about midway between Loreto and La Paz. There was a small ranch near the beach with these burros. The people were very friendly and helpful, allowing me to replenish my water supply from their well and there was an unexpected bonus; I arrived just when the mangos on their mango tree were ripe so for a small price I was able to stock up on a rare treat of fresh succulent fruit; truly manna from heaven in that barren place.
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  • Dead puffer fish washed up on beaches are a very painful hazard to avoid. They are like little mines that cause an explosion of pain if you are unfortunate enough to step on one.
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  • It was amazing to get in the water with the sea lions and witness their graceful speed and agility. They were curious about me as soon as I appeared. This is a popular destination for swimming with sea lions so that are very habituated to the presence of people in the water with them. It was mostly younger juveniles that I could see, with the occasional large bull, which although large seemed quite small in comparison with the Steller sea lions in Alaska.
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  • One of my primary objectives for the trip and for paddling as far south as La Paz was to dive with California sea lions at a well publicised haul out at a small island called Los Islotes, near Isla Partida, just to the north of La Paz. California sea lions are smaller than the enormous Steller sea lions that I was so fondly familiar with in Alaska. I have had so many close, entertaining and interactive encounters with those clowns of the sea and now at long last I had the opportunity to experience their antics underwater, where they are transformed from being lumbering mounds of blubber to agile, graceful underwater dancers. Los Islotes is a pink crest of rock sticking abruptly out of the sea with numerous ledges around its base as if it had been purpose-built for sea lions to sunbathe and loll around on.
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  • With such sparse vegetation and the exposed geology, the sense of perspective, space and geological time is greatly enhanced. In the foreground is an elephant tree, one of the many plants perfectly adapted to surviving the extremely arid conditions prevalent in Baja. Standing water was virtually non-existent when I was there but the eroded streambeds created by the brief seasonal flash flooding were clearly evident.
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  • These colourful Sally lightfoot crabs (Grapsus grapsus) were the species that I observed the most, usually scurrying around the rocks just above the water.
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  • With such sparse vegetation and the exposed geology, the sense of perspective, space and geological time is greatly enhanced. In the foreground is an elephant tree, one of the many plants perfectly adapted to surviving the extremely arid conditions prevalent in Baja. Standing water was virtually non-existent when I was there but the eroded streambeds created by the brief seasonal flash flooding were clearly evident.
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