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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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  • A pair of humpback whales (Megaptera novaeanglia) sounding, Icy Strait, Southeast Alaska, USA.<br />
<br />
I never tired of photographing the whales when they were sounding (diving), because the flukes are such a beautiful shape and the motion is so graceful as they raise them prior to sliding into the water, whilst shedding a sparkling waterfall. There was also the additional aesthetic element of their ethereal breath, which always looked much better than the smell, which is foul and very fishy; research has revealed many harmful pathogens contained in their breath. There are also droplets of mucous that often coated myself and my lens, giving the soft-focus effect evident in this photo, but I usually tried to avoid getting engulfed by their foul-smelling breath.
    Humpback whales-8.tif
  • The flukes of a humpback whales' flukes during sounding is one of the most graceful, aerodynamic shapes in the animal kingdom. I never tired of observing and photographing that hypnotically beautiful form and motion that delighted the eye from every conceivable angle. It was an advantageous benefit to be photographing them from the low sea-level angle from a kayak. The low angle helps to silhouette them against the distant background, creating a greater sense of drama and perspective rather than just against the water. That is very noticeable if you compare photos taken from a kayak and a boat.
    Alaska-humpback-whale-sounding12.jpg
  • Humpback whale (Megaptera novaeanglia) sounding, Peril Strait, Chatham Strait, Southeast Alaska, USA.
    Humpback whales-17.tif
  • Humpback whales (Megaptera novaeangliae) sounding near the entrance to Pleasant Bay, Admiralty Island, Seymour Canal, Southeast Alaska, USA.<br />
The weather conditions were frequently overcast and gloomy for days on end, but if the sunlight ever pierced through the all pervading gloom, the whales seemed to attract it; their graceful motion, water shed from their flukes and diaphanous breath became brilliantly highlighted by a spotlight in their murky world.
    Alaska-humpback-whale-sounding15.jpg
  • 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!
    Alaska-camping-kayaking23.jpg
  • 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!
    Alaska-camping-kayaking24.jpg
  • A pair of humpback whales (Megaptera novaeanglia) blowing and sounding, Tenakee Inlet, Southeast Alaska, USA.
    Humpback whales-22.tif
  • Humpback whale (Megaptera novaeanglia) sounding, Stephen’s Passage, Southeast Alaska, USA.<br />
<br />
The unusual and dramatic lighting was created by a forest fire hundreds of miles away in the Yukon Territory. The smoky haze drifted across Southeast Alaska during a rare period of clear weather, intensified the lighting and created a glowing band of light along the horizon.
    Humpback whales-3.tif
  • I never tired of photographing the whales when they were sounding, because the flukes are such a beautiful shape and the motion is so graceful as they raise them just before slipping into the water, whilst shedding a sparkling waterfall. There was also the additional aesthetic element of their ethereal breath, but it had such a foul unbecoming fishy smell; research has revealed many harmful pathogens contained in their breath. There are also droplets of mucous that often coated myself and my lens, giving the soft-focus effect evident in this photo, but I usually tried to avoid getting engulfed by their foul-smelling breath.
    Alaska-humpback-whale-sounding19.jpg
  • Humpback whales (Megaptera novaeangliae) sounding near the entrance to Pleasant Bay, Admiralty Island, Seymour Canal, Southeast Alaska, USA.<br />
The weather conditions were frequently overcast and gloomy for days on end, but if the sunlight ever pierced through the all pervading gloom, the whales seemed to attract it; their graceful motion, water shed from their flukes and diaphanous breath became brilliantly highlighted by a spotlight in their murky world.
    Alaska-humpback-whale-sounding17.jpg
  • Humpback whale (Megaptera novaeanglia) sounding, Stephen’s Passage, Southeast Alaska, USA.
    Humpback whales-14-2.tif
  • Humpback whales arch their backs very prominently before sounding, hence the name "humpback".
    Alaska-humpback-whale-sounding11.jpg
  • Humpback whales probably raise their flukes up high like this when sounding if they are going to do a steep vertical dive down to deeper water, but less so when they are just going to be swimming at shallower depths.<br />
This photo was used by Athena International in the late 1980s for posters and cards.
    Alaska-humpback-whale-sounding4.jpg
  • A humpback whale sounds dramatically and forcefully in front of the Nautiraid kayak of Duncan Murrell, Peril Strait, near Chatham Strait, Southeast Alaska, USA.<br />
<br />
This was one of the very rare occasions when a humpack 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!
    Whaleman-15.tif
  • This photo was also used by the Dutch company Verkerke for their paper products in the 1990s.
    Alaska-humpback-whale-sounding6.jpg
  • The unusual and dramatic lighting was created by a forest fire hundreds of miles away in the Yukon Territory. The smoky haze drifted across Southeast Alaska during a rare period of clear weather, intensified the lighting and created a luminous band of light along the horizon.
    Alaska-humpback-whale-sounding8.jpg
  • Alaska-humpback-whale-sounding3.jpg
  • Alaska-humpback-whale-sounding7.jpg
  • The frequently dramatic skies, clouds and lighting of Southeast Alaska enhances the dramatic setting of the stage upon which the humpback whales perform every summer.
    Alaska-humpback-whale-sounding14.jpg
  • This was one of my very few whale photos that was taken from a boat when I was living in Petersburg: this was taken a short distance from the town. The products manager that used a lot of my work for Athena International moved to another big international paper products company, Verkerke based in the Netherlands. He continued to select my whale photos for the new company, and this is one of the first images that was used for a large poster.
    Alaska-humpback-whale-sounding5.jpg
  • The unusual and dramatic lighting was created by a forest fire hundreds of miles away in the Yukon Territory. The smoky haze drifted across Southeast Alaska during a rare period of clear weather, intensified the lighting and created a luminous band of light along the horizon.
    Alaska-humpback-whale-sounding9.jpg
  • It was always good to have Fred Sharpe and his fellow whale researchers around in their Alaska Whale Foundation boat, “the Evolution”. We both had a lot of mutual respect for each other, and very importantly to me he shared the same respect for the whales, and always operated in a very non-intrusive manner. I was so used to being out there camping alone, but it was always nice to enjoy their company, and catch up on some jovial socializing and fine dining onboard his boat.<br />
Dr. Fred Sharpe started studying the behaviour of humpback whales in Southeast Alaska from a small skiff around about the same time that I started photographing them from a kayak. While I became quite obsessed with photographing the incredible cooperative bubble net feeding strategy of the whales, Fred conducted ground-breaking research into that behaviour and established such things as the task specialisation of individual members within a feeding group, whereby the same whale blows the bubbles and the same one makes the piercing feeding call. he is now stationed at the Five Finger Lighthouse, armed with a wireless hydrophone that AWF hopes will allow them to record and broadcast live, the diverse vocalizations made by humpback whales in Southeast Alaska.
    Alaska-humpback-whale-sounding22.jpg
  • The unusual and dramatic lighting was created by a forest fire hundreds of miles away in the Yukon Territory. The smoky haze drifted across Southeast Alaska during a rare period of clear weather, intensified the lighting and created a glowing band of light along the horizon.
    Alaska-humpback-whale-sounding21.jpg
  • Alaska-humpback-whale-sounding20.jpg
  • This is a rare photo taken from a boat rather than from my kayak. I took it from the deck of a small catamaran owned by the postmaster at Tenakee Springs. It was always such a mesmerising sight watching the blows of the whales being illuminated by the sun when the sun was low in the sky. It was usually emphasised by the dark backdrop of the mountains.
    Alaska-humpback-whale-blowing4.jpg
  • Alaska-humpback-whale-sounding18.jpg
  • The weather conditions were frequently overcast and gloomy for days on end, but if the sunlight ever pierced through the all pervading gloom, the whales seemed to attract it; their graceful motion, water shed from their flukes and diaphanous breath became brilliantly highlighted by a spotlight in their murky world.
    Alaska-humpback-whale-sounding16.jpg
  • This was my first really memorable day kayaking with humpback whales in my Klepper kayak in the early 1980s. It was a beautiful sunny day and the sea was flat calm. There was a pod of humpback whales feeding in the area all afternoon.
    Alaska-humpback-whale-sounding1.jpg
  • Southeast-Alaska-Avalon14.jpg
  • 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.
    Alaska-camping-kayaking22.jpg
  • This was taken just off the entrance to Pleasant Harbour where I either used to anchor my boat or camp on the little islet at the entrance that is on the right of this photo. This was my regular base in my early years with the whales in Southeast Alaska. It was always a thrill to emerge from the beautiful cosy little safe anchorage in the morning and be greeted by volleys of whale blows illuminated by the rising sun against the shaded Glass Peninsula.
    Alaska-humpback-whale-sounding13.jpg
  • Humpbacks have an enormous lung capacity, which makes it possible for them to dive for long periods, often in excess of 20 minutes, These extended dives allow the animals to descend to deep water for foraging (up to 500 ft - 150 m). When the whale surfaces to breathe, it only has a few moments to exchange the air in its lungs, so it must exhale with tremendous force. The force of this exhalation vaporises the seawater that surrounds the blowhole and creates a "blow". This vertical plume of water vapour is usually the first indicator that a whale is in the area, and can usually be seen and heard over long distances. On several occasions I paddled stealthily up to a whale resting or sleeping on the surface just to be able to observe the blowhole in operation at close quarters, and was amazed at the power and speed that the blowhole opens and shuts during the exhalation and inhalation, and the explosive force of the breath rushing out and fresh air rushing back in.<br />
I observed them often sleeping in the afternoon, their rotund backs completely motionless with their flukes and long pectoral fins hanging down. Whales and dolphins don't sleep for extended periods the way that we do but just take short naps. To avoid drowning during sleep, it is crucial that marine mammals retain control of their blowhole. The blowhole is a flap of skin that is thought to open and close under the voluntary control of the animal. Although still a matter of discussion, most researchers feel that in order to breathe, a dolphin or whale must be conscious and alert to recognize that its blowhole is at the surface.
    Alaska-humpback-whale-sounding10.jpg
  • This was my first really memorable day kayaking with humpback whales in my Klepper kayak in the early 1980s. It was a beautiful sunny day and the sea was flat calm. There was a pod of humpback whales feeding in the area all afternoon. I managed to capture a lot of good photos on this day with my Olympus OM1 because the conditions were so perfect and the whales remained in the same area for a long time. This was my first photo that I ever saw published in a book on whales. I stumbled across it in a book shop in Juneau, Alaska, which was a great thrill and gave me a lot of encouragement to continue photographing the whales. But the most rewarding encouragement for me was when most of the main conservation organisations, like the WWF, Greenpeace and Friends of the Earth started using my whale photos for their Save the Whale campaigns.
    Alaska-humpback-whale-sounding2.jpg
  • 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.
    Alaska-camping-kayaking2.jpg
  • This was another photo taken by Francois Gohier when he was also photographing the bubble net feeding whales around the Morris Reef at Point Hayes. 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.
    Alaska-camping-kayaking20.jpg
  • The prevailing wind in Southeast Alaska is SE, and in the early days when I was kayaking mainly in Frederick Sound and Stephens Passage I had to paddle southwards back to Petersburg against strong headwinds and waves. But sometimes the wind and waves were too much for me when the weather  deteriorated in late September, and I had to just sit out the storms and wait for a break in the weather. On this occasion I had to wait at least a week, and I was down to my last provisions. It was exhilarating to look out across the stormy sea feeling the full might of the wind rampaging across the long fetch of Frederick Sound. But I was getting frustrated and my tent was being attacked by a very aggressive territorial squirrel that objected to me living on his patch. It was the only clearing that I could find to pitch my tent, and because it was relatively open the forest floor was riddled with the squirrel's burrows. It started chewing holes in my precious "Omnipotent" tent and then it escalated to bombarding it with fir-cones. I had to retaliate and throw them back at him, and the tension continued to escalate from there until I had to declare war on the squirrel. I was always very wary of the squirrels in Southeast Alaska because they were worse than bears for trying to raid my food, and they chewed holes in some of my drybags, with perfect insight into where their favourite snacks like peanuts were located. Eventually I woke up one night and the moon was beaming across a placid Frederick Sound so I made a dash for it and paddled for 14 hours straight to get back to Petersburg before the weather changed.
    Southeast-Alaska-coast11.jpg
  • Humpback whale (Megaptera novaeangliae) on the surface at sunset just after blowing, Frederick Sound, Southeast Alaska, USA.
    Alaska-humpback-whale-blowing3.jpg
  • It was so beautiful to be out on Frederick Sound where it meets Stephens Passage to the North. It is surrounded by the mountains of the mainland to the East and the North, Kupreanof Island to the South, and Baranof and Admiralty Island to the West.  There are passages to get out to the Pacific Ocean, but it seems contained like a massive lake. It can be tranquil like a millpond like this photo, but very quickly transformed into a maelstrom by powerful South-easterly winds, and strong currents.
    Southeast-Alaska-Avalon10.jpg
  • This photo was taken by one of the leading humpback whale researchers in Southeast Alaska at the time, Cynthia D’Vincent. She was actually working with a film crew at the time who were making an IMAX film. We had a lot of encounters during the filming and she pointed out that I was getting into "rather too many" of their shots, and politely asked me if I could try to avoid doing that. I was getting fed up with having to breathe in the exhaust fumes from their fast boats, whilst I was left rocking in their wake. I continued to work in my usual low impact fashion, but eventually they got all of the shots that they needed and I was thanked for obliging with her request, and I was rewarded with a bottle of wine. <br />
The unusual lighting, and atmospheric conditions at sunset, was a result of an extensive forest fire in the Yukon Territory hundreds of miles away to the northeast.
    Alaska-camping-kayaking26.jpg
  • If I paddled past a sea lion haul-out I always attracted a tightly-packed group of noisy sea lions like a magnet: they would extend their heads as high as they could to get a better look at me. They always stayed bunched together rather like a shoal of fish that employs the "one in the middle" defensive group strategy that relies on strength of numbers to increase an individuals chance of survival. They were very vociferous but always kept a safe distance, unless they dived underwater to get a closer look at me: I could see them circling beneath me and looking up at me with their big bulging eyes.
    Alaska-Steller-sealion8.jpg
  • Some of the herring they are catching are clearly visible above the lunging whales. This was taken during a period of clear weather when there was a forest fire hundreds of miles away in the Yukon Territory, which created the unusual lighting.
    Alaska-humpbackwhale-bubblenet25.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
  • These two humpback whales were members of a cooperative feeding group using bubble nets to herd and catch shoals of herring. There are submerged reefs in this area that they were working for a while, and it is most likely that they were breaching to create panic and shock waves to herd the herring against the reef and shoreline. I witnessed this behaviour several times with cooperative feeding pods when some of them either breached or lobtailed in unison in strategic locations to herd the shoal of herring into a bay, against a shoreline or submerged reef. I once witnessed five whales breaching simultaneously. It's incredible how they manage to coordinate their breaching over distance: another example of their highly developed social behaviour and communication.
    Alaska-humpback-whale-breach3.jpg
  • Alaska-humpback-whale-breach1.jpg
  • Yasha Island was my regular place for observing, photographing and simply being entertained by sea lions. I had to land my kayak on the opposite side of the islet, creep stealthily through the rocks and trees, and then low down on my belly to get right in amongst them. There is usually so much noise and commotion at a haul-out that it's surprisingly easy to get in amongst them. Their vision is evidently quite poor out of water, so as long as I moved very slowly and didn't stand up and become boldly silhouetted, I could "bluff" my way into their close company. Sometimes one of them would stare at me inquisitively but as long as I kept completely motionless, it then continued participating in the general pandemonium that frequently pervades the haul-outs. But sometimes a degree of calm is restored as this photo illustrates, but it takes just one incident to flair up, perhaps when one of them is rudely awakened by the clumsiness of another one trying to get past it, and then the pandemonium sweeps across the haul-out like a wild fire with their extended heads swaying in the air belching out disgruntled roars and groans.
    Alaska-Steller-sealion5.jpg
  • I took this photo from the end of the salmon cannery where I worked from 1979-86. The Devils Thumb mountain is clearly visible on the border between Canada and the USA.This photo was my first photo to be used by the Alaskan Marine Highway, and appeared on the cover of the ferry schedule. They used several more of my photos in exchange for free passes every year.
    Alaska-ferry.jpg
  • This photo was taken near the Tlingit village of Kake on Kupreanof Island and illustrates the problems of the practice of clear-cut logging that persisted during the 1980s and 90s when I was based in Southeast Alaska. The extent of clear-cutting was much worse around native communities because the Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act of 1971 (ANCSA) awarded approximately 148,500,000 acres (601,000 km2) of Federal land in Alaska to private native corporations which were created under ANCSA. Transference of public National Forest land to a privately owned corporation removes it from protection by Federal law and allows the owners to use the land in whatever way they see fit without regard to the effects of the use on surrounding lands and ecosystems. This fact has caused much controversy involving the business interests of Native Regional Corporations and the personal interests of local Natives and non-Native residents of Southeastern Alaska, such as subsistence hunting and tourism.
    Alaska-humpbackwhale-bubblenet6.jpg
  • 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
  • kayaking-Madagascar-frogs3.jpg
  • kayaking-Madagascar-frogs29.jpg
  • The sea lions have such a thick coating of blubber to cushion their bodies that they can sleep just about anywhere and look very comfortable. It is a different matter when they are trying to haul their bulky bodies around with only their flippers to assist them. It involves a lot of huffing and puffing, heaving and swaying with much grunting and steam belching from their open mouths. They look like big sacks of blubber and bones being dragged across the rocks: in stark contrast to their fluid graceful motion underwater like huge flying fish.
    Alaska-Steller-sealion6.jpg
  • Reproductively mature male sea lions aggregate on traditional rookeries in May, usually on beaches on isolated islands. A week or so later, adult females arrive, accompanied occasionally by sexually immature offspring, and form fluid aggregations throughout the rookery. Steller sea lions are polygamous but they do not coerce individual females into harems but control spatial territories among which females freely move about. Pregnant females give birth soon after arriving on a rookery, and copulation generally occurs one to two weeks after giving birth, but the fertilized egg does not become implanted in the uterus until the autumn. After about a week of nursing, females start taking increasingly longer foraging trips, leaving the pups behind until in late summer when they both leave the rookery. Males fast until August, often without returning to the water, after which time the rookeries break up and most animals leave for the open seas and disperse throughout their range.<br />
Steller sea lions are predated upon by orcas and I actually witnessed the death of one bull that had become quite attached to me. It had been showing so much interest in me and it even raised its head out of the water right in front of me to have a good look with its bulging eyes. A short while later I heard a commotion in the distance and saw that a pod of transient orcas had arrived on the scene and were systematically charging the sea lion and thrashing it with their flukes. It was a difficult event to witness, especially whenever the big bull re-appeared on the surface gasping for breath. It took the orcas about 15 minutes to finally kill it and not long after that they were attacking some humpback whales that had strayed onto the scene. It was an exhilarating experience to be paddling my kayak so close to a pod of orcas engaged in a hunt, but they showed no interest in me. It was one of those occasions when I wished that I’d had someone else with me to witness such an amazing spectacle.
    Alaska-Steller-sealion2.jpg
  • Reproductively mature male sea lions aggregate on traditional rookeries in May, usually on beaches on isolated islands. A week or so later, adult females arrive, accompanied occasionally by sexually immature offspring, and form fluid aggregations throughout the rookery. Steller sea lions are polygamous but they do not coerce individual females into harems but control spatial territories among which females freely move about. Pregnant females give birth soon after arriving on a rookery, and copulation generally occurs one to two weeks after giving birth, but the fertilized egg does not become implanted in the uterus until the autumn. After about a week of nursing, females start taking increasingly longer foraging trips, leaving the pups behind until in late summer when they both leave the rookery. Males fast until August, often without returning to the water, after which time the rookeries break up and most animals leave for the open seas and disperse throughout their range.<br />
Steller sea lions are predated upon by orcas and I actually witnessed the death of one bull that had become quite attached to me. It had been showing so much interest in me and it even raised its head out of the water right in front of me to have a good look with its bulging eyes. A short while later I heard a commotion in the distance and saw that a pod of transient orcas had arrived on the scene and were systematically charging the sea lion and thrashing it with their flukes. It was a difficult event to witness, especially whenever the big bull re-appeared on the surface gasping for breath. It took the orcas about 15 minutes to finally kill it and not long after that they were attacking some humpback whales that had strayed onto the scene. It was an exhilarating experience to be paddling my kayak so close to a pod of orcas engaged in a hunt, but they showed no interest in me. It was one of those occasions when I wished that I’d had someone else with me to witness such an amazing spectacle.
    Alaska-Steller-sealion1.jpg
  • I often used to creep up close to the sea lions hauled out on Yasha Island, just off Point Gardiner at the southern end of Admiralty Island. I could see this young sea lion laying down on its belly, and that it had something around its neck, but nothing could have prepared me for the gut-wrenching sight when it reared up and I could see the full extent of the damage and suffering that this poor creature must have endured. The net had become deeply embedded in its throat as it had continued to grow after first getting entangled with it when it was probably playing with it. One strand of the net passed through its mouth like a horse's bit, and had pulled its mouth back into a horrific frozen grimace. I felt so sickened by the daily torture that this poor animal must have been subjected to, but it also seemed like it had somehow adapted to it demonstrating the incredible resilience of wild animals. Apart from its horrific embedded necklace it looked just as well fed and healthy as the other sea lions. I felt compelled to try to capture it without really knowing how I could hang onto the sea lion to remove the net, but I wasn't able to get close enough without disturbing all of the sea lions. When I returned to Petersburg I reported it to the Dept of Fish and Game, and was glad to hear that they were going there to do a survey, but unfortunately I later heard that they were unable to find the poor animal. I don't know how much longer that it would have been able to survive like this if it was still growing.<br />
This kind of entanglement in fishing nets is a major problem for all marine life, but it must be particularly so for sea lions because they are so inquisitive and playful. A few years later I was working on a whale research boat in Sri Lanka, and we came across two turtles entangled in a big clump of fishing net, but fortunately we were able to free them.
    Alaska-Steller-sealion10.jpg
  • Observing sea lions at close quarters at their haul-outs was like going to a circus, because there always so much going on to entertain and amuse. They are such noisy and smelly places, and sometimes I had to crawl through the foul, stagnant rockpools to get amongst them, but it was always worth it. There was often sparring going on between the big bulls, which involved a lot of heaving and wheezing, and roaring. If they weren't sparring then they would be posturing in  a high and mighty fashion with their heads thrown back and their chests puffed out. Younger bulls appeared to congregate in gangs like delinquents hell-bent on mischief, usually directed at the less mobile larger bulls. One of the funniest incidents I have ever seen in the animal kingdom was when there was a big bull teetering on a narrow ledge on a rock-face about 2 metres above the sea. Beneath him there were some mischievous juveniles that were leaping up at him out of the water to nip him on his exposed posterior that he was unable to protect because of his precarious situation. He was getting understandably very irritated, and eventually fell off the narrow ledge into the sea making a big splash: it was hilarious! I also enjoyed watching the juveniles playing in the tidal surges that swept them back and forth along channels between the rocks. Sometimes when I was paddling in big swells with waves crashing onto the rocks I marvelled at how the sea lions revelled in the opportunity to play close to the rocks in sea conditions that were threatening to me.
    Alaska-Steller-sealion3.jpg
  • Humpback whale (Megaptera novaeanglia) sounding near some whale researchers in their inflatable boat, Chatham Strait, Southeast Alaska, USA.<br />
<br />
It was always good to have Fred Sharpe and his fellow whale researchers around in their Alaska Whale Foundation boat, “the Evolution”. We both had a lot of mutual respect for each other, and very importantly to me he shared the same respect for the whales, and always operated in a very non-intrusive manner. I was so used to being out there camping alone, but it was always nice to enjoy their company, and catch up on some jovial socializing and fine dining onboard his boat.
    Humpback whales-24.tif
  • 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.
    Whaleman-14.tif
  • Humpback whales (Megaptera novaeangliae) lobtailing, Frederick Sound, Southeast Alaska, USA.<br />
Humpback whales are the most acrobatic and playful whales on the surface, making them the perfect whale for whale watching, with additional bonus of their spectacular cooperative bubble net feeding behavior. They engage in a lot of breaching (jumping) and lobtailing, which is when they raise their flukes out of the water and slap the surface repeatedly as this individual is doing. It creates a thunderclap noise that can be heard miles away. Actually on this occasion it was a cow and a calf lobtailing together, and the calf is often the instigator for play: they kept this up for about half an hour. There are many possible reasons for this behavior including trying to dislodge barnacles and other parasites, communicating with other whales, herding prey and as a threat display to boats that approach too closely. It could also be just for recreation.
    Alaska-humpback-whale-lobtail2.jpg
  • I was awestruck when I was close enough to watch one cruise past me just beneath the surface. My first impression was that I was looking at a very prehistoric creature that could have been swimming alongside aquatic dinosaurs. It was astonishing to watch how the appearance of their head changed so quickly and dramatically as soon as they opened their jaws to commence feeding on the plankton soup; I can best describe it as a large umbrella popping open. I wasn’t in a position to climb out of my kayak to swim with them so I had to attempt to photograph them from the surface. I had brought a Canon G5 compact camera with a wide-angle extension lens, inside an Ikelite housing to take underwater photos. I had to try to position myself directly in front of them but not obstructing their passage, but that was difficult to do because when they are feeding they don’t just swim in a straight line but more in circles. I had to be very patient to get some reasonably good shots, and of course I was only holding the camera and housing over the side so I had to anticipate and estimate when they were in the frame. It took quite a lot of trial and error before I was successful. The visibility was very low because the water was so thick with plankton, which attracted 3 or 3 sharks as far as I can remember. I was so transfixed by these amazing but strange looking creatures that I had to drag myself away from them because I still had a long paddle ahead of me to get to Mull and Lunga, but I was quite sure that it wasn’t my last encounter with basking sharks on the trip, and fortunately I was right about that. It has recently been confirmed by data collected by the Wildlife Trusts that the place where I had my first encounter with basking sharks, Gunna Sound, between Coll and Tiree is a hotspot for them with numbers up to 4 times higher than recorded elsewhere in the UK.
    Kayaking-West-Coast-Scotland12.jpg
  • Humpback whales (Megaptera novaeanglia) cooperative feeding using a bubble net, the Morris Reef, Chatham Strait, Southeast Alaska, USA.<br />
<br />
I remember this group of bubblenet feeders very distinctly because I had many close encounters with them on the Morris Reef. There was a core group of the usual 5 or 6 individual whales and they were creating a lot of bubble nets. On this occasion they were so close to me that I had to remove my headphones because the sound of their feeding call was so loud and piercing. It was a sound that became so familiar to me, and was so ingrained in my mind that it constantly haunted my thoughts. I would imagine that it has the same effect on their prey. <br />
The baleen plates of one of the whales are clearly visible, and the means by which the water is filtered through them retaining any prey in its mouth.
    Humpback whales-20.tif
  • This was definitely one of my favourite camps in Southeast Alaska because Point Gardiner is such a spectacular location with tremendous views across Frederick Sound and Chatham Strait down to the Pacific Ocean, and Baranof Island with its spine of lofty mountains and glaciers. It wasn't the easiest camp to get to after arriving because of the extensive wave-cut platform at Point Gardiner, and if i was exhausted, which I usually was because the crossing from Kupreanof Island to the south was the longest of the crossings I had to do, having to carry all of my gear to the camp in the dark used up the very last of my energy reserves. There was always so much wildlife off the point. The strong currents of Chatham Strait and Frederick Sound converge there creating upwellings and challenging sea conditions, which attracts a lot of life there, from seabirds to whales. There are extensive kelp beds around the point as well. Just offshore from the point is Yasha Island, which was my favourite sea lion haulout for observing Steller's sea lions at close quarters.
    Alaska-camping-kayaking9.jpg
  • This was the "Famous Five" group of bubble netters that I became so familiar with around the Morris Reef at Point Hayes. I became familiar with all of their physical differences like the colouration and markings under their throats. The one on the left was the most distinctive with its pink throat and the circular scars where barnacles had dropped off; it was always one of the lead whales that lunged vertically. Humpback whales are usually identified by the distinctive colouration, markings and scars on the ventral side of the flukes. I could also identify them by the distinctive sound of each blow: some are more explosive: some more guttural: some sound like a ricochet: some are more like sneezes.
    Alaska-humpbackwhale-bubblenet7.jpg
  • Dramatic declines in harbor seal numbers have been documented in Alaska, including a decline from approximately 11,000 seals to 1,000 seals during 1976-1988 on Tugidak Island near Kodiak – a site previously considered to host one of the largest concentrations of harbor seals in the world. That decline resulted in the listing of Alaskan harbor seals as a species of special concern by the Marine Mammal Commission. A 63% decline in harbor seal numbers also occurred in Prince William Sound during 1984-1997. Although seal numbers in the Kodiak area have been steadily increasing since the early 1990s and seal numbers in PWS began to stabilize and show signs of increase in 2002, both populations remain severely depressed compared to pre-decline population levels. Similarly, a greater than 65% decline in seal numbers has been documented in Glacier Bay since the early 1990s. Seals in Glacier Bay continue to decline at a precipitous rate despite conservation measures in place to control vessel traffic, commercial fishing, and subsistence harvest. The declines and lack of substantial recovery of some harbor seal populations in Alaska contrasts sharply with other parts of the world, where the species has proven to be resilient and capable of fairly rapid recovery from perturbations. There is no evidence that movements of seals between areas can explain these declines; the cause is unknown, but multiple factors are likely involved. Harbor seals appear to have responded severely to changes in carrying capacity and therefore may be particularly sensitive indicators of future change, such as ocean warming.
    Alaska-harbour-seal5.jpg
  • Point Gardiner was one of my favourite places to camp, explore and kayak around. The shore was great for beach-combing because Point Gardiner is in such an exposed location at the southern tip of Admiralty Island where Frederick Sound and Chatham Strait converge, and faces towards the opening to the Pacific Ocean at the southern end of Chatham Strait. Many of the beaches are littered with logs from logging.
    Southeast-Alaska-coast8.jpg
  • Point Gardiner was one of my favourite places to camp, explore and kayak around. The shore was great for beach-combing because Point Gardiner is in such an exposed location at the southern tip of Admiralty Island where Frederick Sound and Chatham Strait converge, and faces towards the opening to the Pacific Ocean at the southern end of Chatham Strait. Many of the beaches are littered with logs from logging.
    Southeast-Alaska-coast7.jpg
  • Once I managed to drag myself away from the feeding basking sharks in Gunna Sound I headed SE to the southern end of Mull and then E to the small island of Lunga not too far off the mainland. The sea conditions were quite moderate and it was a very pleasant paddle highlighted by a most unexpected encounter. Shortly before arriving at Lunga I saw something on the surface with part of it sticking up above the surface and moving quickly. As I got closer I was able to identify the unmistakeable shape and unique means of propulsion of a sunfish. They can grow to a massive size but this was just a very small one. It was the first time that I’ve seen one, although they have been sighted quite frequently along the south coast of England, and even very close to the shore of one of my local beaches in Torbay. I had always associated them with tropical waters and never ever expected to see one that far north, but such is the changing nature of our climate and ocean currents that there will be a concomitant shift in the migratory patterns of many warm water creatures such as turtles. I managed to get close enough to get a good view of its unusual shape and the gyrating “sculling” action of its tail fin but then it disappeared, although it kept returning to the surface, so I could see how it gets its name of sunfish because they are surface baskers like the basking shark, although they are just doing it to feed.<br />
I had very good memories of visiting Lunga by boat during my first trip to the Inner Hebrides in 1990, especially seeing puffins up close for the first time. I was really looking forward to returning there and being able to camp on the island for a while. It is of volcanic origin and has been described as “a green jewel in a peacock sea” and once I was there again I could only echo that poetic description. It is one of the most beautiful places where I have ever camped and a place that I will always dream of returning to.
    Kayaking-West-Coast-Scotland14.jpg
  • Marojejy National Park was undoubtedly one of the highlights of my trip. The Marojejy Massif is a chain of mountains that rises to an elevation of 2,132 metres.The trekking up to the peaks was challenging, the scenery incredible, and the abundance and biodiversity of the flora and fauna all along the way was second to none: at least 118 species of birds, 148 species of reptiles and amphibians, and 11 species of lemur occur within Marojejy National Park. One of the lemurs, the silky sifaka (Propithecus candidus) is one of the world’s 25 most endangered primates.<br />
I travelled with a lovely couple from Switzerland, and we had an excellent guide called Rombo. The second base camp was just out of this world! The camp was raised up on stilts and overlooked a river that plummeted to the valley below and opposite, one of the peaks of the Marojejy massif towered above us; all around was lush verdant forest that resonated with the sound of birds, frogs and insects.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey45.jpg
  • This was a breaching whale that left an unforgettable visual imprint in my memory for all time. I was camped in Icy Strait where there are usually many humpback whales, and the scenery is incredible, with a fantastic backdrop of the massive Fairweather Mountain Range bordering Glacier Bay. It was a beautiful, flat-calm, sunny morning and one whale had got off to a flying start. It was breaching repeatedly and I got off to an early start to try to catch up with it on the other side of Icy Strait. <br />
Unfortunately by the time I got there it had stopped breaching, as always seemed to happen. I continued to paddle my kayak on that beautiful peaceful morning, gliding across the mirror-calm sea with the sound of the water dripping from my paddles amplified by the stillness. Then suddenly without any warning I could “feel” something erupting out of the water nearby so I spun around trying to locate the source of the disturbance. Glancing over my shoulder my view of the rising sun was eclipsed by the massive silhouette of the whale leaping out of the water, just a few metres behind my kayak; it had an auro of the sun’s rays around it like a religious icon. My jaw dropped with astonishment, and my heart must have skipped a few beats; and before I could react to protect myself or my camera there was a massive thud when the whale struck the water and I was drenched by a whale-sized, icy cold shower: I suddenly felt very small and vulnerable in my kayak. I had experienced the whales so many times at close quarters, but it’s not until you can actually view one in its entirety hovering above you that you can really appreciate the scale of a whale!
    Alaska-humpback-whale-breach5.jpg
  • Encountering orcas was a much rarer event than being with the humpback whales in Southeast Alaska so I always viewed it a special treat and a bonus for the summer. I always felt like I had to shift up into a much higher gear with the faster swimming orcas, and I usually knew that something out of the ordinary was going to happen. Most of pods of orcas I encountered were small transient pods specializing in hunting for marine mammals. On this occasion I was able to paddle many miles with a very large pod of at least 30 individuals that spanned the width of Chatham Strait. It was a beautiful, sunny day and the sea was calm without a puff of wind, which always makes it a bit easier to keep up with them. They appeared to be hunting for salmon by corralling them judging from the way their speed and direction changed periodically. It’s fascinating listening to the extensive chatter of orcas; they are much more vocal than the humpbacks and can produce a great range of sounds from clicks, squeals and whistles to what sounds like someone knocking on a door. The most memorable thing that happened on this day involved some young calves, which like the humpback calves were very inquisitive about me. I had just stopped for a rest and was observing the behavior of some of the orcas swimming past. Suddenly two calves popped their shiny black heads out of the water right next to the cockpit of my kayak! They were chattering away at me with their squealing and whistling, and after greeting them with a very surprised “hello’, my next instinct was to pat them on the head like puppies, but they disappeared before I had the chance to do that. <br />
I never ever felt threatened by orcas, even when the big bulls would sometimes swim straight towards me, and they would twist sharply at the last minute just before their tall dorsal fins could slice into me. I’m quite sure that they were only ever inquisitive about me.
    Southeast-Alaska- orca4.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
  • 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.
    Alaska-camping-kayaking5.jpg
  • Harbor seals show variable movement patterns depending on their sex and age class, with some exhibiting considerable localized travel but noseasonalpatterns,whileothersshowmoreextendedmovements,particularlyduringthewinter. Seasonaluseofglacialfjords,wheremanyfemalesaggregateto give birth on icebergs in the summer, is common. Satellite tagging studies have shown that pups may range up to 232 miles (374 km) from their birth site, although most movements are less than 62 miles (100km) away. Juvenile seals can make more extensive movements of up to 186-310 miles (300-500 km) away from their tagging location; however, most remain within 100km. Adult seals typically make shorter movements and on average are within 37 miles (60km) of their tagging site. More recent tagging of seals that occupy glacial fiords has revealed movements of seals from one glacial fiord to another as well as one extensive movement of a juvenile female seal from Glacier Bay in southeastern Alaska to Prince William Sound, an estimated straight-line distance of ~ 520 miles (830 km). As more seals are being satellite-tagged, much more information is becoming available about winter and summer movements.
    Alaska-harbour-seal2.jpg
  • Pod of orcas (Orcinus orca) cruising in Chatham Strait, Southeast Alaska, USA.<br />
<br />
Encountering orcas was a much rarer event than being with the whales in Southeast Alaska so I always viewed it a special treat and a bonus for the summer. I always felt like I had to shift up into a much higher gear with the faster swimming orcas, and I usually knew that something out of the ordinary was going to happen. Most of pods of orcas I encountered were small transient pods specializing in hunting for marine mammals. On this occasion I was able to paddle many miles with a very large pod of at least 30 individuals that spanned the width of Chatham Strait. It was a beautiful, sunny day and the sea was calm without a puff of wind, which always makes it a bit easier to keep up with them. They appeared to be hunting for salmon by corralling them judging from the way their speed and direction changed periodically. It’s fascinating listening to the extensive chatter of orcas; they are much more vocal than the humpbacks and can produce a great range of sounds from clicks, squeals and whistles to what sounds like someone knocking on a door. The most memorable thing that happened on this day involved some young calves, which like the humpback calves were very inquisitive about me. I had just stopped for a rest and was observing the behavior of some of the orcas swimming past. Suddenly two calves popped their shiny black heads out of the water right next to the cockpit of my kayak! They were chattering away at me with their squealing and whistling, and after greeting them with a very surprised “hello’, my next instinct was to pat them on the head like puppies, but they disappeared before I had the chance to do that. <br />
I never ever felt threatened by orcas, even when the big bulls would sometimes swim straight towards me, and they would twist sharply at the last minute just before their tall dorsal fins could slice into me. I’m quite sure that they were only ever inquisitive about me.
    Humpback whales-12.tif
  • This was a breaching whale that left an unforgettable visual imprint in my memory for all time. I was camped in Icy Strait where there are usually many humpback whales, and the scenery is incredible, with a fantastic backdrop of the massive Fairweather Mountain Range bordering Glacier Bay. It was a beautiful, flat-calm, sunny morning and one whale had got off to a flying start. It was breaching repeatedly and I got off to an early start to try to catch up with it on the other side of Icy Strait. <br />
Unfortunately by the time I got there it had stopped breaching, as always seemed to happen. I continued to paddle my kayak on that beautiful peaceful morning, gliding across the mirror-calm sea with the sound of the water dripping from my paddles amplified by the stillness. Then suddenly without any warning I could “feel” something erupting out of the water nearby so I spun around trying to locate the source of the disturbance. Glancing over my shoulder my view of the rising sun was eclipsed by the massive silhouette of the whale leaping out of the water, just a few metres behind my kayak; it had an auro of the sun’s rays around it like a religious icon. My jaw dropped with astonishment, and my heart must have skipped a few beats; and before I could react to protect myself or my camera there was a massive thud when the whale struck the water and I was drenched by a whale-sized, icy cold shower.<br />
I suddenly felt very small and vulnerable in my kayak. I had experienced the whales so many times at close quarters, but it’s not until you can actually view one in its entirety hovering above you that you can really appreciate the scale of a whale!
    Alaska-humpback-whale-breach4.jpg
  • From Eigg it was a relatively short paddle to the largest island in the Small Isles, the Isle of Rum. I left quite late as usual, and had to negotiate strong currents and big swells between the islands in the Sound of Rum in diminishing light. I paddled northwest until I reached Loch Scresort on the eastern side of Rum and made my camp along the coast before the main community of Kinloch at the head of the Loch. Rum has an area of 40.4 sq miles and a highest point, Askival, of 812 metres (2,664 ft). This photo was taken from Askival in the highlands in the southern half of the island, looking northwards towards Kinloch to the east, and the sheltered anchorage of Kilmory Bay at the northern end of the island, where there is a good beach and the remains of a village. For much of the 20th century the island became Rhum, a spelling invented by the former owner who did not relish the idea of having the title “Laird of Rum”. Rum has been inhabited since the 8th millennium BC providing some of the earliest known evidence of human occupation in Scotland. The population grew to over 400 by the late 18th century but was cleared of its indigenous population between 1826 and 1828. The island then became a sporting estate and the exotic Kinloch Castle was constructed by the Bulloughs in 1900. Rum was purchased by the Nature Conservancy Council in 1957, and is now an <br />
important study site for ecology research, especially of red deer at Kilmory, and is the site of a successful reintroduction programme for the white-tailed sea eagle. Its economy is entirely dependent on Scottish Natural Heritage, a public body that now manages the island. The 30 or so residents of Rum are all employees of Scottish National Heritage and their families, along with a few researchers and a school teacher, all who live in Kinloch, which has no church or pub, but does have a village hall, small primary school, and a shop and post office, which is manned by volunteers and only opens on an irregular basis
    Kayaking-West-Coast-Scotland50.jpg
  • 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.
    Kayaking- Gulf-of-California39.jpg
  • As I got farther from the shore and out into the fully unobstructed jaws of the Atlantic Ocean, I quickly realised that I was taking a really big chance with such chaotic sea conditions. I debated whether or not to turn back, but I decided against any rational thinking as usual, and adopted my King Canute attitude of defiance against the might of the ocean. If I remember correctly it seemed as if I had waves coming at me from all quarters, especially from the stern, that required some heavy-duty bracing to prevent me from jack-knifing and capsizing. I felt as small and vulnerable as I have ever done in a kayak anywhere in the world. It was quite reminiscent of an epic paddle on the east coast of Madagascar, when the following waves and swell were so big that I had to paddle in a reverse position into the waves, and “back into” the safety of a sheltered lagoon. To say that my heart was in my mouth the entire way would be too understate how genuinely scared I felt, but as always I was fully focussed and defiant, and even shouted at the waves from time to time just to let them know that I wasn’t going to surrender to them. My eyes were fixed on my destination, the small Isle of Lunga, and constantly analysing how much nearer it seemed. <br />
I had good memories of camping on Muck during my previous visit there in 1990. I was really looking forward to being there again, and that as well as my sense of self-preservation kept me battling away with gritted teeth. It may sound very clichéd but when you are paddling along the precipice, as I was in those sea conditions then every fibre of every muscle in your body is as taut as bowstrings. As I slowly got nearer I could already feel some degree of relief coursing through my veins along with the adrenaline. I could see the entrance to the harbour and the new ferry terminal getting delightfully larger and larger. I then paddled around the eastern side of the island towards a sheltered sandy bay on the northern end of Lunga.
    Kayaking-West-Coast-Scotland35.jpg
  • One of my first amazing encounters on the trip was this large pod of long-beaked common dolphins. I was paddling quite close to the precipitous rocky shoreline and was just skirting a small bay when I could suddenly hear what sounded like a white water river rushing towards me. I looked around me to locate the source of the noise and saw that the flat calm sea was erupting with a myriad of splashes and leaping dolphins ploughing towards me. Within seconds the water around me was energised by hundreds of dolphins dashing in different directions. Everything was happening so quickly that I didn’t know where to aim my camera next so I had to deploy the shoot from the hip mode. They were evidently herding fish around the bay, so I just sat in the middle of the vortex of feeding dolphins and soaked up the visual energy and excitement.
    Kayaking- Gulf-of-California30.jpg
  • Sometimes the cooperative feeding group would surface unexpectedly. If the sea was calm and there were plenty of seabirds around to help me to track the whales then it was easier, but if it was more difficult to see the bubbles on the surface or there were distracting sounds of boat engines in the vicinity then anything could happen, and on this occasion the whales exploded out of the water right behind me and I barely had enough time to swivel around to take a photo.
    Alaska-humpbackwhale-bubblenet21.jpg
  • This was my main camp for many years when I was photographing the bubble net feeding humpback whales. It was a perfect lookout point enabling me to look up and down Chatham Strait, which is the longest navigable channel in the USA. It’s also the point where the Peril Straits enters Chatham Strait from the Pacific Ocean to the west. It was a perfect camp site in many ways apart from being near one of the whales’ favourite feeding sites, the Morris Reef. It had two protected beaches for ease of launching and landing, facing either north or south, depending on which way the wind was blowing from. It was close to streams for fresh water and there was always plenty of firewood washed up on the shore. Perhaps my favourite reason was that in the forest nearby was the biggest patch of huckleberry bushes that I knew of, and huckleberries were my favourite berries to have on my stack of pancakes every morning, to fuel me up for another long hard day paddling with the whales.<br />
It was also a beautiful spot to eat my dinner in the evening. I cooked very elaborate dinners because that was evening’s entertainment every night. Every night I would slide back into my reclining camp seat and watch the dying embers of the fire flicker beneath the stars, and the moon cross Chatham Strait from Admiralty Island to Baranof Island. The stillness of the night was periodically punctuated by a gentle volley of whale breath, which perfectly complemented the sounds of contentment rumbling inside my full belly.
    Alaska-camping-kayaking14.jpg
  • Humpback whale (Megaptera novaeanglia) lunging during cooperative feeding using a bubble net, Tenakee Inlet, Southeast Alaska, USA.<br />
<br />
Sometimes the cooperative feeding group would surface unexpectedly. If the sea was calm and there were plenty of seabirds around to help me to track the whales then it was easier, but if it was more difficult to see the bubbles on the surface or there were distracting sounds of boat engines in the vicinity then anything could happen, and on this occasion the whales exploded out of the water right behind me and I barely had enough time to swivel around to take a photo.
    Humpback whales-5.tif
  • Lunge-feeding humpback whale (Megaptera novaeanglia), Chatham Strait, Southeast Alaska, USA.<br />
<br />
I became very familiar with the individual whales that made up the cooperative bubblenet feeding groups. I could identify them by their flukes, markings on their throats, barnacles and even sometimes by the sounds they made.<br />
I had known Dr Fred Sharpe of the Alaska Whale Foundation for many years during his research into the cooperative bubble net feeding strategies employed by the humpback whales of Southeast Alaska. He was particularly interested in the genetic relatedness of individual whales within and between cooperative pods, in addition to the local genetic sub-structuring of the population. He discovered that social foraging humpback whale pods possess a social complexity that is rarely observed in baleen whales. For example, individuals within these groups may develop long-term associations that may last for many years. There also appears to be a division of labour, with particular whales constantly leading the group, deploying the bubble nets, and producing the feeding calls. Furthermore, on each lunge, each whale in the group maintains the same position, indicating that this is an intrinsically choreographed feeding maneuver. My own personal observations with the same feeding groups over the course of the summer also bore this out. I observed how there were always core members of a group but other individual whales appeared to join them on a much more ad hoc basis before moving off again.<br />
He ascertained that it is only the more elusive, shoaling prey, such as Pacific herring, that require the same level of cooperative cohesiveness; easier prey such as krill do not require the same sophisticated feeding strategies as do shoaling fish.
    Humpback whales-4-2.tif
  • I was now camping near Kinloch Castle built by Sir George Bullough in 1900. His father, John Bullough, was a millionaire from Lancashire, who like many entrepreneurs at the time, especially in the north of England, made his fortune from the Industrial Revolution; In his case as a manufacturer of cotton machinery. After buying the island in 1888 he continued to use it as a sporting estate until his death in 1891, but when his son took over the island he used the fortune he inherited from his father to take it to the next level of upper class extravagance. To build the castle he had to import all of the raw materials to the island. The sandstone used for its construction was quarried in Dumfries and Galloway. At the time there were about 100 people employed on the estate who were paid extra to wear kilts to work on the extensive grounds that included a nine-hole golf-course, tennis and squash courts, heated turtle and alligator ponds, and an aviary including birds of paradise and humming birds. Soil for the grounds was imported from Ayrshire, and figs, peaches, grapes and nectarines were grown in greenhouses. The interior boasted an amazing “orchestrian” device that could simulate the sounds of brass, drum and woodwind, an air- conditioned billiards room, and also a Jacuzzi.<br />
I was fascinated by the place and took advantage of a guided tour. I also ate in the small café at the back of the castle as well as taking a shower in one of the original bathrooms fitted with an innovative plumbing system. Sir George Bullough also used his wealth to travel around the world, and throughout the castle there are interesting artefacts that he collected on his travels, including his large collection of photographs, as he was also a keen photographer. The ballroom, that had a concealed balcony for an orchestra, was particularly atmospheric, and I could visualise the lavish parties that were held there for all of his high society guests from the upper class elite of the UK.
    Kayaking-West-Coast-Scotland59.jpg
  • Duncan Murrell eating his breakfast of huckleberry pancakes at Point Hayes, Chichagoff Island, Southeast Alaska, USA.<br />
<br />
This was my main camp for many years when I was photographing the bubble net feeding humpback whales. It was a perfect lookout point enabling me to look up and down Chatham Strait, which is the longest navigable channel in the USA. It’s also the point where the Peril Straits enters Chatham Strait from the Pacific Ocean to the west. It was a perfect camp site in many ways apart from being near one of the whales’ favourite feeding sites, the Morris Reef. It had two protected beaches for ease of launching and landing, facing either north or south, depending on which way the wind was blowing from. It was close to streams for fresh water and there was always plenty of firewood washed up on the shore. Perhaps my favourite reason was that in the forest nearby was the biggest patch of huckleberry bushes that I knew of, and huckleberries were my favourite berries to have on my stack of pancakes every morning, to fuel me up for another long hard day paddling with the whales.<br />
It was also a beautiful spot to eat my dinner in the evening. I cooked very elaborate dinners because that was evening’s entertainment every night. Every night I would slide back into my reclining camp seat and watch the dying embers of the fire flicker beneath the stars, and the moon cross Chatham Strait from Admiralty Island to Baranof Island. The stillness of the night was periodically punctuated by a gentle volley of whale breath, which perfectly complemented the sounds of contentment rumbling inside my full belly.
    Whaleman-12.tif
  • I became very familiar with the individual whales that made up the cooperative bubblenet feeding groups. I could identify them by their flukes, markings on their throats, barnacles and even sometimes by the sounds they made.<br />
I had known Dr Fred Sharpe of the Alaska Whale Foundation for many years during his research into the cooperative bubble net feeding strategies employed by the humpback whales of Southeast Alaska. He was particularly interested in the genetic relatedness of individual whales within and between cooperative pods, in addition to the local genetic sub-structuring of the population. He discovered that social foraging humpback whale pods possess a social complexity that is rarely observed in baleen whales. For example, individuals within these groups may develop long-term associations that may last for many years. There also appears to be a division of labour, with particular whales constantly leading the group, deploying the bubble nets, and producing the feeding calls. Furthermore, on each lunge, each whale in the group maintains the same position, indicating that this is an intrinsically choreographed feeding maneuver. My own personal observations with the same feeding groups over the course of the summer also bore this out. I observed how there were always core members of a group but other individual whales appeared to join them on a much more ad hoc basis before moving off again.<br />
He ascertained that it is only the more elusive, shoaling prey, such as Pacific herring, that require the same level of cooperative cohesiveness; easier prey such as krill do not require the same sophisticated feeding strategies as do shoaling fish.
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  • Ankarana was a really special experience for me. I loved the marriage between the sculpted limestone rocks and the lush vegetation. The tsingy limestone formations are amazing but quite hazardous to walk around on because the rock has been eroded into vertical jagged blades. I discovered that some of the local crowned lemurs have become semi-habituated to visitors, and associate them with snacks, which is not usually a good thing, but unfortunately it is often inevitable, especially if the guides encourage it too. I was able to camp overnight in the forest on the way back to the park headquarters, and had a memorable soak in a cooling stream to listen to the nocturnal sounds of the forest – and to avoid the worst mosquitoes on the trip so far. <br />
I was really impressed with Ankarana, so it was with the usual mixture of wonderment and sadness that I looked back at the very finite perimeter of another protected area when I was driving away in the taxi-brousse. The abrupt transition from incredibly rich biodiversity to barren scrubland was painfully depressing and becoming too familiar in Madagascar.
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