Cape May Whale Watching Expedition
Cape May lies lies northish, across the Delaware Bay from Cape Henlopen. North of Cape May is New Jersey and New York, beaches crowded with condos and skyscrapers, chewed up and spit out by Hurricane Sandy of 2012. South across the Bay and beyond Cape Henlopen (scene of a fantastic migration of horseshoe crabs and shorebirds each year) lie barrier beaches, ridges of sand rolled up out of the sea, protecting the coast from erosion and storm. Sadly, humans feel the need to build stuff on this sand, and when the sand does what it does, which is move on wind and tide, they feel the need to shovel it back under their houses again, wrecking the coast for other lifeforms. Assateague Island, the Virginia Barriers, all lie farther south, wild places full of shorebirds and bloodsucking insects and wild horses and endgangered species.
Whales aren't bound to any of this land, though what comes off of it affects them, including pollution, trash, the noise from our boats and navies. Dolphins commute up and down the beach each day. Fin and humpback and minke browse the shoals near shore. Pilot whales and others cruise offshore. The Delaware Bay is a fair place to look for them.
We set out in November 2012, to celebrate a friend's 60th birthday. It was cold, a brisk "fresh breeze" (on the Beaufort Scale... 19-24mph) kicked up some "white horses" on the waves. The weather report indicated some gusts to 28 mph: a "strong breeze". Whatever it was, I was glad for some layers, and wished I'd packed the thermals. The Cape May Whale Watchers (http://www.capemaywhalewatcher.com/) take you out on a 110 foot ship with a heated lounge, a head larger than my own bathroom, and a snack bar. Luxury compared to my usual boats... I kept wondering where the sails and cannons were.
We powered out of the Cape May canal, offshore into the Atalntic Ocean (though not as far as the couple of dive trips I'd taken, where we went about 25 miles offshore). The houses of Cape May were visible, the lighthouse, and as we went couth, eventually Cape Henlopen was a smudge on the horizon. The ghostly shapes of large tankers and freighters appeared on the edge of the world where sky met sea. The big steel boat yee-hahhed over the waves, those of us in the bow learned that anti-gravity does exist.
The whales did not appear. You can't orchestrate Nature. Bottlenose dolphins like warmer waters, and must have gone south for the winter. Harbor porpoises like colder waters (in the forties now) but didn't appear either. We rode the waves, watched how the shape of water changes with wind and tide and the shape of the bottom. We watched how light and sky and water interact. We burned memory card and battery. We felt the wind in our... uh... parkas.
A day on the water, even without whales, is something. Here's a few shots over the bow... and the stern, and the gunnels... click on the pics for captions.
Whales aren't bound to any of this land, though what comes off of it affects them, including pollution, trash, the noise from our boats and navies. Dolphins commute up and down the beach each day. Fin and humpback and minke browse the shoals near shore. Pilot whales and others cruise offshore. The Delaware Bay is a fair place to look for them.
We set out in November 2012, to celebrate a friend's 60th birthday. It was cold, a brisk "fresh breeze" (on the Beaufort Scale... 19-24mph) kicked up some "white horses" on the waves. The weather report indicated some gusts to 28 mph: a "strong breeze". Whatever it was, I was glad for some layers, and wished I'd packed the thermals. The Cape May Whale Watchers (http://www.capemaywhalewatcher.com/) take you out on a 110 foot ship with a heated lounge, a head larger than my own bathroom, and a snack bar. Luxury compared to my usual boats... I kept wondering where the sails and cannons were.
We powered out of the Cape May canal, offshore into the Atalntic Ocean (though not as far as the couple of dive trips I'd taken, where we went about 25 miles offshore). The houses of Cape May were visible, the lighthouse, and as we went couth, eventually Cape Henlopen was a smudge on the horizon. The ghostly shapes of large tankers and freighters appeared on the edge of the world where sky met sea. The big steel boat yee-hahhed over the waves, those of us in the bow learned that anti-gravity does exist.
The whales did not appear. You can't orchestrate Nature. Bottlenose dolphins like warmer waters, and must have gone south for the winter. Harbor porpoises like colder waters (in the forties now) but didn't appear either. We rode the waves, watched how the shape of water changes with wind and tide and the shape of the bottom. We watched how light and sky and water interact. We burned memory card and battery. We felt the wind in our... uh... parkas.
A day on the water, even without whales, is something. Here's a few shots over the bow... and the stern, and the gunnels... click on the pics for captions.
