Dancing With Dolphins

Off Noordhoek Beach, South Africa, January 4, 2002

Over the last 2 months or so, I have spent an unreasonable amount of time in, near, or on the sea. My recent obsession with sea kayaking has brought me a fresh perspective on the ocean, and some of its denizens. In the past I have spent a fair bit of time with a snorkel and mask strapped to my face, marveling at the intricacies and diversity of coral reefs, off the east African and south east Asia seas. Coral reefs, the marine equivalent of tropical rain forests, are awe-inspiring, but chance encounters with large marine mammals are typically, few and far between.

A sea kayak is rather like the marine equivalent of a mountain bike, it is quite, gives off or no fumes, propelled by personal power, and increase the walk (or swim) time/ space continuum, with out the need for mechanization, thus facilitating the perception of wilderness and the freedom to explore it.

During October and into November southern right whales, were seen almost daily, as they came into the bays around the Cape peninsular, presumably to rest befog tackling the long journey south to their artic feeding grounds. Increasingly, it seems as if some whales in the area had contracted the laid back atmosphere of Cape Town, and are hanging out for longer. After not seeing whales for a while, I woke up on my birthday (the 6 of December) to see a calf and mother wallowing just behind the waves braking on the beach - a fine birthday treat. We assumed that this would be the last sighting of the season, (it was with great restraint that I resisted the temptation to paddle out to them to get a look into there eyes; the locals of Kommetjie are highly protective, if not possessive over "their" whales, and are likely to get highly irate with any "Vaalie" who approaches closer than the stipulated minimum distance of 300 meters).

And then, on the very last day of 2001, the whales made a last visit. I got up early, and was contemplating a morning paddle when I saw a whale, tail lobbing (a strange position that some southern rights assume for relatively long periods, where they hang upside down with only there massive tails sticking out like giant sails). The beach was empty of walkers, and the whales a good ten minutes paddle away. I deccided to paddle out to get a closer look. Wary of being accused of whale harassment (a highly unlikely event for one individual on a kayak),I kept to within about 50 meters. Even at this distance, I could hear and smell there cetacean breath. A mother and its lighte gray calf, frolicking in an apparent celebration of being alive. I sat alone on the water for almost half an hour watching them and enjoying having exclusive privilege to their company. Then the wind and swell picked up and I had drifted more than a kilometer or two out, reluctantly I made the return journey.

I remember remarking to my sister that I had not seen dolphins on the Atlantic side of the Cape peninsular for some time. "They do occur", she said, "but you need to be lucky to see them".

The following day I was more than just lucky. It was a beautifull calm day, the sea like a large lake and the water, swimming pool clear. I set off for Noordhoek, I paddled over the kelp beds, keeping just above the canopy of these surreal seaweed forests - the favored habitat of the west coast rock lobster. I skirted close to the rocky outcrops, which were lined with Cormorants, hanging out to dry, migrant Terns preening themselves, and the endemic Oyster catchers, nervously strutting about in there formal black attire. Being on the water and keeping silent, allows one an intimate and unobtrusive approach to shore birds. With the early morning sun warm on my back, the shrill cries of the sea birds, and the gentle lapping of water on the sides of the kayak I drifted off into a content and meditative state.

A splash about a 100 meters behind me starteld me,and I spun around; dolphins!

Two or three dolphins leaped from the water. My pulse raced as I paddled towards them, keeping my strokes steady and smooth hoping that this would not scare them. Then the water around me came alive with sleek moving bodies. I was surrounded by the sounds from heir blowholes. "Pweew-aha" as they cleared their breathing holes and sucked in another breath before diving again. Some came racing out of the water a few meters from me, leaping clear into the air, twisting and coming down with a splash. Others dived under the boat, emitting a stream of bubbles as they streaked through the crystal clear water. Then I realized that not all of these smiling and joyfully creatures were dolphins, amongst them were a number of young seals, apparently imitating the behavior of the dolphins. Young seals will occasionally, hang out with dolphins (particularly when the water is clear), but whether this is done for protection, co-operative hunting or just for the sheer fun of trying to out swim each other is not clear. But certainly on this occasion it seemed as if fun was the sole motive. On two occasions a young seal surfaced and rolled onto it back, and in an apparent gesture of applause clapped its front fins together. It's difficult not to be anthropomorphic about this behavior, and I had to remind my self that these creatures were completely wild and free and had not been specially trained for surprise performances, for some arbitrary human on a kayak.

There were about 40 dolphins and around ten seals, the dolphins appeared to be a loose association of three or four family groups, that were continually coming together and moving apart. The seals seemed to be accepted as part of the pod. These were the common dolphins (Delphinus delphinus), with their long smiling snouts, white bellies and dark backs. They are not very often seen on the Atlantic side and are more often seen surfing in the waves in the Indian ocean.

After a while they lost interest in "entertaining me", and started to move off. By this stage I was quite elated, the healing and serotonin enhancing effects that the presence of dolphins can induce are well documented. The joy of dolphins is infectious; everything seemed brighter and clearer, and sparked with freshness.

To rekindle their curiosity I started to imitate the sounds that they made when clearing their breathing holes, and splashed the paddle around. This brought the pod racing back in my direction and proceeded to repeat the whole performance, leaping and dancing in the air. I stated paddling out at a steady pace, "lets race" they seemed to be saying to me. They swam alongside the kayak, and under the boat, every now and then one would race forward and leap out in front of the kayak, its smiling face a few meters from mine.

The dolphin encounter lasted for about half an hour, but seemed a lot longer. I felt as if reality had been temporary suspended, and I had been transported into another world, into the world of the dolphin. Dolphins have the highest brain to body weight ratio in the animal world, this being only slightly less than that of humans (1.19 % for dolphins as apposed to 2.1% for humans and 0.7 % for Chimps). There intelligence has evolved in a different direction to that of humans, perfecting their relationship to their surrounding environment, they have no need for the polluting technologies that appear to be essential for modern humans to survive. (A dolphin's built-in sonar far surpasses the performance of man-made equipment. They can not only tell size, shape and texture, but also density. Furthermore, no one has, as of yet, been able to jam their sonar).

Being in the presence of wild dolphins is likely to have a powerful effect; it is both humbling and empowering. The dolphin, like no other creature on this planet, gives one the feeling that you are dealing with a fully awake, and perhaps even spiritually advanced being. They are willing to share the planet with us; are we able to do the same?

(While dolphins enjoy popular protection through out most of the world, they are still hunted in some parts, notably Japan. In South Africa they suffer from indirect threats such as drift nets, and the bio accumulation of industrial and agricultural pollutants).

Eventually, the dolphins disappeared into the deep blue, and I paddled back to the closest beach, to rest and assimilate the experience. The beach was desolate apart from a lone horse rider that had witness the encounter. She rode up to me as I pulled the boat clear of the water. "That must have been quite a treat, she said".

"A very privileged treat indeed", I beamed back.