Having a field-day
The tide is well and truly out: Dolphin Bay is almost drained (you can wade across). This means the dolphins were in waters no more than 2m deep. There is no sign of them now (11:15).
A few old men dig in the mud for clams. Blue-green jellyfish the size of dinnerplates have washed up on shore, looking for all the world like ornamental blobs of snot.
The whole of the Portugese coastline seems to be lined with anglers, day and night, and they are out in force today. At first it looked as if angling was a male “club 75+” activity but that is only because most younger people work during the week. I wonder if all these people are fishing for sport or for need. Every now and then, one or the other fisherman pulls in a piece of seeweed. Today they only occasionally land silvery sargos, oval fish the size of the palm of my hand. There can’t be much sustenance in them
As I look dreamily across the estuary I suddenly spot the dolphins: a glimpse of a pair of rolling fins then they have dissapeared again like a vision in a dream. But there they are again, heading steadily seawards. Two or three surface together at any one time in a rolling motion, 2-5 seconds apart then they disappear from view for anything up to ½ a minute. It looks like a sizeable school. If only they were a little closer, with the city spread out in the background this would be a spectacular photograph, but I can hardly make them out through the viewfinder of my camera.
I follow them as best I can, but at 11:52 I have lost sight of them as they are well past the ferrydock. Even with conditions this good, I can’t hope to keep sight of them while walking across the soft, yielding sand of the spit of land that forms Troía’s western tip. Given that there is supposedly a whole study group here, I wonder if anyone is monitoring the dolphins from afar, perhaps one of the little fishing boats carries a scientist with a hydrophone or observers are perched on the rocks with theodolites?
Over an hour later, at a quarter past one, I see them again as they return towards the estuary. Automatically, I start taking notes while I follow them around. The dolphins are my guides to the Troía peninsula; before I know it I stand right at the top of the beach of the western spit, a place of desolate beauty with wide open beaches and windswept dune grass, abandoned but for a few fishermen.
The dolphins have not left the estuary; there are strong currents at the estuary mouth. Yet again, they head inland and I do too. At a quarter past two the school splits, some animals remain in the area while another group heads back to dolphin bay. This is unexpected. I follow them back to the ferry dock where suddenly, 7 animals surface at once, then they spread out again, surfacing occasionally, facing in different directions. It looks like they are foraging, all the way keeping their distance from the ferries and occasional freighter—you’d be busy with more than 1 theodolite here!
At 20 to three, the group becomes entangled as one ferry docks and another leaves and two animals jump ½ out of the water directly in front of the leaving ferry, this looks definitely more like a close shave than a game!
By three, they are far out again. They may have re-joined the other group, not that I can make out anything from this distance. I have not taken any photos, perhaps tomorrow.
I leave with a smile on my face. After a day like this, I don’t mind the cold and hard nights.
Tags: Portugal, Whale watching, Tag Index
Denni