Farallones Pelagic

The harbor has suddenly filled with people mulling about in silent anticipation. A thick fog blankets the coast, yet it is unable to squelch the excitement. Out in the bay, a seal calls, beckoning us to depart.

It is around seven in the morning in Sausolito, a coastal town not far from San Fransisco. A group of twenty or thirty of us have gathered here, eager to brave the open seas in search of whatever we may find - storm-petrels, albatrosses, or even breaching whales.

Soon, Debi Shearwater arrives on the scene. She will be leading the pelagic trip, accompanied by Peter Pyle, both of whom are well-respected among the birding community. This will be Debi’s last year, despite having led outings in California for over four decades. To further the memorability, this will be her last tour to the Farallones, a cluster of islands thirty miles off the coast that supports stunning colonies of seabirds, fur seals, and several intrepid biologists. The area is a good place to find charismatic coastal species such as the Tufted Puffin, Common Murre, and Brandt’s Cormorant. Several miles further out is the Continental Shelf, which may host any number of albatrosses, shearwaters, skuas, and storm petrels. Each pelagic tour bears with it the potential for rarities from across the seas, which is perhaps what has people so enthralled with them.

After everyone is accounted for, we leave the quiet harbor and begin motoring out into the bay. Coastal communities on verdant cliffsides pass us in the fog, and soon the colossal foundations of the Golden Gate Bridge slip by. Two hours later and we have arrived off the Farallones. For several minutes we pause near the island to observe the diversity of seabirds, but this is cut short. In the distance, the sea is churning, and overhead hundreds of seagulls have congregated to feast.

A calling Western Gull flies over a feeding frenzy off the California Coast.

As we approach, the calm sea becomes a chaotic frenzy of aquatic life. The water broils with sea lions and gulls, yet these are overshadowed by the giants that lurk beneath.

“Watch the green water,” Debi shouts over the din of the gulls. “They will come up shortly.”

We all train our eyes on the indicated spot. Several seconds of tense silence passes. Then, in an explosive second, the mouth of a behemoth emerges right where Debi predicted. It comes down in a thunderous splash, sending the sea lions diving for cover.

A humbpack whale, one of several dozen in the rich waters off the Farallones, breaches on a school of baitfish.

This spectacle is repeated for two hours as we watch in our small boat, feeling humbled in the presence of such giants. Several times they rise in tandem on the school of baitfish, which we fail to capture the majesty of with our incapable cameras. Debi estimates that there are well over a dozen Humpbacks plus several Gray Whales in this single feeding group. I can’t help but wonder how large the school of fish below us must be.

After a while, we reluctantly continue toward the continental shelf, amazed at having witnessed such a rare phenomenon. Passing colonies of seabirds that reek of guano, we head out into the open ocean in search of pelagics. Our time is limited from the prolonged whale-watching, but we most everyone has no complaints.

A Fork-tailed Storm-Petrel, rare and scarce in the United States, makes a close pass by the boat.

As the day progresses, we encounter flock upon flock of shearwaters, some of which are loitering around more whales. In one such group, we pick out a Fork-tailed Storm-Petrel, which excites both Peter and Debi. This bird is rare off the Pacific Coast, and was a lifer for many on board. Motoring on, the birds continue to trickle by in small numbers: an Ashy Storm-Petrel on the open ocean, followed by a Northern Fulmar.

My binoculars are trained on the horizon in search of a bird with a massive wingspan, but I have to take periodic breaks. The boat is rocking steadily, and the mainland is now a sliver on the horizon.

Suddenly, a Black-footed Albatross glides in effortlessly and lands behind our boat. Those on board wheel around to admire the graceful specimen as it sits placidly on the water, a chaotic frenzy of shearwaters and gulls wheeling overhead. It pauses there for several minutes looking quizzically at us before taking off again, leaving in its weight a tangible feeling of majesty.

One of the most stunning of all California pelagics, this Black-footed Albatross landed a mere ten yards behind the boat to everyone's delight.

The sun is now descending and we begin the long ride back to civilization. Off in the distance, another humpback breaches, bidding us farewell.

Soon, we are beneath the massive pilings of the Golden Gate Bridge, except this time we are offered views of its entirety, for the fog had long since burned off.

As we enter the harbor, it seems a different day entirely. People wander around the docks and captains tend to their boats in the shimmer of the Californian sun. Already I miss the world we had escaped into, the limitless horizons and wealth of marine life. A seal swims beneath our boat, and then another. As I watch them drift away in the current, I realize that we inhabit the same world, and that somehow we have remained connected - if not by a thread - to the great oceans that nurture us.

Common Murres are abundant around the Farallones, where they breed in large numbers on the sheer cliff faces.

A Tufted Puffin, one of several for the day, emerges briefly alongside the boat to take a brake from its fishing endeavors.