I was obviously keen to see the skua which would require a minor miracle as the chances of connecting were so slim but if I remained in Oxfordshire I definitely would not see one so why not take the huge gamble and go for it. My personality is such that this was a challenge I felt obliged to accept and my competitive nature did the rest.
However there was one huge cloud on my personal horizon and that was we would have to camp for three nights on Scilly, as being the school holidays there was no accommodation anywhere on St Mary's. My last attempt at camping when I came down to twitch the Red footed Booby on the Bishop Rock Lighthouse was an unmitigated disaster that left me scarred in mind and body see here
It really was touch and go for a while but the South Polar Skua was a mega and Andy did assure me the four man tent was far more spacious than the miserly one I had been given last year. I decided to take a chance, reflecting on the tales I could bore everyone with, if by some minor miracle we saw the skua.It would be the stuff of legend.
Without really thinking about it further I sent a text to Andy saying to count me in on the trip and the next day we liased about costs and where to meet for the drive down to Penzance. Andy heroically made all the bookings and even beat down the price of the four man tent at the Garrison campsite above Hugh Town although it was still very expensive. Shared between four of us it worked out at £120.00 each which by Scilly standards was reasonable.
To make this trip come about would require some organising at such a late juncture but somehow we found ourselves with firm bookings on four of Bob Flood's celebrated pelagic seabird trips.Two on Thursday and Friday were evening trips of around four to five hours and the latter two on Saturday and Sunday were all day trips of eight hours each.
We could do no more and just hoped the birding gods would smile on us.
Thus it was at eleven in the evening on Wednesday night I rendezvoused with Andy and Rich near Reading, in a small housing estate just off the M4. I was leaving my car there and Andy would drive us down to Penzance through the night.
It went to plan and soon we were heading down the motorway to Bristol and then onto the M5 towards the west. As is usual with us twitching folk we blathered away about birding exploits of the past, our prospects of seeing the skua and dissed various twitching and birding personalities. It's harmless and passes the time away as sleep always eludes me on these trips as I get far too excited. and animated.
It's always the same on a twitch and I should be used to it by now but it's always slightly different as I make another departure from the mundane realities of life and embark on an adventure.Walking into a motorway services such as Taunton in the early hours of the morning is not a thing I normally do. The normal in daylight hours becomes abnormal in the middle of the night and in the process becomes oddly fascinating even slightly romantic.
Four hours later we drew up in the deserted car park overlooking Marazion Beach. I was aware of the close proximity of the sea but it was pitch dark so it remained invisible but very audible. We settled to go to sleep until dawn.Sleeping in a car is not my forte, especially after my last experience attempting it at Lower Largo on a madcap twitch from the Isle of Arran to see a Stejneger's Scoter and a Grey headed Lapwing see here
I lay on the back seat of the car half awake in the darkness, a million thoughts coursing through my head while the other two slept soundly.Why can't I do that? Never mind, the dawn eventually rose and we went in search of refreshment at an Asda garage and then seeking, well what else in Cornwall but pasties. Rich or Andy knew of a pasty place which might be open and although ridiculously early in the morning they let us in and told us to come back in forty minutes as the first pasties of the day were only now being cooked.
To while away the time we went back to Marazion Beach, dominated by a deserted looking St Michael's Mount, a single light shining from the impressive building. All very romantic but our interest lay in a Semi palmated Sandpiper that had been reported from here the previous day.We scanned the deserted beach, the sand wet from a receding tide shining in the weak sunlight and populated by a few hyperactive Sanderling but there was no sign of the Semi P.
We returned for our pasties and very nice they were too.Well, when in Cornwall what else does one eat?This was to be the first of many.
We drove to nearby Penzance and at this early hour managed to find a space to park the car for free along the seafront. Lugging all our baggage back to the quayside, we were relieved of it there and the bags were stowed away in metal containers for the journey to St Mary's.
After a slight delay waiting in line by the quayside we boarded the venerable Scillonian, an ancient vessel that has seen better days but we are all well used to it by now.We made for the back of the ship and set ourselves up on the wooden benches there which is a prime position for seawatching from the ship.
The day was predicted to be sunny but first came an irritating rain shower to torment us but this soon passed and the sun took charge as we sailed away from Penzance. It would be a pleasant trip.
Once past the Runnelstone Buoy, familiar to generations of seawatchers who have sat on the cliffs at Porthgwarra seawatching in all weathers, we were clear of Land's End and birds began to appear. Black and white Manx Shearwaters planed away on either side of the ship, their flap, flap, glide flight distinctive. Then something larger appeared, coloured pale greyish brown on its upperparts and white below, sweeping away with languid flaps of its very long wings.It was my first sight this year of a Cory's Shearwater. It is always thrilling to see a 'large shear'. Soon there were more, moving across the ship's bows over a now very blue sea
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| Cory's Shearwaters |
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| Great Shearwaters |
Naturally there was no sign of it which was hardly surprising as the beach was well populated with holidaymakers, making the most of the sun, sand and sea. The Sandwich Terns and Mediterranean Gulls that hang about here had long since retreated to the distant rocks that guard the entrance to the bay.
Exhausted from lack of sleep I slipped into a semi daze but soon it was time to ascend the road of hell up to the campsite to collect bins and cameras for our first venture out to sea.
We waited on the quay to board the MV Sapphire, an open boat with rudimentary bench seating for around thirty to forty people.This trip was to be a combined shark fishing and birding trip lasting four or five hours
The fisher folk attempt, with rod and line, to hook migratory Blue Sharks to be tagged, as us birders sit around looking out to sea for birds. Meanwhile Bob Flood stands at the wheelhouse door and gives a tannoy assisted alert on any birds hoving into view as we head out to sea. The modus operandi as far as birds were concerned was to cast bread on the water as soon as we left the harbour which attracted a squadron of gulls to follow in our wake.This in turn would hopefully lure in shearwaters and other seabirds to investigate the gull flock.
There was a palpable sense of excitement and anticipation as we cruised out of the harbour, trailed by a blizzard of hungry gulls and headed for the distant Bishop Rock Lighthouse, now irrevocably linked to this time last year when it was host to both a Brown and Red footed Booby, surely one of the most legendary of birding experiences in this remarkable group of islands
It would take too long to go through everything we saw in the following hours but suffice to say it was magical.To be out at sea miles beyond the lighthouse surrounded by nothing but sea and sky and with the expectation that anything could turn up and maybe even a South Polar Skua was a heady mix of emotions
Great Shearwaters came to investigate regulary as did Cory's but in lesser numbers with a couple of dark rather sinister looking Sooty Shearwters by way of variety, that whizzed past the boat.
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| Sooty Shearwater |
We continued to sail to about 5km southwest of the lighthouse and then the boat stopped to start spreading a slick of chum to attract petrels
It takes some time for anything to happen as the smell of the chum has to spread on the wind and when the petrels smell it they come to investigate the slick which spreads like oil on the water far beyond the boat. In the meantime the fisher folk carried on fishing over the reef we were now floating above.
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It was the colour that surprised me.It really was blue, not a dull grey blue but a shining almost iridescent satin blue that ran the length of its upperbody, the rest being silvery white.
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After this excitement a quiet spell ensued,.pasties and sandwiches were consumed, conversations struck up as everyone waited..What would be next?
An excited shout came from someone at the back of the boat - Sabine's!
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| Sabine's Gull |
A juvenile arrived to check the slick, looking tern like, tiny and fragile compared to the larger gulls but fully capable of surviving out here at sea.It soon disappearerd but returned once before heading off who knows where.
Another shout - Wilson's in the slick!
The longed for Wilson's Storm Petrel, for those who have never seen one, flew at speed along the slick. its longer wings, protruding feet and different flight action distinguishing it from several European Storm Petrels that had also arrived.
The light began to fade as the sun dropped below the sea's horizon, a seascape that was to my eyes magical, the sky turning rose pink and purple as the sun prepared to leave us.
But birds continued coming
Another disembodied shout - Skua! A small one. It's a Long tailed!
And indeed it was, an adult no less that circled around and above the ever lengthening slick for a number of minutes.
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| Long tailed Skua |
Pomarine Skua
Eventually Joe started the engine and turned the MV Sapphire for home and an hour of steady sailing brought us into St Mary's harbour, almost in the dark, the lights onshore shining bright and welcoming.We stopped for one drink in The Atlantic but all of us were dead tired and we still had to endure the climb to the campsite.
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