Bagpipes on the beach
by Damien Enright
[ places - april 02 ]
Whales are everywhere.
Cork city has orcas coming out of its ears.
The Passage West Three, black and white and shiny, were easily identified.
Meanwhile, off Cork Harbour, a mackerel fishermen, at sea for a quiet commune with nature, suddenly found unidentified whales surfacing and blowing all around.
The tongue-in-cheek theory of Whooley the Whales, Secretary of the Irish Whale and Dolphin Group is that they are here to celebrate the 10th anniversary of the Irish Whale and Dolphin Sanctuary declared in June 1991. With 200 miles around our coasts as a safe haven, whales of all sorts seem to have gratefully flocked in.
The surprised mackerel fishermen was homeward bound in the late evening when his clubbable companions appeared. The largest were, perhaps, 16 ft long. They may have been minkes; Mark Gannon, who runs sea angling boats out of Courtmacsherry, says he saw many minkes last week. "They're always there," he says, "When the seas up, you don't see them but when it's flat calm, dolphins and whales are everywhere..."
Two weeks ago, Whooley and companions did an afternoon's whale scout on the 70-foot yacht, Spirit of Oysterhaven, and were spell-bound by the power and grace of a pod of fins, an average of 85 ft long, dwarfing the yacht as they surfaced only 400 metres away.
The speed and power, the height of the 'blow', was awesome. Interesting, was the appearance of this pod for the third year, in the same month, at the same location, suggesting that Irish waters are an important spring migration route for these, the second largest creatures on earth.
Meanwhile, a Cork Examiner colleague speculates humorously upon Cork's orcas, wondering what dues they may owe the Harbour Master for the right to berth and blow. He tells me of an Echo (sic) warrior, in a punt, who, upon approaching the pod, found the breath of the whale babies to be quite obnoxious. Such halitosis, he says, can only result from ingesting not only harbour mullet but the bottom of the harbour itself. Residues of hydrogen sulphate there present would, he believes, devastate the most iron-clad digestion.
He endorses my remark about whales endangering sharks in the city. Indeed, I would point out that orcas often have a taste shark-meat. When they are cruising the waters around the South Mall, some more colourful entrepreneurs might be advised to seek upper floors, the high ground being already occupied by insurance companies, bankers and other torch-bearers of propriety. From Patagonia, Whooley tells me, there is a report of an orca seizing a sheep off a beach. But sheep in the city will already have been devoured by indigenous predators.
Orcas sing, like other whales. Some orcas fancy salmon; the Vancouver Island population eats little else. Norwegian orcas gorge on herring in the fjords. Orcas power up lonely shielings in Antarctica to take tardy seal pups. But these apex predators, except in one non-fatal incident, have never been known to attack man.
Singing whales might well be attracted to Travara Cove, on the Seven Heads, an especially musical venue it seems. Last summer, leading an American group on a walk from my small volume, Walks of Courtmacsherry and The Seven Heads, I arrived above the cove to hear the strains of sweet concertina music reaching us on the breeze. There, below, was a solitary woman, sitting on the rocks, playing Irish airs to the seals and her heart's content. So romantic was it that the Americans thought I had set it all up.
But, now, from Kevin Hanley of Inishannon, I hear that lately, as he set off walking from the cove, a car arrived with two American ladies of late middle years who, in this lonely spot, dragged a large box from the boot. Soon, he heard the strains of a bagpipes and, surrendering to curiosity, returned. The two ladies were standing on the clifftop, one playing Amazing Grace with great conviction from a dangerous salient, while her friend recorded, sotto voce, details of the venue and the scene. After a further air, they spoke to the hirsute Hanley, telling him it was their hobby to seek wild, dramatic places all over the globe, there to play and record for the pleasure of it. They were quite sane women - indeed, I would say, inspired.
