One incredible thing about spring and early summer along the Alaska coast is the abundance of wildlife. With so many hours of sunlight - and days rapidly lengthening through the June solstice – the conditions for plankton to grow are just right. This spring bloom feeds many different kinds of organisms, all eating at a variety of trophic levels (or different parts of the food web). Salmon congregating in coves along the eastern Aialik Peninsula in late May and early June attract special marine mammals whom I’m always thrilled to see: Killer Whales. Also known as Orcas, Killer Whales are an iconic species and an important part of marine ecosystems here in Alaska. They are part of the Cetacean group that contains all whales, dolphins, and porpoises, and are the largest member of the Delphinidae family of ocean dolphins. There are several distinct ecotypes of Killer Whales that feed on different types of food – resident whales that eat fish, transient whales that eat marine mammals, and offshore whales that eat sharks. These specialized populations are genetically distinct and have not interbred for thousands of years. In addition to varying diets, these types of Killer Whale also have different lifestyles, behaviors, and personalities. Killer Whales have strong family bonds and remain in matrilineal groups their entire life - often 60-90 years. These family groups called pods will travel together, cooperatively hunt, and raise young calves. Individuals will mate with other Killer Whales outside of their family group, then return to their birth pod. There is a lot that we still don’t know about Killer Whales, but the impressive amount of information we do know is thanks to the dedication of marine mammal researchers and scientists all over the world. Decades of close study and photo identification efforts have allowed researchers to map out family trees of many pods. Photos of the left side of a whale’s prominent dorsal fin and saddle patch can be compared to other photos in a database to identify individual whales based on markings, scars, and other distinct patterns. Hydrophones collecting underwater acoustic data have allowed researchers to recognize clicks, whistles, and calls - types of vocalizations used by the whales to communicate, and to even recognize the accents of specific pods and individuals. There is so much more fascinating information about Killer Whales, so check out these great resources to learn more: * Killer Whales of Southern Alaska, by Craig Matkin, Graeme Ellis, Eva Saulitis, Lance Barrett-Lennard, and Dena Matkin * Beyond Words, by Carl Safina * Into Great Silence, by Eva Saulitis *If you are looking to purchase a book, consider buying it from an independent bookstore – like Innisfree Bookshop in New Hampshire or Title Wave Books in Alaska! One of my favorite things about encountering Killer Whales along the coast is the reverence and awe they bring over groups of human observers. While deckhanding and kayak guiding I would see it often – a group of people quieted by the sense that they were observing something special. And because the geographic range of an individual pod is so large, any sighting of these marine mammals is exciting because their home is spread over hundreds of miles of ocean. It was no surprise that those same feelings of awe and excitement brought us to silent giddiness within the first few days of our voyage. Unlike most other encounters with Killer Whales we have had, this time we were on Katabatic and gliding quietly along under sail. With no engines running, the soundscape consisted of gurgling water against the hull and the short, bursting breaths of the Killer Whales surfacing all around us. Incredible! While we were maneuvering to keep our sails full and the boat headed generally where we wanted to go, several Killer Whales swam closer to us and paralleled our course. They swam close enough that you could see their white eye patches glowing light blue through the water, and even their undersides when they turned sideways, presumably to check out the hull of the boat and the two humans leaning over the rail to get a better view. What an experience! At one point Brent was on the tiller and I was up on the bowsprit with my camera and we were only communicating with facial expressions and hand gestures: “Is this really happening?!” We tacked back and forth a few times to maximize our time with this pod, most of whom were hunting near a cove where researchers have observed them feasting on salmon this time of year. Eventually we sailed beyond their zone of interest, and our new friends returned to the other members of their pod. We watched their triangular dorsal fins emerging and disappearing at the surface until they were too far away to distinguish. A few days later, we had a weather window to paddle along the coast of the Aialik Peninsula to Cape Aialik. In any kind of sea state or wind this would be ambitious for our little 9-foot kayaks, but we had a rare glass-calm day in the Gulf of Alaska and went for it. Not only was paddling around the spires and cliffs of the Cape magical, but soon after we arrived a pod of Killer Whales swam through the area. Floating in our kayaks, we heard the same bursts of breath and marveled at the height of the male whales’ dorsal fins. Reaching heights of up to six feet, the dorsal fins looked towering when observed from our kayaks, barely above the ocean’s surface. The Natoa, a research vessel working with the Gulf Coast Oceanic Society, was nearby – photographing the pod and documenting behavior in their ongoing efforts to learn more about and promote the conservation of Alaska’s Killer Whales. We chatted on the marine radio with one of the researchers about the pod and individuals present, then wished them well as the Orcas turned offshore and the Natoa followed. It was a surreal experience to encounter this iconic species, with such complex communication and culture, at a fascinating location, often inaccessible to kayaks due to ocean swell and wind. Kayaking back along the coast to our protected anchorage was a blur. We paddled rhythmically in a silence weighted with reverence and awe.
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Voyage Log
AuthorCanvas & Ice Archives
April 2021
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