Now, I realise that the traditional time for pelagic trips is the late summer/autumn, but sometimes circumstances dictate that the opportunity to go to sea arises at a totally different time of year. The particular circumstances I refer to are as follows. My wife, who works for a travel company, got a staff special offer for the Portsmouth-Bilbao ferry, a sort of "mini-cruise" which allowed about 3 hours in Spain and then returning to the UK. The actual offer included an outside cabin and half-board for the whole duration of the trip, all for less than £100 each, so it was really an offer not to be missed, particularly as it was a Valentine's present!
Ever the optimist I consulted my books and decided that, although I wouldn't be seeing anything spectacular, the seabirds wintering in the Bay of Biscay would provide some entertainment, as would a brief walk in the Spanish foothills behind Santurtzi, the port for Bilbao.
So it was we arrived at Portsmouth on the evening of the 27th March and boarded our ship, "The Pride of Bilbao", one of the largest and most luxurious cruise ferries in Europe. As dark descended we headed for the restaurant for our first meal on board (to save further comments on food, it was fantastic from all of the food outlets on board). The ship left the harbour at about 9pm, and I looked forward to what the following day would bring.
The following day nearly brought up the previous evening's dinner. A rough passage down the Channel to the Southwestern approaches meant that seasickness was rife. Annette and I quickly found our sea legs, though, and also a marvellous homeopathic seasickness remedy in the shop. We were soon up on deck or sitting in the starboard observation area and I started to count birds.
The first birds to make their presence felt were Gannets, which kept the ship company for most of the trip. The Southwestern approaches to the Channel provided 27 of this species over the first 3 hours of watching, along with 9 Kittiwake, 1 Fulmar and a party of 10 Puffins. As we turned south around the Brittany coast and headed into the Bay of Biscay the numbers of birds began to increase, as did the swell! Between midday and 7pm (when we quickly scoffed down our meal and headed for an early night as the ship was now pitching and yawing) we saw a further 93 gannets, along with 2 kittiwakes and, new for the day, a total of 8 Great Skuas. Better was to come when, during the mid afternoon, we were graced by the presence of 3 common dolphins which briefly appeared alongside before disappearing into the surf. Better still from the bird point of view was the single Cory's Shearwater which appeared on the sea in front of the ship during a calm period, allowing excellent views both on the water and in flight. Okay, so it's nowhere near the 331 seen during last August's trip, but it made my day!
The following morning we had to be up early as the ship docked at 7am and we all had to disembark. After the necessary disinfecting of feet and passport checks we headed off to the foothills behind Santurtzi. Unfortunately, the instructions I had gained from a web site were slightly flawed and it took us a short while to get into the hills. These are right on the edge of town and consist of very steep slopes with small allotments and paddocks. The steepness of the slopes has meant that more intensive use is impossible. The vegetation was green and lush and the view to the hills beyond spectacular, especially in the sunshine between the heavy rain showers that we experienced.
So, what bids did we see? Almost as soon as we left the edge of town I was deafened by a Cetti's Warbler, singing right out in the open. Shortly afterwards another appeared. The place was crawling with Blackcaps and Chiffchaffs, perhaps the result of the bad weather we had been experiencing overnight causing a minor "fall". Around a corner and the path started to rise steeply. A Grasshopper Warbler started reeling although, as usual, I couldn't see it. Then a flash of bronze and an eyestripe of blinding proportions and a cracking Firecrest sat out in the open for me to stare at open mouthed. I tell you, the birds in Spain are very confiding if you've got a pair of binoculars.
Shortly after this we were overtaken by a rain shower, which dampened our clothes although not our enthusiasm. Once this had passed we started to pick up the birds again. Great Tit calling in a most confusing and alarming way (Basque dialect I suppose), Chaffinch, Siskin and then, sitting on a chain link fence, singing his little heart out and radiating the richest yellow you ever did see, a Serin! As we walked on we were to hear and see many more but his first sighting, shortly after the rain had stopped but the sky was still grey, was almost spiritual.
Onwards and upwards and the heavens opened once again. We could see only grey skies for miles around and there was no shelter. Our spirits began to sink and my binoculars started to steam up under my coat. Surely this wasn't the end of our days birding in Spain? Of course it wasn't! We pressed on to the top of the hill to the children's play area which overlooks the port of Santurtzi and a small piece of blue sky appeared. This rapidly expanded, the rain stopped and the sun shone for the rest of the day.
From the play area the path winds its way back down to Santurtzi. In addition to a number of Serins, along the way we were treated to views of Sardinian Warbler, always a pleasure to see. A pair of Stonechats lurked on a patch of gorse to the side of the path and more Cetti's Warblers appeared, especially closer to the town. A Swallow and a Sand Martin paid us a close visit, reminding me that I was yet to see either at home.
The last part of our walk was in the warm sunshine, and I had resigned myself to the fact that we couldn't possibly see anything else. I was wrong. A weak, bouncy fluttering flight from bush top to bush top caught my eye. I thought I knew what it was but there was no call and the bird had promptly disappeared into cover. A few minutes of tense stalking and then it hopped up and sat out in the open. Zitting Cisticola (or Fan-tailed Warbler if, unlike me, you like more sensible names)! After allowing me a brief time to study its plumage and structure, it disappeared again, no doubt to apply for a name change by deed poll.
At the bottom of the hill we turned and headed through town and back to the ship. We had done well. Although still early in the year I had seen all of the species I had hoped for, with the exception of Red-backed Shrike, which is apparently abundant later in the year.
Back on board we settled down in the observation lounge with large glasses of wine and a plate of tapas, and overlooked the harbour. The commonest species of Gull in the harbour was Yellow-legged, an a number of these allowed close scrutiny. The return leg started at 1.30pm, and we rapidly ran into heavy seas which had us running for our cabin. We did little watching for the rest of the day, due to the seas and also the fact that tiredness had caught up with us and we felt the need to snooze. None the less, we saw a number of Gannets, 3 auk sp. and a Great Skua.
The following day dawned and the sea had settled right down. Overnight we had passed through the Bay of Biscay and the rough seas and wind (at one point a F9 north-westerly) had conspired to put us 3 hours behind on our course. The more gentle weather after we rounded the coast of Brittany allowed for a more civilised watch to be kept, and between 9am and 5pm we saw a total of 83 Gannets, 8 Fulmar, 1 Shag, 7 Guillemot and 2 Great Skua.
We finally arrived in port at 7pm on a lovely sunny evening. The whole trip, from the cabin to the food to the birds, had been fantastic. Okay, We may not have seen the most impressive haul of birds but the whole experience was one I would repeat at any time of year, although the late summer/autumn cruises do sound very tempting!
click here if you want to read Paul's Dominican Republic trip report