Guests at the banquet 27 July 2013

Text and Photos: Malcolm Hayday CBE, guest of firmm

I have been coming to Tarifa for 5 or more years, drawn, not by the kite surfing or the hedonistic partying but by some beings who have been there long before we had such ideas: the whales and dolphins of the marine area that is marked by the Strait of Gibraltar. Five years ago we had joined a firmm trip to find orcas but found instead dolphins and pilot whales. A pleasant enough introduction and every trip since these cetaceans have always been a delight to watch, but something was missing. As late as Saturday morning, 27 July, the pilot whales communicated their pleasure at seeing us. They spy hopped, the young flapped their fins against the water and ducked and dived. It was a wrench to leave them but we had to, the sea state was worsening and we had to make our way back to Tarifa. Little did we realize that the dolphins and pilot whales were but the court jesters for what was to follow.

The weather was marginal but firmm committed two boats to follow the orcas. A wise decision as the weather improved as the trip went on.There are other, commercial tour operators in Tarifa but they operate larger boats less nimble and at a distance from the cetaceans. At 14.00 hours we left and scythed through a choppy sea, headed to where the team knew we would find the Moroccan fishermen seeking red tuna. An hour later we had found them. Let all thoughts of tinned tuna or even tuna steaks at your local supermarket leave your mind. These tuna are big! Big enough for a 2 man boat to put their own lives at risk to land a catch. Each is played by a single baited line.Once hooked, the tuna can take the boat in an unintended direction at some speed. Many of the men just use their bare and increasingly lacerated hands to try to land their prized catch. Bear in mind too, that this was Ramadan, a time when many of the fishermen fast in the day, leaving them weakened to cope with their prey. But today, like many days in the height of the tuna season, they had competition. Perhaps two dozen of the most ruthless killers stalking the seas. The orcas.

  

All of this happening in the midst of one of the busiest shipping channels in the world, with ferries and super tankers let alone pleasure craft, framing the picture.

As we approached the fishing boats, there seemed a sense of agitation missing 5 years ago. Quickly the call from the crow's nest was that there were two orca fins visible ahead. But looking around we all could see orca blows and fins from more than one direction. A lot of the violence is enacted beneath the waves. But that fact makes what happens no less dramatic. The orcas move either in groups of 3+ or alone. A tuna is hooked by a fisherman about 200 metros from the boat. The team of 2-3 fishermen then play the line in, working faster and faster as the encircling orcas come within range. The orcas disappear below the waves. We wait with baited breath. One may emerge with its mouth stuffed with slabs of tuna. Sometimes it is more subtle. Only when the tuna is reeled in does the extent of the damage inflicted by the orca become apparent. For some fishermen, only the head will remain, the sea around their tiny boat rent red by the kill. One abiding memory is of a circle of boats, almost like the apocryphal US wagon train, but in that scene the attackers are usually on the outside, here one very large orca was centre circle able to choose which hooked tuna it would go for.

   

A normal firmm trip limits the time spent with a pod out of respect. Here, the rules are different. We spent over 1.5 hours moving amongst the packs of orcas. I cannot say they were oblivious to our presence. I can say their priorities were elsewhere: feasting on red tuna where someone else had done all the hard work of catching them.

I have seen the playful cetaceans of the Mediterranean; I have witnessed the gentle giants of the sperm whales of the Azores. Yet nothing prepares you for the cunning, the stealth, their threatening presence (why wasn't the theme from Jaws being played over the firmm Spirit's tannoy?) The sheer determination with which the orcas go about gorging themselves on red tuna. Older family members teaching younger ones the fine arts. Somehow the fishermen manage a smile and a wave for the onlookers, knowing that today's income has been forfeit. This is not David Attenborough, nor a TV documentary. This is the daily ritual of life and death. These are a very different type of cetacean. Not for nothing are they called killer whales. Yet, just as the Moroccan fishermen accept them in the great scheme of things so we can appreciate their power and, yes, their beauty.

   

If, as I did 5 years ago, you go and did not see the orcas, do not give up. Go back, I promise you, you will not only be rewarded, you will be left with images that will stay with you forever. We were privileged guests of all ages at the orcas' banquet.