Sailing with Dolphins, Whales, and Sea Birds

“The ocean stirs the heart, inspires the imagination and brings eternal joy to the soul.”

Wyland

Wind Surf Transatlantic Sailing Day 9

Morning of Wonder

After another time change, morning came far too early. When the alarm went off at seven, it was still dark outside, and my body had no real interest in leaving the warmth of the duvet. Sean, predictably, headed up on deck anyway, unwilling to risk missing whatever the Atlantic might offer before sunrise. I stayed in bed for another half hour, snug and half-buried in blankets, which in hindsight may have been a mistake.

According to Sean, the moment he stepped outside he began to notice large-winged birds moving along the horizon in the twilight. There were medium-sized shapes, football-like in silhouette, and smaller birds closer to the ship, but it was still too dark for reliable photographs or identification. They were only shadowy forms against the fading night, present enough to notice but not clear enough to identify.

Then, not long after, the morning transformed into something extraordinary. From the front of Wind Surf, a glorious shaft of light stretched from the horizon toward the ship. The sky and even the water turned deep shades of purple, colours unlike anything Sean felt we had seen on a transatlantic crossing before. As the birds crossed through that band of light, they appeared and disappeared against it, briefly transformed from silhouettes into living shapes.

It was a double-edged blessing. As the light strengthened, the birds became easier to see, but they also began to pull away from the ship. Still, there were now large seabirds soaring low over the calm water, and after four days with few confirmable sightings, their presence felt like a promise. The ocean was no longer only offering hints of life at sea - it was beginning to reveal possibilities.

Follow the Birds

By seven-thirty, the sky and water were more or less fully lit, clear and blue, and the sea was extremely calm. I could feel that in bed, but – once again – according to Sean not long after, fins began to break the water near the front of Wind Surf. At first, Sean had almost no one to point them out to. Only a few people were on deck, and most of them were walking laps with headphones on, enclosed in their own routines while the sea began to come alive around them.

As fins and splashes continued near the hull, his attention was drawn farther out, beyond the ship, where a large number of seabirds were circling. This was not merely a flock. It was not even just “a lot of birds.” It was a raft of birds, the kind of gathering that suggests feeding activity, movement beneath the surface, and the possibility of larger life below. The last time either of us had seen anything like it was a year ago aboard Wind Surf, near Gran Canaria.

That mattered. Birds often know before we do. Follow the birds, and there is a chance you will find fish. Follow the fish, and there is a chance you will find dolphins or whales.

Nearing 8 AM, a French passenger apparently came up and demanded to know what he was looking at.

When he mentioned the birds, she seemed unimpressed. “Birds? What is so special about a bunch of birds?” she asked. It would have been easy to launch into a full explanation of seabird behaviour, feeding, and the way bird activity can reveal hidden life beneath the water. But before any of that could happen, the sea answered for him.

A pod of dolphins erupted near the front of the ship!

Sean pointed them out to her, but she shrugged and wondered aloud what was so special about the “large fishies” before marching off. Others were far more enthusiastic. As soon as people saw him pointing, passengers and crew were quickly drawn to the railings. The bridge crew noticed too, and for a few minutes, excitement moved through the ship as dolphins dived beneath the bow.

Then, in short order, a second large pod appeared beside Wind Surf. They swam along the hull, rolled in the water, and seemed to play with the side of the vessel. After days of scanning empty horizons and counting flying fish, the ocean suddenly felt generous beyond measure.

On Deck

By the time I made it up on deck around 8:30, Sean was talking with the Captain as the sails were being raised from the side bridge. I joined them and commented that it was glorious outside. The Captain looked toward the horizon and replied, “I give you a morning of glorious - after that, who knows.”

Ahead of Wind Surf, a huge storm front was visible, darkening the sky even as the morning around us still shone.

I soon learned how much Sean had already seen while I had been resting, and almost immediately, the day offered me my own moment. As I stopped at the railings, I saw a rounded, strongly hooked brownish dorsal fin moving along the port side of the ship. The animal was swimming more or less parallel with us, keeping pace briefly before disappearing. We do not have a photograph, so any identification remains tentative, but my best guess was a Cuvier’s Beaked Whale or perhaps a Northern Bottlenose Whale!

Given the activity in the sea, before breakfast, we spent a happy half hour watching seabirds pass in all directions. They mostly appeared in pairs, but there was a steady stream of movement across the water. Large wings skimmed the tops of the calm swells, birds banking, gliding, and vanishing against the light.

At the same time, I felt something in me come alive again. All the previous days of watching, waiting, scanning, and seeing little had not been wasted. They had prepared us for this. From that point onward, the day became a near-constant stream of dolphins, whales, seabirds, blows, fins, dark backs, distant splashes, and sudden shouts from the railings. It was the kind of day at sea you hope for but cannot arrange. Today made an already wonderful voyage completely perfect!

Marine Protected Areas

Today, we are passing between the Meteor Submarine Archipelago Marine Protected Area and PMA13, both of which are part of the larger Azorean Marine Protected Areas Network (RAMPA). The Meteor Submarine Archipelago Marine Protected Area (MPA), located southwest of the Azores, is a crucial ocean sanctuary designed to protect biodiversity, including corals, deep-sea fish, whales, and sharks. This area is known for its oceanographic dynamics, where upwellings and eddies, created by seamounts, help disperse nutrients across the Atlantic, promoting a productive marine ecosystem. PMA13, located southwest of the Azores, covers the Rainbow Hydrothermal Field and is also considered critical habitat for many marine species.

 Both zones are part of the Azorean Marine Protected Areas Network (RAMPA), an initiative to manage 30% of the Azorean sea in such a way as to support sustainable maritime activities and conserve marine life. We had hoped that passing through or near these waters might increase our chances of seeing marine life, and by mid-morning it was clear that the hope had not been misplaced.

Breakfast in Veranda

Eventually, we stepped into Veranda for a quick breakfast, neither of us wanting to be away from the railings for long. Even while we ate, the sea continued to hold most of our attention. A large NCL cruise ship passed on our port side, and behind it a huge MSC cargo ship soon followed, its deck stacked high with colourful metal containers. Both vessels appeared to be travelling about twice as fast as we were.

I wondered what we looked like to them: a five-masted sailing ship moving more slowly across the Atlantic, white sails unfurled, passengers gathered at railings with binoculars and cameras. In a shipping lane full of steel, speed, and commerce, Wind Surf must have seemed like an elegant anachronism.

The captain later explained as he strolled the decks and inspected the ship that we were likely seeing more marine traffic because we were sailing between two low-pressure systems, one to the north and one to the south. Those weather systems had pushed other vessels and cruise ships onto a similar trajectory. Even the human traffic around us, then, was being shaped by weather. The ocean was arranging not only wildlife, but ships.

Dolphin and Whale Sightings

Just after breakfast, we spotted a huge tall blow off the port side of the ship. It was unmistakably from a large whale. The animal blew three times before slowly rolling forward into a dive, never showing its flukes. Sean managed to get a photograph, and we later confirmed that it was likely a Fin Whale. 

After so many survey hours without a whale sighting, the thrill of finally seeing that tall blow rise against the horizon was immense.

There were plenty of activities scheduled inside, as always, but there was absolutely no possibility of leaving the deck. We spent the entire morning outside in the sunshine, Sean alternating between photographing the beautiful billowing sails and the flocks of seabirds, while I kept watch for blows, fins, backs, splashes, and anything else that might signal life.

One of the great highlights came when we spotted a Sperm Whale swimming slowly down the length of the ship. We had a good view of its long, flat, knobbly back and small dorsal fin, and I was actually able to identify it in the moment. This was my first time seeing a Sperm Whale in real life, and the excitement of that recognition - not just seeing the animal, but knowing what I was seeing - was extraordinary.

Soon afterward, the bridge announced that there was a pod of dolphins off the starboard side. A small group of excited passengers and crew gathered at the railings, and we were lucky enough to see them too: about twenty-five Striped Dolphins swimming and breaching a few hundred metres from the ship. They looked joyful and free, leaping from the water into sunlight, moving between sea and air with such ease that it was impossible not to smile.

The ocean, which had required such patience for days, suddenly felt almost exuberant.

Bow Spit

At 10:30, passengers were invited to visit the bowsprit at the very front of the ship, where a crew member kindly took everyone’s photographs using their own phones. Many people used the opportunity to recreate the famous Jack and Rose moment from Titanic. Believe it or not, even after almost a decade of hiking and sharing our journeys, I still do not particularly love having my photograph taken.

But I do love walking out onto the bowsprit and being momentarily in an area of the ship that we typically aren’t given access to.

There is something exhilarating about standing at the very front of Wind Surf, suspended above the water, with the ship moving beneath you and the horizon ahead. It makes the crossing feel physical in a way few passenger experiences do. You are not simply on a ship. You are at the forward edge of it, held between sail, sea, and sky.

Being offered opportunities like this is one of the truly special parts of crossing the Atlantic aboard Wind Surf. The ship invites participation, closeness, and a relationship with the voyage that larger vessels often cannot provide.

Noon Announcement

As the morning progressed, storm clouds gathered around us. Small but persistent rain showers moved across the water in all directions, soft white walls passing over the sea. We decided that whenever the rain finally reached us, we would go into Veranda for lunch. Somehow, for a long while, it held off.

Looking outward, we spotted several more tall, straight blows near the horizon, likely from passing Fin Whales. The day continued to give even as the impending storm grew closer.

The captain’s noon announcement informed us that Wind Surf had travelled 1,900 nautical miles since leaving Sint Maarten, with only 374 nautical miles remaining before arriving in Ponta Delgada. We were travelling at nine knots over water 2,300 metres deep. Tomorrow’s weather looked favourable, with temperatures between eighteen and twenty-one degrees and winds of ten to fifteen knots. However, there was a possibility that the two storms on either side of us would converge over the Azores the day after tomorrow, giving us a cool, wet, windy day in port.

That made us wonder whether reserving a four-hour hike up a mountain in the rain was really wise.

The fun fact of the day was that early ocean liners making transatlantic crossings, beginning with Cunard’s RMS Britannia in 1840, carried livestock to provide fresh dairy during long voyages. No mention was made of Titanic, despite the date, which perhaps was just as well. We had already spent the morning thinking about whales, weather, and the living ocean. The darker histories of the Atlantic did not need to be summoned every day.

Lunch and Rain

Eventually, we did step into Veranda for lunch and discovered that the theme was German cuisine. Our plates included potato salad, cucumber and sour cream salad, carrot, raisin, and walnut salad, German sourdough bread, and raspberry jam Linzer cookies. It was all delicious, though even lunch could not fully pull our attention away from the water.

Afterward, the rain that had been chasing the ship finally caught us. It arrived like a white wall, enveloping Wind Surf and the surrounding sea. We retreated beneath the awning outside Compass Rose and watched as the world became damp, grey, and blurred. With the sun hidden and the wind rising, it grew chilly, and Sean ordered a coffee and Baileys to help me warm up.

But even then, the weather could not drive us far from the upper decks or the front of the ship. As long as there were whales, dolphins, and birds to watch, we were not going inside. Clothes can dry. Hair can be combed later. Shoes can be warmed. But a day like this - a day when the sea is alive with possibility - is rare.

For hours, I stood near the front or on the flying bridge with my hair whipping in the wind, binoculars in hand, and a huge smile on my face. I was damp, cold, and utterly happy.

Bird Identification

As we sat and watched, the stream of birds continued to pass. We were joined by Diana, a lovely woman who had worked in seabird and raptor rehabilitation before retiring and who clearly shared our love of birds and birding. Hoping she might help identify the shearwaters, we stood together at the railings, watching their shapes move across the water.

Soon another woman with binoculars joined us, and before long a small crowd had begun to gather. I always love how birds and birdwatching have the power to bring people together. One person points. Another asks. Someone offers binoculars. Someone else sees the movement and turns to look. Curiosity spreads so easily.

The problem, of course, is that shearwaters are difficult. They tend to look very similar, distinguishable by subtle differences in size, shape, flight style, bill, and the amount and placement of pale markings on the underwings or tail. There are differences in how they move among the waves as well, but none of us felt especially confident in reading those subtleties from a moving ship.

I found myself wondering whether the apparent similarity among shearwaters has something to do with the environment they inhabit. The surface of the ocean is less visually varied than land. There are no trees, cliffs, shrubs, grasses, or forest layers dividing species into obvious niches. Perhaps, in such an open and wind-shaped world, the birds themselves are differentiated more subtly. Or perhaps we simply have not yet learned to see properly at sea.

Either way, it was a wonderful moment to share.

Trivia Session

After a damp and chilly afternoon, we finally headed inside for General Knowledge Trivia at five. The questions were good, but we managed only ten out of twenty, which I think was our lowest score of the voyage so far. After spending so many hours outside, full of excitement from whales, dolphins, seabirds, weather, and watching, our brains may not have been operating at peak trivia capacity.

It did not matter. Even our poor result could not detract from what the day had already given us. Sometimes a low trivia score is a small price to pay for a morning with Sperm Whales and Striped Dolphins. Moreover, it felt good to take a small break and warm up.

Evening on Wind Surf

We were not especially hungry and did not feel like sitting through a formal dinner in Amphora for an hour. More than that, we did not want to be away from the water while daylight still offered the possibility of sightings. After a day like this, leaving the railings felt almost irresponsible.

As such, we quickly changed into something more formal for the evening before returning to the deck to watch the sunset. There were still flocks of seabirds circling on both sides of the ship. In the evening light, they looked like a different species, though perhaps that was only the changing of the lighting. Tonight, the sun sank into the sea without much fanfare and was largely obscured by storm clouds.

In much the same way, we ended the day without much fanfare of our own. Instead of going inside for dinner, we sat quietly and watched the light continue to slip away, letting the darkness gather around Wind Surf. After such a full day, there was no need to add more. The day had already been amazing.

Later, we went into the Lounge, where Danyi played before Nikki’s set of movie songs. After that, from nine until eleven, we returned once more to Compass Rose, where Elaine played piano. It was a pleasant and subdued evening, full of wonderful music.

Today was one of the most exciting days we have ever had at sea.

See you on board!

Nautical Term of the Day – Wake - The visible trail a vessel leaves behind as it moves through the water. At its simplest, it is the pattern of disturbed water stretching out from the stern, created by the hull pushing forward and displacing the sea.