Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Log of Trip on the Nautilus Explorer--Steller Sea Lions
Saturday, July 21, and Sunday, July 22, 2007, The Inian Islands—Steller Sea Lion Encounters
The amplified chimes and loudspeaker announcement “good morning, dive briefing in the main salon” invites still sleepy divers to the early morning dive briefing. In these latitudes the day dawns early, so the sun is well into the sky as we haul ourselves into the salon to learn about the dive. We will not be disappointed. Today’s dive will take us to a reef in the Inian Islands and an area frequented by Steller sea lions. As a result, the skipper cautions that we will be subject to scrutiny by the sea lions. The plan is to anchor up in about 30 feet of water, descend to the bottom, hunker down along the rock ledges, and let the sea lions initiate contact. The behavior we expect witness will start out with curiosity and progress to aggressive posturing to possible “mouthing”—what I call “play chicken and chew.” We would descend and ascend in groups, after all, there is safety in numbers. While the briefing thoroughly covers the contingencies, the abstraction of the description does not quite equate to the reality of the situation.
I have had but a momentarily brief encounter with a solitary Steller sea lion prior to today. Diving around my former stomping grounds in the Channel Islands I am no stranger to marine mammal encounters having been joined by California sea lions on numerous dives. These experiences and critters are not similar, not even close. The similarity ends with the words “sea lions” in their name. (Steller sea lions are the only living members of the genus Emetopias; their closest living relatives include other sea lions in the genus Zalophus which includes the California sea lion.) Compared to their west coast counterparts, Steller sea lions are larger, more aggressive, and seem to have an attitude that goes along with being the biggest and toughest critter on the rock.
A little description sets the stage. Males can tip the scales at 2,200 pounds and measure 10 feet in length, although the bachelor bulls we may encounter will most likely weigh less than half that maximum (whew, that’s a relief). The bachelor Steller sea lion is still larger than most full-grown California sea lions. To put it in perspective, a half-ton Steller sea lion exceeds the capacity and cargo space of most full-size pickup trucks. One guide book describes the behavior of the Steller sea lion as “the species roars and growls deeply rather than barking; sometimes swims by to inspect divers” and goes on to describe California sea lions as “darker and smaller” than their Alaska relatives. After the dive I concluded that the author of that book has a gift for misunderstatement. If what I witness on this dive is a “swim by” then the Luftwaffe fighters going after 8th Air Force bombers did a “fly by.” To top it off, there is no agreement as to their name, various sources identify the critters as Steller sea lions, Stellers sea lions, and Steller’s sea lions.
I enter the water with the last third of the divers reflecting more my station at the back of the skiff rather than the luck of the draw. When I get to the bottom, I find a rock in the kelp and used it as cover. Trouble is, at least two other divers want to use the same rock so we get stacked up; but we decide to play well together and take turns alternately cowering and looking up. This rock seems to be a valuable piece of real estate and I consider selling it in a time share scheme. Cautiously at first, the sea lions began to work the outer perimeter of the group. Looking up, I see what looks like dozens of sea lions darting around above in a quite stunning choreography of fur and fat. I take random pictures with my Sony Cybershot digital camera as the situation allows, but in the turbid green water figured all I would get is “shadows” of the sea lions as they climb, dive, and loop-the-loop about us. I notice my buddy’s tank band has come lose and the tank slipped down. I point out the situation to another diver closer to her and he quickly repositions the tank and cinches the band tight.
Instantaneously, as if on cue, the sea lions’ actions change. They move closer, abandoning any pretense of turning away at the last minute. As if to “count coup,” the critters begin “mouthing” the divers. The sea lions seem to mouth anything that is exposed, which in the shelled up position most of us have assumed seems to leave just our heads. The critters seem to come in waves rather than in a constant frontal assault. The scene is a melee of cowering divers and plunging sea lions. We are surrounded and outnumbered and I begin to wonder if this is how Custer felt. I see a diver in front of me get mouthed on the top of his neoprene hood, a situation that reminds me of checking the ripeness of melons in the grocery store produce section. I get the same treatment a few times on the noggin, these are equal opportunity stalkers. One tugs hard at my regulator hose; now it is getting personal; which means it is time to leave.
I join a small group of divers heading to the surface. We make no safety stop. A few of the sea lions detach from the main body and follow us up, although whether they do so as an escort or to pick off stragglers I can’t say. They play a Border collie role in that they keep the flock together.
A pretty stiff current is running at the surface and some of us begin to drift away from the skiff. The crew directs us to “swim toward the boat” as they are plucking other divers out of the ocean. Kicking against the current, the best I can do is slow the drift and wait for the skiff to motor over for the pick up.
Back on board the Nautilus Explorer, I peel back my drysuit and discover the polar fleece undergarment is damp. I figure that in craning my neck to watch the sea lions, a trickle of water entered through the neck seal.
The next day, we do an afternoon dive at a location the skipper has named “Bad Girls Wall.” In the dive briefing, the skipper surmises that we will probably see more sea lions on this dive, just not in the number we encountered the day before. As we drift along the wall, the sea lions approach and dart away, seemingly more curious and not exhibiting the belligerent aggressiveness evident on the previous day’s dive. Except for their size, I would speculate these California sea lions that strayed up the coast. My illusion and complacency startling shatters at the end of my safety stop. A sea lion zips in and mouths my forearm as if being offered the drumstick of a Thanksgiving turkey. (I should probably be thankful he didn’t want a thigh or breast.) I am startled as its oral cavity encompassed my drysuit-clad arm. I feel the squeeze but not much pressure. He lets go and is gone as quickly as he arrived. The incident, which lasts all of one or two breaths doesn’t last long enough for my surprise to progress to astonishment.
Back on the Nautilus Explorer, my dive buddy Lynn tells me that by happenstance he captured the encounter up to the point of connected of the sea lion’s mouth around my forearm. The video camera was running and he turned it off as we broke the surface. As I watch the replay, I see the critter approach mouth wide open as if it were about to rip into a salmon. I am pleased and relieved it knew the difference. The last frame of the video is just prior to the point of contact, making for a very dramatic visual.
A few days later, a visit to the Whale Museum at Telegraph Cove, British Columbia, dramatically reinforces this point. The docent compares a Steller sea lion scull side-by-side with that of a brown bear (as in grizzly bear for those of you who don’t speak Alaskan or BC). The Steller skull dwarfs the brown bear’s skull. She highlights another anatomical difference—the brown bear has both incisors and molars reflecting his omnivore diet; the Steller sports only incisors. Fortunately, I can look at the skull and teeth before me with the disinterested detachment of someone who has looked into the jaws of the living animal.
Is any of the foregoing an exaggeration? I suggest you take the plunge and find out for yourself.
The amplified chimes and loudspeaker announcement “good morning, dive briefing in the main salon” invites still sleepy divers to the early morning dive briefing. In these latitudes the day dawns early, so the sun is well into the sky as we haul ourselves into the salon to learn about the dive. We will not be disappointed. Today’s dive will take us to a reef in the Inian Islands and an area frequented by Steller sea lions. As a result, the skipper cautions that we will be subject to scrutiny by the sea lions. The plan is to anchor up in about 30 feet of water, descend to the bottom, hunker down along the rock ledges, and let the sea lions initiate contact. The behavior we expect witness will start out with curiosity and progress to aggressive posturing to possible “mouthing”—what I call “play chicken and chew.” We would descend and ascend in groups, after all, there is safety in numbers. While the briefing thoroughly covers the contingencies, the abstraction of the description does not quite equate to the reality of the situation.
I have had but a momentarily brief encounter with a solitary Steller sea lion prior to today. Diving around my former stomping grounds in the Channel Islands I am no stranger to marine mammal encounters having been joined by California sea lions on numerous dives. These experiences and critters are not similar, not even close. The similarity ends with the words “sea lions” in their name. (Steller sea lions are the only living members of the genus Emetopias; their closest living relatives include other sea lions in the genus Zalophus which includes the California sea lion.) Compared to their west coast counterparts, Steller sea lions are larger, more aggressive, and seem to have an attitude that goes along with being the biggest and toughest critter on the rock.
A little description sets the stage. Males can tip the scales at 2,200 pounds and measure 10 feet in length, although the bachelor bulls we may encounter will most likely weigh less than half that maximum (whew, that’s a relief). The bachelor Steller sea lion is still larger than most full-grown California sea lions. To put it in perspective, a half-ton Steller sea lion exceeds the capacity and cargo space of most full-size pickup trucks. One guide book describes the behavior of the Steller sea lion as “the species roars and growls deeply rather than barking; sometimes swims by to inspect divers” and goes on to describe California sea lions as “darker and smaller” than their Alaska relatives. After the dive I concluded that the author of that book has a gift for misunderstatement. If what I witness on this dive is a “swim by” then the Luftwaffe fighters going after 8th Air Force bombers did a “fly by.” To top it off, there is no agreement as to their name, various sources identify the critters as Steller sea lions, Stellers sea lions, and Steller’s sea lions.
I enter the water with the last third of the divers reflecting more my station at the back of the skiff rather than the luck of the draw. When I get to the bottom, I find a rock in the kelp and used it as cover. Trouble is, at least two other divers want to use the same rock so we get stacked up; but we decide to play well together and take turns alternately cowering and looking up. This rock seems to be a valuable piece of real estate and I consider selling it in a time share scheme. Cautiously at first, the sea lions began to work the outer perimeter of the group. Looking up, I see what looks like dozens of sea lions darting around above in a quite stunning choreography of fur and fat. I take random pictures with my Sony Cybershot digital camera as the situation allows, but in the turbid green water figured all I would get is “shadows” of the sea lions as they climb, dive, and loop-the-loop about us. I notice my buddy’s tank band has come lose and the tank slipped down. I point out the situation to another diver closer to her and he quickly repositions the tank and cinches the band tight.
Instantaneously, as if on cue, the sea lions’ actions change. They move closer, abandoning any pretense of turning away at the last minute. As if to “count coup,” the critters begin “mouthing” the divers. The sea lions seem to mouth anything that is exposed, which in the shelled up position most of us have assumed seems to leave just our heads. The critters seem to come in waves rather than in a constant frontal assault. The scene is a melee of cowering divers and plunging sea lions. We are surrounded and outnumbered and I begin to wonder if this is how Custer felt. I see a diver in front of me get mouthed on the top of his neoprene hood, a situation that reminds me of checking the ripeness of melons in the grocery store produce section. I get the same treatment a few times on the noggin, these are equal opportunity stalkers. One tugs hard at my regulator hose; now it is getting personal; which means it is time to leave.
I join a small group of divers heading to the surface. We make no safety stop. A few of the sea lions detach from the main body and follow us up, although whether they do so as an escort or to pick off stragglers I can’t say. They play a Border collie role in that they keep the flock together.
A pretty stiff current is running at the surface and some of us begin to drift away from the skiff. The crew directs us to “swim toward the boat” as they are plucking other divers out of the ocean. Kicking against the current, the best I can do is slow the drift and wait for the skiff to motor over for the pick up.
Back on board the Nautilus Explorer, I peel back my drysuit and discover the polar fleece undergarment is damp. I figure that in craning my neck to watch the sea lions, a trickle of water entered through the neck seal.
The next day, we do an afternoon dive at a location the skipper has named “Bad Girls Wall.” In the dive briefing, the skipper surmises that we will probably see more sea lions on this dive, just not in the number we encountered the day before. As we drift along the wall, the sea lions approach and dart away, seemingly more curious and not exhibiting the belligerent aggressiveness evident on the previous day’s dive. Except for their size, I would speculate these California sea lions that strayed up the coast. My illusion and complacency startling shatters at the end of my safety stop. A sea lion zips in and mouths my forearm as if being offered the drumstick of a Thanksgiving turkey. (I should probably be thankful he didn’t want a thigh or breast.) I am startled as its oral cavity encompassed my drysuit-clad arm. I feel the squeeze but not much pressure. He lets go and is gone as quickly as he arrived. The incident, which lasts all of one or two breaths doesn’t last long enough for my surprise to progress to astonishment.
Back on the Nautilus Explorer, my dive buddy Lynn tells me that by happenstance he captured the encounter up to the point of connected of the sea lion’s mouth around my forearm. The video camera was running and he turned it off as we broke the surface. As I watch the replay, I see the critter approach mouth wide open as if it were about to rip into a salmon. I am pleased and relieved it knew the difference. The last frame of the video is just prior to the point of contact, making for a very dramatic visual.
A few days later, a visit to the Whale Museum at Telegraph Cove, British Columbia, dramatically reinforces this point. The docent compares a Steller sea lion scull side-by-side with that of a brown bear (as in grizzly bear for those of you who don’t speak Alaskan or BC). The Steller skull dwarfs the brown bear’s skull. She highlights another anatomical difference—the brown bear has both incisors and molars reflecting his omnivore diet; the Steller sports only incisors. Fortunately, I can look at the skull and teeth before me with the disinterested detachment of someone who has looked into the jaws of the living animal.
Is any of the foregoing an exaggeration? I suggest you take the plunge and find out for yourself.
# posted by covediver @ 11:35 PM 
