Conscious of my disappointment on missing out on a seal adventure, Himself has outdone himself – he’s found a seal colony. We’re in coastal Berck, home to France’s largest seal colony and the southernmost point of the European seal population. To say I’m very excited is a deep understatement.
We’re a way out of Berck, surrounded by sand dunes. A promenade takes us into town but my eyes are fixed firmly seaward in the hope of a sleek head appearing – there’s occasional success and much happy squealing on my part. Even the promise of a creature sighting is an instant serotonin boost. We learn that both the common seal (round face, spotty, cute) and the grey seal (long face, serious expression, cute) frequent the bay.
Himself needs feeding so that’s our first focus – moule Roquefort for him, salade de chevre for me, before heading back along the water.
It’s only just occurred to me that we’ve finally passed the Cote d’Albatre. The flint nodule beaches are no more. It’s lovely to be on soft sand again.
Blue jellyfish aren’t having the best day, dozens of them have been stranded by the tide.
Sadly there’s a great deal of rubbish – this was my collection on the way home. I don’t know how people can be so careless with fishing lines and nets knowing the terrible impact they have on creatures that become entangled. And yes, I know the scale problem is immense but at least these won’t be hurting anyone.
While Himself heads back to the motorhome, I stay and commence seal watch – it’s far too lovely to be indoors.
Slowly but surely, people join me. Some promenade, others read in the sun, a few hardy souls brave the water. Endlessly patient fishermen (and women) test their luck. The beach features a series of stone groins, barely visible at this time of day but well known to those fishing. Wading out to reach the best spots, gives the impression of walking on water.
My eyes remain glued seaward. There are rewards – a dozen or so sleek heads pop up. An occasional tail flipper slaps the water and in one memorable instance, a young seal executes three perfect arc jumps, wholly out of the water.
By late afternoon the tide is clearly on the way out – the stone groins come into focus and a sandbank starts to form off shore. But best of all, seals start to congregate – they’re waiting for the sandbank, it’s their resting spot. One by one, they propel themselves out of the water and start their seal pilates. It’s time, I bolt back to collect Himself: seals, seals, seals, come quickly!!
By the time we’re back, they’re clearly visible on the sandbank, jostling for space and forming banana shapes, a resting position that ensures they stay dry as long as possible. I still think it’s seal pilates. I’m in heaven and I’m not the only one – there’s quite a crowd gathering to enjoy seal o’clock. Further out, a second sandbank is forming and there are even more seals out there, at least 100. And they’re noisy! Much barking as they jostle for position.
It’s moments like these I long for a “real’ camera. All I can do is look enviously at those sporting enormous telephoto lenses. Camera phones might be convenient but they’re woefully inadequate at distance and/or in poor light. I do my best, but crisp photos are out of reach, for which I apologise.
And if seeing a colony of seals wasn’t enough, I make a lovely new French friend! A fellow animal lover and traveller – we strike up a conversation as women do and find a good deal in common. Himself wanders home, while we stay to discuss travel, solve the troubles of the world and enjoy seal antics. It’s so lovely to have a girly chat after being on the road for a while ❤️
It’s extraordinary how quickly and far the tide goes out, well beyond the stone groins.
As the crowd thins and the light fades I can’t resist walking out to get a better look at the second sand bar. It’s a serious trip hazard but that sandbar is *full* of seals. There are three distinct groups, each with an enormous male surrounded by his girls. Also regretting not bringing my good binoculars – the backup pair is decidedly below par but I can see both common and grey seals. They’re quite dry now and fluffed up. Believe it not, I’ve patted a few seals over the years but they’ve all fresh out of the water- a dry fluffy one would be lovely to touch.
The light’s fading and it’s finally time to go home. I pick my way back to shore – now isn’t the time to stack it in a rockpool. Especially not when little creatures are lurking, patiently waiting for the tide to come back in.
It’s been a fabulous day. I practically float home – all my seal dreams have come true.
