Freeze! Put your flippers in the air!

Suiting up

Thursday, October 27, 2011, brought many remarkable occurrences. A foal was born at a neighbour's place. I got up on my surfboard for the first time. We saw 32 shooting stars. Another was perhaps five of the most incredible minutes of our lives, which rapidly came fairly close to being an international incident.

Just off the coast of Cobquecura lives Chile's largest colony of sea lions. As we drove down the hill towards their island, we could see hundreds of their huge furry heads silhouetted against the sky. On the beach, we could hear their snorting and grunting. At the water's edge, we could smell the putrid truth of their predominantly fish-only diet. From there we could see them flopping about on the rock, five or six big fat males standing out among the skinnier females. 

We could also see a fleet of around sixteen trawlers, illegally dredge fishing well closer than the four-miles-from-shore limit they are set by law. These boats cast their nets and, rather than the hassle of waiting to catch the fish they can actually sell, they dredge the ocean, scouring the bottom for every living thing and hauling it all up. Everything that can't be sold is usually thrown back, dead. It hardly needs to be mentioned how crippling this technique is to an ecosystem, particularly so close to the shore. Now add to that the fact the men on the boats will kill sea lions who chew at their nets, sea lions "legally protected" by "sanctuary status" at Cobquecura.

If we saw that fleet, you can bet the coast guard did too. Our host Max has seen them fishing even closer, right off the house, and has taken photos and called the police. Of course no action was taken in either case.

Back to us at the water's edge. We went for a swim. We waded halfway out to their island, no closer, and almost immediately 60 or more poured off the rocks and into the ocean, straight over to investigate the three funny pink sea lions in black neoprene.

A huge male, his neck maybe 2ft diameter, led the pack. When he came closer, they followed; and when he flipped under the water and backed off, they followed. We stayed with them five minutes at the most, but I have never experienced anything so completely magical - without a doubt they were having just as much fun as we were. The closest came to two metres away - it was always they who approached us. 

Sure the best way of disturbing them least would have been to stay out of the water, but we were careful not to make them feel threatened and certainly not to touch them, and went nowhere near the rocks. We were in waist-deep water only about 20m from the shore. They were playing and bouncing in the water like synchronised swimmers, sticking their necks up as high as possible to afford the best view of us, a few surfing in the waves around us and some smaller ones jumping clear out of the water. It was such a euphoric moment I pretty much lost the faculty of speech, and could do nothing but make a series of delighted squeals (this will come as no surprise to close family members).

Two policemen in aviators with truncheons and little guns in their waistbands were waiting for us on the beach. A man with a long-lens camera had called them. This would be a good point to mention there is absolutely no signage banning swimming, stating that the area is protected or even mentioning wildlife. Not so much as a bloody picture of a sea lion. Also, we stood at the water's edge in our wetsuits - intentions fully obvious - for more than five minutes before heading in. Essentially, the man could easily have stopped us from going into the water - which is exactly what he would have done had 'protecting the wildlife' really been his main priority. Of course if he had stopped us he would have missed out on some good photos and the chance to ingratiate himself with the local police.

Obviously I'm not writing this from a Chilean cell. Max's smooth-talking social engineering (details on request) rescued the situation, combined with the sheer shock of the sight of two gringos in this tiny backwater and possibly the effect of peeling down skin-tight wet neoprene to reveal a black bikini. Ahem. 

Of course Max mentioned the illegal fleet of trawlers in plain sight, and received utter silence in response. Unsurprising. They took his statement and some details and we beat a hasty retreat - a hairy ending but completely, totally, unequivocally worth it for those five minutes of pure happiness on all sides.

SARAH