Designated an UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1999 and recognised the world over for its remarkable marine life, the Peninsula Valdés in the Chubut province of Argentina is an ecologist's dream. The Southern Right Whales come to the sheltered bay of the Golfo Nuevo between June and early December to mate and raise their calves before heading further South in search of food. José Luis told us there was an estimated population of 600 whales in the Gulf during this period.
"It looks like we have two males trying to impress a female," José Luis explained. Well they certainly had me impressed. Weighing in at between 40 and 60 tonnes, these majestic and surprisingly graceful creatures were putting on quite a show. One of the frisky fellows approached us so curiously that he was almost head-butting the side of the boat and holding our gaze as if to say: "If you're going to stare at me then I'm going to stare right back - and I'm bigger than you." He then slowly sunk under the surface and we followed his mottled back disappearing underneath the boat and out the other side.
"I just can't believe how close they come," my friend Elly and I gasped at each other as José Luis nodded knowingly.
The distinguishing features of the Southern Right Whales are the knobbly callosities, beige in colour, scattered over the head. The dispersal of them is particular to the individual and does not change over the course of the years so, just like a fingerprint, serves to identify each one.
Over the course of two hours we had followed five different whales and there was always one within view. José Luis started up the boat's engine to lead us back to shore, much to our protests. We were waiting for a glimpse of the iconic flick of the tale that graces many a student Athena poster. For the time being at least, the whales were not going to oblige and we headed back to dry land to continue our journey.
The arid scrub land of the peninsula abounds with further wildlife spotting opportunities and over the course of the day we caught sight of flamingos wading in a shimmering salt lake, a Patagonian ostrich standing tall in the bushes and an armadillo scrabbling in the dirt just metres away. A breezy walk along the cliff tops was rewarded with the sight of tens of Elephant Seals languishing lazily on the beach below. In high season, the number grows to as many as seven thousand. Our one regret was forgetting the binoculars.
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