Do You Get Wafers with it! Bempton Cliffs, 4th September 2021

Just ninety minutes after leaving Blacktoft Sands and the White-tailed Lapwing behind we pulled into Bempton Cliffs. It was instantly obvious that, "Albatross fever" had dissipated somewhat because we were able to park right next to the entrance instead of in a field a quarter of a mile away. We ignored anything by the visitor centre, this was a singular mission, walked as briskly as we could to the cliffs, meeting nobody at all on the way and turned right towards the New Roll Up and Staple Neuk viewpoints from where we knew the Black-browed Albatross could be seen from. There were just four other birders at the New Roll Up, a wooden platform perched on top of the cliffs which gives a commanding view over part of the cliff-face and sea. Apart from thousands of Gannets there was little else left on the cliffs since all the breeding Auk species had already left their rudimentary "nests" on the ledges. When we first connected with the Black-browed Albatross, on a frustrating day in mid-July (read here), there were hundreds of birders vying for the best places to watch from and hustle-bustle was the order of the day. This time it was so relaxed. The other birders were all staring out to sea and I barely suppressed an audible groan since that meant the Albatross had left the cliffs to sit upon the water, which was exactly what had happened on our last visit and that had ended in the bird disappearing out to sea, out of view and an awful lot of angst. I followed the line that they were all looking at and found the bird, probably about a quarter of a mile out (distance is so difficult to gauge with no landmarks to go by). This was exactly the view we'd had six weeks before and I didn't want a repeat of what happened afterwards this time.

(distant) Black-browed Albatross (again!)

The constant attention that the Black-browed Albatross had been getting meant that its movements and habits had been extremely well appraised and folk had realised that it was a creature of habit. Generally the bird would spend around three days at the reserve cliffs mainly resting amongst the throngs of Gannets but would, once or twice a day,  fly vigorously along the cliffs when it would give itself up, and offer the views that I so desired, to its constant stream of admirers. Then it would usually disappear out to sea for a similar period of time, presumably to feed, before returning for another "rest" period. The fact that the Albatross had only returned a few hours before we arrived meant that if it played true to form then we'd have ample opportunity to finally see the bird up close. Apparently the Albatross also had its own daily routine when "in residence" at the cliffs. It would spend a few hours resting on its favourite ledge then fly out to sea, presumably to perform its ablutions and for a clean and preen session. It would tend to rest floating on the sea for an hour or so before taking off and flying back into the cliffs. Instead of going straight back to the ledge it would then fly along its favoured part of the cliff-face, soaring on the updrafts for another half hour or more. During those flights it would pass very closely to the Staple Neuk viewing platform which hangs on the cliffs above the rock stack that the Albatross favoured. Many birders and photographers had obtained some amazing photos from that viewpoint. The Albatross was slowly drifting with the current towards Staple Neuk and I wanted to be in position, ready to take advantage should the bird be obliging this time.

The walk along the cliff-top to Staple Neuk took ten minutes. From every vantage point that allowed a clear view of the sea, I checked to see if the Albatross was still out there. Spotting the Albatross, despite its huge size wasn't actually that easy and I didn't always find it. The cliffs at Bempton are over a hundred metres high in places and the bird was a fair way out plus it was ever moving along the coast and besides I was less thorough than I should have been because I was more interested in gaining the Staple Neuk viewing platform as quickly as possible. There were just half a dozen other birders at the viewpoint so we were able to select what I thought would be the best place to watch, a position that allowed a full view of the rock stack and arch below. A chap hailed us as we settled in and asked, "Have you seen the Black-browed Albatross, and stated, "It's on the sea straight out by the orange buoy". I followed his scope line and was relieved to see the Albatross still preening, at least it hadn't flown out to sea. Yet!

I set my own scope up and searched for the Albatross through the eyepiece. Locating birds with a powerful scope, even ones as big as an Albatross, is never easy when you're looking at vast open spaces like the sea, I find it really difficult to gauge the distance that the bird is away and I was still looking for it on the sea when a shout went up, "It's flying". Cue an Old Caley panic, although nothing like the frenzy I lost myself in when trying to see the Albatross six weeks ago. I'd already seen it so I managed to retain a modicum of composure this time. I knew from the various running commentaries, including from Mrs Caley who was following the bird with ease, that the Black-browed Albatross was flying in towards the cliffs and not away from them so I just had to steady myself and follow the line of sight. This time I had the sense to ask, "how high is it flying" and was told that it was low to the water which helped me find the bird almost immediately. I was in the game and following the Albatross which had flown almost to the base of the cliffs to the South and was now flying back towards the stack beneath us. I watched it until it was close enough and then swapped to the camera and took some shots of the approaching bird.

Thar she blows!

The Black-browed Albatross passed directly beneath us and disappeared to the left of the rock stack. As it passed I took many more photos, my camera was about to work as hard and fast as it ever had over the next half hour or so. The Albatross was still below us and still out beyond the rocks but compared to our views in July this was great reward for our persistence in returning for another look. In a similar vein we had to go and see last years Lammergeier three times as well before getting satisfactory views. The Lammergeier was equally as impressive viewed close up as the Albatross but was an altogether different beast, menacing and businesslike, whereas the Albatross looked so graceful and sublime.

The Black-browed Albatross reappeared from behind the stack this time treating us to a pass from the other direction. At the range it was at, maybe twenty metres away from us, there was no mistaking it from the, surprisingly similar sized Gannets, even the darker first year birds. The long straight black wings were held perpendicular to the body and the black extended right over the back. The black eyebrow that gives the species its name was obvious as was the flesh coloured and pink hook-tipped bill. The massive pinkish-grey feet were generally held up under the black banded white tail but could be seen when the bird stalled occasionally in the wind. Those black wings actually had yellowish shafted primaries which were distinctive. Mostly though the bird could be spotted easily because of its majesty in the air, Gannets are superlative fliers but the Albatross was absolutely supreme, unrivalled by any other seabird I'd seen before, breezing around the cliff-face with no discernible physical effort at all. That Albatross was built for flying!

After another couple of passes made mostly well beneath us, the fun really started and so did my giggling. Suddenly the Albatross appeared right in front of us, cruising past at eye level. I tracked the bird as it passed, continually holding the shutter button depressed. There was no problem in focussing on the bird since it was so huge even though it was travelling at some speed. I could hear myself laughing and swear that I could feel the air parting as the bird cut through it. All of the assembled watchers were gasping, "Wow", "What a bird" and a few more decorative expressions. The photos below are hardly cropped at all, the Albatross was so close that I couldn't get much more than the birds body in the frame. What a bird indeed! 

The next pass by the Albatross was made over our heads. This was unbelievable. I never imagined that one day I'd be watching a Black-browed Albatross, while standing on dry land, flying just metres over my head! I felt so happy that Mrs Caley and I had finally, at the fourth attempt, gotten the crippling views and photos that so many other birders had. If the Albatross returns agin next summer then I would wholeheartedly recommend that any of you that haven't seen this bird to go and see it. It is magnificent!

The Black-browed Albatross continued to glide back and forth with barely any wingbeats required and continued to totally wow the onlookers and especially me. I even took time just to watch it but always ended up taking more photos. By the end of the afternoon I will have taken over five hundred photos of the Albatross and pretty much all of them were of top quality (by my standards anyway). Choosing just a few (ok I know, a few more than a few) to show in this blog has been a very tricky job indeed.

I recalled that my fellow Oxon birder, Ewan, mentioned in his own superb blog, Black Audi Birding (far better and much more up to date than mine) that gaining an underwing shot of the Albatross was extremely difficult and I was beginning to appreciate why. There was obviously no problems in photographing the bird, that was easy, but the birds own pattern of flight meant that whenever it turned, it always seemed to bank with its back to the cliffs and by the time it had completed the turn it was either back in level flight or it had disappeared behind the adjacent cliff-face. I watched the Albatross in the hope that it would make a straight winged turn and show the underwings in their entirety but it never did!

The Albatross, after flying around for a while, appeared to want to land on its favourite bit of rock. The actual landing stage is hidden from Staple Neuk and can only be seen from one of the viewpoints on either side from much further away. The Albatross would always bank away to our left and out of sight, reappearing again over the rock stack with the arch beneath (the arch couldn't be seen from Staple Neuk either). About twenty minutes after it had first flown back to the cliffs it began making dummy landings whereby it would lower its feet and flutter above the rocks before flying on again. It did this multiple times so I concentrated on capturing the bird with the landing gear in the down position and also some of the extraordinary shapes that it pulled while manoeuvring into position. It was apparent just how skilfully the Albatross uses its tail and wings in combination with the feet are used to air brake and to negotiate the tricky art of landing in the updrafts.

I used to spend a lot of time at gigs watching and listening to some excellent bands (and a few not so). Some of those bands would be so good that I'd be captivated and transported into a place where nothing else mattered at the time except for the music. I can remember watching British Sea Power play their beautiful and mesmerising instrumental track, "The Great Skua" at a few of their performances. As part of the show the band used a stage-wide screen as a backdrop, on which they showed videos to illustrate the songs that were played. For "The Great Skua", the images shown depicted Albatrosses, and other birds, soaring above stormy seas and gliding over the waves with consummate ease. I was truly "in the zone" while I watched those magnificent birds float across the screen and whilst I swayed in unison with both the motion and the music. At the time I wondered whether I'd ever get to see an Albatross in the wild and made a mental note that it was a bird that I'd dearly love to see. I also wondered at the time whether the band knew that they were playing a tune named after one magnificent seabird and showing a film about another but considering that some members of the band are known to be birdwatchers and use birds as subjects in many of their songs as well as often decorating the stage with taxidermy specimens of Owls, Herons and other species then I guess that they did. Music is often produced, and delivered, with irony. Now I was watching a real live Albatross flying around in front of me at ridiculously point-blank range and I was conveyed into a different time and place where it was just me and the bird for a while. I was so enthralled that I'd stopped taking photos and in my head I was soaring around with the truly impressive creature afore me. It all made for one of my most thrilling birding moments ever, probably only topped by once (twice actually) finding my own male Capercaillie (my true grail bird) at similar close range while walking in the pine forests of Scotland. To get a feel of what I'm harking on about watch here (the second half, from 04:39 into the video). In fact I must have been so spellbound by BSP's performance of "The Great Skua" and the video, that now I watch the footage back, I can only see Gannets, Puffins and Geese. I'm sure there were Albatrosses in it somewhere!

After more flypasts, the Black-browed Albatross flew back beyond the cliffs again and didn't reappear. The show was over and the bird must have finally decided to land back at its roosting spot. My arms were aching from the constant use of the camera and I was glad for a rest. I had a quick look at some of the entirely forgotten about Gannets, so it seemed,  and took a few token shots of some juvenile birds. Usually the Gannets are the stars at Bempton but on this trip I had been completely engrossed in the Black-browed Albatross and incredibly had hardly noticed the similarly sized, beautiful but very numerous birds. Now the Albatross had gone to bed, the air and rocks suddenly appeared very busy with Gannets again!

juvenile Gannet

We made tracks back towards the car but stopped to look back along the cliffs from The New Roll Up viewing platform. A couple of people we met along the way had told us that the Black-browed Albatross had flown along the cliffs and headed northwards towards Filey but we could see it on the cliffs sat amongst the Gannets so if it had then it must have returned again pretty sharpish. It was our chance to bid the Albatross a proper goodbye.

The four hour drive home barely registered because I was still buzzing, and laughing, from the experience at witnessing such an impressive bird at incredibly close quarters. If the Black-browed Albatross makes Bempton Cliffs its home again next summer then I will definitely be going to see it. It is one of the best birds I've ever seen and comfortably makes it into my top ten, at number two, at least for now, anyway.

My thanks to my friend Graham Mantle for the inspiration for the title which was borrowed from a Monty Python sketch; Albatross. Q: Do you get Wafers with it? A: Of course you don't, it's a bloody great seabird. A really great seabird!!!