Albatross at Last!

It took me three 344-mile round trips (totalling 1032 miles) on the 10th (8 hours), 16th-17th (14 hours), 18th-19th July (9 hours) - totalling 31 hours, and two nights' B&B accommodation (totalling £132) when I managed barely 2-3 hours' sleep in total to get this damned bird... Crazy? Certainly. But this was an Albatross. This was different. This was a mega of mammoth proportions, literally and metaphorically. This was a bird of a lifetime, one of legendary status, one I had never seen anywhere in the world, let along in the UK. A true icon of the avian world, a bird you would normally have to travel to the Antarctic to see... So when the Black-browed Albatross, presumably the same individual that had been spotted on and off over the last few years at various locations across Northern Europe, decided to pay (comparatively) more frequent and regular trips to the cliffs off RSPB Bempton in the middle of July 2021, I decided I had no choice but to attempt to track it down. But, as the figures above indicate, this was tough-going, mentally and physically brutal and expensive. (And yes, I was also acutely aware of the environmental damage I was inflicting on the planet through my carbon footprint.) On what would prove to be my final day (I was considering staying yet another night on the day in question), I drove from my B&B near Filey down to the reserve car-park (a now very familiar setting!) and headed to the usual hotspot: "New Roll-up Viewpoint" overlooking Staple Newk gannetry. It was 5am but felt more like 9am with it growing light already and warming up nicely, as we were in the middle of a heatwave. There was only one other birder there unlike previous days and over the weekend when apparently the car-park had been full by 5am! My heart sank a little; I needed more eyes if I were to connect with this bird. Gradually, though, others turned up and soon there were about twenty of us at this viewpoint with small groups clustered elsewhere along the headland. 6am came and went. I decided to go for a stroll along the clifftop footpath having spotted the resident Barn Owl from a distance. I got some nice flight views but struggled to drag my eyes away from the cliffs and the main attraction. By 7am I was back at the viewpoint and there was still no sign. The first guy there whom I got chatting to the night before had to leave by 8am to get back to work (in Manchester!) and just like for him, this was my third attempt. Seeing him leave reminded me of the potential pain I might have to suffer if this thing didn't show. 9am came and went... Was this going to be another long haul ending in yet more bad luck, frustration, dejection, anger, misery? 9.30am... The sun was now beating down and was shining right into our eyes; the Gannets and other seabirds were effectively just silhouettes and this did not bode well. Finding a rarity amongst this lot was going to prove even more of a challenge if not impossible. Determined to stick at it, I scanned the gannetry and surrounding air that was now thick with sea-birds. Starring at the swarm was mesmerising, hallucinogenic even; it was easy to make the all-dark juvenile Gannets into something rarer. 9.50am: one of these all-dark birds heaved into view and I watched it for a few seconds expecting to see a dark head and rump. Almost simultaneously, as I noticed the bird lacking these features, it dropped its legs like an aircraft coming into land. They were bright pink! Checking within milliseconds that I hadn't overlooked Great Black-backed Gull (I was OK: my bird was at least as big as the Gannets, not smaller), I plucked up the courage and called it: "I've got it!" "Albatross!" "Above the arch, no, just to the right of it, heading left...", I garbled.

Shaking with excitement and sheer joy, I struggled to hold my binoculars still. I quickly got others onto the bird, then got some record shots - no mean feat given the distance (c.400m) and the poor light. It showed well for a couple of minutes, possibly longer, then seemed to go around the back of the cliff arch, so I joined others to get a closer view by half-running to Staple Newk viewpoint. I arrived to watch the bird coming in from the sea and then enjoyed the most magical 10-15 minutes or so as it swept back and forth across the cliff face, occasionally disappearing beneath the rocky outcrops before reappearing to the oohs and ahhs of the admiring crowd of birders and photographers. Views were out of this world; yes, we were looking down on the bird most of the time but it was never more than about 50m away, often closer. And I was thrilled when I looked through my photos on screen - some were in focus and some even contained the whole bird!

It is hard to describe the next few minutes. Elated that I'd not only connected (at last!) but also that I'd been the first to relocate it that day, I grinned from ear to ear as I struggled to focus on this amazing creature. Bittern, Capercaillie, White-tailed Eagle, Bataleur, Cock-of-the-Rock, Black-crowned Crane, Black-rumped Flameback, Hoatzin, King Eider, Harlequin, Resplendent Quetzal, Pin-tailed Whydah, Andean Condor, Fiery-billed Aracari, Blue-crowned Motmot, Beautiful Sunbird, Peruvian Racket-tail... This bird was right up there. Best of the bunch? Possibly. Probably. It's hardly worth mentioning the other birds but there were some good ones and some unexpected ones too: Puffin (of course) but also Peregrine, Barn Owl (a pair in fact), Corn Bunting (not seen for ages), stunning summer-plumaged Linnets, Tree Sparrows galore... but nothing comes close to beating that Albatross. What a bird! Oh, and how could I forget? I also caught a glimpse of a Minke Whale!