Back in late February of this year, a large colony of 178 Grey Seal pups were spotted on Pigeon Cove (a known refuge spot for Grey Seals just off Llandudno’s Great Orme) bracing harsh winter storms as they weathered the moulting season in the bay. During this period, moulting seals will lose and replace the layers of dense, waterproof fur needed to trap a layer of air between the hair and the skin, keeping the seals warm.
With a few visits to North Wales in late March coming up, where I would be staying with family less than half an hour away from the site, I decided I would take the Pulsar Merger LRF XL50 thermal imaging binoculars with me and head out on the 7 km historical walking trail around the Great Orme to see if I would be lucky enough to spot them. I read that moulting season takes place between February and April in Llandudno, so I was aware that, by the time I would arrive, the colony could very likely have left the bay already, but I remained hopeful that I would catch a glimpse of one or two seals still present in the bay (or around the shoreline throughout the trail). Whether or not I would see anything, I didn’t know, but the thermal imager was the most sure-fire way of finding out.
With more than half of the world’s Grey Seal population residing in the UK, it is unsurprising that there are frequent sightings of them in North Wales. The largest Grey Seal populations can reportedly be found on the Cornish coast, the Farne Islands, and Strangford Lough in Northern Ireland, but a significant population is present in Llandudno, too. There have been frequent sightings of Grey Seals there for decades, but exactly how long it has been since they first arrived remains unknown. The numbers increase dramatically during the moulting season (February – April) and the breeding season (September – December), with the birth of pups peaking between October and November. During these months, Llandudno becomes a hotspot for tourists hoping to catch a glimpse of these loveable creatures, with the most popular location being Angel Bay — a small inaccessible pebble beach off the beaten path on Llandudno’s Little Orme, around 8 km away from the walking trail I was headed to. But it is noted that Grey Seals are present all year round along the coastline, so I avoided the bustle of Angel Bay to take in the dramatic scenery of the Great Orme.
I took two trips to the Great Orme with my partner in as many weeks, the first of which was unsuccessful. Incredibly strong, bitterly cold winds coming off choppy waters, grey skies, and the occasional downpour made walking the trail an unenjoyable and at times difficult undertaking. The dramatic crumbling rockface looming over us on the left and the sheer drop over the side to the right with just a dry stone wall between us seemed tangibly precarious. The only saving grace on this occasion was the cosy café at the Great Orme’s apex, where we managed to sit down with a hot coffee next to a log fire, regaining some semblance of feeling in our faces and hands before setting off to complete the trail. Unsurprisingly, we were not able to spot anything more impressive than sheep, seagulls, or a couple of Goats who had found their way into the back gardens of the large beach houses along the shoreline.
The second occasion, however, just a week later, could not have been more different. Bright sunshine, calm seas, and minimal wind revealed the beauty of the Orme in great contrast to our first encounter. The rock face no longer seemed to loom over us, the view over the low walls revealed calm, deep blue waters, and wildlife aplenty. Sharing the trail with sheep and goats, we were able to stop several times to look through the thermal, scanning the pebble shoreline for the Grey Seals. It wasn’t until the very last stretch of the trail, as we were approaching the entrance to the toll road that rings the Orme and which marks the end of our walk, that I caught a glimpse of something through the Mergers. The tide was in, but I could spot a small, pebbled area which turned out to be Pigeon Bay. Training the thermal binos on this small bay revealed a glowing heat signature which, once I’d repositioned slightly (precariously leaning over the wall I was previously wary of), turned out to be two seals playing together. I was alarmed at first, as their playing looks aggressive, much like dogs playing together can seem a little too rambunctious, but soon realised they weren’t harming each other.
I leaned just a little further to see if I could spot any more activity, revealing another glowing heat signature. The playful seals took their joshing to the water, dipping and reemerging; chasing each other in circles. At this point, I noticed even more activity in the water. What I had at first dismissed as just a piece of driftwood floating on the waves, turned out to be yet another seal — the Mergers had picked up a faintly glowing pair of eyes. This was all I could see, as the water would have been cold and the seal would have acclimatised to its temperature, so it would have been difficult for the thermal spotter to differentiate between the water and the seal’s heat signature. However, once I knew what to look for, scanning the bay revealed a whole pod (or, more endearingly, a bob) of Grey Seals in the water, bobbing around together, chasing each other, and seeming to enjoy the favourable weather as much as we were.
There are several factors in managing to spot these lively creatures on this occasion: excellent weather conditions for example, or even the fact that we reversed the starting point of our walk, starting where we ended on the previous visit and therefore approaching the bay downhill rather than uphill and therefore affording a more advantageous view of the bay. But without a doubt, the Merger was crucial in this instance. Without the thermal imaging technology, I would have thought the seal was just the driftwood I initially assumed it was and chalked this outing as another failed attempt.