Battle of the Dolphins

Cape May, New Jersey – 10 kilometres walked, 3 miles in dinghy

There’s a lot to like about Cape May, New Jersey. There are classy mansions, a clean fine sand beach that runs for miles, upscale hotels, downscale motels, vacation rentals, a beach promenade for walkers complete with public washrooms and showers, bars and restaurants of every possible description, a racially diverse crowd, whale and dolphin watching tours (three times daily), historical trolley tours, walking tours, kitschy tourist shops, elegant boutiques alongside thrift and consignment stores, a lighthouse, a schedule packed full of festivals and events, beachside cafes and coffee shops, accessible grocery and hardware store, a public library, a craft brewery, a laundromat.

We’ve had two days to fully explore this town and we liked it. We liked it a lot, especially with the warmer temperature today, sunny skies, and that community mood of overwhelming happiness knowing winter is over and summer is on its way. Like in Canadian resort towns, late spring is a great time of the year to be here to enjoy the bubbly optimism and thinner crowds than you get in peak summer season.

Now, the dolphin wars. As Ana and I were sitting in SeaLight’s cockpit enjoying a happy hour drink (we can no longer call them sundowners as the sun isn’t setting now until 8pm and by then we are usually snuggled down in the cabin), we saw a pod of local Cape May dolphins surfacing, chasing fish, joking around, and having a pretty good time. Then, across the channel and in from the bay we saw a different pod of dolphins entering cautiously. This was a gang from Atlantic City - flashy hustlers, hot shots, slickster dolphins, moving in on the Cape May territory, looking for trouble.

The Cape May pod suddenly went quiet as they noticed the intruders, here to steal their fish, to claim their underwater turf. This Atlantic City pod had tried this in the past and failed, but today they looked more prepared, cocky and aggressive.

“Scud, we meet again,” said Captain Beaky, the leader of the Cape May pod.

“You and your little buddies have held claim on the prized Cape May fish stocks long enough,” Scud squeaked as he rubbed his fins together. “Now scram, or there’s going to be trouble.”

“Make me.”

“What?”

“Make me, you ignoramus,” dared Captain Beaky, cracking his fin knuckles and spitting out the side of his beak.

“That’s it. C’mon boys,” Scud said as his porpoise posse lined up behind him in a perfect V formation. The Cape May pod similarly lined up, energized, and in form. They were ready.

The dolphin dance off began. Scud began with a magnificent forward flip as two of his henchmen backflipped behind him, to a chorus of squeaks and clicks from the supporting cast. Captain Beaky and his top three lieutenants dove high into the air, in a perfectly synchronized aerial display, sun shining off their teeth as they smiled and winked on their way down.

Back and forth they went, showing off their best leaps, flips, spins, turns, and surface tricks as they danced for dominance. Ana and I sat in the cockpit, gobsmacked, on the edge of our seats, as we watched the glorious battle between these equally skilled pods. But, in the end, there could only be one winner.

Scud hung his head, eyes downcast, dorsal fin limp, after seeing the Cape May pod’s grand finale, finishing with a triple flip two and a half gainer tail twerk from every dolphin in the pod, expertly executed with flawless synchronization. He knew that he’d been beat.

“Next time,” Scud said as he turned and swam back up the channel, his discouraged team trailing behind him. “Next time.”