Modern life offers comparatively few opportunities to get up close and personal with large, angry animals. Most people view this as a good thing. Still, nothing beats the thrill of seeing really big wild animals in their natural habitat, which is why I took my family to Año Nuevo last weekend.

Fifty-five miles south of San Francisco, Año Nuevo is home to the largest mainland breeding colony in the world for northern elephant seals.  The elephant seals (named for the males’ strange and pendulous noses) come ashore by the thousands to battle, give birth, and mate between December and March every year.

The seals

Trust me, nothing prepares you for the experience of walking among these animals.  The males can weigh up to 5,000 pounds (that’s the weight of a minivan), and be 19 feet long.  Also, they can close a distance of 25 feet in 3 seconds if the mood takes them, undulating across the sand like enormous angry caterpillars.

When provoked, they run over anything in their path.  Babies, females, and wildlife biologists who should have known better have all been trampled.  People on the Año Nuevo tours are kept very safe though (believe me, I checked and double checked).

Mostly the males just sleep, but sometimes—like when they notice you noticing them—they rear up and complain in a weird low-frequency vocalization that you can actually feel in your internal organs.  This cross between a grunt and a roar is alarming and awesome at the same time.  These big guys also use their tails to flip sand over their bodies every few seconds to help keep them cool.

If you ask me, they’re already pretty cool.

The pups are abundant, and very easy to spot.  Their glossy black coats stand out among the vast harems of gray females.  They mainly sleep and nurse.  Every so often, they raise their heads and bawl for no apparent reason.  Sound familiar?

There are territorial disputes between Alpha males and their up-and-coming competition too.  The fights we saw were dramatic, but not bloody—more comic chasing than biting and body slamming.  And it’s a good thing too, because our kids are s-e-n-s-i-t-i-v-e.

The details

The hike was 3 miles long, but there were plenty of stops.  Our kids flopped down to make sand angels while we listened to the docent.  The also leaped off dunes, and occasionally pined aloud for piggyback rides. Since we were outside, this wasn’t disruptive to the tour.

The tour begins at the visitor center, continues to a staging area, then down to the dunes, then back.  Because the three-quarter mile path from the visitor center to the staging area is wide and level, parents are permitted to bring a jogging stroller that far and leave it there (effectively halving the hike for easily tired kids).  There is no food allowed on the tour (only water), and it’s 2 1/2 hours long.  So snack up before setting out, and pack a picnic for afterward.

The tours run all winter, but I recommend going in January (keeping your fingers crossed for dry, clear weather.)  The males arrive in December and battle for dominance.  This can be pretty violent.  Then the much smaller females arrive, give birth, and—poor things—get knocked up again 24 days later.  Once the females have been impregnated, the males leave.  If you go too late, you’ll miss the big guys, and that would be a shame.

These tours are very popular—weekends sell out months in advance.  Get your tickets online at the California State Parks website.  We got great weather, but you might not.  Be prepared for anything.

February 9th, 2009 | by Jamie Pearson 9 comments