Tourism in San Francisco has not returned to pre-pandemic levels; not in humans, anyway. Sea lions, on the other hand, are swimming toward the city in greater numbers than ever before.
This week, 2,000 of these plump, mustachioed creatures were counted in the water along the Pier 39 marina on the city’s north end. That’s 600 more than the previous record of 1,400 set in the early 1990s, according to Sheila Chandor, the marina’s harbor master since 1985.
She bursts out laughing as she points out that sea lions (another name for sea lion) vote with their flippers, ignoring recent news about the so-called decline of San Francisco: “It’s an invasion! “, she says.
Adam Ratner, a sea lion specialist at the Marine Mammal Center in Sausalito, across the Golden Gate Bridge, marvels at the “truly remarkable” influx: “All the docks are full! It’s something to behold; to feel, too…”
The sea lions were first attracted to a large school of anchovies just off the coast of Golden Gate, but it’s not clear why they stay, Chandor said. But what we do know is that sea lions attract tourists and residents of the region.
Spectators are greeted by the cacophony of 2,000 heavyweights grunting, bleating, roaring, snoring and throwing themselves into the water; an unforgettable soundtrack.
Pier 39, at one end of Fisherman’s Wharf, is one of San Francisco’s most popular tourist spots, with a carousel, T-shirt shops and restaurants known for the local clam chowder. Three decades ago, the Pier 39 administration had the idea of installing floating platforms to encourage sea lions to bask in the sun (and to retain tourists).
But today, these floating docks are overcrowded.
The ejected have fallen back on other platforms a little further away, including one that is already beginning to sink under the weight of the 200 kg behemoths. The drinking water supply to one of the marina’s docks had to be cut off when a large male tore off a tap while moving.
Julian de La Cruz, 36, took the ferry from Vallejo, California, to show his two young children these bulky creatures. “I love these animals; they are part of San Francisco, California. People come from all over the world to see them,” he says.
Erica Schmierer, 31, lives nearby in the Castro neighborhood but had never set foot in Pier 39 until this week. She brought a friend there visiting from out of state. Like many Franciscans, she considered the place a tourist trap: “I thought it was just the carousel and the shops,” she says.
San Francisco is still suffering from the pandemic, which has dented tourism and emptied the city center. However, its sea lions are an asset, just like in 1990, a few months after the great earthquake of 1989, which also damaged tourism. At the time, sea lions had appeared on the marina’s docks, causing damage and angering members who couldn’t get to their boats, recalls Ms. Chandor, the harbor captain.
Someone at Pier 39 then had the idea of anchoring floating platforms a little further away to move the sea lions and, at the same time, make them a tourist attraction. Since then, the sea lions have been returning, in greater or lesser numbers.
Every spring, females settle there to give birth and nurse their young. The males leave, following the fish they feed on. Some go as far as Alaska.
Which explains their visit every spring to Pier 39, where they rest from their wanderings.
But further south, in the Channel Islands, mothers and babies are having a difficult spring. Biologists have counted hundreds of dead sea lion pups on the shore, apparently born prematurely.
Researchers believe the current sea lion population remains healthy, but they are concerned about the high number of premature births, which appear to be linked to climate change, said Michael Milstein of the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (Environment Canada’s equivalent). . Warmer water has pushed fish away from sea lion breeding grounds, forcing pregnant sea lions to swim farther to reach them and give birth to healthy pups.
In front of Pier 39, however, everything is going wonderfully. A little too much, perhaps, for Mrs Chandor’s taste.
She thinks the males will probably leave within a few weeks. She hopes that no more will arrive by then: don’t throw any more away, the yard is full, she says.
“Everyone likes animal stories, it feels good,” she stressed. “But from the sublime to the ridiculous, there is only one step. »