Diving gannets at Bempton Cliffs: chaos, grace and a seabird obsession

As someone who is utterly obsessed with gannets, there are a few things in my minds eye that I have been dreaming of experiencing. In 2024, I was lucky enough to have conditions align. To be able to snorkel with them off Noss Island in Shetland. This was utterly mind blowing. But there wasn’t time to see them on the surface, with the focus being beneath the surface. The thought of what it must look like from sea level has lingered with me ever since. Living at least 6 hours drive away from any gannet colonies means that it is quite a commitment. For me to get to immerse into their world! This summer, my dream finally came alive as I experienced diving gannets at RSPB Bempton Cliffs in Yorkshire.

En route to Bass Rock, I made a stopover and camped the night at Wold Farm Campsite. The perfect base perched on the clifftops. Just a few strides from puffins, kittiwakes and of course, the vast gannet colony. The campsite usually has views all the way down to Flamborough Head lighthouse. Though that morning there was an inversion of thick fog hanging south of me.

Fortunately the sun burned it off and we witnessed an amazing sunrise over the North Sea, which set the tone for what was to come. A morning that was about to turn from calm into unforgettable chaos as I set out to experience diving gannets at Bempton Cliffs! The sky erupting with white wings, the sea exploding with impact. Gannets folding themselves into spears and plunging all around us. To witness it so close was pure chaos, pure theatre, and pure joy.

On the way back, when we cut the boat’s engine just off Thornwick Bay, the quiet was thrilling. Seals surrounded the boat, gently bobbing in the high tide, as curious about us as we were of them!

The spectacle of diving gannets

Northern gannets are one of Europe’s most breathtaking seabirds, built for impact. From 30 metres above, they fold their wings tight and plummet like spears, hitting the water at speeds of up to 60mph. Moments later, they burst back to the surface, fish in beak, eyes ringed in that unmistakable ice-blue.

At Bempton, home to England’s largest mainland seabird colony with over 13,000 breeding pairs, the skies fill with their white wings and the water churns with their dives. From the boat, being at eye level with this feeding frenzy is electrifying. Every second, another bird torpedoes into the sea, spray erupting, wings flaring, fish clamped tight. Around them, gulls battle to steal the catch, wings colliding, voices screaming. It is chaos, but it is also choreography, a living storm of precision and instinct.

My obsession with gannets

As a seabird photographer, gannets have me totally enthralled. Their power and elegance is magnetic, but it’s also their symbolism that moves me. They are storytellers of abundance and collapse. Still hunted for food the infamous “guga hunt” in Scotland still takes place today – sign the petition to ban the guga hunt here – gannets now reveal the strain of plastic pollution and shifting fish stocks. I have photographed them entangled in ghost nets, their devotion to nesting sites shadowed by our disregard for the ocean.

Gannet facts that fascinate me

• Wingspan: Up to 1.8 metres, making them the largest seabird in the North Atlantic.
• Diving speed: They can hit the water at 60mph, their bodies protected by air sacs under the skin that act like airbags.
• Eyes: Forward-facing with binocular vision, allowing pinpoint accuracy when diving.
• Breeding colonies: They nest in huge colonies called gannetries, returning to the same spot each year.
• Chicks: Known as “gugas”, they fledge after around 13 weeks, launching themselves off cliffs without practice flights.
• Population: Over half of the world’s gannets breed around the British Isles, making the UK globally important for the species.

The photographer’s challenge

Photographing diving gannets is exhilarating but demanding. They move unpredictably, light bounces off sea spray, and the action is constant. I relied on fast shutter speeds (1/2000s or faster), continuous autofocus, and a long Fujifilm XF 150-600mm f5.6-8 R LM OIS WR lens to freeze the split-second chaos. Shooting bursts while panning with the birds gave me a chance of catching those decisive moments, the split-second before impact, or the exact clash when gulls mobbed and almost caught a ride on a gannet.

Gratitude for shared experience

This day on the water at Bempton Cliffs was unforgettable, not only for the birds but for the community of people drawn to them. My thanks go to Steve Race at Yorkshire Coast Nature for their expert guiding and deep knowledge of the gannet colony. To be among others who share this obsession is as nourishing as the photography itself.

Seabirds are messengers at the wild edge. The gannets of Bempton remind me why I do this work, why this night owl faces early mornings, salt spray, and aching arms. They are myth and biology, grace and grit, and their stories need telling.

This August morning, as the sun rose and the sea erupted with wings and the sharp call of the gannets, I felt once again that pull between awe and urgency. The chaos of diving gannets is beautiful. But it is also a reminder: their future is bound to our choices.