The trials and tribulations of killer whale research – part 3

And so at last to that final bullet point…

Being an object of sport for fast paced dolphins, while simultaneously navigating round humpback whales, testing an underwater camera and preventing an excited dog from falling overboard

Photo courtesy of Tony Thomas, Blue Ocean Whale Watch

Photo courtesy of Tony Thomas, Blue Ocean Whale Watch

Another day, another whale… Albeit not of the killer variety. Peggy, Cindy, Whiskie and I were out on a beautiful, sunny, calm day in the bay. Having spent a few hours scouting for orcas with no success, we heard on the radio that a whale watching boat had found a couple of humpbacks; some of the first to be arriving in the bay from distant ocean playgrounds. Monterey Bay is not a breeding ground for these giant hobos, but it is their equivalent of a favorite, abundant restaurant. The bay is a feeding hotspot and many species come here to fill themselves up. (Not that it has always been this way. Monterey Bay’s healthy diversity was almost destroyed by the fishing and canning industry in years gone by. Today it is a real, tangible, miraculous conservation success story… Reassuring to know that humans can instigate miracles occasionally.)

Photo courtesy of Tony Thomas, Blue Ocean Whale Watch

Photo courtesy of Tony Thomas, Blue Ocean Whale Watch

While humpbacks are not Peggy’s research subjects, she will collect photographs and data on them when the opportunity arises. As a novice boat driver, I asked Peggy to guide me as I steered closer to the whales to ensure I followed the correct protocols around them.

Photo courtesy of Tony Thomas, Blue Ocean Whale Watch

Photo courtesy of Tony Thomas, Blue Ocean Whale Watch

The humpbacks were busy doing what humpbacks often do; hanging out at the surface to breathe, diving down to feed and returning to the surface at intervals. For first time whale watchers, this mundane event can be quite a spectacle as humpbacks fluke when they dive, (i.e. stick their tales in the air to thrust their buoyant bodies underwater). But for us, a more fascinating view was to be found looking at the radar to see bait balls (tightly shoaled fish), both small and huge, appear as a fuzzy blur, and knowing that this was the feast that the whales were after.

In the midst of this relatively tranquil scene, some exciting newcomers were about to come flying out of the wings to take center stage… Pacific white-sided dolphins… Hundreds of them… Careening past at high speed…

Pacific white-sided dolphin, © Peggy Stap/www.MarineLifeStudies.org

Photo courtesy of / © Peggy Stap, http://www.marinelifestudies.org

I cannot give adequate words to describe the physical tremor of energy I feel whenever these dolphins are present. Whales are beautiful, huge and majestic… Killer whales are sleek, stunning and dramatic… But dolphins, especially these small, dart-like creatures, are so fast, so fleeting, so full bodied, that they move me in a far greater way. There is nothing to compare with seeing them in the wild; a screen of any dimension cannot convey the energy they give off. I have never met any other animal with the same overwhelming sense of firework-sparkle-dancing-aliveness as these creatures. There is something so abundant about the way in which they move through their fluid environment. As a dancer I see this movement resembling a spontaneous, glorious, joyfully improvised dance. And in the core of my body I sense a buzzing, tingling, expansive, limitless energy emanating from them. Us humans, apart from dancers and other physically engaged people, have all but lost the immediate, embodied joy that comes from moving in such a completely unrestrained, unselfconscious, freely flowing way. And what we have lost, we often cannot imagine existing in another creature and we cannot connect with the simple fact that Pure Joy can be found in the body, rather than in the head. My urge to leave the world of trapped-in-their-bodies humans and join these liberated-in-their-bodies dolphins is overwhelmingly strong when I see them moving in this way!

Photo courtesy of / © Peggy Stap, www.marinelifestudies.org

Photo courtesy of / © Peggy Stap, http://www.marinelifestudies.org

Peggy, Cindy and I were mesmerized with the fleeting glimpses of leaping dolphins passing us on all sides. And Whiskie… Well, she was at the bow of the boat greeting them enthusiastically. “Let’s follow their path”, called Peggy, “They might bow-ride with us!”

And with that came my most treasured memories of being in Monterey Bay this year. I turned the boat and maneuvered away from the humpbacks to follow the tracks of the dolphins as they headed SSW. Under Peggy’s direction, I increased speed while she stood at the bow with Whiskie at her side.

Photo courtesy of Tony Thomas, Blue Ocean Whale Watch

Photo courtesy of Tony Thomas, Blue Ocean Whale Watch

For a few gorgeously fantastic minutes we were as much at one with the dolphins as it is possible for three humans and a dog on a boat to be. Which I guess is not saying much really! But, to at least be travelling close to their speed, in the middle of a pod that stretched out around us in all directions, sensing their interest in us as they veered towards the boat to bow ride briefly before careering off again faster than you could think was possible, and catching sight, ever so briefly, of a glistening, curious, intelligent eye as it took a sidelong look at us in mid-leap… Exhilarating… Totally exhilarating!

Now, we might all know what that word means, and it may get overused in print, but stop for a moment and contemplate… How often, really truly, can you honestly say that you feel exhilarated? How many times a day, a week, a month or a year, is that word not an exaggeration of your emotional state? …Mmm, I wonder. Maybe for some of us it is more often than others, but there is one thing I am certain of; experiencing the natural world offers such mood-enhancing moments more than many other experiences in life… Although of course, being the strangely conflicted and complicated animals that we are, we often miss out on such offerings, choosing instead to make other experiences such as television, computers and material things more important. While those things provide distractions from our worries; a constant background static, that serves to numb our lack of joy, I do not believe they often provide a source of joy itself. But without doubt, a deep, true source of joy, exhilaration and contentment can be found in nature and in our body’s connection with nature. And when we disengage ourselves from the complicated, confusing, life-sucking traps we have surrounded ourselves with, we can connect with it, maybe only for a few fleeting seconds, but the replenishment and hope that such moments provide can sustain us for a lifetime.

Photo courtesy of / © Peggy Stap, www.marinelifestudies.org

Photo courtesy of / © Peggy Stap, http://www.marinelifestudies.org

Anyway, I digress. Exhilarating… And, kind of comical too. Cindy was desperately trying to record data while catching glimpses of leaping dolphins; being the data recorder can be a self-sacrificing role as you often miss the most spectacular bits of action, “Wow, did you see that dolphin do a double back-flip, front somersault, perfect dismount?” “What, again? No way, I was busy recording our GPS position!” I was steering, constantly having to adjust to the push of each wave, with one hand at the ready to slow the engine if needed. Peggy was at the bow experimenting with a new underwater camera, attempting to record a shot or two of the dolphins as they rode the bow wave in front of the boat. And Whiskie… Well, Whiskie was beside herself. I think dolphins must be her favorite cetacean; she certainly seems to get most excited whenever certain dolphin species are present. She was barking at them from the bow, running along the edge of the boat to bark over the side, running back to the bow and barking some more… Which is all very good for canine-cetacean-relations, as the dolphins seem to be as curious about her as she is about them, but not so good for general dog-health-and-safety. After an almost ‘dog overboard!’ moment, we reluctantly slowed the boat. At which point the dolphins carried on their way. They were still travelling past us on all sides, but we were no longer an object of sport for them. No speed, no game… They ignored us!

Risso's dolphin, © Peggy Stap/www.MarineLifeStudies.org

Photo courtesy of / © Peggy Stap, http://www.marinelifestudies.org

After that, the scene returned to a gentle state. We traversed a wide arc or two, attempting to lure a few more dolphins close, but then let them be as one last group of animals came gently lulling their way onto stage… Risso’s dolphins… A family group, with babies. “Breathe out, slow down, go with the flow, there’s no rush, enjoy a tranquil moment or two, chill man chill…” That is the feeling that these large, white, blunt headed, slow moving dolphins emanate to me. There can not be a much greater difference in state-of-being than can be seen between Pacific white-sided and Risso’s dolphins. If you ever thought a dolphin was a dolphin, then rethink! Although Risso’s can get frisky, (and I have witnessed some pretty fast paced and flirtatious interactions between the two species, as well as a Risso’s version of surfing), most often they exude calmness and a kind of languid ease. Meditative relaxation appears to be, at least from a blatantly humanized perspective, their forte. I would not be surprised to learn that Buddha had been a Risso’s dolphin in a previous life, thus giving rise to his future enlightenment in human form!

Risso's dolphin, © Peggy Stap/www.MarineLifeStudies.org

Photo courtesy of / © Peggy Stap, http://www.marinelifestudies.org

After that encounter, our day at sea drew to a close. We returned home happy even though we had not seen a single hint of a killer whale that day. And that marks the end of my accounts of assisting Peggy Stap of Marine Life Studies in Monterey Bay this Spring… But, I hope to visit her again next year to partake in another game of trials and tribulations.

For now, looking back on that day and the joyful-in-the-moment-tingling-aliveness I experienced, I fall once again into gently mulling reflections… It occurs to me that the greatest gift which Nature can bestow on us, its most unruly and delinquent of children, is the gift of Now. How many spiritual and life-coach gurus attempt to nudge us onto the path of being connected to Now; to this single moment in time rather than the projected future or completed past? It is, supposedly, one of the highest forms of emotional and spiritual intelligence to achieve such a connection to the moment, such a letting go of all desires, distractions and thoughts built up from our addiction to our egos, our past and future… To attain such a total immersion in Now-ness that it gives birth to the unique bliss of ‘being in the flow’… How strange then that, when quite probably every other creature on Earth bar ourselves is able to achieve and live in this state effortlessly, we cannot be graceful enough to credit their intelligence as being anywhere near our own, let alone superior. We have only just relatively recently gotten our collective heads around the notion that there are different types of intelligence in humans. Bless our cotton socks, (an English term of endearment, given with a gentle pat on the head), how much longer will it take us to collectively accept and appreciate that there are many other non-human types of intelligence, some of which far surpass our limited, cognitive abilities?

I wonder…

Photo courtesy of Tony Thomas, Blue Ocean Whale Watch

Photo courtesy of Tony Thomas, Blue Ocean Whale Watch

A nearly Christmas request…

For anyone who has enjoyed getting to know Peggy & Marine Life Studies either back in April/May 2011 or summer/autumn 2012, she is, as ever, in need of your support to continue her work. Please check the links below if you are willing and able to send a small donation her way…

A Gift that Gives
Birdies for Charity
Montery County Gives!
Donate a vehicle to MLS
Take it to the Streets

The trials and tribulations of killer whale research – part 2

If you read my last post you will appreciate some of the difficulties and uncertainties of cetacean research. It is far from easy! Becoming a proficient researcher depends on having, or attaining, certain attributes of character, including: patience, determination and flexibility. The researchers I know have an almost limitless patience for, and acceptance of, the sometimes daunting, trivial, impossible, stressful, hilarious, frustrating or distressing challenges they face every single day. The average person could be forgiven if they gave up, wept and decided to become a cat-herder instead. But for a researcher, cetaceans are so infused into their being, in their blood, heart and head, that they could not conceive of a life lived any other way and will always find the means to further their research, whatever the obstacles.

To some of us, the point and validity of such research, and such a life, may not seem obvious. Who cares what the population distribution and abundance of a spotted dolphin is? Why would I want to know the male to female ratio of gray whales? What is so fascinating about the feeding behavior of sperm whales? Let the whales and dolphins be, why bother prying into their private lives!? But, from a wider perspective, who are we to question the validity of anyone else’s passion simply because we do not share a passion for the particular subject they are passionate about? Surely, we can respect and admire the simple fact that they are passionate about SOMETHING, and furthermore that they ACTIVELY pursue that passion and have not allowed the FEAR of doing so to conquer them. And, from mother Earth’s perspective, such research contributes to the quest to look after her ocean dwelling children, for which I am sure she nods her head in approval.

All of which brings us back to Peggy Stap of Marine Life Studies, one such whale-addicted researcher who spends the majority of her time initiating conservation and education work, and the minority engaged in her passion for killer whale research. My last post documented our research attempts this April, when elemental forces either prevented our expeditions entirely, almost resulted in an upturned boat or lavished us with an abundance of rain. But, what were those three remaining bullet points left hanging mid-blog? There is a little more of the story left to tell…

Chasing strange smells, oily slicks and elusive reports of killer whales

So, one morning as Peggy and I headed round the bay to Moss Landing harbor, we received a report that killer whales had been spotted far out in the bay, possibly hunting, possibly with prey. Our sense of excitement rose twofold! We met Kate and Cindy, readied the boat in double-quick time and headed out to sea. Peggy took the wheel; as a seasoned captain we needed her to drive us as quickly as conditions, safety and good practice allowed. Even so, it was an hour or more before we reached the last known coordinates of the orcas. As we neared the area, a strange smell was in the air. A hard to explain smell; kind of bloody and oily and pungent, although not distasteful. Peggy stopped the boat. The smell was distinctive and one that Peggy and Kate have smelt many times at sea; it was the smell of a kill, the smell of blubber and other internal parts. Somewhere close by and sometime not long ago, killer whales had been here with prey at the surface. Maybe they had made their kill here. Maybe they had dragged it here from another location. Maybe they had been eating at the surface, (orcas sometimes eat underwater, with the body suspended in the water column, and sometimes at the surface). There was no way of knowing and, likewise, no way for us to know what animal had died in the predator-prey dance today. We looked, gazed and scanned some more, each of us straining to take in an expanse of blue-green waves in a wide arc around us, stretching our vision to the horizon, which from the height of our small boat was three miles. We waited expectantly, hoping to catch sight of blow (a whale’s out breath) or better still, the tall, dark, distinctive dorsal fin of a proficient hunter. Nothing… The smell dissipated…

We carried on until we reached their last known coordinates, wondering how likely it was that they would still be here after so much time had elapsed. Alas, of course, they were already gone. We headed in the direction which they were last seen travelling in and maintained that course while our eyes ranged unceasingly across the bare horizon.

A while later we came across another hint that orcas had been in the area with a successful kill. It was an ‘EX’ day in terms of sighting conditions, with a very calm and glassy ocean around us, some sun but not too much glare. In the distance Kate spotted a patch of ocean that looked different from the rest. It appeared somehow smoother and had an oily looking film on its surface. We slowed the boat and drew up close to the oily slick. A similar smell to before hung in the air. This had undoubtedly also been the sight of a kill or a feast, with the oily patch created from the blubber and liquids of the prey. But, everything was frustratingly intangible… We looked, we listened, we smelt, but no orcas indulged us with their presence and once again we were left with as many questions as before. Had this been the same group of killer whales or a different one? How many had been here? What had been their kill? Was it the same kill as before or a fresh one? (We were quite a distance from where we had smelt kill in the air before, but orcas are capable of moving their prey, depending on the size.)

Our questions remained unanswered. We covered a huge distance in the bay that day, heading alternately in the direction the orcas had last been seen travelling in, by Peggy’s special map highlighting killer whale hotspots in the bay (built from her data on previous orca sightings), and by misguided instinct. Whenever we stopped we dropped the hydrophone in the water, as Peggy has on occasion found orcas from sound alone, but we never heard a whisper of killer whale activity. (Not that transient orcas are known for being loud; they often maintain silence in order not to alert their prey, but they will vocalize when not engaged in the hunt.)

At any point during the day they could have been close by, without us even knowing it. Kate and Peggy have professional-whale-spotting-eyes, but even with their experienced vision (and Cindy’s and my less experienced but still competent eyes), we were out of luck. Killer whales are experts at subterfuge; if they do not want to be found, they are capable of travelling underwater until out of range. And when they surface their fin may appear for only the barest flicker of time and, if your eyes happen to be scanning another patch of ocean, you can miss them. On one of the large whale watching boats we might have stood a better chance as sighting distances increases dramatically the higher up your vantage point. But, there was no point in wondering what might have been; cetacean researchers have many such days as these and must learn to take them in their stride.

At the end of the day, we headed home with reams of data recording near-sightings and evidence of killer whale activity, but nothing concrete and not one single photo of a magical, glistening, night-shade, peak of fin.

Now, I am going to jump bullet points to the short and sweet…

Briefly spotting three orcas, before inadvertently, but ever so quickly, losing them again

And that really pretty much says it all. On this particular research day, we heard a reported orca sighting on the radio and headed to the area. There indeed were three killer whales, which we saw for all of about three minutes before they dived out of sight and went on their secretive way… We never found them again that day.

In fact, in all of my two week stay in Monterey, this was our one and only killer whale sighting. (The action heated up a few days after I left, when on one occasion Peggy found orcas hunting a minke whale and on another, orcas and humpbacks interacting in unusual ways… So the flow of peaks and troughs takes us; we never know when we will be dealt a ‘lucky’ or ‘unlucky’ day, likewise for a minke whale, orca or any other animal.)

The Toxic Pinnacle

That last undealt with bullet point, (the one with dolphins and an excitable dog), I will save for a final post. But for now, one sobering fact. The transient killer whales that frequent Monterey Bay, among other places in the NE Pacific, enjoy the dubious title of being, possibly, the most toxic animals on the planet. Transients are believed to be top of the list because of their diet; whereas, for example, resident orcas eat salmon, transients eat marine mammals. This puts them just about as high up the food chain as it is possible to get. They sit on the very pinnacle and unfortunately this is a dangerous place to be.

I will write more about this topic in the future, but in a nutshell, some of the pollutants which we put into the ocean never, ever, quite fully disappear. We have produced substances to be so wonderfully long lasting, (we love plastic because it lasts FOREVER right?!), that they really do just that. They last, and last, and last. Unfortunately, of course, in our childish dismissal of consequences, we have managed to create very HARMFUL substances which LAST and LAST and LAST. So, when a tiny organism ingests a tiny bit of harmful chemical, that harmful chemical stays in its body; it does not get miraculously transformed by the animal into something less harmful, it is not excreted back out again, and it does not break down of its own accord. It stays put. So when that animal is eaten, along with several others, the harmful chemicals get transferred to the predator… And when that predator is eaten, along with several others, it gets transferred again. Once the toxin is in the food chain it never leaves; it just becomes ever more concentrated as it is transferred up the food chain. Right to the very top, the pinnacle, where sits our majestic transient killer whale.

Scientists do not know for sure yet but they believe that, although current adult male orcas contain higher levels of toxin than females, they will maybe, possibly, probably manage to live a decent, if possibly shortened, life. But, why do females have a lower concentration? The irony is pretty torturous… The miraculous life-giving gift of the female is to give birth and transfer her nourishment to her offspring. From within the womb, to suckling from its mother, a baby killer whale is being given frequent, concentrated doses of harmful chemicals along with its life sustaining nourishment. As far as human science has so far discovered, (and of course it is rare for objective research into the harmful effects of chemicals to be funded), these chemicals affect in particular, thyroid and reproductive functioning, and the immune system. The consequences of such poisoning to orcas, and other animals including ourselves, may only be clearly evident to the most willful of deniers once today’s young orcas grow up. Monterey Bay recovered from the last manmade wound inflicted upon it. Whether its inhabitants and visitors will recover from this more insidious wound is, as yet, unknown.

If you are reading this and wondering, “Yes, but what can I do about it, there is no point in knowing this stuff when it is not within my power to do anything about it, I’d rather not know!” The best advice I can give you is actually to find out more, even though part of you revolts at the thought of doing so. Do not even worry what you can or cannot do, just bring a researcher’s intense curiosity to the subject. Leave any feelings of doom and gloom, negativity, blame, guilt or impotence to the side; they are not useful. Simply choose to learn more. We all love surfing the net, some of us could do it all day long. So surf… Go and find some websites with more information… Those websites will lead to others… You will soon find yourself immersed in a whole new world of learning. We can only take small steps. I do not believe anyone will ‘Stand up and Take Action’ without first learning more and gradually, organically, increasing their capacity to care, to be active, to WANT to stand up and take action. There are things that you and I can do, that we can all do… But you are not going to do them if you have not first developed a strong enough PASSION, WILL and LOVE to do so, coupled with a researcher’s patience, determination and flexibility.

So, go and explore, in whatever way gives you pleasure to do so… And I’ll leave you with a few sources to get you started, some of which I am already connected with, but all of which are easy to find in about five minutes flat:

http://www.planetwhale.com/Save-the-Whales-Reloaded-launch   http://www.savethewhalesreloaded.org/?page_id=563   http://www.orcanetwork.org/nathist/WhalewatcheVol40No12011.pdf             http://5gyres.org/                                                 http://wildwhales.org/conservation/threats/toxins/  http://library.thinkquest.org/CR0215471/ocean_pollution.htm                   http://acsonline.org/   http://www.ted.com/talks/dianna_cohen_tough_truths_about_plastic_pollution.html   http://www.marinelifestudies.org/index.php/about-marine-debris.html
ALL KILLER WHALE PHOTOS COURTESY OF PEGGY STAP / MARINE LIFE STUDIES - COPYRIGHT BELONGS TO PEGGY STAP / MARINE LIFE STUDIES
KILLER WHALE WITH MINKE WHALE PHOTO TAKEN UNDER NMFS PERMIT #15621

The trials and tribulations of killer whale research

Can my memory stretch back that far…? Back to this April when I revisited Peggy Stap of Marine Life Studies (MLS), to assist her once again with her research in Monterey Bay, attempting to track down some enigmatic killer whales…? (Those smart and elusive animals that experienced spotters on the bay’s many whale watching boats often only find once in an azure-blue moon).

Well, in all honesty I will say that my memory is pretty appalling at best, but I will attempt to recapture the fragments that my leaking-boat of a brain still holds.

I was staying with Peggy for two weeks… Two weeks of intensive research… Out on her boat ‘Sweetpea’ every day on the hunt… Photographing dorsal fins left, right and center (the established method for identifying individuals)… Recording reams of written data on their behaviour, numbers, interactions with other animals… Slowly, slowly building up a network of data that on its own may seem insignificant but, over the days, months and years, becomes a valuable repository of information to be used as crucial evidence in some future moment of political or business decision making that may impact the lives of whales for better or worse… Important, scientific inquiry… Long, exhausting days at sea from pre-dawn to dusk, plus hours of imputing data into computer programs, processing photographs and establishing whale ID’s…

Well, that was supposed to be the general idea… Assuming that we could get out on the water… BUT, assumptions have no control over the weather or the ocean. (When have human assumptions, thoughts, wishes or demands ever convinced such powers of nature to obey?)

For almost a week of my two week stay we remained grounded on dry land. The wind blew and the waves in Monterey Bay frolicked in response; adorned with more gleeful, white tiaras of foam than I have ever seen in the bay, (more even than Peggy is generally used to seeing). We grew accustomed to the official sea reports displaying advisory warnings for boaters and we enjoyed the view from Peggy’s window; watching the waves run away to join the circus and come back to put on a show. We could but sigh wisely, nod our heads and acknowledge that this was just one more example of the complications and challenges of being a cetacean researcher.  And, with the amount of work which Peggy ALWAYS has lying in piles and on long lists all around her, the week was of course put to good use.

During our second week, providence saw fit to deliver a mixed bag of offerings, the highlights of which were:

  • Almost, but not quite, capsizing and living to tell the tale
  • Being rained on intensely, and for long periods of time
  • Chasing strange smells, oily slicks and elusive reports of killer whales hunting prey
  • Being an object of sport for fast paced dolphins, while simultaneously navigating round humpback whales, testing an underwater camera and preventing an excited dog from falling overboard
  • Briefly spotting three orcas, before inadvertently, but ever so quickly, losing them again

Let me elaborate…

Almost, but not quite, capsizing and living to tell the tale

Well, we almost made it out of Moss Landing harbor, certainly no one can say we lacked enthusiasm for the task. This was to be our first day out and we had Blue Ocean Whale Watch’s naturalist and MLS volunteer Kate Cummings at the wheel. The sea was still only just returning from the circus (and wondering what had gotten into itself) and we had heard some strange, curious warnings about the perils of Moss Landing’s harbor mouth… But we heeded them not. Peggy and I had spent several hours preparing gear ready to take to the boat and the three of us worked hard on stowing it all securely. Whiskie the Whale Spotter, the seasoned sea-dog that she is, was on the boat, wrapped up in her many layered outfit, ready to sniff out a few whales for us.

And all went well. For about the first five minutes. And then… It didn’t go so well after that.

As we turned the corner from the main harbor and out towards the harbor mouth, the waves being pushed and channelled in from the open water outside the harbor suddenly appeared to be rearing up in front of us, dauntingly and unexpectedly high. In that strange way that time often does backflips in moments like these, and even though Kate had slowed the boat almost to standstill as we questioned the wisdom of any attempt to exit the mouth, all at once we were right in the center of it, with the channel narrowed around us and the waves coming towards us, proudly presenting their highest and most powerful peaks.

And then there it was… Neptune’s moment of glory… A wall of water right in front of the bow and bearing down on us… Everyone grabbed hold of something, anything, and somehow Whiskie got herself to safety further back in the boat… Sweetpea climbed painfully up the blue-grey wall, and I remember wondering vaguely in frozen-brain state if she would flip over as she neared the peak, then the wave smashed onto us and was gone. In a second, the boat, us and Whiskie were drenched, and there was water filling the tiny deck all around us, with boxes of equipment that had been knocked from their carefully stowed positions floating pathetically in it.

And somehow we were now sideways on to the waves… A dangerous place to be… And the next wave was showing no mercy but heading straight towards us… If it hit the boat sideways it would most likely flip it, and us, over… But Kate was at the wheel and, although she was still new to captaining a boat, she kept her cool, gave some power to the engines and turned the wheel… Just in time. The next wave hit as we were almost perpendicular to it and we were carried, in a lurching-awkwardly-to-one-side kind of way, on its crest, like some virgin surfer having a miraculous moment of beginner’s luck, back in towards port.

And that was pretty much that. We were all in one piece. Kate was a hero. The boat was a complete mess. We were sodden and shaken. And Whiskie did not seem to care… So much for our day on the ocean, but that did not matter. We were alive and we had just been given a powerful lesson; never, ever, ever, not even in your sweetest dreams, be lulled into thinking that Life Is Safe. It is beautiful, it is a mystery, it is a miracle, and it may even love you… But the Promise of Life will forever also hold uncertainty, fear, pain, danger, death and decay in its outstretched, benevolent hand. Still, you know, always look on the bright side…

Being rained on intensely, and for long periods of time

A much simpler tale to tell, and far less dramatic. We did eventually get out to sea and we did have several days ON the water. However, we also spent some not insignificant periods of time, IN it too. It rained on us. Lots. And then some. Not every day, but on a couple of particularly sodden days, the rain really did seem to want to make up for the fact that it had left us dry on previous occasions. (Never forget… the distinct lack of obedience coupled with uncertainty held in the benevolent hand.)

Now, I enjoy rain. And I look back on those water-logged days with a kind of childlike glee. We had our ‘might save your life if you fall in the ocean, and should at least prolong it, but don’t wear to a fashion parade’ suits on, so we had some protection. But still, after a day at sea, we all managed to arrive back in port with water inside the suits, inside our boots, inside our gloves and inside our ears. Our make-up had given up, run down our faces and slid off onto the deck of the boat, and our hands took on that wonderfully endearing, wrinkled prune texture.

The PROBLEM, or should I say CHALLENGE, with the rain, was visibility. In dearest little Sweetpea, (and I should add that she is open to the elements on all sides), we can only see about three miles in any direction under the best of conditions. Low, grey, dark clouds, with rain hitting waves and casting spray, a breeze and anything greater than 1 on the Beaufort scale (used for measuring surface wave state), do not constitute good conditions. MLS‘s data sheet where the data recorder (sometimes myself, sometimes other volunteers) records various measurements, has boxes for, amongst other things: sea state, visibility and cloud cover. Visibility can be marked as EX, GD, FR or PR; it does not take much to decipher the short hand. On our most rainy day at sea, I was driving the boat while Cindy Thomas, who volunteers with both MLS and Blue Ocean Whale Watch, was recording data. So I cannot be totally sure, but I would hazard a guess that she entered PR for the majority of that day.

In short, during our rainiest days out in Monterey Bay, we did not see any killer whales. In fact, on one day I don’t think we saw any sign of life under the waves at all. We did however spend the eight or so hours faithfully scanning every inch of ocean, (with each person informally taking turns to assume responsibility for one patch of blue-green-grey-ness be that, bow, aft, port or starboard), talking in companionable good humor, dancing some must-get-warm jigs, wishing we’d brought bigger flasks of hot tea, and occasionally being brave enough to pull down our yellow/orange jelly-baby-suits to pee in not-quite-ladylike fashion over the back of the boat.

But now, this whale of a tale has miraculously grown legs and run away on them, so for the rest of those bullet points, (left dangerously hanging somewhere near the top of this post), I’ll have to complete them in my next post… And I’ll be very happy if you’ll be kind enough to come back and read them soon.

Bliss and responsibility (with whales on the side)

Moving on… To a little something more about Peggy Stap, Marine Life Studies, Monterey Bay, killer whales, almost-but-not-quite capsizing, chasing strange smelling oily slicks and being soaking wet for hours on end.

As you may know if you have been reading my last few meandering posts, I recently returned to Monterey Bay to be reunited with Peggy Stap of Marine Life Studies (MLS) and her beloved dog, Whiskie the Whale Spotter.

I first met Peggy a year and a half ago when I spent a month living in her home, assisting with her research and writing about her life. As friends warned her at the time, “It’s a risk having a stranger stay in your home for a month!” But, Peggy had a good feeling about it and, love and gratitude, luckily enough she was right and we became good friends. If you read the previous post you will know that I consider Peggy to be a Fool, (a compliment indeed when you know the context), and she is probably the one woman in the world most able to make me laugh until my whole body crumples to the floor in exhaustion.

Staying with her again this April felt like a home coming… even though she has moved house. And seeing as her new home is like a tree house, (one in which Whiskie drapes herself luxuriously onto every comfy chair, rug or bed available), I felt instantly relaxed and back in touch with the natural world.

Peggy’s new office has a window and is not quite so full of jumbled work stuff as her last one; rather than looking like a space in which a humpback has breached, this one looks more like a few playful dolphins have frolicked lightly in it. It is here that Peggy still spends much of her time. Although she is desperate to be on the water more and behind a desk less, the reality of running a research / conservation / education organization makes this a hard wish to manifest.

For anyone who has followed this blog on and off for the last year and a half, you may remember how Peggy diverged from a life of wildly varying jobs into the world of whale research at the tender age of forty, after an emotionally powerful encounter with humpbacks in Hawaii. You may also remember how she gained her research post with the Hawaii Whale Research Foundation (HWRF) by an unorthodox presentation of her resume wrapped up in a packed lunch thrown from the whale watch boat to HWRF’s research boat. And how, after working for HWRF for nearly ten years, she established MLS in 2006 and has since combined research with conservation and educational initiatives.

Today, as ever, her central passion lies in studying whales. Although humpbacks are her first love, killer whales come in close second and it is transient orcas which have become her main research subjects. (Remember, resident orcas are NOT resident in Monterey Bay and offshore orcas do not enter the bay often!)

This spring, unlike when I visited last year, Peggy had enough funding to launch her own boat, nicknamed Sweet Pea. This tiny 19 foot boat shares its nickname with Peggy’s husband Dick, which can become a wee bit confusing when you overhear one of Peggy’s phone conversations, something along the lines of “Hey Sweet Pea, we are setting out to sea on Sweet Pea today”. I was really fortunate to meet Dick this year, (he was away for all of my stay last year). Although Peggy describes him as quiet and keeping himself to himself, he is the most lovely, gentle, genuine-hearted, intelligent and thoughtful man. Dick is the kind of person you can sit down with, having no idea of what you might talk about, and then set sail into the most gloriously stimulating of conversations that crosses several thought provoking subjects and still finds its way home again in a coherent manner.

As I unpacked in my lovely bedroom that was to be a home away from home for two weeks, I mused over something which I had not considered before meeting and writing about marine conservationists, but which now caught my attention often.

Namely; what are the similarities and differences between researchers who study, say, the universe, and those who study animals? The similarities are probably obvious. They both do what they do because they are endlessly interested in and curious about their subjects… They have that particular trait of mind and character that finds the tiniest details fascinating and the patience to do both the exciting and mundane work to explore their subject further… They are drawn to their subjects so intensely that they want to devote their entire lives to learning more about them… Their desire to learn, to uncover the secrets, to probe ever deeper is infinite…

But what of the differences? There may be many, but what stands up above the rest for me is that star gazing scientists are not expected to save the universe, whereas many animal researchers must accept the daunting task of attempting to protect as well as study their research subjects.

Just imagine for a moment that you have found your passion, you have discovered what many people never discover in a lifetime, namely your ‘bliss’; that thing that makes your heart sing and which you know beyond any doubt you will devote the rest of your life to pursuing… You have a researcher’s mind with a researcher’s drive to study and learn… Being a researcher gets you out of bed with a smile on your face each day… You cannot wait to be on the water, feeling at one with the natural world around you, waiting for your first sighting of the day that may teach you something more than you knew yesterday about the animals you are studying…

But… part of what you learn as you research is that all is not necessarily well. There are huge problems presenting themselves for your attention; the most enormous challenges that your research subjects are facing. Little by little you become witness to the devastating consequences of mankind’s activities…

In the face of that, what do you do?

The answer is inevitable and simple. You attempt to do what you can to protect the animals that you study and to safeguard their home… You attempt to educate others to do likewise because you know that it will require a major effort from the majority rather than the minority to turn devastating consequences into healthy ones… Your life is suddenly full of three careers rather than just one; researcher, conservationist/campaigner and educator!

This is the reason why Peggy spends most of her day on land rather than out at sea. This is why Stefan and Nina of Mundo Azul in Peru put aside dolphin research and attempted to eradicate the illegal dolphin trade there. This is why Laurie of GMWSRS in Canada initiated a harbour porpoise release scheme and devotes so many extra hours to educational work.  This is why there are so many others dotted around the world, working with tiny amounts of funding, or no funding at all, all attempting to create a tiny impact that may ripple outwards to produce even greater, positive results.

It is not surprising that the majority of Peggy’s work still takes place on dry land; designing public education leaflets, implementing educational workshops and coordinating the Whale Entanglement Team. An astronomer may be able to gaze at the sky all day long (well, all night long), but a marine mammal researcher has to become, as I recall Laurie naming it, a “juggler”, and a master one at that.

Before I met Peggy, Stefan and Laurie last year, I believe I had a mostly unconscious, rather judgmental view of researchers. I did not get it. I subconsciously thought that researchers were being self-indulgent. In the face of our ongoing destruction of the natural world, how could anyone be so selfish as to want to study animals when they should be out there saving them?!

Now, I am glad to say, I understand better. I know that one of the rarest achievements in life is to discover your bliss and follow it. If your bliss is to be a researcher, of any subject, then it is a brave undertaking to embark on pursuing it. If you are fortunate enough to have a research subject not under threat from mankind’s misguided endeavors, then you can research to your heart’s content. But, if like Peggy and many others, you study animals, it is likely that your very passion for research is what will drive you to become a committed conservationist.

Marine mammal researchers may not all have an honest, well-intentioned love for the animals they study. Some are ego-bound and wish simply to become the respected star of their profession. This is the case in any arena of human endeavor. But, for those who strive with good intention, they take on extra multiple tasks with altruistic motives, tasks which they may not feel comfortable or equipped for doing, and carry out work that would normally require ten people to complete.

Now, whenever my thoughts turn to all the researchers turned conservationists and educators out there in the world, I feel inspired to humbly express my admiration and gratitude, and to acknowledge that we are all indebted to their dedication beyond any call of duty.

Well, these musings may not have all taken place as I unpacked my bags at Peggy’s this Spring, but I am grateful for my stay there to have helped me become more conscious of them and, hopefully, more coherent about them.

Anyway, did I not write something about getting wet, capsizing (almost), and strange oily slicks, at the start of this post? I guess my words have flowed down a slightly different course, but I have not totally forgotten. So, the recounting of those adventures will form the basis of my next post and I would be honored if you choose to come back again soon to read more.

For now, to complete this post, I would like to mention that Dan Salden, director of HWRF, recently passed away. I did not know him, but Peggy certainly did and I would like to offer up her words in remembrance of him:

“HWRF is like a huge extended family. I feel so fortunate to be part of that family. I volunteered for 8 yrs before I flew on my own. Just like a father who has given their child the tools to make it on their own, you helped me realize my dream of getting into research after I first saw a humpback whale in 1996. Then you told me I should apply for my own permit in monterey, which I would never have done if you had not suggested it.

I want you to know how much you mean to me and how much I appreciate all your help along the road we have traveled together. I hope to create a wonderful legacy in my lifetime that you have done in yours. You have made such an impact not only for the people you have inspired along the way, but the animals as well, including the wolves, whales and dolphins. You should be very proud.

I am so glad our paths crossed and we have journeyed together. I have so much respect for you Dan and lots of love and gratitude for everything you helped me achieve. Your legacy will live on not only with the Hawaii Whale Research Foundation but also with Marine Life Studies here in Monterey.”

A fool’s journey

With wonderful synchronicity, this morning before sitting down to write a post about scouting for killer whales with researcher, educator and conservationist Peggy Stap, I shut my eyes and picked a card from my Tarot deck. When I opened my eyes, I saw that I held the Fool in my hand. For a wonderful overview of the Fool, read Brigit Esselmont’s Biddy Tarot website from which the following passage and picture is taken:

“The Fool Tarot card shows the highest potential for your life, reaching a state of renewal and new beginnings, where each day is an adventure and each moment is lived to the fullest. The Fool card represents the beginning of all creativity and a desire to accomplish new goals (or to, at least, start the process of working towards those goals). The Fool indicates that anything can happen and the opportunities are just waiting to be taken advantage of… The Fool is all about new experiences, personal growth, development and adventure. The Fool Tarot card asks you to take a ‘leap of faith’ and to trust in the Universe that if you begin a new journey, you will find success… The Fool encourages you to believe in yourself and follow your heart no matter how crazy or foolish your impulses may seem.”

Brigit Esselmont, www.biddytarot.com

I can happily state that Peggy Stap is indeed a Fool. I can equally happily state that these days I welcome the Fool within me more readily and, with that in mind, the rest of this post will once again slide away from its original direction into a reflection about Fools, mottos, and stepping off of mountains.

“Love and gratitude, may something wonderful happen today…”

This is the motto that Peggy lives by. Every day; not just on the good days. Through the highlights, the lowlights, and all those days in-between that are not quite one thing or another but which constitute a major portion of many people’s lives.

Peggy’s Foolish approach to her life is a choice which she reaffirms in thought and action each day. And I am sure it makes a difference. She welcomes wonder into her life, believes in its existence, looks out for its appearance, and is always grateful for it when it shows up. It creates a certain kind of buoyancy inside her which in turn cultivates energy, passion and a very generous heart. I am sure it helps her retain a loving, grateful and relatively happy inner state, regardless of what the external world is doing.

Because of course, her ability to recognize love, give thanks and cultivate an air of positive expectancy about life, does not create wonderful results all of the time. Peggy has her share of difficulties, challenges and hard times. She is not some seemingly luck-filled person blessed with living in an ivory tower of perpetual happiness and fulfillment. Like the Fool, when she steps off of a mountain, it is just as likely that she will fall as it is that she will fly. She lives in the real world that we all live in; one filled with hardship and pain as much as it is filled with joy and wonders.

The magic of living like Peggy and the Fool, which anyone whose experiences in life have given them the bravery, openness and heart-fullness to appreciate, is subtle yet very real. They have the ability to sail through the storms of life without jumping overboard, hiding in the galley or murdering their shipmates, and can emerge into the glory of a sun-drenched ocean of turquoise waters, with the capacity to appreciate its unending beauty still miraculously intact.

Peggy’s simple motto and the image of the Fool are gentle reminders of the power to choose which we all have inside us. The Fool is in every one of us as we begin the journey of our lives and is with us on each step of the journey, if we allow ourselves to experience life through the Fool’s eyes and choose as he would choose. Every single day we make choices and every single day our choices shape the person we become tomorrow. We may not always think we have a choice, we may feel that we have little control over our lives and believe we are at the mercy of more powerful people, organisations, companies, governments, or even aliens. But still, underneath the external comings and goings of our surface life, are the subtle undercurrents of our existence, and it is here that we always have a choice and we exercise this choice in every moment of our life’s unfolding.

The Fool, in my as yet beginner’s understanding of this Tarot archetype, chooses life wholeheartedly no matter what it throws at him. The Fool has an innate understanding that life is a journey that must be lived and learnt in every single step. The Fool may be naive and indeed have much to learn on the path, (about the inherent danger of stepping off of mountains for instance), but he accepts the challenge of doing so with love and gratitude for the opportunity to live, feel, think, learn and become. There is no doubt that the Fool will get hurt, burned and lost along the way, but his faith in the essence of life will sustain him and help him to choose the light-filled path. The Fool will come to learn about the darker sides of life, especially the darker traits of human character, but this will not deter him. He instinctively feels that life, with all its contradictions and apparent darkness, is part of a much larger picture and he knows that he will only grow to perceive the full picture one small step at a time.

Now, to meander vaguely back in the direction of where this post began… I am not sure what Peggy will make of being likened to a Fool… I think most probably she will say she is more of a fool than a Fool and fall into one of her endearingly contagious fits of laughter!

I am sure that I have told her I will get round to writing about our time searching for killer whales in Monterey Bay soon. So, I promise that my next post will feature Peggy, Whiskie the Whale Spotter, me, some Marine Life Studies volunteers, a boat, some brightly coloured safety suits, hundreds of dolphins, a couple of killer whales and a ton of rain… Hmm, who am I kidding? It will probably be along those lines… Well maybe, who knows for sure? But please, do come back again to read all about that venture or something equally Foolish.

For now, I cannot resist the beauty of Mohamad Rumi’s words, floating to us across 800 years of history, to complete this Fool’s journey of a post. I tentatively believe that it is this unassuming little truth which brought you, Peggy, me and all of us Fools here to undertake the journey in the first place:

“If you have illusions about heaven lose them. The soul heard of one attribute of Love and came to earth. A hundred attributes of heaven could never charm her back. It is here the soul discovers the reality of Love.”

‘Rumi – Whispers of the Beloved’, translated by Maryam Mafi and Azima Melita Kolin

Why an orca is not just an orca

Sometimes we are fooled into thinking that the world is getting smaller… We can fly around it so fast, access information about every corner of it in seconds, watch instant live pictures of the most remote places from the familiarity of our homes… Smaller and smaller, more known less unknown, more commonplace less remarkable… Easily taken for granted and less easily able to shake us awake to look with wide-eyed wonder at the incredible, unfathomable, bounteous marvels around us.

Because really, the world is not getting smaller and it is still filled with wonder, more wonder than most of us can handle in one lifetime. (Maybe it is just our minds shrinking a little during our adult lives that fool us into thinking otherwise.) When we can summon just a little energy to step outside the relatively small box of everyday life, take ten minutes to explore something new, turn on a computer and look up new realms of interests, read a book about something we know nothing about, (never mind jumping on a plane and visiting someplace new)… We can stumble across things that explode the world open again and show us how vast it really is.

Take killer whales for example… A killer whale is a killer whale isn’t it? If you’ve seen one off the coast of Canada, you know what one living in Antarctica waters is like. They are the biggest of dolphins, have teeth, hunt sea lions, are black and white, are pretty stunning when you first see one, but once you’ve seen that plus a few pictures, no big deal… They’re just killer whales after all, what more do you need to know?

Mmmm, as I am finding out, the world of orcas is so much bigger than that and to think otherwise is to do a great injustice to orcas and to people who know better. Some such people are so intensely interested in killer whales that they spend their entire lives trying to learn more about them and passing that knowledge on to others. Peggy Stap of Marine Life Studies is one such person; she turns into an excited, energy-filled firecracker everyday that she heads out into Monterey Bay looking for killer whales. And she is not alone; just ten minutes online-orca-fact-hunting will bring a flood of knowledge into your lap about orcas and the people who study them around the world.

After my confusion about orcas and their seemingly misplaced classifications of residents (who do not reside in Monterey Bay at all); transients (who seem to reside or, at least, visit the bay most frequently); and offshores (who inhabit some mythic realm of my imagination in some distant ocean along with giant squids, Poseidon and krakens)… I did some online-orca-hunting of my own and suddenly found the world of the killer whales opening up before me and getting a whole lot bigger.

Killer whales are not just killer whales and, apparently if you know what you’re looking for, they do not even all look alike. Throughout the world, over the last few thousand years, orcas have separated off into distinct groups. Maybe in much the same way as humans travelled out of Africa, dispersed around the globe and developed different diets, skin colour and language, so too have killer whales formed different ‘races’.

Resident and transient orcas were first named by a scientist called Dr. Michael Bigg who studied them in the north-east Pacific off the coast of British Columbia and Washington State during the 1970’s. By the late 1980’s a third type of orca was discovered and named; the offshore killer whales. (This is, of course, the reason why the term ‘resident orca’ does not denote an orca residing in Monterey Bay; their names were, in part, based on geography. If killer whales had first been studied and named in California, then who knows, perhaps they would have ended up with different names.)

Around the world, there are at least ten orca types (residents, transients and offshores are the names given to the types seen in the north-east Pacific), and it is an ongoing point of research and discussion as to whether the different types are the same species, sub-species or entirely separate ones. In the meantime, the word ‘ecotypes’ has been adopted to denote the different types.

I cannot in one blog post do killer whales any justice by attempting to present the uniqueness and complexity of each ecotype. So, to give you just a tiny snapshot of their ‘characters’, let’s imagine we are in a speed-dating scenario, attempting to decide which orca-ecotype we would like to take on a date to the prom (to borrow Peggy Stap’s nickname for killer whales). I’ll allow each ecotype a few words to introduce themselves, but only as many as can be read in 30 seconds or so:

THE SOCIAL BUTTERFLY

Hi, I’m a resident killer whale. I’m a popular dude, everyone knows me, as I am the most known of all orcas. I’m quite transparent, relatively speaking, and you know what you are getting with me as I tend to hang out in my favourite places pretty consistently. That’s not to say I don’t explore, I can still be a nomad and might travel 100 miles in a day to find my food, but my range is smaller than other orcas and I return to my resident areas often. I am a total socialite, family is very important to me, and I tend to hang out with my family and friends in pods of 50 or more. I am very vocal and also quite an exhibitionist, able to perform the odd acrobatic trick when the mood takes me. I consider myself a food connoisseur as my diet is pretty selective and high end; I can eat salmon, salmon, salmon, all day long and never tire of it. If you want a date with me then come and hang out with my family and friends, and we’ll have a good long chat over a salmon dinner to get to know each other more.

THE DRAMATIC MOVIESTAR

Well hello there, I’m a transient killer whale and I’m the orca most likely to appear on your TV screens as I can provide the necessary WOW-factor. This is because of my choice of food as I am a hunter of BIG and FAST prey. I like to eat marine mammals and I’ll go after anything from a seal or sea lion to a porpoise, dolphin, gray whale or even a minke whale. I get about quite a bit, especially as some of my prey has the tendency to migrate, so one day you might find me hanging out in southern California and the next in the waters off Alaska. I am social in my own way, but not as much so as a resident and I certainly never choose to mix with them. I tend to hang out in matriarchal groups of 8 or so, but I may or may not stay with that group so don’t try to pin me down. I am not as loud as those noisy residents, but that is partly because I have to be stealthily quiet to hunt my prey. If you want a date with me then be ready for some thrilling action as I’ll show you what it’s like to be a lean and mean killing machine.

THE MYSTERIOUS WILD CARD

Hmm, I’m not going to say too much about myself; you’ll have to explore much further to find out more about me as I am the least known of all the orcas. I like to maintain my air of mystery by living in the open ocean, far offshore, and away from the prying eyes of humans. I may or may not be pretty sociable in the privacy of other orca company; I’ve been spotted in pods of 20 to 60 animals, but pods as big as 200 have also been seen. I tend to sport quite a few scars on my body, but I’ll let you try and work out how they got there. I also have rather worn down teeth, perhaps from the sharks that are a part of my diet, as they do tend to have rather abrasive skin. I speak a very different language than either the residents or transients, but maybe that is because our paths do not cross that often. If you want a date with me I’m not going to make it easy for you, you’ll have to travel far out to sea to try and find me wherever I might be.

Well, if your speed dating encounter with killer whales has made you keen to have a second date and find out more, there are a couple of places I can recommend you turn to. I came across the most fascinating in-depth writing about orcas in the Spring 2011 issue of the American Cetacean Society’s Journal. I found this document displayed as a link from the Orca Network, which is another great resource for killer whale facts and conservation ideas. And, of course, I must give a shout out to Planet Whale; if you want to find out about killer whale watching trips or conservation groups that focus on killer whales around the world, this is THE place to go.

So please, please, please, the next time you are sitting in your armchair imagining that the world is getting a little bit smaller as you watch a rerun of some old TV series, show a touch of kindness for yourself and the world, turn off the TV and find yourself a date to the prom with an orca, a whale or some other precious treasure from our world’s wide, wonderful and never-ending offering of treasures beyond measure. Who knows, maybe it’ll be eternal love at first sight!

All killer whale and humpback whale photos courtesy of Peggy Stap and Marine Life Studies

It’s all about the orcas

It is a subtle shift that occurs, between periods of time when words disappear into a hazy background while other preoccupations hold the foreground, and periods of time where a space opens up right in the centre for words to move into and claim for their own. At present, a jumble of words are tumbling over each other to be written. The overly linear side of my brain would like to organise them into a coherent order; complete the Bob Talbot posts, write some welcome updates on Peggy Stap and then progress to writing about Pieter Folkens and climate change, or the lack of it. However, aided and abetted by the Bob-cat still evading my attempts on completion, each time I sit down to write, I feel the other flexible, non-linear, meandering side of my brain (must be the right side) stepping forwards and moving me into non-logical places.

And so it is that today, while I had every conscious intention to write about Peggy Stap and our adventures together searching for cetaceans (aka whales) in Monterey Bay, I am pulled into a minor digression about her black and white research subjects which she calls her ‘dates to the prom’, none other than the fantastically named KILLER WHALES.

Killer whale… Orca… Orcinus orca… Whether you use their common name, nickname or latin name, they have similar root meanings, all of which sound like a horror movie title… Showing at midnight tonight is the spine-tingling chiller ‘Demon Killer from the Kingdom of the Dead’, watch it if you dare!

Of course, as most people know, this name does not do them justice but does elevate them, by name alone, to the status of being ‘cool’. And in the flesh, they are even ‘cooler’. There is just something so extraordinarily compelling about these most beautiful of ocean dwellers. Having seen them a handful of times up close and personal, I know that all the words in the world – stunning, magnificent, sleek, majestic, powerful… – can never be enough. Orcas generate a feeling which lies deeper than words can reach.

The absolute clincher that causes my jaw to drop in awe and my respect soaring to dizzying heights is knowing that these animals that hunt and tear apart seals, dolphins, whales and sharks have never willfully attacked a human in the wild. Moreover, there are only a handful of documented accounts of accidental attacks, none of which have been fatal. Different ‘sub-species’ of killer whales have completely different diets with some, called transient orcas, specializing in preying on marine mammals. I can only guess that a mammal-eating-orca knows full well that human beings are mammals, and ones which, if out swimming or surfing, would be a much easier target than, say, a fast, wary and alert harbor porpoise. Yet, they leave us alone. I cannot help but wonder as to why they afford us such a singular place of honour.

Even as we have been slowly but surely, ignorantly and self-servingly, hammering metaphorical nails into their coffins, orcas still leave us alone. It is, maybe, debatable whether killer whales would even be aware that our actions are the cause of their distress. Do they know, for example, that the high levels of toxins in their bodies are because of us? Or that their lack of food is caused by our endless fishing? Or that the injuries to their ears that can cause them to beach themselves come from manmade underwater explosions and sonar systems? Or even that the debris in the oceans which they can become entangled in is our debris…? How intelligent does an animal have to be to sense that at least some of these abuses can be attributed to those strange creatures who travel across the oceans in noisy, metallic, free-floating islands, dragging huge nets after them and dumping foul-smelling waste into the depths? Maybe orcas, along with fish and other ocean inhabitants, do not have a clue as to the source of their problems… But, seeing as orcas are a great deal smarter than fish, maybe they do. If they do, it is an even greater wonder that they still leave us alone and do not seek retribution. I am not sure if humans would do likewise.

In fact, the only documented accounts of orcas attacking and killing humans are when they are in captivity. Those stories make the headlines; surely we have all heard of incidents at one Seaworld or another where trainers have been hurt or killed, with the most recent killing of a female trainer in 2010 by an orca called Tilikum. Whether or not these incidents are willful attacks or misguided, boisterous attempts at play is uncertain. Dolphins in captivity can commit the extreme act of suicide by refusing to eat, refusing to breathe and striking their heads against aquarium walls. It is equally plausible that an orca could reach levels of despair, frustration and insanity deep enough to commit acts of aggression directed at people. I feel sad for the humans who have died and I feel equal empathy towards the killer whales; an animal of lesser intelligence and capacity for emotional distress, would not get bored, feel despair, or be capable of ‘losing their mind in the heat of the moment’.

But, before my words wander into darker realms, I’ll pull myself out of the depths and return to the warm, sunlit shallows. I know, I know; too many negative images at a time only tend to trigger disinterest. We all need hopeful, stimulating and inspiring images to motivate us along the path of learning to care for our planet…

… So, did I mention something about a transient orca? Let’s return to that ambiguous term. What on earth does ‘transient’ orca mean and, for that matter, what does ‘resident’ orca and ‘offshore’ orca mean? Initially I did not know that these different classifications of killer whales existed. Once I learnt their names, I still did not know exactly what the names meant and so I got very confused when Peggy told me that her main research subjects are transient orcas and not resident ones. I assumed, quite understandably I think, that resident orcas must reside in Monterey Bay, (with transients going in and out of it randomly, and offshores staying a long way out to sea and never entering the bay).

It turns out that I did not get that quite right. There is a lot more to it and, perplexingly, it seems that resident orcas do not in fact reside in Monterey Bay at all. But, this post has meandered on its merry orca-filled way for long enough now, so I will have to halt my flow of words and save them for the next post. If you would like to learn what really makes a transient orca transient, a resident orca resident, and an offshore orca offshore, then do come and visit again soon!

Killer whale photographs in this post are courtesy of Peggy Stap, copyright belongs to Peggy Stap and Marine Life Studies

Peggy Stap, being child-like, and other such fancies

While the elusive Bob-cat (renowned photographer and film-maker Bob Talbot) remains elusively wrapped up in the completion of a film project and I am still steadying myself for the slightly daunting task of writing about dog-rescue trainer, whale disentangler and so-labeled ‘climate change skeptic’ Pieter Folkens, I have the opportunity to write a few spirit-reviving posts about Peggy Stap and the work of Marine Life Studies (MLS).

I say spirit-reviving with a ‘can’t-help-but-smile-conviction’ because Peggy is one of the most generous, kind-hearted, child-like people alive and I have a little candle of love that will always burn for her and wish her well. Some of you may remember Peggy with fondness from reading my posts about her just over a year ago, and if so, you will know that I write ‘child-like’ for all the positive, charming, beautiful aspects that this way of being in the world presents. To still have a child’s heart with its capacity for trust, love and spontaneous generosity, and to still have a child’s spirit with its unbounded exuberance, curiosity and willingness to do more…. Yes, I think we could all do with a Peggy-pill once in a while to rekindle the soft flames in our hearts and enliven our spirits.

I visited Peggy for a couple of weeks in April, staying with her in beautiful Monterey Bay, California. I have a soft spot for Monterey, with its cute old houses (of course, we are talking old for America, not old by world standards), gentle streets that people actually walk along as opposed to simple drive through, and its lush variety of trees and plants that provide a wonderful feeling of nature, freedom and woodlands in amongst an urban setting.

I met Peggy’s husband Dick for the first time; an intelligent, gentle man with an all-encompassing love for his wife and the most interesting, eloquent person to sit down with and have a conversation of substance. Peggy’s dog Whiskie the Whale Spotter was as adorable as ever and I swear I have never, ever seen a dog with such an ability to relax in the most indulgent fashion; every day sprawled in some new, exotic position on her favored chair of the moment.

Peggy was, of course, working her usual seven day week for Marine Life Studies. The organisation is still staffed by volunteers, including Peggy, although MLS has successfully attracted pockets of government and corporate funding for particular projects. I accompanied Peggy going about her daily activities; she was launching her own small research boat ‘Sweet Pea’ this spring and we were both very excited that I would be onboard with her and Whiskie to assist with her killer whale research. I will write about those adventures in a future post; the wonders and frustrations of attempting to track down orcas from a small boat where visibility is limited to three miles in a bay which is, apparently, 449 sq miles. However right now, I feel my attention turning to an education project which MLS was undertaking while I was there.

‘Take it to the Streets’ is an initiative devised and run by MLS in collaboration with The Plastic Police (an organisation established by MLS’s volunteer coordinator Jenna Contuchio and run under the umbrella of MLS). I accompanied Jenna, Peggy and a team of local volunteers on a ‘Take it to the Streets’ afternoon at a local Boys and Girls club. The aim of the session was to educate children about the environmental effects of litter dropping, (garbage dropped on land often ends up in oceans, polluting them and harming marine animals which accidentally ingest them), and to inspire them to get pro-active and participate in activities that will impact positively on their own psyche and the environment. The majority of the session involved taking the children out on a litter cleaning excursion. Can you believe that picking up litter rather than dropping it can be fun? If not then think again; the teenagers had an engaging, liberating and rewarding experience. Below was one typical comment given that day:

“We risked our clothes and brand new shoes to save a turtle’s life. It was worth it!” Unnamed boy, Salinas Girls and Boys Club

However, I came away from the day with a double-edged feeling; one that the experience was assuredly beneficial for all participants, the other that without continued input its effects might be short lived for some of the participants.

I know from my own dance teaching the immeasurable value that out-of -the-ordinary experiences provide children. Young people need unexpected and exciting experiences to shake their perceptions, instill new thinking, bring fresh energy and encourage a renewed sense of curiosity. As adults, we can easily forget to seek these experiences and fall into the trap of living a life where we believe that life is simply about ‘getting by, plodding along’. But children have not yet been deceived into believing that life is about living a humdrum existence. They are alive to possibilities and open to the potential for growth that the unknown brings. One-off exciting and nurturing experiences spark new fires in their imaginations and remind them that the world is limited only by their perceptions of it, and sometimes this impression inspires a lifetime of passion-infused living. This is exactly what ‘Take it to the Streets’ provided.

However, children by their very nature, are also wonderfully changeable and adaptable, and in their teens their attention can swing wildly between conflicting focuses; one day they think the world of something, the next it is forgotten. They require the intellectual and emotional freedom to develop their own perceptions of the world, but they also require structure to develop these ideas coherently and safely, and they require steady, patient guidance to introduce and nurture certain aspects of their thinking. Out-of-the-ordinary experiences like ‘Take it to the Streets’ may light a fire that does not die out for some children, but, for some, the fire may be forgotten by tomorrow. Maybe that is enough; maybe that is just how it should be. But maybe, in a world where our actions are causing such harm to our planet and others around us, more is required.

I do not mean that MLS should provide more; they are playing their role, a vital and passionate one, bringing that unexpected experience to children who would not otherwise have it, maybe planting the seeds for tomorrow’s dedicated conservationists. But in the bigger picture, for the work of organisations such as MLS to leave a lasting impression on the majority rather than a minority, it requires the steady, patient, on-going reinforcement that schools, families, clubs and society can provide.

I have no doubt that some families, some schools, some clubs, some states, some communities and some countries do provide this framework to a greater and lesser degree. But my guess is that in this imperfect world where we all suffer from such human frailties as complacency and self-oriented interests, the framework becomes muddled and sometimes forgotten. The proof is after all in evidence around us; would pollution and other such manmade problems exist if we had all grown up with the flame of caring for one another and our planet still alive within us?

I do not have an all-encompassing answer and I do not even believe there is necessarily just one answer. We are all such different creatures, needing different experiences and different ways of learning. One religion does not serve all of humanity; while all paths may lead to the same essence eventually, a multitude of paths can be taken along the way. So it is with how we learn, how we interact in our families and how we build our communities; there may be many solutions to the challenges life presents us. I do, however, believe that our overall approach could change… from one which is externally led to one which is internally moved. From one which is about material possessions and achievement in the outer world, to one which is about inner treasures and internal growth. From one which focuses on what we can all get from the world, to one which nurtures the concept of both inward and outward flow, giving and receiving.

And now I am left with a challenge… I started writing this post freeform with no defined objective as to what subjects it might lead me to or where it would end, just a picture of Peggy and her child-like self and the vague notion that I would write about her and MLS. And look where I ended up; in the midst of musings that weave their way from education to religion to the state of our world! A complicated puzzle but one where everything is intertwined, everything is connected. From Peggy, to child-like, to the education of our children, to children’s innate natures, to our human nature, to the flames in our hearts, to the small picture of one person unthinkingly dropping litter, to the larger picture of our whole world, to the mysterious inner realm that underpins our external life, to inward and outward flow… All of these subjects are connected, as is every aspect of our lives, with everything influencing and being influenced by everything else. Remarkable!

In my next post, I will attempt to return to Peggy, Whiskie, the world of whale research and the surprising differences between a transient, resident and offshore orca. For now, the words below eloquently add weight to my musings on conservation, education, life and other fancies.

“No problem can be solved from the same level of consciousness which created it.” And, “Imagination is everything. It is the preview of life’s coming attractions.” Albert Einstein

Top ten things to take on a whale watching trip

With my personal life taking centre stage and the completion of Lilanthro’s Story demanding my attention, cetaceans (aka. whales and dolphins) have not had much coverage on this blog in the last few months. I decided to remedy this situation by posting the following revised article originally written for Planet Whale. Interestingly, for me anyway, I wrote it after only ever having been on one whale watching trip, (and that was on a ferry, not a dedicated whale watching boat). Now, after having been on a fair few trips and research expeditions, I can say with confidence that the following top ten list stands the test of reality…

No matter where you are going whale or dolphin watching, whether you are spotting Orca’s in Canada, Humpbacks in Australia or Blue Whales in California, there is no denying the fact that a whale watching trip can be a once in a lifetime experience. So if you do not want to have that stomach churning sensation as you realise “Doh, I forgot the…” follow these top ten tips for the essential must have’s on your trip:

Binoculars

Binoculars are an absolute must and if anyone tells you that you do not need them, nod politely and walk away singing to yourself. Although photographs of whale watching trips often make the experience look as if it is a close up affair, this is not necessarily the case. Some whale and dolphin spotting is carried out from a medium to long distance; without binoculars you may be left saying “What dolphin?” in reply to people’s exuberant shouts of “Look at those Striped Dolphins leaping!” Here’s a couple of rules to remember: buy or borrow decent binoculars with a magnification between 7x and 10x; and keep the strap around your neck unless you want to see them flying overboard to be swallowed by the next big wave.

Layers, layers, layers!

You may be subject to all the elements on a whale or dolphin watching trip, from the strongest of sun to the chilliest of wind and rain, so be prepared for anything, as any boy scout could tell you. Even on a hot summer’s day, the ocean can be a cold place to hang around and on the coldest day a drop of sunshine combined with glare from the water can leave you sunburnt by the end of your trip. Wear plenty of layers, that you can take off and put on as required, and include wet weather gear. Take a hat to protect from cold and/or sun and sensible, waterproof footwear with good grip; do not be tempted to show off your new best shoes. Polarised or UV glasses are a great idea to protect your eyes from water glare and make it easier to spot whales as they swim underwater. Lastly, do not forget your sunscreen unless you consider a puffy red face to be the season’s most attractive new look.

Camera

When you return home and tell friends “You’ll never believe what we saw…” They may well reply “No we don’t; prove it!” Make sure you have your camera to preserve the memory of your experience and share it with others. A zoom of between 4x and 6x magnification is best; any more is impractical due to the movement of vessel and animal. Keeping your camera dry may be a challenge, so have a waterproof bag with you to pop it in when not in use. You may also choose to take a video camera to record some footage that will hopefully have your friends back home asking for more rather than pleading for a break. A word of warning though; a whale watching trip can be an emotional experience and one that will have most impact when you are fully engaged with it. Use your camera wisely and do not hide behind it for the whole trip or you risk dulling your experience down to a flat two-dimensional impression of what it would otherwise be.

Food and drink

If your belly is rumbling from hunger and your brain feeling disoriented from dehydration, you are unlikely to enjoy your encounter to the full. Take some snack food to keep you going and plenty of fluid to drink. Depending on how extreme a temperature you are likely to encounter, a flask of hot or cold drink could be a lifesaver.

Yourself; but on a good day

It is a simple suggestion but one that may be easily overlooked; DO get a good night’s sleep before you go on your trip and DO NOT be hungover or suffering from any other excess. Your body and your spirits (not the alcoholic kind) need to be in tip top condition for your adventure; you may have choppy seas to bravely navigate and downtime to patiently endure. It is essential that you are feeling alert so that you have the best chance of being the first person to spot the blow from a passing whale and the last person to lose their good mood when nothing exciting happens for a while.

Guide book

Get yourself a good whale and dolphin guidebook before you go. Whether or not you have children with you, your whale watching experience is likely to be more enjoyable and fulfilling if you know a little bit about what you are seeing. Not only will you be able to pat yourself on the back when you tell people you saw “a Sperm Whale!” as opposed to just “a whale”, you are likely to be even more awed by your encounter when you read about the lives of these deep-diving, squid-fighting leviathans. There may also be plenty of downtime on the trip when there is not a Fin Whale or Common Dolphin in sight; your guide book can entertain you during these lulls, maintaining your momentum until the next sighting is made.

Think like a scientist (or an artist!)

Take a notepad and pencil to record what you see, make a sketch, write a poem, or do whatever you may be inspired to do! Doing a bit of homework before you leave for your trip may even enable you to help with the research efforts of cetacean conservationists. Some conservation groups run cetacean sighting and photo-ID schemes which the public can input into; check out conservation groups in the area you will be visiting to find out if and how you can get involved.

Anything to help you avoid seasickness

Even a full night’s sleep and a good breakfast cannot guarantee that you will be immune from the ravages of seasickness. Wear comfortable clothing, pack any medicines or remedies you have been advised to take, (ginger sweets are given out on some boats), and have plenty of water and comfort food to hand. If you do suffer from seasickness, give the guide book to someone else, sit on the outside area of the boat and make sure you keep your eyes focussed on the sea around you.

Kidnap a guide

If you know a cetacean geek, take them with you! Failing that, if you want the most educational and illuminating experience, book a trip on a whale watching boat which has a nature guide on board. They are likely to be the best whale and dolphin spotter, ensuring you do not miss that elusive Beaked Whale as it dives beneath the boat. They will also be able to give you expert information about everything you see and put it across in a lively and engaging way. Some cetacean species are very hard to tell apart; they will not conform to the clearly drawn pictures in a guidebook and you may only get a glimpse of a dorsal fin on which to base your estimation as to species. An expert guide is the most likely person to be able to identify the animals you spot and may be able to confirm that you have indeed just witnessed the rarely spotted Cuvier’s Beaked Whale.

Lucky charm

Whale and dolphin watching can be a hit and miss affair. You may get lucky and have the most amazing encounter of the century or you may get unlucky and not see so much as a splash. To increase your chances of coming home smiling, if you have a lucky charm take it, if you can sing a whale-charming song sing it, if you can dance a dolphin-loving dance dance it… You get the idea!

Good luck whale watchers and enjoy your adventure…

My life since this blog began

It seems fitting, at the end of one year and on the eve of the next momentous one; the much heralded 2012, to grant myself the indulgence of glancing back over my shoulder to peek at the events in my personal life over the last year.

The Planet Whale Report

This miraculous phase of my life actually began somewhat earlier in July 2010 when I ended my previous career of performing, choreographing and teaching contemporary dance, to intuitively set off in new directions. I never expected to find myself behind a desk in an office but the day I walked into Planet Whale’s office to meet Ian Rowlands and Dylan Walker, everything just felt right.

Seven months later, having completed compiling and editing a first ever Global Directory of Cetacean Conservation Organisations for Planet Whale, my plans were laid. I began this website and blog in February 2011 having decided, in a flowing-with-the-river kind of way, on a course of action.

With no set outcome in mind, but simply trusting in a step-by-step approach that felt right even though I could not analytically pinpoint why, I approached three wonderful cetacean conservationists to enquire about assisting them in their endeavours and, while doing so, document their lives and work. Amazingly, they agreed.

In mid-April 2011, I embarked on this venture. There followed three and a half months of the most incredible experiences with Peggy Stap of Marine Life Studies in USA, Stefan Austermühle and Nina Pardo of Mundo Azul in Peru, and Laurie Murison of Grand Manan Whale and Seabird Research Station in Canada. I was honoured to meet the most kind, generous, caring, passionate, pro-active people, be given a uniquely personal window into their world, and permitted to write in intimate detail about their lives and work. On top of this, I had beautiful, jaw-dropping encounters with whales, dolphins, birds and other ocean dwellers, which have enriched both my understanding of them and of how we humans affect their lives.

And what was the result of such a venture? Did it lead, as I hoped it would, towards a new career in writing? Did it open any new doors through which I could walk to find the next step on my path? Well yes, it did indeed lead to the next chapter in my life, albeit in a completely unforeseen way. It led to something which I was not expecting to find on this venture. It led to a meeting of heart, mind, soul, spirit and head. It led to my husband Bruno.

We met in Peru in June, both of us there under unusual circumstances and both of us pulled to an event at a bar in Lima by others; Bruno by a friend and me accompanying the conservationists I was working for. In the two weeks we shared in Lima we met every evening and took a weekend trip to the beautiful wonders of Peru’s mountains. And then I left for Canada; it could have ended there; it didn’t. We stayed in touch until August when Bruno flew to England to meet me as I returned from Canada. By the end of another two weeks we had decided that our future paths lay together. We married in England on 6th October, and since then have been in the process of relocating to California to begin our life there together.

It is a fairytale-like story which I would find hard to believe myself if I did not have the proof of waking up next to my wonderful husband every day. Nevertheless it is still mind-boggling for me to look back over the last year. In the last twelve months I have lived in or visited four countries, slept in over twenty beds, seen over ten species of whales and dolphins, and met countless life-affirming people. In the last ten months I have written: one first draft of Lilanthro’s Story; twenty five blog posts about three inspiring conservationists; nine articles for three websites; one article for Caduceus Magazine; and one first draft of a second magazine article in the pipeline for 2012. In the last seven months I have met, fallen in love with, got engaged to, married and moved countries with one man, (roughly in that order). In the last four months I have performed in two dance films. In the last three months I have laid plans to further my writing and develop a harmonising movement practice for adults. And in the last month Bruno and I have returned to England to celebrate Christmas, New Year and our marriage blessing.

And now it is New Year’s Eve; a gateway between one year and the next, when individually and collectively we look reflectively backwards, look expectantly forwards and gather together our energies for the next step. 2012 is a momentous year which some people are gladly awaiting, others fearfully so, and others seeing it as just another year. Who knows what 2012 will bring for Bruno and I, for the collective human race and for this sparklingly beautiful blue planet called Earth. Maybe not every year can feel as fate-filled, love-filled and action-filled as 2011, but Bruno and I are aligning ourselves with those who are welcoming the coming year and we have faith that it will bring all that it needs to bring and be exactly as it needs to be. We feel ourselves to be in the keeping of Destiny, God and Life, and trust whatever path they intend for us to tread. I believe this to be true for all of humanity and the world itself.

So, with that, Happy New Year one and all, and I wish us all a soul-awakening, spirit-nourishing, heart-expanding year ahead.