Beam Reach

Whale soup

Friday, September 28, 2007

We woke up at Snug harbor and Leslie rang to tell us that she could hear the whales off Lime Kiln, so we lifted anchor right after breakfast and put off our morning chores until later. We spent most of the morning chasing the whales—writing down pager information, listening to the radio, and making phone calls to try to figure out which way they were headed.

Wandering whales

What a classic field day. Leslie relayed news that she was hearing calls early in the day. But as we caught up with them, muliple factors conspired to deny us high-quality data (in the way they often do in field research). First we would be near a whale, but it wouldn’t be vocalizing. Then a noisy ship would approach as the orcas started to call. When the ship would pass and the calls would be frequent, the wind would rise, blow us down wind, and cause the cables to “thrum.” We’d trouble shoot the flow noise and be ready to record, when the waves would build extremely. Suddenly, enforcement agents (Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife) would swing over to ask us some questions — distracting us from our quarry.

It was a very long day, but in the end we all gained some new insights. We were lucky the killer whales turned back when it seemed they were headed out to the big ocean! And then we were treated to the near-silent underwater noise from Bob McLaughlin’s jet-drive powered boat, quite a few nice calls and clicks, and stunning silhouettes of a resting (quiet) pod traveling up Haro Strait on the flood tide.

Mid-program reflections

Today I began my second week with the fall 2007 Beam Reach class. It feels like a real privilege for this dad to again have a chance to go to sea, particularly with this group, these technologies, and the winds building for good sailing as October looms. The killer whales have been doing some exciting things this week — superpods and ceremonies — and with luck we’ll have another chance to listen to them and the boats in their environment.

My main goal this week is to give everyone a few opportunities to reflect on the program, teachers, and students and provide some feedback. With some guidance, we can improve the next 4-5 weeks, as well as future programs. I’ll also try help everyone acquire, manage, and process their data.

The highlights today were marveling at the challenge of planning a day of field work and the calming beauty of a sunset seascape. Ash, Alex, Anne, Tim and Sam did a valiant job of deciding what to do when J+K pod headed up toward the Fraser and L pod evanesced along the southwest side of San Juan Island. With a foreboding forecast (30 knots out of the west), substantial tides changing direction at mid-day, and the lure of novel anchorages, it was tough call. But we ultimately headed south and nearly overlapped with L pod.

The reprieves were some fun sailing, the sunset, lasagna, and the prospect of an evening spent sifting through the GREAT data we have already acquired. The pace is always blistering up here, but the challenges are refreshing and the insights come fast.

It was a treat today to read in Fred Felleman’s thesis that the southern residents “change their direction of travel within an hour of slack current 7 times more frequently than would be expected by chance,” and to then observe L-pod head north against the ebb in the morning (max ~8am), north as the flow reversed ~2pm, and then (within an hour!) south as the flood current strengthened. There is clearly more work to be done on what guides their behavior and how the fish in Haro Strait react to the local oceanography. In fact, looking at the pager record, it seems that there are data for examining at least the relationship between orca travel direction and the local currents.