well, it was a little wild getting here, but i made it. had to pick up another student around 10pm on sunday at the airport in seattle. i was a little late so that put us arriving at anacortas just before the 12:45 ferry (which was actually the late 12:15 ferry. lucky for us!) so we arrived around 3am and we're really fatigued most of the day yesterday. we went out to the west coast (where the lime kiln lighthouse and whale watching park is.) there we began developing preliminary questions for possible foci for our studies. a bit later we were inside the lighthouse, talking w/ the lady who volunteers there about how she helps track the whales through a paging system around the sound. so she gets a page while we are there and shows us how the numbers that arrive on the page relate to coordinates on a a grid/map of the area. so, we suddenly realize that 26-82 is right where we are. so we rush outside to see a pod of whales porpoising across the horizon. the horizon itself was obscured by by a layer of fog, making our ability to figure out the size of the whales difficult. they looked huge. beautiful ebony giants diving up and over (hence the term porpoising). really stunning. they moved quite fast too, which was remarked upon by scott, our main prof, might be a bit of a challenge to follow when we are sailing. a challenge indeed!! so, today we are settling in (with more sleep) and getting into the work at hand.
09-2005:
09.26.2005:First Day out on the Gate Verde
Yesterday was a bit crazy. Faced w/ the utter incomprehensibility of cramming and packing an obscene amount of food, clothing and technology, somehow we managed. My "cabin," located in the port bulkhead, is quite cozy. By cozy I mean cramped. Actually it is quite nice. I think its called the crew quarters. A small hatch in the port bow opens up into my ceiling, right above my bed (which is also my dressing room (to access my closet I have to lift up my bedding and remove a panel where my head lies). The rest of the space is pretty much just my sleeping bag, with my feet resting very near the tip of the hull. The last foot or two being reserved for two very small shelves. Not sure if those reading this know my habits, but I am notorious for over packing, "just in case." Well, now I'm my own worst nightmare...anyway, it is cozy. In fact, despite the lack of heating in my quarters, I slept soundly (a little acoustic pun) and my body heat seemed to warm up the room pretty well. I'll try to take some pictures, if I can get my camera in there... So today we sailed. Aboard the beautiful and majestic Gate Verde. First thing, coffee and breakfast. A thick fog rolled in as we discussed duties and then we got to work. I swabbed the deck, something that will probably lose its exciting flavor as this trip goes on...oh well. its not that bad, and I certainly understand the psychological effect of cleaning. We finished as the fog cleared and the boat looked awesome shinning in the noonday sun. After a brief briefing of the major parts of the boat, we motored out and set sail. Woowee. First the main and then the jib. In fairly light wind (< 10 knots) we made our way around the NE side of San Juan Island. At one point, just after setting out, we spotted our first piece of wildlife = "SpongeBob SquarePants, off the port bow!!!" Indeed, some childs inflated balloon of the character floated across the waves as if he had found his true home, being released from the savagery of the sky. In the afternoon, we spotted orcas, after following tips on the FM to find them. They porpoised right by us...beautiful. They were close, but not too close, and they evaded my attempts to capture them on video. We dropped hydrophones though, and were able to listen to there calls and clicks while they swam past. Eventually, they disappeared and all that was left was the sound of shipping traffic.
09.27.2005: Sunny, but no wind
Didn't quite sleep as well last night, waking several times. May have been due to my shoulder,
which has had a pinched nerve since the day before I left. Captain Todd said he didn't sleep
well either, offering that perhaps it was our proximity to the nearby military base...well, lets
hope that thats what it was, and never return there. Regardless, the day went smoothly, if fairly
uneventfully. More orientation to the boat and planning for the day. This involves, a daily listen
to the weather report and a review of the tides. The weather is a mixed bag; sunny but not much
wind. The weather has been pretty fantastic in recent weeks, especially for the northwest, reaching
into the 60s. Still, out on the open water, the wind is pretty brisk so its pretty difficult to
comprehend any solid temperature. In my "hole", as it has been referred to by some of my shipmates,
the temperature at night is probably more quantifiable. It is COLD. Still, long johns, watch cap,
hoody, sleeping bag and some magic blanket from Cap. Todd make it pretty bearable.
After motoring out into the open water, we cut the engines and drifted while we were testing equipment and having lunch. Saw some whales briefly. I was busying myself finishing fashioning my parabolic microphone. Finally got it, but not much to capture. Still experimenting w/ focal length and testing it on some birds. Tonight I made dinner; coconut curry w/ tofu, carrots and yam (my specialty). Everyone ate it and several said it was quite good. Whew! All in all, the days go by pretty fast (so far)... Late tonight was a brutal struggle of computer gunk = trying to link pc's to the wireless mac network so we can all update our journals (like i am now) from our own computers. UUGH...what a pain and perfect way to strip away the beauty and peace that surrounds us. Still, it reminds me of how much time I am used to orienting around one of these little boxes of wires. OH, to remain in touch w/ the outernet... and even as i say it, my battery drains...i needs some sleep. The picture here gives you some idea of what occurs at night on the boat
09.28.2005: Windy, but no sun
Well, actually there was some sun this morning. It was beautiful in fact, perhaps warmer and sunnier
than other days recent. Today I woke up early, around 6am, after going to sleep around midnight. This
amount of sleep seems perfect. It seems necessary for me to stay up late so as to get "good and
tuckered out" so I can sleep well. Nice and cozy last night, all bundled up. Anyway, by the time
we were on to our duties (8:30ish) it was really getting HOT (maybe 60). The rest of the early
part of the day involved; charting our course, more acquaintance with gear (wench practice & radar),
and a crash course in meteorology. It seemed like a natural progression of our lesson when the
breeze picked up and a fog rolled in. Quickly, our sunny day turned cold and overcast. Owing to
the fog, we held off on weighing anchor, instead busying ourselves w/ technicalities and preparing
our data sheets. Eventually, we head out as the fog lifts, though the weather seems to be getting
worse. In fact, as we enter out into the open waters the rain starts spitting. We get far enough
out and cut the engines and drift. For some reason, the hydrophones were getting some noise and
so work began on attempting to troubleshoot. I love this kind of work anyway, but in this
weather, on a boat rocking in open water, with visibility cut down by fog - tweaking electronic
gear has never seemed more thrilling. Real living, out here in the field. Putting the equipment
to the test, and testing our ideas. Tests reveal (and confirm later) that the boat itself can
cause some electronic disturbances we need to avoid. Primarily, the electrical inverter which
provides power to all kinds of devices. Luckily, we don't need AC power to record, though it might
make our lives easier (as it appears to for everyone). Other issues were grounding, which was
solved by attaching a wire to the amplifier and dropping it into the water, and some kind of
radio interference (usually some french guy). Both of these were solvable w/ relative ease,
though we only figured it out once we were anchored safely away from the turbulence, here in
Mitchell Bay. Though some might feel otherwise, I thought today was a great success, in the
sense of taking that first step: attempting to materialize the idea of making the gear do what
we anticipated it doing. Such things, as I know, take time, patience and persistence. Tomorrow
is another day and, apparently, there may be some wind for sailing. "Arrrrr!"
09.29.2005: Heave...Whoa!!!
While we may have had the sails up earlier in the week, today was the first day of sailing. Hard
to recall all of what occurred, by for certain, there was rain. After morning routine (today I
had the head) we reviewed weather and charted course. As we headed out, Todd made a point of telling
us to be sure to put on our rain gear. Now, I'm really really really glad I that I have some.
There is something really satisfying about standing out in the rain, with the wind dashing against
your face and staying dry. I spent a lot of time in the bow, spotting for deadheads and bull kelp.
We were tacking against a south wind, on a tight course. So, we had to tack pretty frequently. We
all took turns on either side, wrapping the gib sheet around the wench and reeling it in. Meanwhile,
some one on the other side has to be releasing the opposite sheet. Later on, I took the helm, which
I hadn't done yet. It felt really natural. I think working the sails and just riding the boat helped
me understand the way the boat moves in the wind. It's a little more complicated than driving; Keeping
track of the angle of the wind, the movement of the sail, the current of the water against the rudders
as well as the waves all at once. At one point, Todd said I had "found the groove," which apparently is
actually a sailing term...go figure. Anyway, finding this "groove" appears to me as an ability to grasp
and synthesize a variety of signals coming in simultaneously. Each signal alone is not enough to orient with,
but with all of them one is able to maintain some stability of course. It felt a bit like being one
with the boat.
The excitement of the day pinnacled when Todd hollered out "Porpoises off the bow," at which poin we rushed
to the front of the boat and rode the waves as 5+ harbor porpoises were rode our bow. We were all screaming
like a roller coaster ride, and the porpoises stayed with us for quite a while. For those who don't know,
(I didn't until recently) dolphins and porpoises apparently get a kick out of riding the wave created by
a boat and often can be seen in this manner. It's really crazy, watching them surface just in front of
the boat as we cook along at 6-7 knots. Good to know humans are good for something.
The rest of the day got calmer, rain settling down and some warm wind coming in, allowing me a chance to
dry off a bit. Luckily, my quarters remained mostly dry, which is amazing because several times the boat
pitched down off of fairly big swells(4ft) into the water, spewing water all over and around the hull that
surrounds my tiny abode. Now I'm dry and warm and tomorrow is apparently going to be about the same. The
plan is to get some science stuff done; maybe we'll even be able to hear some whales.
09.30.2005: Testing Equipment....arrr
Awoke in the beautiful Roche Harbor. Man, what a place. If I haven't said it before, let me say it now, San Juan island is truly breathtaking. If anyone makes it out this way, I recommend a trip out to this island. The west coast has some awesome fauna. Its not that surprising really, considering the proximity to Vancouver island...the west coast of these NW islands are stunning.
Anyway, first thing today we head to the busy part of the harbor to replenish water supply and vent rubbish. Also picked up some very gourmet donuts (which means they cost $10/dzn. It was a little odd being back on land. It feltgood, a little, to touch the grass and acknowledge the trees and hear the birds. At the same time, I wasalso aware of a whole slew of human societal rules and expectations that we participate in regularly w/o being conscious of. The complexity of it felt contaminating. We live in an insulated little world of simple social interactions aboard the boat. Its a manageable and comprehensible social group.
So we eat gourmet donuts and some of us drink real espresso while we make travel plans. The weather forecast predicted only 5-10 knot winds out of the SE leaving no real possibility for sailing. We expected as much. There is work to be done troubleshooting equipment and ironing out our means of dispersal. So, we motor south along the west coast of San Juan island and, low and behold, come upon some orca. Everyone springs into action, "Deploy hydrophones!!" While most folks are keeping eyes out for the whales and some are deploying some other hydrophones, I work on eliminating some of the noise from cable rubbing on a different hydrophone. After several attempts, with helpful assistance from my compadre Wilfredo (Freddie), I eventually achieve success by using a floating buoy from which the hydrophone submerges, thereby eliminating both the friction from the cable rubbing on the boat. Next, I figured out a good method of running the hydrophone output into my video camera. This, hopefully will create a pretty neat juxtaposition, since the camera will be capturing what is happening topside. I got to test out the deployment method several times later on in the day, as the whales kept moving and we kept following. Pretty frantic process, and one that I got better at but was still not able to capture the whales both on sound and video simultaneously. Nevertheless, the signal was clear and I'm now ready.
Eventually the whales split. They seemed to be spread out all over, not really moving as a pod, and difficult to track. At one point a shipping container came over the acoustic horizon, sounding really interesting. Much more tonal than other boats, so I had somebody record it and registered the distance on the radar as around 1.6 Nautical Miles. I'll be analyzing it soon. Maybe even post it here.
On the trip back (into Jones Bay) I tweak my parabolic microphone some to make it strong and usable. It looks and feels good. I'll be testing it out in the morning on some birds most likely.
This island is really beautiful. We're actually at a dock (!) and this is apparently a county park (the
whole island! There are some other folks mored here, really super friendly. Its that sort of park
culture where you get people living on there boats who are so ready to meet people and talk. Super
friendly. Also, as we got ready to eat a very small boat cam in w/ 6 or 8 oars rowing it in. Really
odd since they were obviously coming in from the open water. Turns out they were problem-type teenagers
who were being re-educated by being forced to endure an 8 day experience roughing it as they sailed
around the islands, camping and living hand to mouth. There meager existence made me appreciate the
shelter, fresh water, cooking and bathroom facilities and even electronic amenities that I have here.
Always good to get a little paradigm shift...indeed.
10.01.2005: Picking up a new skipper
Stayed up late last night (and looking like tonight as well...) and I stayed in bed until 8. Pretty
darn cold in there. Sure makes waking up feel good. First thing today we headed back to our point of
origin, Friday Harbor Labs to pick up our new skipper (for this week), Judy. Actually got a little
free time to walk(!) and surf(!!!!). Caught up on email and made some calls to some of you folks out
there. The plan for the rest of the day was just to get the sails up so Todd could show Judy the ins
and outs of his boat. For us, that meant a pretty open day. Spent most of the day on the bow, working
on setting up hydrophone stuff again. At one point some dall porpoises began bow riding again and
stayed with us for quite a while. It was really awesome. I got some cool footage of it too. You
can watch it here.
The weather was really a mixed bag today; the sun kept peeking out during light showers, and the
wind was pretty chilly. Still, I prefer hanging out on the bow and watching the water to the cockpit
or the galley, where most people were. The freshest air I can remember breathing is on the bow.
Tomorrow we head back to FHL to get clean (our laundry and ourselves). At that point this journal
should finally be up on the web for you to read. Next weeks posting should occur on 10/9/05.
10.03.2005: Back on the water
Last night was late. Really late. Much later than even the hours I have been keeping. It helps me sleep though, being tired. Especially in the cold dampness of my quarters. Over the past several days I've noticed my throat getting a bit scratchy and a cough coming on. Its especially bad a night. With this in mind I'm trying to take care of myself a little more. This morning I had tea instead of coffee. I felt good, perhaps a little more mellow than usual and my body I think appreciated it.
Anyway, I woke around 08:00 (which is late) and after breakfast we all jumped into our duties, which were perhaps less organized than usual, owing to the fact of our new captain and that we were still actually docked at Friday Harbor Labs. We made our daily travel plans, entered into the log book and set off for the west side of San Juan Island, this time taking the southern route.
After a while of standing at the bow watching the water I went inside, thinking I should watch my exposure to cold air. Practiced knots for a while. Tried making a monkey's fist. Failed. I'll post a pic when I succeed.
At some point we found the whales. Initially we were at some distance from them (at least 1km) - too far for any good sound and way too far for identification. As they moved on, we moved with them, walking a thin line between pursuit (which is considered harassment) and distant observation. As the day moved on we found ourselves in the midst of the both whales and whale watching boats Regarding the whale watching boats, its worth mentioning that they are everpresent when we are studying the whales. In fact, more often than not, we follow their lead to where the whales are. Almost without fail, the whale watchers are much closer than we are. At times they seem within 25 feet (or less!). We, on the other hand, try to set a good example by remaining aloof and distant, trying not to disturb them.
This isn't always possible, as we found out today. At one point everyone was in the stern tracking some whales and I was appreciating some quiet time in the bow. I heard a blowhole (which are very loud, even from 100's of feet away) and I looked across the port side of the boat to see a dorsal fin going under within 25' of the boat. I yelled, "We've got one at 9 o'clock, coming right at us!" Everyone scurried over just in time to see this awe inspiring creature coming up for a breath right next to the boat, before diving under directly under the trampoline. It was our biggest close encounter yet and one that is apparently quite rare. After all of our pursuing, it felt good to see one come to us. I hope we perhaps sparked her curiosity enough to come around us again.
Most of the day was spent motoring though we sailed a bit, under light wind. As we sailed back
to anchor in Mitchell Bay, I took some time to relax in my quarters. They day was still pretty
warm as the sun had been burning off clouds all afternoon. I laid and read with my hatch open,
listening to the Incredible String Band on my ipod. Their music always warms my soul but this
particular occasion was especially nice.
10.04.2005: Ritual of the Whales
Todays entry marks a profound moment. All earlier events in the day have become blurred in the depths of my memory in light of the experience of this afternoon. It began earlier in the day when we arrived off the sou'western tip of San Juan island, near the strait of Juan de Fuca. The whales were way off in the distance and the whale watching baots were hovering. We could tell something was up by the way they were acting; moving about in tight groups and splashing about. Very interesting and somewhat rare. We could almost feel the energy of their excitement. I attempted to shoot some video for a while, but the distance made it less than rewarding. Because it was an especially calm and quiet day, I brought out the parabola microphone with hopes of capturing some surface blowhole sounds. In between my colleagues gasps of "oh my god!!" and identification calls, "is that L71?" I was able to actually capture some pretty intimate recordings of their respiration. Until you've experienced it, its hard to imagine how loud their breathing is. On several occasions when we've seen them 200 meters or more off, their blowhole sounds are still audible. I was dumbfounded when I first heard it.
Some of the sounds I got are really clear because the whales began making their way past us toward land. Eventually we follow, after noticing all the other boats that had been further out in the strait, were now inland of us, again closer to the whales. We slowly cruise in, making our way north, as they do, in hopes of reaching a point where we can cut the engines and drift so we can get some good recordings. This is where the real action started. Hydrophones deployed, eyes glued. The orca began gathering in groups, tightly moving like a single unit. Its hard to imagine how so robust a creature could move in such tight arrangement. Shortly thereafter folks on the boat start getting all giddy about a "greeting ritual". Apparently its a pretty big deal. And not really expected this time of year. Usually occurs in spring when the whales return to the area from the south. Everyone was a bit perplexed to see it today. I, of course, am totally in the dark about these creatures, but I definitely felt a sense of deep culture in what I witnessed. Something profound was going on. So foreign though. So unfamiliar. So difficult to understand through the glaze of our own cultural preconceptions.
At this point, we were already running late so we headed back, much to our dismay. It seemed the
perfect opportunity to study them, yet we were bond by practicalities and our daily travel plan
to bid them farewell. As we motored, they swam parallel, along the coast, making good time.
As we left them we all prayed we would see them again.
10.05.2005: Caught in the doldrums
10.06.2005: Contact
(Somehow I have invented a day. I really can't make heads or tails of which one of these is what "really" happened. In the interest of posterity I am keeping them both. I am too tired to weave them together with any eloquence so please, use your imagination).
I almost forgot this day completely, but luckily Scott's insistence of a 'Science Log' (in addition to our ship's log) gave me some significant points of reference, most significantly, the weather. It rained, and with the rain (as is often the case here) came wind, or else the other way around...In any event, we took the opportunity to sail. Little else do I recall except for wrapping sheets on wenches and standing around in my 'foulies' (the name for rubberized waterproof gear). It is quite remarkable though, how nice it is to stand in the spitting rain and feel warm and dry. I enjoy it immensely.
Otherwise, I recall hatching an interesting calibration idea. You see, at any given time we may have
5 or more hydrophones going, each into its own recording device. We do our best to keep notes of
times of tracks and whatnot but if we need to match up our 2 or more recordings it becomes quite a
difficulty. My idea is to drop our little hydro-speaker in at the beginning of our recording and
play a calibration tone which could provide a reference point by which to sync all recordings. An
ideal version of this would be some one speaking into a microphone the exact time. Not only would
this help in data analysis, I just think it would be cool to speak under water. Besides, if we are
spending so much energy listening to them, we might as well let them hear us a bit, in case they
are actually interested in communicating. (There is a lot more on the idea of interspecies communication
from stuff I've been reading, but I'll have to parse it out a bit before introducing it here. Consider
yourselves warned).
The limits of biology and physics constricted our travels today. Our holding tank was nearly at its peak
and we made plans to return to Friday Harbor for a pump out. Once there I took the lead (having helped before)
and walked down the dock to get the mobile pump unit and wheeled it down to the boat. I know I know, you
are all afraid I'm going to give you every detail of the fecal extraction process, right? Well, too bad.
My battery is running low and I've no real passion for the subject either. Just thought you should know
stuff like this had to be dealt with (often). The title of todays entry isn't some allusion to the pumphose
getting lose from my hand and 'christening' me (as it is called). Nay, nay. It just means that today
was a bit of a wash as far as research goes. We were holed up at the Friday Harbor dock until after 3:30,
which only left us a few hours traveling time to our anchoring point. Last minute plans were made to
work our way up to Matia Island for the night. And that we did. And, I must say, it is one of the most
beautiful places I have ever seen. I don't really think words can convey the beauty. I only hope that
perhaps someday I can come back here again (perhaps with some of you).
10.08.2005: A series of unfortunate events
Today was odd. I think everyone on the boat might fully agree with me. Besides the fact that our 'anchor watch' is in full effect (whereby each of us wake for an hour each to attend to various duties) and the somewhat predictable change that might have on us, events seemed under the influence of some force beyond and it didn't seem to be sending us any good fortune. First of all I woke up early (after going to bed at 9pm the first time, waking at 2am, staying awake until 5am and sleeping until 7:00. At which point I sprung (or perhaps lurched) form my bed w/ the hopes of capturing the dawn chorus of birds at the exotic port of Matia island. I popped out of my hole and scurried down the dock and up into the forest overlooking the bay. The birds evaded my attempts to record them I think because I was not present enough. I was too focused on capturing their sound and not focused enough on just being present in the beautiful environment. I did eventually relax and appreciate it and the birds chirped up but by then I had set my recorder down and so i left it alone.
When I finally made my way back to the boat I got there just in time to see it motoring slowly out of the bay...without me. Hmm, I thought. Hmmm, indeed. I hollered big, "Gate Verde!," immediately regreting it as the true meaning of the name 'Echo Bay' made itself clear. It was still early. Oh well. I wander down to the boat moored next to ours in hopes of radioing my compadres to alert them of my position. The people were very kind (as tends to be the case w/ boaters) but it seemed my friends had neglected to turn on the radio (a big no-no). We tried again and again, but eventually the kind people just decided to motor me out to find them. Well ok then. We did it and got there and really surprised the crew. They thought they were about to be boarded by pirates ("Arrrr!").
Once they realize its me, they lower the dingy and Scott comes to retrieve me. What a surprise. Lots of laughs all around. For a minute or two. You see, Scott, in haste, ties the dingy to the rear port cleat, instead of lifting it up out of the water. I think he had thought to use it later, as we have been toying with the idea of using it for some hydrophone experiments. But instead he, for some reason, turns on the main motors, one of which immediately pulls the dingy rope into the propeller. ohhh boy. Now he's working with the hook pole used to snag mooring buoys and such and contemplating diving in to get it untangled. Remember of course, we have a borrowed captain, and the owner/captain of this boat is not present. He gets called and the situation gets broken down. Meanwhile, I'm feeling kind of responsible because it was my fault leaving without telling anyone this morning and the dingy only got unhitched for me. So I put on a life vest and hop into the dingy to try to get an angle on that rope. I finagle for a while, with some help, and...Viola! Whew. Another minor catastrophe avoided.
But, get this: not half an hour later the other engine quits. Completely unrelated. Bizarre. This time its the fuel line thats clogged. Scott works on it for some time (a couple hours) before figuring a way to force the crud in the line back toward the tank, clearing it.
By this time we'd lost the early start Scott had tried to create by taking off without me. Still, some
whales were found and we motored off in that direction. And it took a while to get there. Once there
other issues came up w/ hydrophones and one of my colleagues started getting sick to her stomach adding
cream to the cake of a day from hell. Honestly, I felt relatively immune from the worst elements of it,
luckily. Still the feeling was there and Scott had us come to shore early and gave us the evening off.
A much appreciated sentiment. Oh, boy, did I need that shower.
10.10.2005: No Whales
After an extended shore leave we finally shoved off from Friday Harbor Labs around 14:30. The extra leave time was really appreciated and I think we got a lot done (I know I did). Of course, the main thing is taking advantage of the internet. Good grief, how much of my life depends on it. I realized this when it went down on saturday night while I was trying to update my journal and orson's web site. Frustratingly debilitating. sheesh. Just before we left I remembered I needed to send off my re-enrollment package to WWU so I can finish in the winter. I dropped off the letter to be mailed in the main office and had to dig money out of the secret compartment in my hat to pay for the envelope and stamp. Thanks Dad!
Most of the afternoon was spent motoring (no wind) south from Friday Harbor, through Shark's Reef and east over to
Aleck Bay. We did try some new tests with enclosing an hydrophone in a plastic bottle in attempt to cut down on
drag noise, with some success. But overall, not much happened today. The whales, you see, are not around. None of
our whale spotting resources had any information on anything local. JPod had been seen south around Whidbey Island
yesterday and we almost decided to make the 6+ hr trip there to try to spot them but instead we decided to wait them
out for a day and see if they come back north. Also, LPod was seen around Sook, out in the Strait of Juan de Fuca,
but that seemed like a rough trip, and LPod usually disappears for the winter, so they might go all the way out to
the Pacific for all we know. Seemed more prudent to wait and see if J returns. Trying to chase the whales can be
a bit frustrating. Much easier to let them come to us. I have been encouraging my fellow crew mates in this
approach and how we might better organize an instance of our cohabitation with them, rather than tracking them
as external objects. This view has been (perhaps) heard. Still, due to its unorthodox nature in scientific
investigation it is usually scoffed upon (at best) and neglected entirely at worst. Ho hum. So it goes. Though
somewhat disappointed I am firm in my resolve and have some intuition that we will experience some moment or
series of events that elucidate how embedded we are within our world. I understand many (if not all) of you may
have no idea what I'm talking about, so I'll post some quotes from a paper I've been reading on the subject of
interspecies communication in my journal tomorrow. Briefly, the author (David Dunn) proposes that there is a way
of investigating nature (the world and all things in it) through coexistent cybernetic exploration. This is similar
to an interpretation of Goethe's means of scientific exploration as explained by Bortoft in "The Wholeness of Nature."
For sure, both suggest a pretty massive paradigm shift away from the longstanding method of scientific reductionism
and 'observer as a removed subject' orientation and toward a collaborative relationship of and exploration in and
within nature.
10.11.2005: Dead calm...in the dead of night
When we finally got out of Friday Harbor, after our somewhat extended shore leave, around 14:30 (2:30) we still had no real location on the whales besides a siting pretty far south, along Whidbey island. In our travel planning meeting we debated our options of following them southerly or waiting for them to come back up to the San Juan island area. Of course, we have no idea what they will do and so it feels a bit like the famous Schroedinger's Cat experiment. As if somehow what decision we make would affect their movement. It takes some great deal of discussion to reach a consensus. Another factor is our low supply of fuel, something we should take care of soon, but we have enough to travel 50 miles. Eventually the call is made to travel south and hope to intercept them and/or stay and fuel up at Port Townsend tonight. It is a 5 1/2 hour trip and so once we begin traveling I hole up in the hole and prepare to crunch data. I should note it has been a beautiful day (perhaps the best yet) and we have opened up all the hatches to air out the boat.
We travel less two hours and spot the orcas around a huge kelp 'island' out near the eastern edge of the Strait of Juan de Fuca. We coordinate ourselves alongside them and drop hydrophones. Briefly, our friend (and most probably choice for orca scientist-superstar) Ken Balcomb (pictured here), of the Center for Whale Research zips up beside us in his little speed boat and we get his insight on the situation. The next several hours are pretty routine; cruise along side whales, stop and drop hydrophnones until they get too far off and we lose audible signal, and cruise so more. This ends up taking us back northward, from whence we came. Perhaps due to the mild weather we are able to follow the whales for some time, leading us into dusk and evening.
This was our first night out after dark and (even though the possibility had been suggested for tonight) it took me by surprise that we were out there, traveling a course not on a our "plan" and out after dark to boot. It was exciting!! We stayed with the whales, moving now and again until finally laying anchor at 23:00 (11pm). What an amazing experience. Very little is known about the habits of orca at night and what we experienced seemed significant. The calls were abundant and seemed more playful than the daytime calls, which seem (to me) more oriented around the necessities of foraging. Besides the underwater sounds, which we had pumped out the main speakers of the boat, one can hear the intermittent blow, even when they are far off on the horizon. It is a very strange phenomena to hear something breathe long before you can see it.
On the way to Snug Harbor we each took turns as part of a lookout group on the bow, keeping watch for debris and
kelp arrays mostly. Each of us with binoculars glued to our eyes, eyes strained on the water 100 feet or so in
front of us, radioing Todd whenever it was necessary to move the boat port or starboard. Apart from one small
section with a substantial amount of obstacles the rest of our trip was smooth and unimpeded. Slept well this
night.
10.12.2005: 11 knots!
Well, we hit 11 for a brief moment or two, but we were averaging an easy 9 for an hour and half or so. What a day! Ok, I'll try to recollect.
We were low on fuel so when we awoke this morning we motored to the dock at Roche Harbor. Scott and Val had taken the dingy early to arrange acquiring some bio-diesel. We were able to get 38 gallons of bio, to which we added another 30 gallons of strait diesel. Having that, and having gotten word that the whales were back again on the SW part of San Juan island, by Lime Kiln, we cruised south. On the way down there we discuss travel plans (weather, currents, etc) for what is left of the day. We've only got a few hours left before we will need to begin heading toward our gunkhole. For several reasons the decision is made to travel south and catch the dual wind/current combo on our return trek northward back into Mitchell Bay.
We did find the whales, and deployed the "Ears" (a dual hydrophone setup designed to simulate the way our ears orient sounds in our environment) in a cold, windy rain. Unfortunately, either due to the rain noise on the surface of the water or something else(?) we got very few quality recordings. We did see whales doing an insane amount of surface activity. Lots and lots of breaches (where the whale jumps fully out of the water), spy-hopping (where they poke there heads up out of the water-assumably to look around) and other tactile behavior. We've seen this kind of activity in the rain before and I'm beginning to wonder if there is a connection. (Are the enjoying the fresh water? Taking a bath?) At some point they moved off to the south and Todd advised that we should maybe start our return trip, making use of the strong winds. And that we did.
What had been a cold, rainy wind had turned somewhat warm and drier as we unfurled the jib and double reefed the main sail. The swells were 3-4 feet on average (some maybe 5') and moving northward with us. At one point Todd said the wind was 30mph. Once we had the lines set and were 'in the groove' we were really cooking. As each wave came up from behind us we would surf atop it and catch more wind from our height, reaching peak speeds of over 11 knots. It was unbelievably cool. While we had been cold and disappointed in our whale hunt earlier, now we were all having a blast, the whales taking a back seat for the moment to the excitement of riding the wind. At some point some one put a beach boys compilation on and general mayhem ensued. God, what fun we were having. We tacked (actually "chicken jibed") only once yet the sails needed constant attention and some adjustment in the fierce run we were on. This is the first time circumstances have actually permitted a 'beam reach', which is when the boom is at its widest angle to the hull, catching a sail full of wind as we run with the wind at our back. Wow, I don't know what else to say without making some of you out there scared for my safety. We were wearing life jackets (a requirement in this kind of weather) and holding onto something firmly attached to the boat was fairly necessary to not falling on your ass. Still, it seemed some people did, though we all stayed aboard.
We finally furled in the jib and brought down the main as we sort of coasted into Mitchell Bay, around 18:00hrs.
I helped cook tonight and for dessert Todd made his much anticipated Bananas Foster...mmmm,mmmm good.
10.13.2005: Poised adrift
Not much to report today. This morning Scott cruised out in the dingy to pick Val up and Leslie returned with him to join our crew for the rest of the week. What a treat (literally!). After that we raised anchor and cruised out of the bay in search of whales. The pager, upon which we rely extensively, had been quiet except for a couple of 'no whales' pages. Hurrumph. The weather was sunny early on but got cloudy and cooler as we moved out. As we did, efforts were made to prepare some kind of travel plan, but without a siting of whales it is really tough to choose a destination. There was some wind, but not really enough to sail owing further to our sense of uncertainty. For the record, in studying cross cultural healing practices I recall reading that uncertainty can have powerfully disruptive effects in some cultures. At times, a lack of certitude can cause social unrest and has been recognized as the source of physical sickness in some individuals. That being said, shortly after our travel plan (or lack thereof) eroded into doing whatever projects could be mustered from "gear tweaking" and just kind of drifting in the current, I fell ill. Nothing too bad, mind you, but the worst I've felt since being aboard. I tried to get some work done for a while (with no success) and eventually gave in to what was obviously not going away. I won't bore (or disgust) you with the details but lets just say my digestive system wasn't quite hunky dory. As the rest of the crew worked on troubleshooting and tweaking various hydrophonage I retired to my quarters, made my cozy little den, pulled my hoody up over my head, relaxed and closed my eyes, lulled to sleep my the gentle rocking of the boat.
I awoke a couple few hours later to the hum of the diesel engines. I could tell we'd be motoring for some time and I
wondered where. Did we have a word yet on the whales? In hot pursuit? No such luck. We had drifted northward for
some time and now were making our way south around the eastern side of San Juan island. I felt better. Food was being
cooked and, perhaps I'd even have some.
10.14.2005: Data point Ho!
What to say. Though the uncertainty of yesterday has mostly left me, today still contained its troubles. Maybe I picked the wrong time to give up coffee. Its surprising what an effect its absence from my day can have. Still, there are probably other factors involved. But it just goes to show how much our own internal orientation can influence our perception of events. In any event, here's the course of events as I experienced them.
According to plan, we made efforts to arise early and cruise out at first light (perhaps not a good combination with my new anti-coffee agenda). We had no clue where the whales were as we ventured south through Shark's Reef out onto the soutwestern tip of San Juan island. Our preliminary observations/recordings were merely of cargo vessels, oil tankers, ferries and fishing boats. Later, after travel planning, we caught the current northward along the west coast of San Juan and ended up spotting some dorsal fins out ahead of us a ways. We slowly made our way north, eventually converging on a small group (12 or so) in the midst of a feeding frenzy. Once we were close enough, we cut the engines and deployed hydrophones. Its hard to say, but we may have been too close, according to the 'Be Whale Wise' guidelines. At one point whales were crossing our bow and stern within less than 25'(!).
The waters were fairly choppy, with swells of at least 3' constantly heaving the boat to and fro. Combined with my low energy level and a growing sense of unease about our methods of investigation, made today a bit of a bum trip. Without coffee, my mental faculty was running at mere "human-mode" and the prospect of abstracting numbers onto a data sheet out of full sensory experience just wasn't floating my boat, so to speak.
This is an issue of mine, I fully recognize, as I have worked diligently over the years to keep from being "submerged in the sea of conventionality of almost impenetrable density", to quote Charles Fort. So, I'm experiencing a bit of cognitive dissonance with the status quo of reductive scientific objectivity. My main issue being that it seems we are over-simplifying these highly complex, intelligent mammals and attempting to keep ourselves in pseudo-separation, analyzing their processes as one might chemical or physical phenomena. To give some idea of possible alternative methods of investigation I am going to post some quotes from David Dunn (whom I have mentioned before). He has been pioneering the field of inters-species communication as a function of musical phenomena for over 20 years.
"To unravel the linguistic code of a cybernetic logic as large as a species' social organization, let alone the overwhelming complexity of an eco-system, seems a ludicrous proposition. Given the difficult task that acquisition of a foreign human language represents, it seems absurd to contemplate language on a level of multi-species interaction. To further compound the problematics, we may once more ask the basic question: what grammars could such linguistic structures exhibit which might be recognizable as such by humans? This question, however, shifts emphasis from a more fundamental issue. It assumes an impossible objective stance in relationship to an environment from which human observers cannot extricate themselves(Itallics mine). Thus, the assumption is not that evidence of such structures should be sought in order to render the intelligence of another life form translatable; rather, such evidence is only part of the ongoing process of discovering the larger mental system within which we are also participants(again, my itallics). The creation of interactive languages is not only appropriate, it is essential. Recognition of the language of the observed is only groundwork from which intrinsic interplay may proceed. We must begin with interaction in order to infer language instead of assuming it. It must be invented within the context. Entering into interaction is to begin generation of orienting behavior which includes the other organism. If such orienting behavior eventually permits self-description of its interacting components, such that these organisms can orient to each other and themselves, then a resultant consciousness is immanent through recursive description".-David Dunn, from Speculations: On the Evolutionary Continuity of Music and Animal Communication Behavior
The weather projection for this afternoon was a bit too blustery for comfort so we made efforts to anchor early. Once there we were called to the fore deck for a continuation of Val's meteorology lesson. To say he is an animated teacher would barely do him justice. As if any one of us could be bored in such a stimulating environment anyway, he put forth efforts to stir up our energy by animating us as the movement of the earth to explain how the Coriolis Effect makes objects in the northern hemisphere deflect to the right. This, combined with the effect of cold, high pressure air in the polar regions moving towards the warmer, low pressure air around the equator creates the NE & SE Trade Winds. I'm sure this is a major simplification but I'm amazed that Val could communicate it in the brief time he did, and even more amazed that I was here able to sum it up in two sentences. Another interesting tidbit he threw in is that the weather term "front" was derived from the interactions of trench warfare in military fronts during WWII. For this, perhaps trivial, fact I am thankful. As if some kind of multimedia experience at the end of our lesson, our class finished with light pellets of rain issuing forth from the dense rain clouds above. As I write this now the wind gusts up to 15 knots from the east and rain comes down intermittently. Our barometric pressure has dropped 12mb in the past 24 hours. Looks like a low pressure system has moved in.