That familiar call of “BLOW 95 degrees, 1.5 reticules!” interrupts the unfamiliar “tee tee” call of a White-cheeked Honeyeater obscured by the pale green leaves of the bush it’s perched on to my right. I can only see its head and neck, but the contrasting white cheek patch on black plumage with a white streaked breast and a slender down-curved black bill aids in identification. I turn my gaze from the bushes to the sea. I Nankeen Kestrel (a relative of the kites) hovers in the strong NE winds in my view, its tan wings poised and motionless, binocular eyes fixed to the bush below waiting for an unsuspecting prey. No time for birds though, I’m supposed to be watching whales. So I stare at 95 degrees, waiting for a blow at about 5 kilometers from shore. Better yet I catch the full breach of an adult humpback whale, the eruption of water easy to spot with the naked eye. The French tourists standing next to me begin vigorously pointing in excitement. I swing the gun sight of the theodolite around to the foamy froth of disturbed ocean and focus in on the exact spot where the whale re-entered the water…and shoot. The theo knows its height above sea level, and both the horizontal bearing and vertical angle of the whales position; and uses these measurements, based on the Pythagorean Theorem a^2 + b^2 = c^2, to calculate the distance of the whale. This information is sent via cable link to a laptop computer running a program called “VADAR”, where it is then plotted on a map. Using the updated theo shot we determine that it’s Pod C, a mom calf pair that has been meandering around between 90 and 100 degrees for hours. As the day progresses we continue to take ‘shots’ of Pod C and all other pods in the area, plotting their course using the theo and VADAR, as they migrate down the coast from the Great Barrier Reef where they breed in the winter, to the Southern Ocean where they gorge on krill along Antarctica’s ice shelf in the summer. The role of tracking all visible pods and vessels within the study site has been coined the ‘Scan Station’, responsible for documenting the bigger picture of each day. I have volunteered to coordinate the Scan Station this year, allowing for enough time in the morning and sometimes midday during break, for a few good surf sessions out front. After all, the main reason I came back to Oz is to surf…I’ve seen enough whales.
My routine for the next five weeks will be as follows: wake up at 6:30 to drive the first round of hill crew to Emu Mountain. Come back and surf for about an hour out front until 8:00. Do a bit of writing and emailing with a morning coffee and breakfast from 8:00 to 9:00. Walk up Emu Mountain for a 2 hour shift on scan from 10:00 to 12:00. Have a quick surf and lunch back at Peregian from 12:30 to 13:20. Head back up the hill for a 3 hour shift on scan from 14:00 to 17:00. Finish the day with a quick dip in the sea and a few beers at debrief at 18:00 with dinner 19:00. Watch a few episodes of “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” , read a few chapters of “View From Lazy Point” and hit the hay around 21:30. Wake up the next morning and repeat. Occasionally during bad weather days I’ll drive up to Noosa for some epic point break surf at the heads, or go out on the small vessels for tagging and biopsying when the weathers nice. Not a bad gig, so far it’s been a blast to be back.
That familiar call of “BLOW 95 degrees, 1.5 reticules!” interrupts the unfamiliar “tee tee” call of a White-cheeked Honeyeater obscured by the pale green leaves of the bush it’s perched on to my right. I can only see its head and neck, but the contrasting white cheek patch on black plumage with a white streaked breast and a slender down-curved black bill aids in identification. I turn my gaze from the bushes to the sea. I Nankeen Kestrel (a relative of the kites) hovers in the strong NE winds in my view, its tan wings poised and motionless, binocular eyes fixed to the bush below waiting for an unsuspecting prey. No time for birds though, I’m supposed to be watching whales. So I stare at 95 degrees, waiting for a blow at about 5 kilometers from shore. Better yet I catch the full breach of an adult humpback whale, the eruption of water easy to spot with the naked eye. The French tourists standing next to me begin vigorously pointing in excitement. I swing the gun sight of the theodolite around to the foamy froth of disturbed ocean and focus in on the exact spot where the whale re-entered the water…and shoot. The theo knows its height above sea level, and both the horizontal bearing and vertical angle of the whales position; and uses these measurements, based on the Pythagorean Theorem a^2 + b^2 = c^2, to calculate the distance of the whale. This information is sent via cable link to a laptop computer running a program called “VADAR”, where it is then plotted on a map. Using the updated theo shot we determine that it’s Pod C, a mom calf pair that has been meandering around between 90 and 100 degrees for hours. As the day progresses we continue to take ‘shots’ of Pod C and all other pods in the area, plotting their course using the theo and VADAR, as they migrate down the coast from the Great Barrier Reef where they breed in the winter, to the Southern Ocean where they gorge on krill along Antarctica’s ice shelf in the summer. The role of tracking all visible pods and vessels within the study site has been coined the ‘Scan Station’, responsible for documenting the bigger picture of each day. I have volunteered to coordinate the Scan Station this year, allowing for enough time in the morning and sometimes midday during break, for a few good surf sessions out front. After all, the main reason I came back to Oz is to surf…I’ve seen enough whales. 
My routine for the next five weeks will be as follows: wake up at 6:30 to drive the first round of hill crew to Emu Mountain. Come back and surf for about an hour out front until 8:00. Do a bit of writing and emailing with a morning coffee and breakfast from 8:00 to 9:00. Walk up Emu Mountain for a 2 hour shift on scan from 10:00 to 12:00. Have a quick surf and lunch back at Peregian from 12:30 to 13:20. Head back up the hill for a 3 hour shift on scan from 14:00 to 17:00. Finish the day with a quick dip in the sea and a few beers at debrief at 18:00 with dinner 19:00. Watch a few episodes of “It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia” , read a few chapters of “View From Lazy Point” and hit the hay around 21:30. Wake up the next morning and repeat. Occasionally during bad weather days I’ll drive up to Noosa for some epic point break surf at the heads, or go out on the small vessels for tagging and biopsying when the weathers nice. Not a bad gig, so far it’s been a blast to be back. 
Good to hear from you. Not a bad routine...
ReplyDeleteThe previous picture, is that an Australian jellyfish? Are you still drinking instant coffee, or has that improved? 83 degrees here with a pleasant breeze; feels like we are on the coast. The weather is short-lived, however, back to the 90's next week. So how does the number of whales compare to the last survey? Questions, questions, I wonder whose is writing this blog? Take care....