By Georgia Vanpopta
Having spent the entire summer in anticipation of arriving at OrcaLab, nothing could have prepared me for the awe inspiring experiences I have had. After just graduating from University this past spring, I was trying to find my way in the field of marine biology, and figure out what sort of path I wanted to take my career in. I was hoping OrcaLab could help me find that.
Getting to the lab was an experience of its own. Having arrived in Port McNeil just in time for a massive storm, hauling my two months worth of stuff onto the ferry (that wasn’t a ferry because it wasn’t running that hour due to some problem?), then hauling all my stuff from the government docks in Alert Bay to the ferry dock waiting for the taxi to pick me up and bring me to Paul & Helena’s home. The rain was pouring, and it was not August rain, this was November BC storm rain. The storm brought in low clouds, lots of rain and lots and lots of fog, so I couldn’t be picked up until the next day. I spent the day admiring Paul & Helena’s collections of log notebooks from the lab that covered an entire wall with rows upon rows of little red notebooks, and the room dedicated entirely to cassette tapes. It was like stepping into a scientist’s mind. Having admired his work for so long, it was amazing to walk through his home and see his work dating back to the early days of his career.
The rain continued well into the next day, and did not let up until that evening. We took advantage of it and finally got to the lab by 9pm. It was dark and wet, and I really did think I would have to set up my tent like that, however due to other circumstances, we slept inside. The beginning days of my time here were hectic. The lab was very busy and I kind of jumped right into things and was trained along the way. That first week, I have to say, went by incredibly slow. All the information on the different matrilines, and different calls was all so confusing and hard to follow at first. I was so jumpy in anticipation that I thought a sea lion flipper was an orca dorsal at first.
As I got more comfortable in the lab and on deck, time began to move quicker. Sleeping in a tent got easier, cooking outside got easier, chores were finished without asking so many questions, and I got into the groove of living on Hanson Island. Everyone here was so helpful and eager to answer my questions or correct me when I said something wrong, which was a lot. There is a lot of terminology here that is different from what I used in school. And over time (maybe not until 2 weeks in) did I feel confident in my call identifications and ID’s which lead to some very special moments here.
I was told that having the orcas here this late in the year (it was mid September) was incredibly lucky. There was one specific day when I was in the lab, we had 4 rubs within two hours. All of the I15 groups came into Strider rubbing beach, separately of course. Their calls had become some of my favourites, the trills and Uh-UHuhs (as Helena would say it, N25) especially. This day had somehow seemed different from the other rubs I had heard thus far. Their calls were frantic and excited, as if hearing each other made all the groups start talking to each other, catching up with one another as if at a family reunion. We were able to follow the groups coming in and heading out of Strider rubbing beach, and we got some absolutely amazing underwater footage. So clear, and close. As the last group of the I15’s came in (happened to be the I16’s that we had not heard or seen yet!) I had to just sit there, jaw dropped, awestruck, as orca after orca passed directly in front of the underwater camera. They were so close, I could see every detail of their eye patches, their flukes, their dorsals, their belly’s. I felt as though I could reach out and touch them as they passed by. What put the cherry on top of these rubs was that we were also able to spot some Pacif-White Sided Dolphins on the Underwater camera, which I was told was very rare and incredibly exciting. It was probably the most beautiful thing I had ever witnessed.
I have always been someone who really enjoyed looking at the small critters in tidepools. I loved learning about invertebrates and had a few special favourites. As my fellow volunteers here with me know, I love jelly’s and nudi’s. Everytime a Lionsmane jelly washed up, or I could see one in the water, I was pointing, taking photos, trying to save it, and spitting out random facts about it. I always loved nudibranchs as well. I had never seen one in the wild, but my fellow volunteer and diver, Olivia, had spotted many when out for a snorkel, and I was quite jealous. I was determined that during my stay here I would find a nudibranch, no matter how long it took. But as fall set in, I became discouraged. It was becoming too cold to snorkel, and even with the supermoon super low tides, I found nothing in the tide pools. However, there was one odd day in late September where it got surprisingly hot. I had just loaded up Sonic and was extra hot. I knew now was my chance for what was probably going to be my last snorkel of the year. The water, very quickly, cooled me down, and soon enough I was freezing, but I was determined to search for nudibranchs. I lasted about a half hour before deciding to take my swim across Yashi’s cove to the rocks in front of Yashi’s, when out of the corner of my eye, through the glistening water, I spotted about 2 meters below me, a nudibranch! It was about 3 inches long, pale yellow with white speckles along its frills. It had two antennae and two ridges along its back that led to a little tuft of tentacles at its back end. It felt like a dream come true. Whoever was on deck that day probably thought I was drowning as I flailed in the water, splashing around talking to myself as I tried to dive down again and again to get videos of it. It was such a special, exciting and fulfilling moment for me.
The final memory I wish to share about my experience here is one that happened on a night shift. It was later in September, and fall was settling in around us. The humpbacks were becoming much more common and active too. That night, I didn’t have many calls. It was actually quite boring and slow, until I started to hear what sounded like gunshots underwater. I realised I could hear them in the air as well, but they sounded more like fireworks going off. It was about 4 in the morning, but Helena had woken up from the sounds too and told me it was a humpback breaching and pec slapping. Since I could hear it in the air, I knew the humpback must’ve been close to the lab. I ran outside so I could listen, but instead I got a miraculous show. We had been having a crazy super full moon the last couple of days, and so the sky was incredibly bright with the moon and stars despite it being 4am. I could see everything. I could see when the humpback launched itself, not 50 meters from the lab, into the air, and landed with a huge splash and wall of white water. It did it again and again as it travelled through Blackney Pass directly in front of me. It felt like this experience was mine. It was just me and this humpback. It will be something I remember and cherish forever.
I came out here to learn from one of the greatest conservationists in the world. One I feel connected to in many ways, and I have come out of this experience with so much more. I have such a deep understanding of the Northern Residents, and such a driven passion to protect their exclusive rubbing beaches and homes from vessels. My work here has transpired in many ways that I am continuing to explore outside of Hanson Island, and I know I will be back soon. This place has opened so many doors for me and I will be forever grateful.
By Georgia VanPopta | @georgia_vp
