aug10-16

AUGUST 10 – 16, 2002

Crew: Louise Murgatroyd and Meghan Hanrahan

I arrived in Nootka Sound on August 10 and I left on the 16. These may be the only two dates that I can give, not because the days in between are blurred, rather that time works differently here. It doesn’t seem to be fairly represented by a traditional calendar day. Instead, it is set by the temperature and the tides, the size and number of fish being caught, the daily dinner special at Critter Cove, and the movements of the magical mammal that we were watching. These are the things I remembered my days by.

I had been briefed about the situation of the abandoned Orca, L98 (Luna), before I arrived. Luna was becoming increasingly interactive with boats and people and his behaviour, as well as those who were reported to be touching and feeding him, was becoming a concern to local residents. Luna’s behaviour had made him quite a popular attraction, though it has put his future and his safety into question. My job in Nootka Sound would be to provide an on the water presence in the zone that Luna lived in, discouraging people from trying to engage him while increasing awareness about M3’s goal to keep Luna as the wild whale that he is. Promoting ‘the zone’ to be a transit area only, would ultimately increase Luna’s chance to remain wild and free by decreasing his interaction with people and boats. In retrospect, I suppose I knew as much about the job and Luna as I could before I left, and I felt pretty sure about what life in Nootka Sound was about to entail. Yet, conceptualizing and experiencing a situation are hands-down two very different things. And I was not prepared for Luna.

From Gold River, it is about a 12-mile boat ride to Mooyah Bay, the logging camp that I’d be calling home, just outside the zone that Luna has made his own. The zone is a junction of sorts, with Zuciarte Channel heading West, Hanna Channel to the North, and both Kings and Williamson passage feeding into it from the South. Garth, the Fisheries Officer, transporting us to this water world, stopped somewhere in the middle of the zone, and put the engines into neutral. He made it clear that this was exactly the behaviour that we were discouraging though it was important that we witness Luna’s behaviour so we knew what we were to be dealing with.

I looked around. The scenery was stunning and the small chop of the sea was unfamiliar beneath me. I imagined that we’d see Luna breach somewhere in the distance and I’d feel like I did when I’d seen whales before, the excitement of a chance discovery, lucky to have a rare wildlife sighting. I realized I was about to get a lot closer than that when Garth said, “there he is, he’s coming right for us”. I have to admit that these words, combined with the visual of a black dorsal fin bearing down on us unsettled me. I looked to shore and wondered if I’d be able to swim there fast enough once he’d flipped us. It was doubtful.

Luna, L-98

Veins of Life Watershed Society , photo

I felt Luna before I saw him again. He was under the boat, pushing us, rubbing, and then coming up beside us to show us his size and his shape, and the Mr.ings on his tail as he splashed. He was within a hands reach. My mind was telling me to find my camera, but I couldn’t even find my breath. Luna was all over the boat, splashing, spy hopping, and pushing us in circles. It was time to go but we can’t get away. Luna’s horizontal under the boat, and we’ve got propellers to think about. I was at once trying to make sense of trying to escape a wild whale, while Garth was doing circles in reverse. Luna however, had this manoeuvre pretty much figured out and stayed right underneath the boat. I was amazed at the manoeuvring it took to get away from him. Eventually we had done enough circles backwards that we were able to disengage and speed away. Had I gone home the same day, I don’t know that I would have believed what I’d seen. Having seen much more since then, my disbelief is at a paramount.

I spent the week with Louise, my whale guarding, boat-knowing, bay-watching partner in crime (and truly my saving grace). Together we tried to ward off people from fulfilling their desire to have a visit with Luna and then disengaging them from the whale after they had failed to resist the temptation. Perhaps that sounds cynical, but it speaks of my experience. One day we spoke with a family who were on the outskirts of the zone and were towing two children behind them in a dinghy and travelling at a very slow speed. It was a situation that begged trouble, and we let them know of our concerns, gave them information regarding Luna and requested that they travel along the shoreline and keep up their speed while transiting the area. They complied and thanked us for the information. Later that afternoon the same family, with the dinghy and kids on board re-entered the zone as Louise and I had gone a ways down Zuciarte Channel to check something out. We returned to see a boat stopped in the zone and headed towards it to investigate. As we approached the boat sped away, but not before we had a clear visual of the family we had spoken with earlier that day. At times, situations like this felt personal. It was disheartening to believe that people were in support of our efforts, only to find that this support was conditional on whether or not they had yet had their personal Luna story. I can’t say that I don’t understand people’s inquisitive impulses and the draw to experience the extraordinary. Yet, this really wasn’t supposed to be about us, or what we needed or wanted. This was about Luna and what was best for him. Wasn’t it?

So people continued to stop in the zone, which meant that Louise and I would have to approach the vessel, help them disengage Luna while informing them of the disturbance this caused. The reasons people gave for stopping ran the gamut and trying to guess who’s story seemed genuine was secondary to the fact that their stop had increased Luna’s exposure to boats and people twofold as it often required Louise and I to engage Luna so that the other vessel could leave. I believe the ‘get away reversing manoeuvre’ lasted no longer than the first day that we were there and we were constantly having to update our tactics while working against Luna’s intelligence to disengage. As the difficulty in getting away from him increased, so did the concern for his safety. It was not hard to imagine that someone could become either frustrated or fearful of Luna’s determination to remain engaged and react in a way that endangered him.

One day Luna followed the Uchuck III (a passenger ship), out of his zone, North through Hanna Channel and into Tulapana Inlet. We had radio contact with the skipper of the vessel and he informed us that while it was not unusual for Luna to follow the ship, he had never gone that far. Louise and I followed them out through the channel and stayed at a distance until eventually Luna disengaged. He appeared to be heading back towards the channel though we lost sight of him shortly after he had left the Uchuck. Having no reason to believe that he would be headed anywhere other than the zone, we returned to anchor until breakfast was no longer optional but mandatory. Right about the same time our breakfast arrived, the dock at Critter Cove started to buzz with people and I could overhear people talking about the whale. Soon enough we realized that Luna had made his appearance about 100 ft. out from the entrance to Critter Cove. Not only was he in a high traffic fishing/transit area, he was also in an area that we had even less control over than the zone. People were filming him from the dock while others took the opportunity right from their boats. Louise and I decided that the best thing, possibly the only thing that we could do then was to try engage Luna on our boat and hope that he was interested enough in our bow wave to ride it home. We essentially herded him back towards Hanna Channel, though he wouldn’t have anything to do with going through it. Louise looked at me, “I’m out of my depth” she said. Logic fails when trying to coerce a wild mammal back to an area where you feel you have some control over him because his borders have been defined. After three attempts to return to the zone, and we were sitting frustrated and overwhelmed at the mouth of Hanna Channel, a sailboat came through. This was an act of divinity I’m sure, because Luna rode their wake all the way home, treating the people on board to quite a show and relieving me of my panic that Luna would never again leave the danger zone. I realized that some of my panic was not only because we could not control the movements of this mammal, but that as humans we seem incapable in controlling ourselves. I trust that Luna, left to care for his own survival, has the instincts and intelligence to make it here. However, the level of interference that continues, regardless of our presence on the water and information signs in Gold River, Tashis, Critter Cove, etc. makes it clear that as long as Luna is here, his interaction with boats and interpreted ‘friendliness’ will be exploited and his future jeopardized.