High seas diary: Part 11 - underwater success
Feet firmly back on dry land after a week at sea. Having done well with the top side filming last week we decided to try solely with the underwater camera for the final three hauls of the net. The first time was a farce, with me at one end of the boat and all the killer whales at the opposite end doing their stuff.
I tried to move to where they were, but walking with a six meter length of heavy metal pole moving around a boat in a strong swell is a frustrating, slapstick performance. There a very small window of opportunity to get them when they were feeding that by the time I had moved to where they were they were gone.
The second haul was similarly unrewarding. The light was perfect but the seas were considerably more angry. I used a shorter pole to make the system more manageable, but with the full-on swell and the rocking and rolling of the boat the camera was continually being dunked in and out of the water. I switched back to the longer pole, but due to the swell, added weight and awkwardness I got the pole ensnared in the net and ripped the camera clean off and put an unwelcome right angle in my previously straight pole.
With the camera saved I switched back to the smaller pole, but by this time the cables were in a mess of knotted sticky spaghetti, and the screen was barely visible through a layer of sea salt and mackerel guts. The huge net was swaying over us, suspended five meters above me, raining mackerel parts onto my head. That, driving rain and heavy seas had beaten us on the penultimate haul.
We had one more haul before the season's quota was reached. I knew we only had one more go; I just hoped that it would be in the daylight. The last chance saloon. We hauled in as the sun was cozying up to the horizon. The whales showed up, but inexplicably stayed away until the very last. With all problems resolved, and every last bit of determination we had, we got some incredible views of several whales beneath the waves.
Boy, it is eerie to see them down there in their own world. On the surface, all is a foaming, violent and wind whipped maelstrom. Under that tortured sea is a strange scene of peace. To us, a world of dark and unsettling tranquility. A seemingly empty place where immense killer whales glide effortlessly, planning their next move, communicating to unseen companions with unheard sounds. You want to know what it really was? It was gazing through a window into a world that showed me the perfection of nature and nothing else.
(Missed any of my high seas diary entries? You can catch up with them all here.)
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