The Scotland Chronicles: Conclusion

Wednesday, 14 September 2011 @ 11am - This is going to be my last post of the trip, for I will not have time to update my blog before I leave for the airport tomorrow morning.

Yesterday was mostly an uneventful day because the ocean was COVERED with white caps (an indicator of bad seas), so we spent the day updating the dolphin databases. But last night we had a Spanish dinner, and that's when things got a little too silly. Because our personalities were being eaten up by spreadsheets and fin photos, we made a game out of everything, including our food.

For example, we had a Spanish potato omelete for dinner (Apparently that's dinner in Spain.), and I guess it's a British custom to leave the last piece for whoever might want it. No one wanted it, so the director came up with an idea to pass the last piece around, with each person cutting it in half until the whole thing disappears. We were eventually cutting invisible crumbs.

After dinner, one of the other volunteers had a couple containers of brown and white face masks. So we decided to do some "face painting" (The director thought I should do some "foot painting" on my 'hobbit feet' because I have the smallest feet in the group. He was highly amused by them during the trip.) and took a group photo.

Today we're going over whale rescue techniques--we will use a fake blow-up Pilot Whale for practice--and the rest of the day is dependent on how we feel since the sea isn't looking good again.

Tomorrow at 11:30am (eight hours ahead of LA) I fly out of Aberdeen to London Heathrow (I will never forgive my mother for booking this flight because I can't STAND that airport.), and then I have a three-hour wait till I take off on my 11-hour flight to LAX. I look forward to seeing friends, family, and my favorite couch.

The Scotland Chronicles: Part V

Monday, 12 September 2011 @ 7pm - Yesterday was a day of rest, so "The Guy with the Indian Name from Denmark" (TGWTINFD) and I embarked on a combination rocky/seaweedy/sandy/grassy/muddy trail to a thousand-year-old church/cemetery atop a hill overlooking the village. I had been itching to go up there ever since I arrived in Gardenstown. I remember the moment when I first saw it:

Me: What's that up there?
Staff member: It's a church. About a thousand years old.
Me: Ah...
(Pause)
Me: Is it possible to walk up there?
Staff member: Yes, there's a path you can take up there.
Me: Ah...
(Pause)
Me: Well THAT was a stupid question.
*group laughs*

Anyway, we made it up the steep trail without cardiac arrest, explored the place and took some photos. On the way back I stepped onto what looked like a sturdy pile of seaweed and ended up ankle down in ocean water. TGWTINFD stepped in dog shit.


Not too long ago we returned from a VERY cold and VERY rainy day at sea. It was so cold and rainy that when we stopped for lunch, we were tempted to eat in the old bathrooms/outhouses at one bay area. But we managed to huddle/cuddle under this small, oddly placed tunnel. Upon returning to sea we discovered a mother dolphin and calf hunting down a very large fish...it was SO large for a dolphin diet, that when we returned to the base we noticed in the photograph we took that the mother practically dislocated her jaw like a snake to swallow it.

So we were entertained by that for a while, and then it got so foggy that it looked as though we reached the edge of the earth. Before starting back, we sat and snacked for a bit to generate body heat.

"Let's have something to eat first. And if you're not hungry then feel free to fart inside your dry suit," said the director.

And so we made our way back through what looked like an icy wonderland...fart-free.

The Scotland Chronicles: Part IV

Saturday, 10 September 2011 @ 7:20pm - This morning, we gathered in the main office to listen to a lecture on cetacean identification. We learned the difference between toothed and baleen cetaceans, and then reviewed individual genus and species categories.

"And right here is a photo of a Northern Bottlenose Whale...which basically looks like a penis," said the Australian staff member.

*giggle*

"And they can get to be pretty big," she continued.

Of course, I had to ask, "The penis or the whale?"

I'm going to Hell. But at least the group laughed.

"This time it's the whale. Now, moving on to the Sperm Whale..."


Not too long ago we returned from another day out at sea, and I'm very pleased to inform you that we had calm waters, on-and-off clear skies, and FINALLY had a glorious dolphin encounter. Those suckers played mind tricks on us so we couldn't keep count of how many were surrounding the boat. But regardless, we got quite a show and I was fortunate enough to catch most of it on film without allowing the water to destroy my camera. They were playing, fighting, performing water acrobatics and synchronized swimming, swimming alongside the boat as close as 10-15 feet, etc. I'm not even kidding. I even had a chance to film them up on the front deck.

This whole experience begs the following question: Who needs a day at Seaworld when Mother Nature can provide you a free show, especially without animal abuse?

Anyway, you might be wondering, "At what point does the 'research' part come into play?" Well, the procedure begins when each of us looks in a separate direction to locate a splash or "blow" out of a blowhole. When someone sees either of these, he/she shouts the direction (e.g. "One-o'-clock!") and extends an arm out in that direction without looking anywhere else. Then whoever has a camera needs to wait till the cetacean comes to the surface so he/she can photograph the dorsal fin. This is for identification purposes.

This process is repeated while counting how many cetaceans are found in a group, or "pod." This is for population tracking, and as mentioned before, this part was difficult for us because the dolphins were incredibly energized. But in the end, we discovered a new calf and possibly a pregnant female, which is very good news*, especially because the Moray Firth (the portion of the North Sea where these creatures are being studied) is only one of two conservations in the UK for cetaceans.

When enough data has been collected, the team returns to the base/office, uploads the photos, and compares them to previous photos to see if there have been any population changes, differences in dorsal fin scars (the males especially have these from fighting), etc. The team also looks over the route taken to find these pods, which I'm guessing is for migration purposes.

There's a lot more to it, but the purpose of this blog is to be entertaining. So I will leave you with this information for now.

*Dolphin Threats

The Scotland Chronicles: Part III

Friday, 9 September 2011 @ about 1pm - I published Part III a couple days ago, but it looks like Blogger didn’t follow through with its job. In that post I had mentioned that we had a fun-filled day on a “mystery tour” instead of a day out at sea (What better place to go on an adventure named after a Beatles song than in the UK?). On that tour, transported by the organization’s Land Rover and led by the director, we stopped at a cemetery that contained various symbols all over its walls and tombs, such as the skull and cross bones. I wish I could tell you the age of the place; however, I did see a tombstone with a year from the late-nineteenth century inscribed on it.

We then visited a “rich people” harbor with a closed-up lighthouse, a cave connecting two bays, a grocery store called “Tesco’s,” and then on the way back saw a sheep that somehow figured out how to jump an (electric?) fence but couldn’t figure out how to get back in. We heard, “Baa-a-a-aahh,” but what I think it was really trying to say was, “Shii-i-i-iit, how did I do that agaa-a-a-aain?”

Yesterday we went out to sea and were cursed with another dolphin-less day. We stopped at a random bay to have lunch and then started back. Both ways had rough seas, minus rain, and the director came up with this “brilliant” idea of stopping in the middle of the return route to fish for mackerel.

This is when I learned again that seasickness doesn’t come from sitting on a boat moving at 15 mph; it comes from sitting idle with three- to four-foot waves rocking the boat towards shore.

I thought I was over seasickness, but perhaps my body wanted revenge for not getting the job done on the bus to Banff. Here we were, in a rocking boat with two people standing up fishing and the rest of us sitting. Three fish were caught and then one of the rods was offered to me. I was excited by this opportunity, having gone fishing only once in my life (When I was like, I dunno, six?) and never caught anything. But every time I tried grabbing the rod, a wave rocked the boat and my stomach felt more and more like an active volcano.

“Um, that’s alright. You can keep fishing.”

I turned and stared out at the horizon for a while, and one of the staff members asked me, “Holly, are you okay?”

I shook my head. “No.”

So, the next thing I knew I was driving the boat home again. This was to help me concentrate elsewhere other than on the Mount St. Helens growing in mi estomago. I was so tired and bleh when we returned, that I slept in this morning and asked one of the other volunteers to tell the director that I was going to take a “personal day off to sleep” while everyone else went out to sea again. I needed it to get used to the time difference.

The Scotland Chronicles: Part II

Wednesday, 7 September 2011 @ 11:50am - So yesterday was an event-filled day. The day began with beautiful weather, but the director of the program later read the waves and predicted the weather would worsen.  Also, the boat battery decided to stop working and refused to revive. It said in a Scottish accent, "No, I don't feel like it, and nothing can change my mind." Stupid boat.

But we didn't give up and the guys went out to get a spare boat. Even with disgusting weather we decided to get fitted into our dry suits (Mine makes me look like a red and navy Michelin Man since these suits were made for people as short as 5'4''. I'm 5'2''.). We went out to sea as the swells (wave height) increased to level 4 (on a spectrum of 0-5, 0 being calm) and the current up to 3 (on a scale of 0-7, 0 being calm). We didn't find any cetaceans, but on the way back the director said, "Okay, I'm going to let the girl from California, Los Angeles drive the boat." (I think here they say the city name second to the state/country.) Um, what? I'm barely capable of operating a car back home!

So I nervously took over the wheel and got a quick lesson on how everything works. I operated the boat like I would a stick shift car (horribly). I'm surprised the girl who took seasickness pills didn't regurgitate those along with her sandwich lunch. We were a quarter of the way back when it started pouring rain.

**So, I can safely say that I've been in the Middle East during a sandstorm and in the UK at sea during a rainstorm...while operating a boat. I have more points for bragging rights.

Anyway, I couldn't see while "driving," so someone behind me grabbed a pair of goggles and stuck them over my face. I held onto the goggles with my right hand, had my left hand on the power lever thingy (the "gas"), and then said, "Well, I was born with only two arms so someone needs to steer." The director took over the wheel. It would have been an interesting photo to take.

There's plenty more to talk about, but I'll end here with a new UK term that I learned yesterday: "Trackybums." We call them sweats or running pants.

The Scotland Chronicles: Part I

Monday, 5 September 2011 @ 9:20am (eight hours ahead of Los Angeles) – I’m at the Dublin International Airport awaiting possibly the smallest plane I’ll have ever been aboard (I’m counting the number of seats here per gate, and it looks like 15-18). I’m surprisingly more awake than I thought, and I’m guessing this is because 1. I’ve gotten enough practice sleeping on planes, and 2. My body is probably very used to jet lag now.

However, I was very close to snapping earlier. While at LAX, I was lying on the floor by the gate under a sign saying “Do Not Sit Here,” (that I didn’t discover until I got up to board the plane). A kid, maybe two or three years old, came up to me and started telling me a bunch of nonsense. All I could make out was something about killing a tiger in the jungle, and then he threw his stuffed dog (the tiger?) on top of my stuff next to me. I wasn’t sure how to respond to this (I’m not good with kids), but for Holly, animals > children. All I could think about was, “God, I wish I had a pit bull to scare off this kid so I don’t end up in a mental institution doing it myself.”

The first flight to Chicago wasn’t too amazing: at one point the plane fell many feet, a man cackled like a sick witch during the movie Something Borrowed (a box office failure?), and when we land--I liken it to dropping a brick on concrete--it hurt. One man commented after he got off the plane, “Worst. Flight. Ever.” Couldn’t have said it better.

The second flight to Dublin was better, but I sat next to an Irish man who kept making small talk (I’m loathe to having plane conversations with strangers unless you ask me, “What would you like to eat or drink?”), and founded the “Feed the Holly” cause because he couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that I don’t eat normal human/American proportions. He kept giving up parts of his meals saying, “You’re not eating very much; are you on a diet?” I politely accepted his charitable gifts and didn’t eat them because, well, I couldn’t. Duh.

I will be boarding my final flight to Aberdeen, Scotland in about 25 minutes; after I land I will need to take a cab to a bus/train station and then a bus to Banff. From there, I will be picked up by a team from the Cetacean Research and Rescue Unit and taken to my FINAL final destination…which is somewhere in Gardenstown (near Banff).

Gardenstown, Scotland @ 9:30pm

Aberdeen

So, I’ve been awake for two days. Somehow I was able to stand a sickening, two-hour bus ride from Aberdeen to Banff. I was so close to yaking up my gut that I found a newspaper in the empty seat next to me and decided to use it in case of an emergency. But luckily I made it.

Four volunteers and I are staying in a little cottage town with a beautiful view of the North Sea. We got a tour of the house (I share a room with a chick from England and a guy with an Indian name from Denmark) and the surrounding neighborhood, which is quite tiny.  It’s a very relaxed atmosphere with well-educated people who have a passion for the well-being of the ocean.

Banff

There’s plenty more to talk about, but I’m super tired and just wanted to conclude that 1. it’s very green here, 2. the architecture is very gray (brick/stone), 3. the area is BEAUTIFUL, and 4. I think it’s safe to say that the people here really have your best interests at heart. A bunch of people, young and old, really went out of their way to make sure I made it safely to my destination in the cheapest way possible.

Tuesday, 6 September 2011 @ 9:52am - I slept 11 hours and couldn't figure out the shower this morning. I was told this is because of my jet lag (that I thought I was used to by now), because all I had to do was flip a switch to turn it on (it's an electric shower).

It's a beautiful morning, so we'll probably learn basic safety and recording (whale observation) procedures and be fitted into our dry suits. We have something going on in town on Friday and/or Saturday (some kind of exhibition?).

More to come later if I have time within the next couple of days. (This is after I figure out the shower.)

North Sea