Takeover, the voyage home and everything else

Our first sight of the Agulhas

Takeover was nothing like the pessimists predictions, in fact it was one of my best experiences on the island. Henk Louw, who was a biologist with Gough 54, came out to help train Karen and Sylvain, my replacements. He is great to work with, very knowledgeable and we get on really well. The best part has been having people to work with, rather than having to ask/beg the others to help me.

A lava "wave" behind Expedition Peak. It is about 50-75m high and several hundred meters long.

Karen and Sylvain were thrown right in the deep end from the day that they arrived. We took them out to the Yellow Nosed study colony and started nest checks that very afternoon. The next day we were flown out to Waterfall Camp in the centre of the island and started the count of Tristan fledglings. Karen and I walked up the east coast, skirting Tarn Moss and Edinburgh Peak. We walked to Tavistock Crag and then turned west to walk between Barren Dome and Expedition Peak, then over the neck between Nigel’s Cap and Seahen Crag to Triple Peak and Giant Petrel Valley. We met up with Henk and Sylvain and then walked south past False Peak back to Waterfall Camp via the top of Edinburgh Peak.

Lava dykes on Green Hill near Gonydale

We could have walked back to Waterfall Camp by contouring around Edinburgh Peak but because Henk had never been on top of it we decided to climb it. As we walked up it from the northern side, the mist became thicker and thicker and we lost sight of the top. Eventually we emerged on what I thought was the summit plateau until the mist parted for a moment and we saw that another steep climb lay ahead of us. Reluctantly the others followed me as I headed up this new climb, sure that the summit lay not far ahead. Once again we reached a plateau which I thought was the summit. I could have not been more wrong. I recognised none of the rocks and it seemed much larger than I remembered from our trip in April. Then once again, the mist parted and we saw that before us lay yet another climb, equal to the two before it. By this time Karen and Sylvain had lost all faith in my navigation skills, had taken out their GPS and were walking back to the camp by the most direct route possible. What they did not know is that the southern slopes of Edinburgh Peak are cut though by an encircling rock band which varies between three and ten metres in height. There is one gap in the rock band which is directly south of the summit and you have to cross the summit to get to it. The direct line that they were on does not pass through this gap. Despite our attempts to tell them this they were resolute. Then they came to the rock band… After much shouting to them, I managed to convince them that I was not a complete idiot and they walked up to join Henk and I on the summit. We made it back to the campsite just as the last of the dusk faded into night. Karen was finished and Sylvain was close to the same state. It was a harsh introduction to the realities of island walking and weather for them but one the whole it was good for them to learn early on that you cannot take the weather for granted and even familiar places can become very different in the mist.

The Agulhas from Gonydale

The next day we walked back to Gonydale in the mist, taking advantage of the few gaps to count the last remaining count areas. Once we were in Gonydale the mists cleared and we told Karen and Sylvain that we had to ring all the fledgling Tristan Albatrosses in Gonydale. Their faces showed that this was not the greatest idea that they had ever heard and they would rather have spent the rest of the day relaxing. To their credit however they sucked it up and soldiered on. Sylvain quickly learned about the pungency of albatross chick vomit because the chick’s last resort defense is to vomit on you. The sensation of warm vomit running down your sleeve into your glove is one not soon forgotten.

The Bell 212 cargo slinging containers to the base

They soon learned that squandering good weather days is not something that you should ever do on Gough. The next day dawned, cold, wet and windy and they were very grateful that we had finished all the work the previous day and had nothing more to do than just walk back to base.

The Agulhas at anchor

To their credit they never complained or moaned, just accepted it stoically. They really did well in their first few days which if I remember my introduction to island walking must have been incredibly difficult. I was actually quite proud of them.

Brendan and Henk weighing a seal pup

The next few days passed in a blur of work. We took them to the Rockhopper colony, did the Moorhen counts, checked the Yellownosed Albatross study and control colonies, ringed the remaining Tristan Albatross chicks on the Hummocks and at Tafelkoppie. Sylvain visited the Giant Petrel colony while I taught Karen to burrowscope and take samples from Skuas and Rockhoppers. we also had to assist with the checking of the containers from the Agulhas to make sure that no insects were imported on the island, as well as the monumental task of moving a years worth of food and supplies from the containers and into the food store or into the freezers.

Jan, one of the rope access guys hired to help with clearing Sagina. He came with me to complete the Tristan Albatross fledgling count.

Henk, Brendan (one of the new weather observers with G57) and I weighed seal pups for Prof. Bester, which was quite an exciting task. You have to grab them by their rear flipper and slip a noose over their "ankle" so that they can be weighed on a spring balance. Holding a 10-20kg seal pup with your arms straight out and level is a very tiring task and if you get it wrong the seal can swing around and bite your legs which would be quite serious.

The Seal Beach river after two days of rain. We had to rig a Tyrolean Traverse to allow John Cooper and the others to cross safely.

Henk, Michelle and I also visited the Glen, Capsize Sand and Long Beach to inventory the site of the old base, count penguins, elephant seals, giant petrels and litter. It was a repeat of our previous trip to the Glen with the power boat from the Edinburgh, except that we used a rubber duck from the Agulhas but we still had to swim ashore and back to the boat several times because the sea was too rough for them to bring it in close. Swimming with a full pack, clothes and gumboots in bitterly cold (~8 degree) water was ... interesting. Especially as the surf was breaking quite heavily. Nevertheless we made it safely ashore and back to the boat each time. By the time it came to check the final beach, Long Beach, we were all three frozen and shivering and we decided that the remainder of the survey could better be completed from the boat and that we did not need to swim again. We returned to the Agulhas were we were jokingly told that we would not be allowed to return to the island but would have to stay on board. It was only after Michelle and I threatened to swim back that they told us it was just a joke.

My first fruit in eleven months

The whole fifteen days of takeover passed so, so, so fast. Before I knew what had hit me it was the takeover party and the official handover of my duties to Karen and Sylvain. The hand over ceremony was nice, each member of the team formally signs over their duties to their replacement and then we exchange T-shirts with the team's badge. DEA gave us all a rather weird present, a calculator come desk clock come photo holder... Thanks DEA. Then we partied hard and long into the small hours of the morning. A night to remember!

Juvenile male elephant seal, only four meters long

We were due to leave Tuesday morning early so on Monday I took some time visit some of my favourite places for the last time and make sure that I said goodbye properly to this wondrous, amazing, incredible, special and unique island. Saying goodbye to Gough was one of the hardest and saddest things that I have have ever had to do. It is difficult to convey in words the depth and strength of attachment that I have developed for that tiny, insignificant little speck of land jutting out of the incredible vastness of the Atlantic Ocean. Leaving South Africa was easier knowing that you will be able to return to friends and family but leaving a place that you are fairly certain you will never ever return to is so much harder. 

Sitting in my favourite spot, sheltered from the wind under the Phylica trees over looking the bay at Admirals, watching the Sooty Albatrosses turn and wheel overhead, with the barks of the seals echoing and the buntings chirping was a very emotional moment. I'm quite glad that no one else was there to see me cry.

A proud Rockhopper penguin with its egg

Tuesday morning dawned, we packed all our bags into containers to be cargo slung to the Agulhas but it seems that Titan Helicopters are all water soluble and can't fly if it is drizzling. So we sat there, all dressed up and no place to go. We could not even really leave the immediate area of the base in case the weather cleared and the helicopters could fly. Eventually there was a brief gap and they managed to fly off all the remaining cargo containers. Before they could fly off the luggage the rain started again and they fled to the safety of the Agulhas before their helicopter started to become soggy.

The last time that the Agulhas will ever visit Gough, see through Archway Rock at the Glen

So there we sat, hoping that the weather would improve. It did not. Eventually at about 1700 we collected our luggage and returned to our rooms. Tuesday night was rather subdued as people pondered the possible implications of a late arrival in the Cape and all the associated problems of changing flights and arrangements for family members to take leave so that they could meet the Agulhas as she docked. The weather on Wednesday was no better but we repacked our luggage into the containers, more in hope than in certainty. Thankfully at around 1500, the skies cleared and the helicopter arrived to take of the first group. Gough 56 was the last group to be flown off and we were all a little teary eyed as we stepped off Gough soil for the last time.

Henk, me and Michelle at the Glen

The waiting to leave was the worst, to have decided that today is your last day and then to have it postponed was awful. You have readied yourself and then have to to do it all again, that really was unpleasant.

Gough 56 (front) and Gough 57 (back)

The voyage back was wonderful, I was not seasick at all, just felt a little "off" on the first day but nothing worse. Sadly their was a heavy swell coming from the South west so we were not able to sail along the West coast of Gough and took the familiar route up the East coast past the Glen and Church Rock before sailing North west for Inaccessible Island. The best part of the voyage back was the food, endless plates of salad and fruit. The rapturous expressions on the face of all the faces of Gough 56 as they ate fresh fruit and veggies for the first time in thirteen months must have been a memorable sight!

The Base from the Agulhas

We reached Inaccessible Island late the following day, with just enough light for the helicopter to fly and collect Peter, Martin and Martim who had been dropped there three weeks earlier to primarily do research on the endemic buntings. Then it was onwards to Tristan.

Church Rock and Lot's Wife on the north eastern corner of Gough

Northern coast of Gough

The first time I have seen the sun set into the sea since the 13th of December

We arrived at Tristan under sullen grey clouds and a strengthening wind which made the harbour unusable. There were no more flight hours available for the helicopters and it looked like we were certain to be delayed at great cost. It costs DEA R250 000 per day to hire the crew for the Agulhas and there would be further charges at Cape Town if we missed our booked docking time. There was a flurry of phone calls between the ship, Tristan and South Africa trying to convince the DEA brass that it would be more sensible to pay R40 000 for the helicopter to fly the passengers and cargo off Tristan than it would be to be delayed for up to 48 hours and incur costs of more than R500 000. Eventually they came to their senses and the helicopter (which now was no longer water soluble) took off and collected all the passengers from Tristan. They even managed to take the members of Gough 56 who had not had the chance to visit Tristan before on to the island so that they could buy some souvenirs and see meet the islanders who had been so kind and generous to us during our year on Gough.

Nightingale Island

Inaccessible Island

The members of Gough 56 finally on Tristan

The Settlement/Edinburgh-of-the-Seven Seas on Tristan

And then we were off, Tristan was a fading speck in our wake and 3000 kilometers of Atlantic Ocean lay between us and home. The remainder of the voyage passed slowly with the only real things to look forward to being the next meal or game of hakkie sac on the Heli-deck. We did have a very memorable game of "ship-rules" volleyball down in the forward hold. The crew had carefully packed the containers to leave a area large enough for a volleyball court. Several great games between catering crew, ships crew and the passengers were played. Initially we lost horribly (we did not get more than ten points in our first five games) but we recovered and with a couple of new players we won several games. Great fun!

Lenticellular (Island) clouds over Tristan

Volleyball in the hold

One of the Agulhas's engines, together they produce 4473hp.

We saw birds, dolphins and two ships on our voyage but sadly no whales. On Wednesday night about 2200 the lights of Cape Town were visible as a glow and the familiar shape of the Twelve Apostles and Lions Head slowly rose above the horizon. Finally seeing all the lights and the mountains after spending some much time thinking about that moment when we were on the island was wonderful. Seeing it again was almost like seeing it for the first time, a truly special moment. At about 0200 we anchored off Robben Island to await dawn and the pilot boat.

Everyone got up early the next morning to see the sunrise and to be on deck as we sailed in. The weather had once final trick to play on us. We went out side and could not see more than twenty meters in any direction. A thick bank of fog had descended and we we stuck in it. We could not move until the fog cleared and the harbour pilot came aboard. We eventually docked to rapturous applause at about 1100. There was a short ceremony to mark our return and the South African Weather Service thanked everyone on the team (except me, seriously! I though it was hilarious!) and then we were reunited with our families. It was incredible to see everyone again after such a long separation.

I collected my bags, said a sad goodbye to the members of the team most of whom I will probably not see again and climbed into the car with my dad and went home.

The end of the dream - 5 September to 11 September

For a long time after I arrived on Gough, it did not seem like it was real. It felt like a dream, at times a bad dream but mostly a wonderful one. After several months that dream ended and Gough was real, in all its beauty and uniqueness. It was the world outside of our tiny isolated island that ceased to be real and became a place of memories and voices on the far side of a telephone line. With takeover starting next Saturday (the 17th), the real world is invading Gough and taking away much of the "specialness" of our island. I don't resent that out time here as a small group is ending, in fact I look forward to new faces, stories and people to help with the work but I know that I will always miss the quietness and relaxed tempo of live before takeover.

A Yellow Nosed Albatross preparing its nest

I was not here for takeover last year but still the island is beginning to resemble the island on which I arrived in December 2010, the Yellow Nosed and Sooty Albatrosses, the Great Shearwaters, Broad Prions and even the Rockhopper Penguins have all begun to return. Every moment you spend outside in the daytime is filled with the KEEEEEaaaaHHHHH of the Sootys as they spin, turn and dive above the cliffs.

This has been a month of "lasts" for me, last visits to all the special places on this island, before the crowds arrive, to fix them in my memory forever. This will probably be my last post from Gough because I am sure that I am going to be worked to a standstill during takeover and will probably not have time to post updates. So for those you faithful readers who have developed a dependency and need your fix, it is cold turkey for you, good luck. I will write a final post about takeover and the voyage home on the Agulhas but that will be posted from home and not from Gough.

Gonydale

Time flies like an arrow and fruit flies like a banana - 29 August to 4 September

The title of this post is a rather poor pun but true nonetheless. The closer that we get to the arrival of the S.A. Agulhas the faster time seems to pass. It seems only the other day that we were celebrating Mid-Winter and 100 days, then 40 days and now it is only 40 days until we are back in Cape Town. The closer it comes, the more the anticipation grows. We all dream of our first sight of Table Mountain, the first fresh fruit, the first cup of tea with real milk and of course the first sight of all our families.

 With the rapid approach of takeover we have all been hard at work cleaning the base, for some reason John et al decided that we should go completely overboard and wash the ceilings and walls which has got to be the biggest waste of time ever. Firstly the ceilings and walls really are not dirty at all and secondly the base is going to be replaced in the very near future (that is if the government decides to that renew the lease in 2013). It really smacks of make-work, something that we have to do in order to alleviate their boredom. We even had to weed the grass growing on the wooden platform that supports the helipad, why - no one knows.

The cleaning also really always seems to fall on the nicest days when the wind is still and the sun is shining in other words the days when it would be ideal for me to do longer trips away from base to check nests or ring birds. Ag, whatever, it really is only a few more days now. I will survive!

More snow - 22 August to 28 August

Firstly, happy birthday to my Grandfather, who turned 80, and to Roy and Frances too. Hope you had wonderful days.

As promised, here is the video I shot of the storm two weeks ago now. The swell was in the region of 10-15m. Every time a big wave broke, we could feel the vibrations 100m away in the base. Quite scary actually.

Blizzards of snow. We did have a braai later. Only South Africans...

August really has been the bad weather month, we had more snow this week. Happily this time, there was a decent break in the weather and I was able to climb Tafelkoppie to play a bit (and check the remaining Albatross nests - not all play...). 

Even though the bad weather has kept us inside most days, things have been better this week. I think that it is because the arrival of the Agulhas is now so near it is almost tangible. This has made the boredom struck people in the Base realize that perhaps they actually are going home and they have been more upbeat.

Tafelkoppie, with South Peak to the left of centre and the top of Edinburgh Peak sticking up in the far distance

I have been reading a fascinating book, Mountains in the sea - The story of the Gough Island Expedition by Martin Holgate, an account of the first scientific expedition to Gough in 1956. It provides a wonderful insight into the history of Gough and Tristan da Cunha. The conditions they had to endure were far, far worse than what we have had to deal with. They all lived in a small hut at the Glen, cooked on a tiny gas stove, used candles for lighting and their only contact with the outside world was radio contact and passing ships. Despite all of this they managed to explore the entire island, survey it, discovered new species of plants, birds, fungi, mosses and insects. Mr Holgate writes quite frankly and says that there were never any serious disagreements or arguments in the team and they all left as friends still. They did have the advantage of being friends before they came here and a single unifying goal which is what our team has lacked. Without some common purpose (surviving twelve months is not a goal) to unify us, something to which we contribute which is greater than all of us we have failed to become a team. It has especially affected Leonie and Mornay because they came here as support staff with no real aim other than to make sure that the team members are able to do their jobs which is not a goal either really.

Their boredom has an upside though, quite a lot of team duties before takeover, principally cleaning, are already finished without any of the rest of us having to lift a finger. It has made life easier to a certain extent but I think that I would rather have had to clean more and deal with less psychological mess.

There is so little time left before the ships arrival now but I happy to say that I am ready to go home now and will not regret leaving terribly.

Stormy weather - 15 August to 21 August

Once again, the weather has dominated the proceedings this week, with two big storms passing over Gough. The first one was predicted to be huge and well, it wasn't. The second one however lived up to its billing. It dropped close on 200mm of rain on us in about thirty hours. Wind speed maxed out at 37 m/s (133.2 km/h) or in laymans terms, insanely fast! The apparent temperature at midday was -9... The sea has been spectacular too, with wave heights in excess of 15m. If I stood down at the crane, I could see perfect lines stacked to the horizon, a surfer's dream only one problem, there is nowhere to surf on this island. No points, no reefs and no beach breaks. The bottom drops away so steeply that there is no chance of a wave anywhere. Yet another thing to wait for... I shot some videos of the swell but the weather is playing merry hell with our satellite uplink so I could not load them in time. Next week I promise.

Gough is right in the middle of the circles. Pressure dropped all the way down to 963mb.

Monday was a nice day, Michelle and I went fishing at Snoekgat and caught lots of fish, enough to feed us all. It was the "freshest" supper we will have until we are on board the Agulhas. We sadly did not catch any Snoek, despite valiant efforts. I don't know what I am doing wrong, I have tried every type of lure from spinners to spoons to poppers and nothing works. Not to be I guess. Michelle did manage to catch two fish simultaneously though. I really am going to miss the fishing here, you catch a fish on about 8 of 10 casts and unlike at home where you carefully check to see if the fish are the correct size, here you hardly ever catch under size fish.

The smallest fish we caught

The big storm did drop the most snow yet but again as with the previous times, the weather was too unsettled to chance going to play in it. Next time...

Otherwise things have been more settled in the base. Mornay has decided not to join us at meals anymore for whatever reason. I am (and everyone else too) so over caring about why he is like he is. We have so little time left by ourselves on the island that we are not going to let him spoil it. He must just stay out of the way. We have all tried to help and failed. Ons kannie meer nie en ons gaan nie meer nie.

Hail, not snow

Angry sea.

The rain in the South Atlantic falls mainly here - 9 August to 14 August

Clouds are Gough's party piece, I have never seen such awesome ones as I have here.

Well thus far August has lived up to it's reputation as the month with the worst weather. Over the last two weeks we have only had a couple of days where it has not rained a lot. When it isn't raining, the wind has been blowing. All of this has played merry hell with my work schedule, I have been trying to do the final round of herbicide spraying at Snoekgat, Diesel Cove and Crane Point. I can't spray the herbicide when it is raining because that is just like pouring it into the sea and when it is windy, all I succeed in doing is covering myself in poison and getting none where it needs to be. Thankfully on Friday the weather was good enough and I was able to complete all the spraying.

Snow again.

We have even had some snow again to go with the bad weather, unfortunately it fell on Tuesday night and then rained almost continuously on Wednesday, only stopping for long enough for me to take the picture above and the panorama at the top of this post. The bad weather has meant that I have had plenty of free time to play with Hugin (hugin.sourceforge.net), which is simply the best, most user friendly panorama creator that I have ever found. I used it to make the panorama at the top and with a little help from Photoshop, the one below as well.

The view from the roof of the Base.

Sadly, along with the bad weather comes more cabin fever. Mornay has been on form this week. He refuses to talk to anyone, sulks in his room and is incredibly rude to everyone. John and Leonie have spoken to him on more than one occasion, asking that he at least attempt to be civil but he simply ignores them. He singles out Michelle as a particular target because he used or still does have a crush on her and she is not interested in him at all. I really don't care what he does with the rest of his time on the island, if he wants to spend it sulking in his room, I could not care less but he really does at least need to be civil. Manners cost nothing. The Department really needs to step up their psychological screening programme because I cannot understand how someone as obviously broken as he is got to the island.

GLS data from a logger recovered from a Skua. Gough Skuas, as with the Marion ones seem to spend lots of time off the Cape coast

Oh well, it really is not long now, the ship will be here in just over a month and in just under two months we will be docking in Cape Town. How nice that will be.

39 days and counting - 1 August to 8 August

An Atlantic Petrel, winkled from its burrow, ready to be measured, weighed , ringed and tagged (Photo by Michelle)

Well first of all, many apologies to those of you expecting your regular Monday morning fix of my ramblings but last night was forty days until the ship arrives, forty days with only the seven of us on the island. So we had a big party. I had planned to write this post earlier yesterday but I was stuck in the kitchen, cooking. It was my turn to cook and so I had to make all the food for the party and didn't get a chance to come and burble inanities to you, dear Faithful Reader.

Burrowscoping. My right arm is in the burrow up to my shoulder, I am holding the camera end of the burrowscope in my right hand (the silver tube is the battery pack) and the yellow box in my left hand is the monitor showing the images from the camera (Photo by Michelle)

It is now Monday and for some reason I do not have a hangover, I can't come up with a reason why. Things got a little crazy last night and because Robyn was there, I am sure that there will be lots of photographic and video evidence. Not that we will ever see it because getting photos out of Robyn is like getting blood from stones. Hopefully by the time we leave she will have relented and shared her photos with the rest of us.

A GLS mounted on the leg of an Atlantic Petrel (photo by Michelle)

August has lived up to its reputation as the worst weather month thus far. There was only one day last week that I could get to do some of the final round of herbicide spraying, every other day was either too windy, too rainy or both. I really hope that the weather will let up a little so I can finish the herbicide work (the last time EVER!). Otherwise in the gaps I have been doing some burrowscoping to recover more of the GLS on the Atlantic Petrels.

Michelle with an Atlantic Petrel. Sometimes their burrows are too deep to grab them and you have dig an alternative entrance and chase the bird out the other side.

Another reason to hope that the weather lets up a little is that cabin fever is setting in again. We all take it hard, especially now that there is so little time left on our own but since we are all experiencing the same feelings, we try our best to put on a brave face and at least pretend that all is well, even when we know that it is not. I say we but there is one exception: Mornay. Mornay is like Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, except that the Mr Hyde personality is the most prominent one rather than the Dr Jekyll. He throws tantrums, refuses to eat with us, sulks in his room, doesn't greet people and is generally a thunder cloud of unpleasantness. John and Leonie, for some unfathomable reason, continue to humour him, saying that he is depressed and homesick and needs his space, as if none of the rest of us aren't. If anyone of the younger people in base was to behave as he does, we would be called into a meeting with John and Leonie and be told to act like adults and grow up. Oddly enough it seems that the most mature people on the island are the most immature. The next thirty nine days can't pass fast enough.

The preliminary data from a GLS recovered from an Atlantic Petrel. The red dot is Gough. It appears that they spend much time off the coast of Brazil and also at the the Falkland Islands. The lines heading out of the picture to the north are probably noise and will be removed once the analysis is complete.