Descipher

The Our Far South talks go on! Today I was at the University of the 3rd Age in Kapiti and then at Russell School in Cannon’s Creek. Shackleton Bear muscled in on both events and seemed to make lots of new friends.

I met a couple of Antarctic heroes in Kapiti – one had been a leader of one of the programmes there for many years and visited about eight times. Another, Randall Heke (pictured with me) was part of the 1957 team that built the original Scott Base, from prefabricated buildings shipped down from New Zealand. He reckoned the permafrost they had to dig out for the foundations was harder than concrete…

Read more about building the Base.

Russell School were a great bunch of children to visit. One willing volunteer got dressed up in all my warm gear, then the class got into groups to discuss what they could see in some of my photos, and enjoyed watching the penguin and albatross videos at the end. I was very touched at the end when they sang a Samoan song to thank us, and what great questions they asked too.

I hope you enjoy reading all about Shackleton’s adventure in the book he left for you, Shackleton Bear Goes South!

After our return, I met Wendy Nelson (the seaweed guru from NIWA) and was very pleased to hear that the samples I collected were what she wanted and potentially very useful to international efforts in this area. Exciting stuff! It was clearly a very good use of time to collect and press the specimens on board – more than I hoped for.

Wendy added a very kind comment. “I think the thing that stands out for me in these collections is that you clearly have great observer’s eyes – I rarely get the samples I request!! You have noticed differences and collected a very interesting array of material.”

Here are some of her notes about them. (Read more about collecting the seaweed in this blog.)

Nothogenia (ginger tufty weed that grows on rocks exposed at high tide)

We knew about Nothogenia originally from material collected at the Auckland Islands by Dumont D’Urville and described by Camille Montagne in Paris in 1842.  The species he described was Nothogenia variolosa.  Another species, Nothogenia fastigiata, has been reported to be widely distributed in the southern hemisphere and this is the name that is currently applied to the Nothogenia found from the south of New Zealand’s North Island through to the subantarctic islands.

Recent analyses indicate that specimens from southern Chile are the same as from the Falkland Islands, but there is further diversity in Chile that has not been recognised until now. Also, specimens previously thought to be N. fastigiata from New Zealand and the Antipodes Islands, now look like they are different species.

Because of all this uncertainty, it became very important to get your collections from the Auckland Islands, where N. variolosa was first collected, as well as from other subantarctic islands, in order to understand the diversity in this genus. This international study involves collaborators in Canada, Chile, South Africa and the USA.

Prasiola (green moss-like seaweed)

This is a very curious genus! The green algae is typically associated with bird or marine mammal guano (in areas of high nutrients) and usually found very high above the water in the spray zone. We reviewed the genus in New Zealand recently, based on material from parts of the mainland, Chatham, Antipodes and Balleny Islands.

In 1907, a sample of Prasiola was collected from the Snares Islands and described as a new species, Prasiola snareana. It has never been recollected – so it is known solely from this one specimen, but we don’t know if it is a distinct species or not.

Your specimen from the Snares will enable us to compare this sample with other Prasiola species from the other regions and work it out.

Samples from Franklin Island

It is very difficult for us to obtain material from areas so far south. Research in the Ross Sea region is primarily ship based, and there are few opportunities to obtain material that grows in the upper subtidal zone (0-50 m depth). In the collections you made are samples of two red algae which will be very helpful in piecing together relationships between the Pacific and Atlantic sides of Antarctica.

Gigartina tuberculosa (specimens from Enderby Island and Carnley Harbour)

This species has had a very chequered history with misidentifications and misapplication of its name. The original collections came from the Auckland Islands, so getting fresh material for modern examination and comparative studies including molecular sequencing is invaluable.

Lava bombs and erect crested penguins on the Antipodes Islands

The first big project to come out of Our Far South is the mission to eradicate mice from the Antipodes Islands. The idea came up on board and Gareth and DOC have been working away to get it all organised. It launched last week and is already at $238,000.

I can now also let you know that I was lucky enough to visit the main Antipodes Island on our trip. Not everyone was allowed to go, since it’s a nature reserve, but I was one of ‘the chosen’, so it was pretty special to land there.

The venture is relatively low cost for a very big gain. Not having mice on these islands will enable the wildlife that breeds and lives there to have the best chance of survival. Early sealers probably left the mice there in the first place, so it seems right to clean up after ourselves, now that we have the expertise to do so. By supporting this campaign, Our Far South has enabled DOC to push it up to the top of their priority list.

More information and the amount raised so far is available here.

It’s quite strange getting to know someone you have seen on TV. I have always liked Radar’s offerings, especially on the topic of sustainability, and his stage production ‘Eating the Dog’ (a collage of epic fails from New Zealand history) last year was excellent. If you saw the show you would know that he has a thing for taxidermy, so the sheep and seal skulls we found on the islands seemed to be quite fascinating to him.

I’ve enjoyed having Radar on board very much. You never know where a conversation will lead, as we alternate between wise cracks and perceptive wonderings. He has deep pools of knowledge in all sorts of areas, from 1980s rock music to odd trivia about New Zealand’s history. His sense of humour is legendary and he usually has a witty comment or question to hand when needed. Radar isn’t loud and doesn’t seek the limelight—he is often to be found in a quiet corner of the library devouring historical books about Scott and Amundsen’s explorations, and other local history. Typically he was absent from our sing-a-long party last week, then popped in at the end for a beer. Evidently he was sitting outside on the top deck, rugged up and enjoying the long evening sunset instead.

Radar is working hard on board, producing a DVD of our travels and the issues we are highlighting, with Hunter who is doing the filming and editing work. Their DVD will be included in the Our Far South book and smaller sections dealing with issues like fishing, climate change and biodiversity available for us to show as we talk to audiences about the trip. The two one-minute promo clips we have seen so far are very good quality, so it should be a great resource.

In response to our isolation from the outside world, Radar now sports a rather splendid ginger beard, but he insists his colouring is actually strawberry blond. On a good hair day he sports a halo (his own words) but the need to wear woolly hats reduces their number, and the halo has looked decidedly tarnished at breakfast sometimes.

I asked him about his study and early years. “I didn’t mind school and I was occasionally in trouble, but generally only in maths. I studied law very briefly at university before both the faculty and myself realised it wasn’t for me …. What I have worked out is that I want to challenge people’s preconceptions in an entertaining way. I generally work with a small crew, of producer/director, camera and sound people and me when we make our shows, so it’s pretty lean, and I get a good degree of input into the direction and how we will address the issues.

“It’s been such a delight to be essentially imprisoned on a ship for a month with such a high calibre of experts and interested laypeople. I’ve learned more about a wider range of things in the last few weeks than I have in quite some time.”

The southern royal albatross have their largest breeding site on Campbell Island, though smaller numbers nest on Enderby Island. (The similar northern royals nest mostly on the Chatham Islands, with a few at Taiaroa Head in Dunedin.) One popular site on Campbell is Col Lyall, a low windswept saddle one hour’s walk from the main jetty here. We spent the late afternoon and evening yesterday visiting them, rugged up well against the strong wind and 6 degree temperature.

They are spectacular birds even in their ones and twos, but in groups it gets better and better. In the evening you can watch their displays of ‘gamming’, where the non-breeding birds preen, touch bills and chatter in groups of up to 40, though we only saw four or five together. The best part is watching them come in to land, as they gradually reduce speed and tuck their wings in. On the ground they show their real size—they weigh 6-8 kg, their wingspan is 3-3.5 m and they stand just over a metre high. Their bright white and black plumage (and fluffy bottoms) makes them look even more amazing.

I saw two birds sitting on chicks. Their little fluffy bodies and already oversized beaks peeked out whenever the adult bird on duty stood up to fire their excrement out of the nest. They had quite a good range! Others saw the chicks being fed regurgitated fish. They require a lot of care, with incubation of around 80 days and another 250 in the nest before fledging.

We are anchored in Perseverance Harbour, which almost cuts the island in two. Like Auckland Island, it is volcanic, with gently-sloping U-shaped valleys giving away its history of glaciation. These slopes are covered with beautiful megaherbs – plants that don’t obey the usual alpine rule of getting smaller and lower to the ground with increasing altitude – and have big fleshy leaves and spectacular flowers. The Chatham Island forget-me-not is similar, with its shiny ridged leaves and large blue flowers. There are 10 taxa (groups of species) of megaherbs on the subantarctics that grow nowhere else, and botanists are still puzzling as to why they have thrived here. Although most have now finished flowering, the ones that remain make walking among them slow, as I am compelled to stop for photographs.

The successful rat eradication in 2001 has allowed the plant life to flourish again, and the other wildlife will follow. It was the largest pest eradication programme at that time, with brodifacoum bait spread from helicopters, even onto the rockiest cliffs. Intensive tracking with dogs two years later confirmed its success. On our walk to Northwest Harbour today, Rodney spotted two Campbell Island snipe, which have self-recolonised the main island from a relic population on offshore Jacquemart Island. He was quite excited to see them this far north.

Until relatively recently (1995) there has been a manned weather station on Campbell Island, but the island is now uninhabited. We had a tour of the old settlements yesterday morning, including the rotting remains of the Coast Watching expedition hut and nearby magnetic observatory, and an old Shacklock range sitting on a grassy bank—all that remained of the farmhouse. The adolescent sealions that came to spar with us were the highlight though. We leave for the Antipodes Islands tonight.

Jack was the last member of the crew to come on board—14 days late. We picked him up just off Franklin Island in the Ross Sea, but it was all planned that way. Jack had been doing contract work for Sanford on the San Aotea II in the Ross Sea, catching Antarctic toothfish. They had finished the commercial fishing for the season two weeks ago and had taken Stu Hanchet from NIWA and a Korean researcher on board to do some research on the juvenile toothfish —looking at where they are, how big they are etc.

Getting my details correct, I ask him how to spell his name and he replies with a cheeky grin, Fenaughty – that’s naughty with ‘Fe’ in front. Jack is another of the early risers and usually beats me to the library in the morning. The engines stopped early this morning and woke me, so I got up and we had a chat. Like Trevor, Jack is a mine of information, this time not about diplomacy but about the fishing industry, so I am enjoying learning lots from him.

Cryptic is an odd choice of word to describe him, but let me explain. Jack the scientist came disguised as Jack the old salt, with his standard issue white gumboots, thick navy jersey and hat, and grey beard. But when he pulled out his iPad and started chatting to me about ice, fish and fishing, my ears pricked up. I wasn’t just going to get endless ‘great’ fishing stories from this guy!

Jack has been at sea since late November, but he says that’s pretty normal. Being away from home is clearly something that he and Jill (that’s cute – Jack and Jill) have got used to over their 40 year marriage – “It has its advantages, he says, “I quite like having two honeymoons a year.”

The ship has a crew of 22 and they work 12 hour shifts. “It makes it easy that way – you end up with a cabin to yourself for most of the time and the cook only has to make two meals. We don’t have a weekend and are usually at sea for 60-80 days in a stretch–after all it takes 10 days to even get here in the first place.

Jack is an independent contractor but mostly works for Sanford, doing reporting, research and some ‘driving’. Fishing in the Antarctic is covered by CCAMLR and therefore strictly regulated and requires more reporting than normal fisheries. “I do the daily, five-daily and monthly catch and effort reporting required by CCAMLR and MAF and keep the vessel production records. I also help the scientific observers with their biological data collection. Sanford also carries out their own additional research to assist the management of this fishery, which I coordinate.

“We keep electronic records of every fish caught. Once they have been cleaned and their heads cut off, they are individually weighed and automatically recorded. After freezing in the blast freezer, they get stacked in the fish hold at -28 degrees – they look a bit like firewood. We also have to record all the bycatch fish (mostly grenadiers) we get, because the fishery has to be closed when the limit is reached. The season opens on 1^st December and we typically fish here till mid-January when the full quota is taken. One in 30 fish is tagged and released because this is an exploratory fishery that is still being investigated.

Toothfish live deep in the ocean. “We generally catch them around 1000–1800 m and the hooks sit on the bottom. We have floats attached at the top and if it’s bad weather we attach a GPS beacon so we can find them later. The hooks are baited with squid and usually have a soak time of 18-36 hours before we pull them in.

“The vessel is an autoliner so the hooks are baited automatically. They sit on a magazine and get fired past the bait cutter, to attach it. The machine does about 2 hooks per second and the automation means we can carry less crew.” Jack shows me a video – it is pretty impressive.

I ask Jack what toothfish is like. “They are high in oil and melt in your mouth. I quite like them.

We are just beginning our forays into the rights and wrongs of fishing, so will be hearing more from Jack and others in the next few days.

How about we close with a fishing story? Jack is happy to oblige.

“I was in a little research boat (28 m) called the W J Scott. We were doing a two-year trawl survey of the West Coast. We normally ran the Westport bar when the weather was deteriorating and sometimes left it a bit late. Add in darkness, poor visibility and a peculiar desire from the locals to sit on the tip head in their cars with the headlights on, and things often got a bit dodgy. On at least one occasion our fishcases beat us up the river to the wharf. The Westport bar is a good place for Hail Mary’s – it’s amazing how your faith in God grows when you think you’re going to die.”

On the 28^th January 1841, James Clark Ross discovered what is now called the Ross Ice Shelf. In his words it was, “a perpendicular cliff of ice between 150 and 200 feet above…the sea, perfectly flat and level on top, and without any fissures or promontories on even its seaward face.” One of his crewman commented that it was the “most rare and magnificent sight that ever the human eye witnessed.” Ross sailed 390 nautical miles along it looking for an opening but at no point was there any change from the unbroken wall and all that could be seen from the mast was “an immense plain of frosted silver”.

We cruised along the edge of the Shelf at 4 am on Saturday morning. Rodney woke us all up to see it – and with temperatures of minus 15 and a stiff breeze coming from the ice, it felt a lot colder than our sunny day at Ross Island. It was hard to grasp the scale – a wide angle lens reduced it to an endless white line between a grey sea and the grey sky, and a zoom lens could only capture one small part of it. We did get a nice opportunity to look down the edge of part of it which was indeed impressive.

The Shelf was called the Great Ice Barrier by Scott and Shackleton, a name I rather like. Ross called it the Victoria Barrier and said, “we might with equal chance of success try to sail through the cliffs of Dover as to penetrate such a mass.”