What I’d like to tickle your fancy with today is an adventure I had well over a year ago now! Once I’d finished my Master’s thesis (blogging the whole way!), I decided to take a break from the internet. This was mainly because I was about to embark on a few months of solid fieldwork with very little internet access, but also because after writing a thesis, I was very done with writing. Which I think is fair. First on the list, and the reason I handed my thesis in almost two weeks early, was a voyage to Rangitāhua, the Kermadec Islands, New Zealand’s northernmost archipelago.
This was an amazing trip. Every year the Royal New Zealand Navy helps resupply the Department of Conservation base on Raoul Island, taking up food and gear needed for the weeding teams that work on the island. Being such a remote place, it’s also a good chance to take specialists up there to fix what has broken over the course of the season. The Sir Peter Blake Trust also organised for a group of high-school environmental leaders to join in this expedition, as part of their Young Blake Expeditions program. I was part of the science crew along with Chris Gaskin, doing at-sea seabird surveys and teaching people about the seabirds of the region, and their importance on these remote islands. So off we went aboard the HMNZS Canterbury, northbound!
Off into the blue
I love time at sea, and the beginnings of this trip were mirror-calm perfection. Great for spotting seabirds, and as we ventured into warmer northern waters, flying fish! New seabirds begin to appear pretty quickly when you’re thrumming along on the Canterbury – Black-winged petrels and White-naped petrels were our first new faces, followed by Sooty terns and Masked boobies.
We’d spend all day sea-watching on the bow, or on the ‘monkey-deck’ above the bridge. Lots of sunscreen was required. Strategic naps were had. On the second day (after an emergency turn-around to pick up some missing parts for the helicopter, from another helicopter that flew out to meet us just past Aotea Great Barrier Island), we spotted little blips of land against the horizon as we sailed past the southern islands and stacks – L’Esperance, L’Havre, Curtis, Cheeseman, and Macauley.
One of the first things I learned on this trip was that flying squid are an actual thing that exist. That said, flying is probably not quite accurate. Gliding is perhaps better. Or, ‘falling with style’ having jet-propelled themselves out of the water (pliip!), arms with membranous wings spread wide, before vanishing again beneath the surface (sploosh!). Giselle, our trip artist, my subantarctic bud and all-round amazing illustrator/genius, was similarly impressed by the experience, which she made a neat comic about! Crazy.
Re-supply
Once we got to Raoul, the re-supply began. Teams were landed on the island by boat and helicopter, and we tucked out of the way, keeping seabird-watch on deck wherever possible. We would be aboard for the whole trip – only DoC staff and contractors were landing on the islands, while we did our work from the RHIBS (rigid-hull inflatable boats), and even managed to fit in a bit of snorkelling! Part of the expedition for the students was with Experiencing Marine Reserves (EMR) crew members Samara and Lorna, who led excursions to immerse them in the marine world around Raoul island. I was lucky enough to join them for an early ‘crew-only’ swim on the last day, which was a massive highlight for me. Swimming with a posse of friendly (sometimes too friendly) Galapagos sharks in crystal-clear waters is something I’ll never forget.
As always when you head on out into the remote ocean, you’re at the mercy of the elements. Nature has her wild side, and as well as the blissful subtropics, we also experienced the less blissful remains of a tropical cyclone. It put a halt to the resupply, and we headed back to Macauley to investigate a wreck that the helicopter team had spied as we passed on our passage north.
Nothing happened for most of the morning, because we were too busy being smashed my massive swells and howling gales. No-one was allowed outside. Still, the Canterbury is a very stable vessel, and even in this tempest there was only a bit of rocking and rolling to deal with. We spent the morning on the bridge, in awe of the waves crashing over us.
When the wildness had abated somewhat, we cruised past Macauley to investigate the wreckage. It was just a small boat – probably a dingy that had washed off a larger vessel, and it didn’t have any identifying features that we could use to trace its origin. A lot washes up on these remote islands. Giselle spent some time on Raoul as part of the weeding team, and she told me about the endless streams of plastic that wash up all over the island – fishing buoys, shoes, floats, little plastic toys. Even in these wild places, that seem so out of reach, the fingers of humanity grasp everywhere.
Macauley is a true seabird island. It is burrowed through-and-through, and the sheer density of birds flying above it as we were passing was breathtaking.
I also managed to photograph an elusive species of fish, Euleptorhamphus viridis, which is also known as the Ribbon halfbeak. It can FLY. Similarly to flying fish, it will leap out of the water and glide, but to do so it turns its tail 90º so that the dorsal and anal fins act as wings. They have been observed at the Kermadecs before (they’re mainly a tropical species), but to get a visual record of their flying behaviour is super exciting!
It was back to Raoul after that, to continue the resupply. Heading back across the open ocean, we had flocks of black-winged petrels chase us along. They’re such vocal birds, always whistling away to each other. Watching them glide along as the sun was setting felt peaceful, despite the endless roaring of the Canterbury.
Next week: surveying the Meyer Islands and more!
