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Duncan Murrell - A Whale of a Time

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Duncan Murrell - A Whale of a Time

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  • Skunk cabbage is the definitive plant of the damp Southeast Alaskan terrain. It's large leaves and thick stems can be found anywhere where the ground is saturated enough both inside the forest and outside. Apart from its prominent appearance its distinctive musky smell is a prevalent feature in and around the forest. The distinctive odor attracts its pollinators, scavenging flies and beetles. The plant grows from rhizomes that measure 30 cm or longer, and 2.5 to 5 cm in diameter. The leaves are the largest of any native plant in the region, 50–135 cm long and 30–80 cm wide when mature. Its flowers are produced in a spadix contained within a large, bright yellow or yellowish green spathe 30–40 cm tall; it is among the first flowers to appear in spring.While some consider the plant to be a weed, its roots are food for bears, who eat it after hibernating as a laxative or cathartic. The plant was used by indigenous people as medicine for burns and injuries, and for food in times of famine, when almost all parts were eaten.
    Alaska-vegetation23.jpg
  • Skunk cabbage is the definitive plant of the damp Southeast Alaskan terrain. It's large leaves and thick stems can be found anywhere where the ground is saturated enough both inside the forest and outside. Apart from its prominent appearance its distinctive musky smell is a prevalent feature in and around the forest. The distinctive odor attracts its pollinators, scavenging flies and beetles. The plant grows from rhizomes that measure 30 cm or longer, and 2.5 to 5 cm in diameter. The leaves are the largest of any native plant in the region, 50–135 cm long and 30–80 cm wide when mature. Its flowers are produced in a spadix contained within a large, bright yellow or yellowish green spathe 30–40 cm tall; it is among the first flowers to appear in spring.While some consider the plant to be a weed, its roots are food for bears, who eat it after hibernating as a laxative or cathartic. The plant was used by indigenous people as medicine for burns and injuries, and for food in times of famine, when almost all parts were eaten.
    Alaska-vegetation24.jpg
  • Skunk cabbage is the definitive plant of the damp Southeast Alaskan terrain. It's large leaves and thick stems can be found anywhere where the ground is saturated enough both inside the forest and outside. Apart from its prominent appearance its distinctive musky smell is a prevalent feature in and around the forest. The distinctive odor attracts its pollinators, scavenging flies and beetles. The plant grows from rhizomes that measure 30 cm or longer, and 2.5 to 5 cm in diameter. The leaves are the largest of any native plant in the region, 50–135 cm long and 30–80 cm wide when mature. Its flowers are produced in a spadix contained within a large, bright yellow or yellowish green spathe 30–40 cm tall; it is among the first flowers to appear in spring.While some consider the plant to be a weed, its roots are food for bears, who eat it after hibernating as a laxative or cathartic. The plant was used by indigenous people as medicine for burns and injuries, and for food in times of famine, when almost all parts were eaten.Streptopus amplexifolius was used as a food plant by Native Americans in Eastern North America and as a medicine. The plant was referred to by early settlers of Eastern and Western North America as "wild cucumber" and as "scoot berries" for the mildly laxative effects of the berries if they are eaten in excessive quantities.<br />
Twisted stalk or wild cucumber is one of my favourite plants in Southeast. It is a very elegant plant with its ornately arranged lanceolate leaves attached to each kink in the stem. It has delicate little ivory flowers that hang down like fairy's hats.The tender young shoots of this plant were eaten by some aboriginal peoples as a salad green, but most considered the plant and berries poisonous.The shoots are sweet with a cucumber-like flavor. The berries are juicy and sweet, with a watermelon-like flavour. The juice of the berries was used as a soothing treatment for burns by American Indians.
    Alaska-vegetation25.jpg
  • Skunk cabbage, Port Houghton, Southeast Alaska, USA.<br />
<br />
The skunk cabbage is probably the definitive understory plant of the Southeast Alaskan rain forest along with devil’s club. Its musky smell permeates the darkest, wettest corners of the forest and its giant shiny leaves seem to belong to prehistoric times.
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  • I took this photo near my first real private accommodation in Petersburg. I had gone from living in the forest next to the beach in a shelter made from skunk cabbage leaves, to a polythene shelter in the forest, to a dilapidated old house, then to the cannery bunkhouse, and then to an apartment in the old Petersburg Pilot Newspaper building on Sing Lee Alley. I shared a darkroom in the old building with another local photographer. From there I moved onto the sailboat Avalon.
    Southeast-Alaska-winter3.jpg
  • Humpback whales love to breach; of that there is no doubt. They are the champion breachers of all whales and can continue jumping for an hour or more. Sometimes they jump completely clear of the water and either fall backwards or on their sides with a resounding thud that reverberates around the surrounding mountains. It is exhilarating to watch and it always leaves you begging for more. It is the most frustrating and challenging behavior to try to photograph because you could never be sure when and where they will jump next, so there are always plenty of surprises in store. It became the holy grail of my whale photography, and more often than not I was left empty-handed, but exhilarated. On so many occasions when I was prepared for the shot they failed to jump and likewise on so many occasions when I wasn’t ready, they jumped; they always kept me guessing, and hoping.<br />
There are many possible reasons for breaching that are similar to those for lobtailing including trying to dislodge barnacles and other parasites, communicating with other whales, herding prey and as a threat display to boats that approach too closely. It could also be just for recreation as I have witnessed on many an occasion; what better way could there be for celebrating your power and size than leaping out of the water and making a whale-sized splash! They often seem to do in the morning as if going for a morning jog, and they sometimes breach in synchronization with other whales, which is often associated with cooperative herding and feeding.
    Alaska-humpback-whale-breach2.jpg
  • I particularly used to enjoy photographing the lush vegetation at Port Houghton during the extended twilight in the summer. Using a tripod I took very long exposures of more than a minute, and the results were very atmospheric. As the light slowly faded the lighter features of the scene like the pastel green shade of the leaves of the rusty menziesia, and the usnea or old man's beard dripping from the trees, appeared to become luminous and suspended in the encroaching darkness, giving a ghostly life to the stunted trees.
    Alaska-vegetation12.jpg
  • Reproductively mature male sea lions aggregate on traditional rookeries in May, usually on beaches on isolated islands. A week or so later, adult females arrive, accompanied occasionally by sexually immature offspring, and form fluid aggregations throughout the rookery. Steller sea lions are polygamous but they do not coerce individual females into harems but control spatial territories among which females freely move about. Pregnant females give birth soon after arriving on a rookery, and copulation generally occurs one to two weeks after giving birth, but the fertilized egg does not become implanted in the uterus until the autumn. After about a week of nursing, females start taking increasingly longer foraging trips, leaving the pups behind until in late summer when they both leave the rookery. Males fast until August, often without returning to the water, after which time the rookeries break up and most animals leave for the open seas and disperse throughout their range.<br />
Steller sea lions are predated upon by orcas and I actually witnessed the death of one bull that had become quite attached to me. It had been showing so much interest in me and it even raised its head out of the water right in front of me to have a good look with its bulging eyes. A short while later I heard a commotion in the distance and saw that a pod of transient orcas had arrived on the scene and were systematically charging the sea lion and thrashing it with their flukes. It was a difficult event to witness, especially whenever the big bull re-appeared on the surface gasping for breath. It took the orcas about 15 minutes to finally kill it and not long after that they were attacking some humpback whales that had strayed onto the scene. It was an exhilarating experience to be paddling my kayak so close to a pod of orcas engaged in a hunt, but they showed no interest in me. It was one of those occasions when I wished that I’d had someone else with me to witness such an amazing spectacle.
    Alaska-Steller-sealion1.jpg
  • Reproductively mature male sea lions aggregate on traditional rookeries in May, usually on beaches on isolated islands. A week or so later, adult females arrive, accompanied occasionally by sexually immature offspring, and form fluid aggregations throughout the rookery. Steller sea lions are polygamous but they do not coerce individual females into harems but control spatial territories among which females freely move about. Pregnant females give birth soon after arriving on a rookery, and copulation generally occurs one to two weeks after giving birth, but the fertilized egg does not become implanted in the uterus until the autumn. After about a week of nursing, females start taking increasingly longer foraging trips, leaving the pups behind until in late summer when they both leave the rookery. Males fast until August, often without returning to the water, after which time the rookeries break up and most animals leave for the open seas and disperse throughout their range.<br />
Steller sea lions are predated upon by orcas and I actually witnessed the death of one bull that had become quite attached to me. It had been showing so much interest in me and it even raised its head out of the water right in front of me to have a good look with its bulging eyes. A short while later I heard a commotion in the distance and saw that a pod of transient orcas had arrived on the scene and were systematically charging the sea lion and thrashing it with their flukes. It was a difficult event to witness, especially whenever the big bull re-appeared on the surface gasping for breath. It took the orcas about 15 minutes to finally kill it and not long after that they were attacking some humpback whales that had strayed onto the scene. It was an exhilarating experience to be paddling my kayak so close to a pod of orcas engaged in a hunt, but they showed no interest in me. It was one of those occasions when I wished that I’d had someone else with me to witness such an amazing spectacle.
    wildlife-3.tif
  • Reproductively mature male sea lions aggregate on traditional rookeries in May, usually on beaches on isolated islands. A week or so later, adult females arrive, accompanied occasionally by sexually immature offspring, and form fluid aggregations throughout the rookery. Steller sea lions are polygamous but they do not coerce individual females into harems but control spatial territories among which females freely move about. Pregnant females give birth soon after arriving on a rookery, and copulation generally occurs one to two weeks after giving birth, but the fertilized egg does not become implanted in the uterus until the autumn. After about a week of nursing, females start taking increasingly longer foraging trips, leaving the pups behind until in late summer when they both leave the rookery. Males fast until August, often without returning to the water, after which time the rookeries break up and most animals leave for the open seas and disperse throughout their range.<br />
Steller sea lions are predated upon by orcas and I actually witnessed the death of one bull that had become quite attached to me. It had been showing so much interest in me and it even raised its head out of the water right in front of me to have a good look with its bulging eyes. A short while later I heard a commotion in the distance and saw that a pod of transient orcas had arrived on the scene and were systematically charging the sea lion and thrashing it with their flukes. It was a difficult event to witness, especially whenever the big bull re-appeared on the surface gasping for breath. It took the orcas about 15 minutes to finally kill it and not long after that they were attacking some humpback whales that had strayed onto the scene. It was an exhilarating experience to be paddling my kayak so close to a pod of orcas engaged in a hunt, but they showed no interest in me. It was one of those occasions when I wished that I’d had someone else with me to witness such an amazing spectacle.
    Alaska-Steller-sealion2.jpg
  • I gave up on trying to find my paddle, and tried to find a quiet stretch of beach to make camp; I wasn’t really in the mood for attracting a big audience that evening. But as I was racing through the surf towards the beach I saw some people pouring out of the trees and racing towards me, and they eagerly helped to drag my kayak away from the surf. Looking along the beach I could see a line of huts set back from the beach, and there were more people swarming towards me! Greetings ensued and then I started collecting firewood. I assembled a big pile of wood to be fed to the fire gradually whilst cooking my dinner and when I turned around I was horrified to see that they had set the whole pile ablaze; it was party time and the occasion called for a blazing bonfire to celebrate my arrival. It was time to chill out, so I relinquished any prospect of dinner and a quiet evening, and joined the party. I made tea and tried to find as many drinking containers as possible. Darkness settled and the crackling fire illuminated the circus of animated laughing faces around me. My phrasebook once again became the centre of attention and everyone wanted to have a go at trying to speak some English. The trials and tribulations of the day were soon forgotten amidst the laughter.<br />
I camped near the village for a couple of days, doing more repairs and trying to heal my sores. I continued to be the centre of attention of the village, and many people stopped by to observe the strange piece of flotsam that had washed up on their beach. The apparent village leader milked me as frequently as possible for new English phrases. His big opportunity came when it was time for me to leave, and he put his newly learnt expressions into practice by giving a running commentary on my departure - “Duncan Murrell is leaving today and the sun is shining, it is not cloudy, he had a good time here” – all perfectly enunciated like David Attenborough describing the actions of a wild animal.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey17.jpg
  • The sphagnum moss is so thick in places in the muskeg, and often beautiful shades of red and pink. Walking on it is like walking on snow because you leave such deep footprints as it springs beneath your feet. I didn't like to leave too many ugly footprints in such a pristine miniaturised environment of dwarf plants. The muskeg always invites closer inspection to discover the variety of berry-producing plants at ground level.
    Alaska-vegetation18.jpg
  • I gave up on trying to find my paddle, and tried to find a quiet stretch of beach to make camp; I wasn’t really in the mood for attracting a big audience that evening. But as I was racing through the surf towards the beach I saw some people pouring out of the trees and racing towards me, and they eagerly helped to drag my kayak away from the surf. Looking along the beach I could see a line of huts set back from the beach, and there were more people swarming towards me! Greetings ensued and then I started collecting firewood. I assembled a big pile of wood to be fed to the fire gradually whilst cooking my dinner and when I turned around I was horrified to see that they had set the whole pile ablaze; it was party time and the occasion called for a blazing bonfire to celebrate my arrival. It was time to chill out, so I relinquished any prospect of dinner and a quiet evening, and joined the party. I made tea and tried to find as many drinking containers as possible. Darkness settled and the crackling fire illuminated the circus of animated laughing faces around me. My phrasebook once again became the centre of attention and everyone wanted to have a go at trying to speak some English. The trials and tribulations of the day were soon forgotten amidst the laughter.<br />
I camped near the village for a couple of days, doing more repairs and trying to heal my sores. I continued to be the centre of attention of the village, and many people stopped by to observe the strange piece of flotsam that had washed up on their beach. The apparent village leader milked me as frequently as possible for new English phrases. His big opportunity came when it was time for me to leave, and he put his newly learnt expressions into practice by giving a running commentary on my departure - “Duncan Murrell is leaving today and the sun is shining, it is not cloudy, he had a good time here” – all perfectly enunciated like David Attenborough describing the actions of a wild animal.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey16.jpg
  • The sphagnum moss is so thick in places in the muskeg, and often beautiful shades of red and pink. Walking on it is like walking on snow because you leave such deep footprints as it springs beneath your feet. I didn't like to leave too many ugly footprints in such a pristine miniaturised environment of dwarf plants. The muskeg always invites closer inspection to discover the variety of berry-producing plants at ground level.
    Alaska-vegetation19.jpg
  • It was hard to tell from my nautical chart exactly where I could expect to find protection from offshore coral reefs. There appeared to be stretches where I would have to take my chances and run the gauntlet on the open sea and then hope to find a way of getting back inside the next stretch of protective coral reef. Sometimes they abutted right up to the shore or there were too many breakers to negotiate. It was a constant maze that I had to negotiate and make the best choices for. I stopped at a village called Vinanivao to see if I could pick up some of the usual provisions like baguettes, biscuits, onions, tomatoes and bananas. I limped through the hot streets dragging my bloated foot beside me and having to seek out the shade because the hot sand was scorching my feet. It wasn’t just the sand and my bad leg that made me feel uncomfortable, as the locals only stared at me as if I was an alien invader. It was the first remote village that I had passed through where I didn’t feel completely welcome. Sitting down was always a great relief now, even if I still had to keep moving my foot around to find the least uncomfortable position. By contrast, the next village that I passed afforded me a memorable welcome even if I decided to stay in my kayak. I skirted the beach and was spotted by a group of young boys frolicking in the water. They came rushing over to me and started clowning around, plunging, splashing, wrestling and plenty of funny faces. I could have spent the day with those little clowns enjoying their simple life but my bad foot meant that I had to keep pressing on to reach a doctor. Sometimes the pain was so unbearable that I had to lay on my side and recite a rhyme until the pain abated. But eventually the sore on the back of my ankle burst open and erupted its suppurating contents, leaving a gaping hole, but at least the pressure and some of the pain was relieved.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey42.jpg
  • It was hard to tell from my nautical chart exactly where I could expect to find protection from offshore coral reefs. There appeared to be stretches where I would have to take my chances and run the gauntlet on the open sea and then hope to find a way of getting back inside the next stretch of protective coral reef. Sometimes they abutted right up to the shore or there were too many breakers to negotiate. It was a constant maze that I had to negotiate and make the best choices for. I stopped at a village called Vinanivao to see if I could pick up some of the usual provisions like baguettes, biscuits, onions, tomatoes and bananas. I limped through the hot streets dragging my bloated foot beside me and having to seek out the shade because the hot sand was scorching my feet. It wasn’t just the sand and my bad leg that made me feel uncomfortable, as the locals only stared at me as if I was an alien invader. It was the first remote village that I had passed through where I didn’t feel completely welcome. Sitting down was always a great relief now, even if I still had to keep moving my foot around to find the least uncomfortable position. By contrast, the next village that I passed afforded me a memorable welcome even if I decided to stay in my kayak. I skirted the beach and was spotted by a group of young boys frolicking in the water. They came rushing over to me and started clowning around, plunging, splashing, wrestling and plenty of funny faces. I could have spent the day with those little clowns enjoying their simple life but my bad foot meant that I had to keep pressing on to reach a doctor. Sometimes the pain was so unbearable that I had to lay on my side and recite a rhyme until the pain abated. But eventually the sore on the back of my ankle burst open and erupted its suppurating contents, leaving a gaping hole, but at least the pressure and some of the pain was relieved.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey43.jpg
  • What an auspicious start to my trip! I had already made one false start leaving too late in the day and having to head back to the relative shelter of Tamatave. The next day I paddled 20 miles along the completely featureless coastline, and all I saw was a continuous, steep beach, with the big swells of the Indian Ocean crashing down onto it. I couldn’t see any ideal places for making a safe landing so I had to just go for it, come what may. I monitored the sequence of waves and made a dash for it at what seemed the safest point. I managed to get through the surf but as soon as I hit the beach and jumped out of the kayak the next wave broke into the cockpit and the powerful undertow started to drag my heavy flooded kayak back out to sea. The alarm bells were already clanging away inside my head, along with the thought, “Here’s another fine mess I’ve got myself into!”<br />
I instinctively started grabbing bags out of the kayak and hurling them up onto the beach while either my feet or knees were desperately anchoring into the abrasive shingle, but I was still being dragged around mercilessly by my unruly kayak. I looked down along the endless beach and saw two diminutive figures so I started hollering for help. As they got nearer my heart sank because I could see that it was a young girl with a child. They could only grab my things that were floating away in the relentless surf but then miraculously a strong young man appeared on the scene, and jumped into the sea to help me wrestle with my half-submerged kayak. The kayak was a dead weight in the water so I decided to start dismantling the cockpit coaming so that some of the water could be drained from the cockpit. It worked, and after much heaving we managed to drag it up the beach away from the surf; we both collapsed on the shore, utterly exhausted and chilled by the cold water. I was eternally grateful for the providential arrival of that young man on that deserted stretch of coastline.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey1.jpg
  • I always pitched my tent back in the forest where it was sheltered, and there was a thick bed of moss on the forest floor giving me a very comfortable bed. I was always beach-combing looking for either natural treasures like skulls, or flotsam and jetsam that I could use in my camp. One of those items, the yellow bottle crate, accompanied me on many journeys and was useful as a stool and for carrying things. I found the bench back in the forest not far from here. Next to the fire is an old pressure-cooker that I found in the Salvation Army charity shop in Petersburg, and it was an essential part of my cooking gear. I stripped down so it was just metal, and it had a lid that closed and locked rotationally, so I could leave it in the fire without fear of it tipping over. It was solid stainless steel with a copper bottom, so it could take a lot of heat without burning the feed ...too much. Sometimes I had my campfire on the other side of the beach depending on which way the wind was blowing from. It was a great beach for firewood because there was always plenty of driftwood washed up around the point.
    Alaska-camping-kayaking12.jpg
  • After leaving Antanambe I faced a 15 mile paddle across a stretch of unprotected ocean, with the biggest ocean swells that I had encountered. The waves generated by the steadily increasing wind were really daunting, especially as sometimes they seemed to be coming from two different directions. My kayak is very stable, but the deck was leaking quite a lot, so I had to keep stopping to pump the water out, and at the same time stop the kayak from being swung around broadside to the oncoming waves, which would have risked getting swamped and capsizing. Unfortunately the prevailing wind was from the SE, and because of my required course to get to the islands the waves were approaching too close to my beam.<br />
To counter this I had to keep tacking and trying to head to the east of the outer island to compensate for any drift. I also had to avoid running directly with the waves because they were so big that they would have washed over my stern or slewed me broadside to the wave, and an inevitable capsize! I had to maintain my concentration to keep the waves on the quarter. As I got closer to the islands I could see the massive breakers smashing onto the rocks; it was one of the most unnerving situations that I have ever been in. I was level with the closest island in the group and rather than trying to run with the waves I decided to go in reverse. The safest angle for any boat to handle big seas is to head into the swells and ride up over them; you offer the least resistance and can maintain the best possible control of your craft. I was allowing the oncoming waves to drive me backwards to where I wanted to go. My heart raced every time a monster wave bore down on me and I rode up and over it. It took a long time but I had no choice. When I was close enough, I could see a break in the coral reef protecting the islands, and I turned my stern into the waves, and surfed towards safety whilst glancing over my shoulder to brace my kayak with my paddle for each surging wave.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey24.jpg
  • After leaving Antanambe I faced a 15 mile paddle across a stretch of unprotected ocean, with the biggest ocean swells that I had encountered. The waves generated by the steadily increasing wind were really daunting, especially as sometimes they seemed to be coming from two different directions. My kayak is very stable, but the deck was leaking quite a lot, so I had to keep stopping to pump the water out, and at the same time stop the kayak from being swung around broadside to the oncoming waves, which would have risked getting swamped and capsizing. Unfortunately the prevailing wind was from the SE, and because of my required course to get to the islands the waves were approaching too close to my beam.<br />
To counter this I had to keep tacking and trying to head to the east of the outer island to compensate for any drift. I also had to avoid running directly with the waves because they were so big that they would have washed over my stern or slewed me broadside to the wave, and an inevitable capsize! I had to maintain my concentration to keep the waves on the quarter. As I got closer to the islands I could see the massive breakers smashing onto the rocks; it was one of the most unnerving situations that I have ever been in. I was level with the closest island in the group and rather than trying to run with the waves I decided to go in reverse. The safest angle for any boat to handle big seas is to head into the swells and ride up over them; you offer the least resistance and can maintain the best possible control of your craft. I was allowing the oncoming waves to drive me backwards to where I wanted to go. My heart raced every time a monster wave bore down on me and I rode up and over it. It took a long time but I had no choice. When I was close enough, I could see a break in the coral reef protecting the islands, and I turned my stern into the waves, and surfed towards safety whilst glancing over my shoulder to brace my kayak with my paddle for each surging wave.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey25.jpg
  • Cape Fanshawe was always one of my first anchorages after leaving Petersburg, either in one of my boats, Avalon and subsequently Selena, or in my kayak. It’s on the mainland and at the entrance to my favourite place for vegetation in Southeast Alaska, Port Houghton. Although there are some safe anchorages in amongst the small islands there, and there used to be a fur farm situated there, the actual cape is very exposed to the full power of the elements as can be seen by the way these rocks on the shore have been sculpted; they have been sculpted like waves and are extremely slippery to walk on.<br />
I always remember being trapped there in my kayak late in the summer because the sea conditions were so rough. I was trying to get back to Petersburg at the end of a trip, and when the weather eventually cleared for a while, I had to make a dash for town and paddled continuously for 14 hours to make it back there. I had nearly been out of food, and to add to my torment my tent was being constantly bombarded with cones by a very petulant and territorial squirrel: it developed into squirrel wars!
    Southeast-Alaska-coast12.jpg
  • This is the same place where I was charged by a brown bear catching salmon like this one. I was photographing it and suddenly it started charging towards me. I was still looking at it through the viewfinder until I realised that it was starting to fill the  screen, and that in fact it wasn't actually chasing fish anymore but charging me! I lowered my camera and my first instinct was to stand firm and tall, point at it in a commanding manner, and shout as loud as I could " go back!", which it duly obliged in doing. It screeched to a halt, snarled at me, and then swung around and ran away into the high grass, leaving me frozen to the spot with my heart in my mouth, my eyes and mouth wide-open and trembling from head to foot.
    Southeast-Alaska-Avalon23.jpg
  • Wave-cut platform at Cape Fanshawe, on the mainland, Southeast Alaska, USA.<br />
<br />
Cape Fanshawe was always one of my first anchorages after leaving Petersburg, either in one of my boats, Avalon and subsequently Selena, or in my kayak. It’s on the mainland and at the entrance to my favourite place for vegetation in Southeast Alaska, Port Houghton. Although there are some safe anchorages in amongst the small islands there, and there used to be a fur farm situated there, the actual cape is very exposed to the full power of the elements as can be seen by the way these rocks on the shore have been sculpted; they have been sculpted like waves and are extremely slippery to walk on.<br />
I always remember being trapped there in my kayak late in the summer because the sea conditions were so rough. I was trying to get back to Petersburg at the end of a trip, and when the weather eventually cleared for a while, I had to make a dash for town and paddled continuously for 18 hours to make it back there. I had nearly been out of food, and to add to my torment my tent was being constantly bombarded with cones by a very petulant and territorial squirrel; it developed into squirrel wars!
    coast-3.tif
  • The blows of the whales added another beautiful ephemeral dimension to observing and photographing them, although the fishy stench is so obnoxious, and I always tried to avoid any physical contact with their smelly breath that could leave an oily film on my lens.  It was always very challenging, trying to capture the refraction in the breath because it is so ephemeral.
    Alaska-humpback-whale-blowing1.jpg
  • This was one of the most incredible experiences of my life. It was a beautiful day that started well when I encountered a group of playful sea lions. They were inquisitive as always and hung around for quite a while. Most of them eventually swam away but one very inquisitive big bull remained with me for a while. It circled me and dived down beneath my kayak so that it could look up at me: then suddenly it erupted out of the sea right in front of the bow of my kayak, and there was the sudden jolt of eye-contact with his big bulging wild eyes that penetrated deep within my primal being. He then swam away and I continued paddling out to the middle of Seymour Canal. Then suddenly I heard a commotion in the distance, and when my eyes homed in on the source I saw the tell-tale dorsal fins of orcas, and then to my dismay I saw my friend on the surface near them: he was being attacked! I frantically paddled out towards the developing melee and wondered what I should do, and even contemplated trying to rescue him. But of course nature had to run its course, and I had to be grateful that I had a ringside seat for such a dramatic wild spectacle, as the orcas continued to ram the sea lion at high speed: I could see an orca cutting a confused furrow of water before colliding with its quarry in a big explosion of spray. The sea lion then reappeared at the surface gasping for breath, which tugged at my heart strings so much that I wanted to intervene, but there was a hungry family of predators that had to eat. Eventually it failed to resurface and it was all over...... but it wasn't because a pod of humpbacks happened to stumble onto the killing stage and they too were attacked by the orcas. I paddled right alongside the conflict and observed the whales rolling onto their sides and flailing their flippers to try to thwart their attackers. The orcas eventually gave up and disappeared along with the whales leaving me all alone highly charged and shaking with adrenaline.
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  • It was hard to tell from my nautical chart exactly where I could expect to find protection from offshore coral reefs. There appeared to be stretches where I would have to take my chances and run the gauntlet on the open sea and then hope to find a way of getting back inside the next stretch of protective coral reef. Sometimes they abutted right up to the shore or there were too many breakers to negotiate. It was a constant maze that I had to negotiate and make the best choices for. I stopped at a village called Vinanivao to see if I could pick up some of the usual provisions like baguettes, biscuits, onions, tomatoes and bananas. I limped through the hot streets dragging my bloated foot beside me and having to seek out the shade because the hot sand was scorching my feet. It wasn’t just the sand and my bad leg that made me feel uncomfortable, as the locals only stared at me as if I was an alien invader. It was the first remote village that I had passed through where I didn’t feel completely welcome. Sitting down was always a great relief now, even if I still had to keep moving my foot around to find the least uncomfortable position. By contrast, the next village that I passed afforded me a memorable welcome even if I decided to stay in my kayak. I skirted the beach and was spotted by a group of young boys frolicking in the water. They came rushing over to me and started clowning around, plunging, splashing, wrestling and plenty of funny faces. I could have spent the day with those little clowns enjoying their simple life but my bad foot meant that I had to keep pressing on to reach a doctor. Sometimes the pain was so unbearable that I had to lay on my side and recite a rhyme until the pain abated. But eventually the sore on the back of my ankle burst open and erupted its suppurating contents, leaving a gaping hole, but at least the pressure and some of the pain was relieved.
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  • When I was in La Paz with the American kayaker, Corrie, we met an American guide who worked for the main commercial kayaking tour company in La Paz and he invited us to stay at their place while we there. I later arranged to meet up with him and one of his tour groups when I headed north back to Loreto. Shortly after meeting up with them at their camp I heard an animal crying out in the desert not far away from us so I ran in the direction of the cries and surprised a coyote attacking this mule deer fawn; It had its jaws clamped onto the fawn's back as you can see from the wound on its back. The startled coyote ran away leaving the wounded fawn behind. The Mexican support boat operator in the photo, who was accompanying the kayaking group, kindly offered to take the fawn back to La Paz to see if it could be saved.
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