The aftermath

. . . continued from yesterday . . .

Alarm went off around 6.00am. I ignored the alarm and snoozed until 6.40. I hadn't realised just how tired I was. Had some breakfast, got my gear together then drove out to the Spit where quite a few people had already gathered. I managed to make it on to one of the first buses to head out along the inner beach.

DoC had already received information from a local small plane pilot who had flown over the area and reported back that the about 40 of the whales had restranded but on a positive note, it looked like just under 20 had swum off. We kind of knew what to expect but it was still a hard sight to view. The worst part was that the ovenight high tide had swept the dead whales up to the high tide mark - reports said that over 30 had died. Such a sad sight. But the whales who had re-stranded were still alive and with our help, could survive, so that had to be our priority.

We made our way out to them, dug trenches to roll them into to get them upright then continued to douse them with water and calm them. I mentioned yesterday the speed at which the water recedes here. Well, obviously it's true in reverse too. We could see the water moving ever closer and within about an hour or so some of the whales were beginning to float a little. It felt so great to see and feel the whales begin to take ownership of their bodies again. The process for rescue however is based on knowledge of the whales behaviour - at this stage they're very disoriented, tired and confused but they still act on instinct.

As the whales nearest to the rising tide start to float more and more they become more and more able to swim. Being social animals - and most of this pod are mothers and/or calves - their instinct is to swim towards the cries of those they hear so they tend to want to try to swim back towards the beach. A major part of this aspect of the rescue was calming them and gently herding them together as a pod. As one of the earlier whales to float my whale took a lot of work to stop her swimming back to the shallower waters but eventually after about 90 minutes - and with 4 of us manoeuvering her - we had them together and all swimming.

The next stage was for all the volunteers to gently make our way (we were working in waist-chest deep water depending on height!) to the beach side of the pod, join hands and make a barrier then to gently move forwards to urge them to do the same. It worked - kind of. The whales didn't try to swim back towards the beach but they didn't really try to swim out of the shallow water either. They just hung together in the middle, splashing, nudging, wailing and squeaking. This part lasted maybe an hour and by this time lots of volunteers were getting very cold. Having made some progress though the whales were in a position where 2 boats could take over and work to herd them out to the deeper water. We all headed back to the beach - probably a kilometre or more. Back on the beach we could do nothing but sit and wait. The tide was high so the buses couldn't get along the 2m of beach that was still dry - so we were essentially stranded ourselves too! We sat and chatted, ate and shared the snacks we'd all brought and shared stories too. At this point it's worth mentioning the unbelievable human effect the stranding had too. A bunch of like minded people with a common purpose, a heap of goodwill and limited time - I met and spoke with so many people and each had their own story but Pat, a 68-year-old great grandmother who described herself as a 'crazy eccentric', sticks in my mind as a perfect example of what people can do when they want something enough. She seemed like an amazing woman.

During this 2-hour or so break I warmed myself up (how is it possible to feel so cold on a glorious, sunny, hot New Zealand summer's day?!) by taking a walk down the beach where the dead whales had washed up - a string of beautiful beasts dotting the high tide line. This image was shot on that walk.

A short while later though the tide had turned and was once again heading out rapidly. The boats had been unable to get the pod to swim out to sea. As the water dropped the boats needed people to help them. I deliberated whether I should go in again - I knew I was getting tired and I'd only just managed to get warm from the earlier coldness. I was faced with a choice: either sit on the beach and watch others do the work (the buses wouldn't be able to get here for at least another hour ormore) or put my own comforts on hold and get out there and help. I opted for the latter. It was a long walk out to them in thigh deep water but that effort was nothing compared to the effort these whales were making to surive.

The pod were pretty much together so we adopted the 'barrier' approach. They were getting agitated and pushing back towards the shallower water. We splashed and crashed and made lots of noise in an effort to scare them out to the deeper water. It had some effect but not enough. The tide receded quickly and gradually, one by one, the pod became stranded once more . . . .

And there I was - almost 24 hours later tending to a whale stranded on a shallow beach, pouring water over him, soothing and calming him and urging him to be strong, just one breath at a time, relax . . . .

I managed another hour or so of digging sand and scooping and pouring water before I decided it was time for me to let the new volunteers who had begun arriving on the buses take over. Again, it was a hard decision to leave. And again, I'm sitting here writing this, the tide is full and crashing onto the beach outside my window - and the whales will have been left to fend for themselves overnight.

Please, oh please, let their poor, tired, stressed bodies find their way to deeper water tonight.