Mass Stranding of 99 Pilot Whales #2

During the three days of the whale stranding, I have experienced every emotion at every degree. Writing about it now that I am placid and well rested seems strange.

Day One:
Monday brings a mid morning drive on a beautiful summers day, from Collingwood to Takaka. As I head into town I notice the high tide lapping below the road but it was different, a spring tide perhaps. A strange feeling came over me as I drove, could it be a day with optimum conditions for a whale stranding? As I winded along the road I thought to myself how interesting it was that I had got back into a lifestyle of adrenaline. In the sense, if there were to be another stranding this summer, it would be a rush to pack and head back to the Spit. In the meantime, I enjoyed the lush winding road.


When I heard there was another whale stranding, I was surprisingly calm. This could be due to the fact that we have already been to one, we were prepared, and I thought I knew what to expect. An important note to make is that we only caught the end of the previous stranding. Regardless of what I thought I knew, and what I thought I was prepared for, this was to become a lesson in human behavior.

Discussions about our film and whales stranding with a local...goosebumps...it was happening!

At approximately noon I received several txt messages in Takaka, now this area has appalling reception despite being the main town. Stranding...apparently? From Sara at first, I thought how come I have not received a txt or phone call from Project Jonah...arrgghh reception! Right, I missioned out of the supermarket and was trying to co-ordinate what was going on before driving. This proved very frustrating thus I drove! It was quite amusing really, being this close to the action and being one of the last to know.

We packed the car with our cameras, wetsuits, and confidence. Soon we arrived at Farewell Spit, the notorious location for whale strandings.

We hit the Spit, wetsuits on, cameras cued - ready to rock! The head of the DOC team said: “oh you don't need wetsuits, YET!”, after wiggling our way into them we weren't taking them off! In the end, we were happy to have them half on, we got very wet and this isolated place generally has wind.

We stepped onto a bus that could drive us to the end of the Spit, where the whales were stranded. The bus was full of volunteers that gave up their day to take on the extraordinary effort of rescuing whales.

A 7km ride on the sand highway bought us to tails and whales everywhere, 99 was the figure, what a sight.

We reached the location with our cameras ready to go. For ourselves, however, it took a minute to take in the scene. I stood there, trying to convince myself that this was reality. My brain, on the other hand, was telling me that this is an anomaly since all I have told it is that whales swim in the water. To see a whale, or in this case 99 whales, laying on the beach, just doesn't seem right. By this time, the other volunteers from the bus rushed over to the whales. We started filming.

I positioned myself in the middle of the tragedy. There seemed to be so much going on, I had the feeling of not knowing where to start, so the middle seemed like a good place. I took a few shots, then turned around to check out what was happening behind me. Just then, a whale thrashed itself upward, vomiting. That was the last time I was shocked at the sights I saw those few days. I had moments of uncertainty of the ethics involved. These were quickly diminished because I knew our film will show what people are capable of, and in this case, it is for something honorable.

It was a question that was tossed back and forth: would we help the whales as well, or step back as sole filmmakers. Since we only had one camera between us (besides our go pro), that answered that question. After some time, I handed the camera over to Vanessa, then started helping.

There seemed to be a shortage of people until after 5, maybe they had work or didn't hear until then. But each whale that was still alive was receiving first aid. We filmed and helped. Rotating our duties.

So exactly what is happening? Right now the whales are stuck on land until high tide comes in, which then, hopefully, they can be pushed back into the sea, living happily ever after. Until then, we have to keep them cool from the sun. To do this, sheets are wrapped around their body and the volunteers fill buckets of water to pour on them.

I grabbed a bucket, filled it with water, and started pouring it over the whales. I'm not going to lie, I was a bit nervous to be that close to a whale. It was close enough to see their individual markings that look like paint chipping off steal. It was close enough to see their bloodshot eyes, from what, we could only guess. And it was close enough to smell their putrid odor as they shot a breath out of their blowhole. As I was standing as far from the whale as I could, while still being able to pour the water on her, Vanessa commented how the whale was being very responsive, and would look at me as I helped her. She asked if I touched one yet. I hadn't. I bent down, and set my hand against the skin of the whale as she looked at me. It made me recall an oversized bouncy ball that I won from a fair. That night, we had played with the ball in the living room. My sister accidentally punctured the ball with her nail. It deflated and was put in the trash the next morning. I'm sure these whales are just as fragile.


Perhaps it was the sheer mass of whales or the baby ones that pulled on the heartstrings a bit more. We made sure we got plenty of insurance shots and creative ones. The baby whales were so vocal and active. I found it worthwhile to stop every now and then, to just walk away from it all to take it  in. Also this was a great angle for wide shots, even squelched up the sand dunes for a different perspective. Sara and I were working very well as a film crew and whale medic team. I could sense Sara was a bit nervous at first as to how close to get to the whales. That prompted many questions for me, I wonder if they actually liked us touching, rolling and talking to them. I guess that question will never be answered as such. So Sara and I sang to them, it was as much for the whales as it was for keeping our spirits up too, Andrew Lloyd Webber would have been proud.

There were many children helping, buckets and sheets lying everywhere. The water we were scooping up was rank to say the least, it was draining down the beach past sick and dead whales pooling in the dug out holes, ready for use I wondered if the whales could sense the death around them, even through the water. I thought about whale transmitted diseases into the cuts I had acquired that day. I also thought what a weird thing it was that humans now helped whales after all those years of slaughter in this country, until relatively recently.

If the whales are on their side, they have to be pushed upright. We did this by digging away some sand on the side we were pushing toward. Then with as many people as we could fit along the body of the whale, we pushed, and pushed, until the creature was upright. Sand bags were placed on our side to keep the whale from slipping back down. I helped push a couple whales upright. I put in all the force I could manage, but we might as well been pushing against a rubbery wall.  More people were called in to help, and the whales miraculously moved. I filmed a few men that walked around and pushed each whale who was on their side to the right position. They walked as men with a mission, with unspeakable power and stamina.

The day went on like this, half filming, half helping. High tide wasn't coming in till 11 that night. Night time rescuing can be a little dangerous so everyone had to be off the beach by 8pm. The whales were left to their own fates. There was hope that once high tide came in, they would orient themselves, and swim off.

Time flew by and as the blistering sun did just that to the whales skin we found the day was drawing to a close. Many had died, some quietly, some with vigour trying to move on the beach, some vomiting. The whale I seemed to spend most of the time with was the only one facing the correct way, we aptly named him/her “Pilot” of the Pilot whales. The local iwi did their blessings shy of the camera. The beach was closed at 8pm just as the light was golden we got a few shots and they allowed us to leave last, DOC are amazing. The high tide was 11pm there was hope that they might reorientate and float themselves off the beach that night.

We went home physically and mentally exhausted. You think we would just crash and fall right to sleep. That didn't happen. As I twisted around the bed, I could hear Vanessa tossing as well.

Day 2:
7:30am we received a text from Project Jonah that the whales had restranded.

The morning revealed the whales had restranded. The numbers are a blur but some had died and others were still hanging on.

Our morning copied that of the day before. But now we had a late morning high tide to look forward to. It would be another chance to push the whales back to sea. I had a wetsuit on, and a splash bag for the camera. We were ready to go. Optimism hovered in the air. Everything seemed to happen very quickly. The tide came in, and volunteers directed the whales out.

Refloat time again, which was at the next high tide about 11am. All I remember was how quick the tide came in. There was lots of yelling and pushing of whales. There was a human chain formed that was like a semi-circle trying to force the whales out to deeper water.

The volunteers stood with their chins up, their pride seeping into the water, pleased with the work they had done. 

Hooorah! Well at least a small one they were swimming off though erratically. Most people were cold including myself, the wind was noticeable, and we were chest height. Standing like a bunch of wizards “you shall not pass!” If only that magic was accessible.

Eventually, we were called to come back to shore.

Just as all looked well, we returned to the beach for some food, battery change, and a breather.

The situation was now left to the two boats herding the whales to deeper water. No matter how much they tried, the whales were not swimming farther out. And just as the tide rapidly came in, it also rapidly flowed out, leaving the whales behind.

Suddenly, that high tide disappeared and then they restranded right infront of us.

We ran over to start first aid once more.

Back to the first aid. Panic/politics and whale stranding all at once, thank god new volunteers turned up we jumped at our chance to exit.

I was with a very stressed juvenile whale that calmed down once we moved her next to an adult. I wasn't sure if I could go through another round of this again. Soon, a bus full of fresh volunteers were dropped off. A woman came up to me and asked if I needed to be relieved. "YES," I said.

The afternoon passed as we cleaned and recharged camera batteries and our own too. Night fell.

We left the beach still trying to hold onto the diminishing sense of optimism left hanging in the air.

Day 3:
7:30am text message whales have again restranded.

07:30 restrand more dead, some still alive?

It felt as if I was in the movie Groundhog Day with everything once again repeating itself. However, this time, optimism was replaced with stress and fatigue.

Deja vu, we refloat the 30 odd whales.

The high tide once more surged in.  The whales were again pushed out, and the human chain formed. This time though, everything seemed to move a bit slower, and we stayed in the water with the whales longer, inching them away. We soon hit a point where we couldn't touch the sea floor. I managed a doggie paddle, while holding the camera. I saw Vanessa popping in and out with her snorkel, getting underwater shots with the go pro camera.

Swimming in deep water this time. In one sense, I was in my element and just loving it, but then these creatures were unwell so sad at the same time. I had my mask and an extra wetsuit layer on. The water was silver on the surface, calm and clear great for shooting. Once the whales were way out past the low tide level, we were in water over our heads. Fatigue was kicking in for me after about 6 hours being in the water. My need for food was very strong. I had already swam/jogged back to the beach to renew one camera battery. Just as Sara and I were about to head back to the beach, we were told we could all get towed back by one of the boats. This was nothing new to me except the boat was small and slow, plus a lot of people attached. This became quite tiresome to hold on to

Change, we were towed back out to sea as whales were coming back in. I know my limits and I was pretty close. There were many people in the water whom were older and considerably less comfortable and fit, I wondered how they were managing. The whales were moving freely. Most people were running on empty. A small group of us stuck together. I found it amazing that we were all just left out there, who knows how many were in or got out. I struggled with this concept for a while, as I was used to doing head counts, however, it was not my responsibility. DOC provided a lift and food on the beach. We took the bus back to our car. The whales were given the best chance possible that was all we could do.

The pod seemed to be making progress. We went home, absentmindedly cleaned our gear, and went to bed.

Day 4:
The whales had restraned, and were euthanized.

The next day the news notified us of the euthanasia. 82 in total that week had perished, 17 made it. The digger had a busy job dragging them up the beach. A few autopsies could shed some light on this event.  It was only later on that we found out that of those 17 survivors, none were from the previous days efforts.

This may seem like a sad story, and for those whales it is. Not every stranding ends this way. The volunteers did what they could, and they will do what they can for the next one. That is all we are able to manage.

Reflecting upon this week, at what point is it about the humans and not the whales? Rest.