Jonah, Bobby, Lucky & Grace

Today began with a somewhat resigned early rise. The holidays are effectively over and I'm back at work today. It's fair to say, I wasn't run off my feet during re-enrolment today. Things were very slow!

I'd been at school since 9.00am, seen about half a dozen students, gone out for lunch and was surfing the internet waiting for my next 'client' when the headline jumped off the page at me: "Whale stranding off Farewell Spit". Funnily enough, it was only in the past couple of days that someone had asked me whether I was in Golden Bay when whales had stranded earlier this summer . . . ? Strange that there should be a stranding today then.

I made a promise a long time ago that if there was ever an opportunity to help out in such a situation I'd drop what I was doing and race over here. This region of Golden Bay is notorious for whale strandings and this is the 3rd one this summer. Any other time I've heard about a stranding it's been too late to be able to come over to be of use - but today was different. I saw the headline a little before 2.00pm. My internal dialogue immediatley had me questioning my work ethic, my professionalism, my priorities, my commitment, but I'm so pleased to say that the other little voice inside me reminded me of the commitment I made to myself last year to cut certain words from my vocabulary (can't, should, but). I raced home, called up to see if a cabin was available at Pakawau - yes - called DoC (Department of Conservation - they're co-ordinating the rescue) for an update, was told they needed help - wear a wetsuit - sunblock - bring food and water. I threw things into my bag, (prayed my wetsuit still fitted me despite it not seeing the light of day for about 4 years), grabbed some munchy food and left. By a little before 5.00 I was sitting on a bus with about 20 other people being driven 6kms up the inner beach of Farewell Spit . . . . .

The next 4 hours flew by in a whirl. 97 pilot whales. 24 or so apparenlty dead already (they were tagged with red ribbons round their tails.) They seemed to range in size from a tiny wee one about 1.5 metres to much, much larger ones, maybe 4 to 5 metres long. Most were covered in sheets to hold the moisture. As we approached we could hear their cries and their gasps as they breathed through their blow holes. Occasionally one would writhe vigorously, groan and wail, slap his tail on the sand. They were truly heart rending sounds. The whales were spread over an area about the size of half a football pitch so were relativley close together. Our briefing told us how to tend to the whales - keep them wet, pour water over them but don't pour water over their blow holes, don't step over or get too close to their tails - it could do serious damage if you were struck by one. I moved to a whale who seemed to be flanked on 3 sides by dead whales. I called her Grace (though she could have been a boy). Grace seemed like a good name no matter the gender. The whale next along from me was being tended by a young Czech woman here with her family on holiday. She called hers Lucky. Another smaller one close by was being tended by a mum and her 2 daughters. They told me his name was Bobby. I talked to Grace, soothed her, wet her and encouraged her. She seemed to respond. This went on for almost 3 hours.

The tide rises swiftly in the bay bacause of the gentle gradient. The rising tide still seemed too far away though when one of the DoC leaders told us the buses would be leaving soon and we'd need to be on one. They couldn't risk getting the buses and the recuers stranded too. I managed to hang on to be one of the last to leave. I wished Grace well, told her to take things just one breath at a time, relax, let the water help, as it will in time. I told her I wanted her to be gone when I returned tomorrow. It was hard leaving.

As I sit here now in my cabin, the tide full and crashing noisily only metres away from my window, I want only that Grace, Lucky, wee Bobby and the rest of the pod are all swimming freely in the deeper, safer water of the bay.

I'll find out tomorrow morning when I head back out there.