Fish Fight

Excitement while I was away as Bird Island briefly hit the headlines thanks to the celebrity cook Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall and his Fish Fight programme.

Marine Stewardship is a very important issue and organisations like the Marine Conservation Society do excellent work in promoting sustainable fisheries. Programmes like Fish Fight bring the issue to a large audience and have the power to do a lot of good.

Unfortunately it seems that with this programme they at best failed to do any research and at worst blatantly ignored scientific evidence, preferring to go ahead with their pre-concieved ideas.

Details can be found on Ruth's blog as well as in several newspapers: Guardian, Mail.

Jerry.

The Falklands

6^th March 2013

We left South Georgia on the evening of 28^th and immediately hit rough seas, which left me lying in bed for two days feeling really ill whenever I got up. I managed a bit of movement after that, even helping in the kitchen peeling spuds, and was glad to find I wasn't the only one who had been suffering.

Arriving in the Falklands on the morning of the 4^th I found the place to once again in warm sunshine and was grateful to be able to get ashore and go for a stroll into Stanley. It was great to be able to sit on the soft grass and eat an ice cream, watching the geese, ducks, vultures as well as a Caracara and flocks of bright red Long-tailed Meadowlarks that I didn't see when here in November.

This Caracara was stood with a vulture. That flew off as I approached, leaving this one to  carry a large bone away to what it decided was a safe distance before continuing to eat the scraps off it.

I'd been given a shopping list by Craig, Hannah and Steph, mainly consisting of snacks and souvenir tat. It was a little daunting going into a shop after 4 months leaving my wallet getting dusty in a drawer but I managed to restrain myself, aided by the paucity of truly fresh produce.

Blue sky and proper grass on the walk into Stanley.

Yesterday afternoon I got a lift to the Falklands dentist, a former BAS employee who had a look at a few x-rays and had a poke about in my mouth before giving me the options: a) whip that tooth out or b) undergo complicated lengthy surgery that may not resolve the problem. The first one was what everyone was recommending and sounded the most sensible, so I agreed to go through with it. I had thought the problem was an emerging wisdom tooth but it turns out it was nerve trouble in a molar with a massive filling.

Any anxiety was increased by the dentist and the ship's doc chatting about the various extraction tools out of my line of vision, but I must say all credit to the dentist – she pulled the tooth out quickly and cleanly with minimal pain and horrible crunching noises. I think I held my breath through the entire thing and as reward for being a brave boy was given a sticker and my tooth to take home in a tooth fairy bag.

So now I'm back on the boat with a big gap in my teeth yet feeling a lot more confident about being stranded in one of the most remote places I can be for the approaching winter.

Probable Peale's Dolphins seen from the boat on the way round to Mare harbour where we went to refuel.

Jerry.

Round South Georgia

28^th Feb '13

Still on the RSS Ernest Shackleton, preparing to leave South Georgia and head to the Falklands, where I will hopefully get my tooth fixed before returning on the same boat, being dropped off back at Bird Island at last call.

The last few days have been spent travelling round some of the bays south of King Edward Point and Grytviken, seeing a few other old, rusty and collapsed whaling stations nestled at the edge of impressive wide bays with huge glaciers pouring into them from between huge, snowy peaks.

On the way there's been icebergs drifting past and bays full of smaller, broken ice chunks. Between them swim King and Gentoo Penguins, or groups of Fur Seals, grouped together and leaping clear of the water, porpoising, to travel quicker.

The reason for these travels is that the ship is supporting the South Georgia Heritage Trust in it's habitat restoration project. The main thrust of this at the moment is rodent eradication. Rats and mice were introduced by accident many years ago, when they would have been prevalent on old whaling ships. As on many other islands across the world they have been a menace, particularly to the ground-nesting seabirds – albatrosses, petrels, prions and terns - upon whose eggs and chicks they prey. The rats are mainly around the old whaling stations, with their range limited by the glaciers. But with those glaciers retreating at an increasing rate there is an urgent need to remove any rats before they can spread further.

I've spent a good deal of time up on the top deck, watching the helicopters drop off fuel, bait, supplies and camping equipment in the bays. A small team will be staying out until the onset of winter, around May, distributing the bait and checking on its effectiveness.

There are now many measures in place to prevent further introduction of non-native species – not just rats but alien flora as well. Thankfully Bird Island has never been invaded by land-based predators, hence the abundance of albatrosses and burrowing birds.

It is a similar story in the UK. Islands where I've worked; The Farnes, Skomer and Skokholm, have never been home to land-predators and the result is high numbers of burrow-nesting birds like Puffins and Manx Shearwaters. Projects like this one in South Georgia can and do work though, as islands like Ramsey and Lundy show; having recently rid themselves of rats they are experiencing an increase in ground-nesting birds.

There were bigger icebergs than this, but not many others with faces. 

Groups of Fur Seals regularly swam round the boat, porpoising to move quicker.

Chunks of ice in Fortuna Bay.

The old whaling station at Husvik.

King Edward Point and Grytviken

24^th Feb '13

I'm writing this onboard the RSS Ernest Shackleton, but I'm not sure when I'll be able to post it online. Why am I on a ship rather than working hard on Bird Island? Well, I'm off to see a dentist to sort out a bit of pain (at times a lot of pain) caused by, I think, a rogue wisdom tooth.

This kicked in about 10 days ago and Tamsin quickly put me on a course of painkillers and anti-biotics which reduced the problem, but the doctors and dentists back in the UK decided they want to get things sorted before the winter as if it starts hurting again any time between April and October the chances of getting me any outside assistance are next to nothing. At this time of year there's a few boats running so I'm on a quickish trip to the Falklands and back.

The RSS Ernest Shackleton moored up at King Edward Point.

Last Friday I was exchanged for Ian (here to do more seal work) and a load of fresh veg that had come down on the James Clark Ross. During the night we sailed round to King Edward Point, the BAS base on South Georgia mainland. There I transferred to the Ernest Shackleton, but as it didn't depart until the next day I had time to take a walk round to Grytviken, the old whaling station.

Grytviken from KEP.

Grytviken is an amazing, intriguing and creepy place, made up almost entirely of old rusting buildings in various states of collapse. Though some bits have been cleared and useful information points put in (it is one of the most popular destinations for Antarctic cruises) it still feels broken and abandoned. Which, of course, it is.

'Petrel'. We've a photo of this on our base when it was operational,  picking up staff from Bird Island in 1959.

Amid the rusting framework of buildings and moorings, whale processing plants and huge storage tanks, piles of chains and scattered whale bones there is still plenty of life – Fur Seal puppies form creches in the patches of short grass while King Penguins hang around, trying to find somewhere peaceful to moult before they can return to the sea.

Grytviken, from just outside the cemetery.

I had time to visit the museum, with it's vast array of whaling relics and stories of those who'd passed through South Georgia, most notably Shakleton on his Endurance expedition. Just outside of Grytviken, past the rough football pitch, is the small graveyard which houses the grave and unassuming headstone of the great explorer himself, alongside the modest modest dedication to his right hand man Frank Wild. Looking back across Grytviken it's difficult to imagine it as a hive of activity and the vital link in a huge industry.

That evening I enjoyed dinner on the mainland, courtesy of the KEP gang. It was nice to catch up with those I'd met in Cambridge and at conference over a huge roast dinner and glass of wine. We had plenty of stories to exchange about working with particular animals and coming to terms with south life and traditions.

The fantastic view across the bay in the evening.

Jerry Gillham.