Beluga Monitoring on a Sunday Morning in May

The excavator’s clamshell bucket grabs the glacial till from the seabed, piling the grey slurry on an adjacent barge, stopping only as a tug comes along side.  Two tugs leave the dock to intercept the inbound Alaska Marine Lines ocean-going tug and barge. Mid-channel, the ocean going tug surrenders its tow and the harbor tags coax the barge sideways towards the AML wharf.  Off in the north part of the harbor, two muck barges pushed by tugs move about.  Atop the cargo containers on the AML barge, I see a great deal of construction equipment, tanker trucks, passenger buses and small boats.  The heavy equipment no doubt will support the unfolding Alaska construction season.  As the saying goes, we have two seasons in Alaska, “winter” and “construction.”  The buses and boats support the summer tourist and recreation activities. Cargo containers roll off the TOTE ship and the adjacent Matson containerized cargo vessel berthed in the port.  A steady stream of trucks carries these containers out of the Port of Anchorage up C Street.  A train whistle sounds as if to remind us that it carries cargo as well.  An occassional small aircraft buzzes overhead crossing Knik Arm, inbound to or outboand from from Merrill Field.  

 A bit after 10 am on an overcast Sunday morning in May the Port of Anchorage is abuzz with activity.  The time of day does not dictate the level of activity, that is left to the rising high tide.  As the tide falls the activity level will moderate as the vessels in Port become landlocked by the tidal flats that expose at lowest tide. Three weeks ago, the waterway was covered in pack ice and there was little activity.  Today, only a few pieces of relict floating ice lingers, entrained in the tidal currents. The boat ramp floats have not been installed, but a few small boats have already trailer launched from near the peak of the tide when the water level approaches the top of the ramp.

I observe the maritime choreography from the vantage point a park bench of the north jetty of the boat ramp.    I note movement and times the vessels on my log sheet and scribble other details in my Field Notes.  Today, as part of the Alaska Beluga Monitoring Project, I am observing the area for signs of the Cook Inlet beluga as they slowly return to the upper Inlet.  I wonder what if any, if any, all this activity might have on the presence or absence of beluga.  Last fall, while at this same location, I observed the beluga feeding around the mouth of Ship Creek.  They seemed unaffected by the Port activity, but most of the times I saw beluga there was less activity.

In the last few days, my fellow AKBMP volunteer observers have seen beluga along Turnagain Arm, but I have yet to see any in Knik Arm.  The day before, the Protected Species Observers hired to monitor marine mammal activity during Port construction, reported seeing a few around Port McKenzie on the far shore of Knik Arm.  That area is just beyond my scanning zone.  The PSO’s in their elevated Hilton-like covered observation post atop a conex box on the ramp’s south jetty have much more high tech equiment including high powered optics than do I from the park bench.

The 10 power binoculars, inherited from my grandfather 40 years ago, and my Fujifilm digital camera provide more than adequate resolution and detail for the monitoring I do in the area immediately adjacent to the mouth of Ship Creek and the Port of Anchorage.  The PSOs have their schedule (they are absent this morning) dictated construction activity, mine depends on the time of the rising and falling tide.  Today, the time is from 0839 to 1039, with the tide forecast to peak at 1139.  As Geoffrey Chaucer wrote “time and tide wait for no man.”  It would seem this day neither do the beluga.

Beluga Field Notes--Returning to Ship Creek

 

 

With today's observation period from 8:11 am to 10:11 am. on a rising tide at Ship Creek, this monitoring session is what I refer to as "the dawn patrol"--an early morning session with the sun just barely peeking over the crest of the Chugach Range.  Despite the early hour, the port was already busy.  As I approached the closed-for-the-winter boat ramp, I noticed three tugs returning to theit float adjacent to the ramp.  Three large cargo vessels were tied up to the wharf on the far end of the port.  I am sorry I was not able to witness the choreograph between the tugs and the most recent arrival  being wedged sideways into the wharf.  The sounds of port activity carried over still morning air as the vessels disgorged their cargoes, mostly shipping containers from what I can see from my vantage point.  A steady stream of tractor trailers were entering and leaving the port area on the bridge that fed into C Street in downtown Anchorage.  Across Knik Arm, Sleeping Lady lies cloaked in her blanket of white, the shifting light highlighting the topography.

A high overcast filtered the light from the early morning sun.  The flag on the causeway to the tugs' floating dock hung limp in the still morning air.  Ice entrained in the cuttent created by the rising tide passed the observation point for the entire two hours.  Just a week ago, the area had been completely covered by pack ice.  Now, the area was mostly open water.  At the mouth of Ship Creek, large dirty ice chunks remained where they grounded at the most recent highest tide.  They soon will be gone, mostly melted by the warming spring temperature and the perpetual tidal cycle of Cook Inlet.  With the huge rise and fall of the tides, Cook Inlet has been described as a "bathtub".  If that is the case, the remnant ice marks the ring around the tub.

While no beluga were observed during today's session, wildlife activity continues to increase along the shoreline.  The variety of birds seems to be increasing.  Shorebirds are becoming more numerous along water's edge, geese fly overhead as mallards flitter into the creek.  A lone eagle skimming the surface of Knik Arm caused a cacophony of warning among the gulls as it approaches the shoreline.  Just two weeks ago, the birds consisted mostly of the ever present raven.  I expect pretty soon we will see beluga in the area.  The observation station for the marine mammal observers associated with the Port of Anchorage construction monitoring has been moved to the edge of the breakwall in anticipation of their return.  They are directly opposite the location where we do our observations.

Like the wildlife, more people seem to be making their way back to the park and boat ramp area.  I spoke with more visitors today that I had seen in my last three sessions combined.  I spoke briefly with Norman, an elder who grew up in the Seldovia Village and the Aleutians.  He goes down to the boat ramp area every day.  He too has noticed an increase in activity.  All winter the statue inspired by Grandma Olga who fished the area when it was a Native fish camp has been a lone sentinel over the Inlet.  We beluga monitors have joined her perpetual vigil in the area--if only for two hours at a time.

Christmas Card Connections--The Next Hallmark Holiday Movie

Ed   (Dave Porter's Certification Dive)

The evening’s mail delivery brought a smattering of Christmas cards, which thankfully outnumbered the bills.  I stared opening them from the top of the mail to the bottom, the first being one from Ed Stetson. I assisted Ed with two dozen or so of the scuba classes at the UC Santa Barbara Outdoor Recreation program from 1985 through 1994, the start of a long friendship.  His note indicated that he had just finished teaching his 247^th scuba class in four decades of instructing.  I reflected for a moment on this statistic.  Diving for 40 years is quite an accomplishment in itself.  Teaching 247 classes even more so, as it represents a lot of descents and ascents, early morning boats, late evening pool sessions and so on.  I thought about all the connections that results from certifying so many divers.

Dave  at Catalina Island 1986

 The next card was from my friend, Dave Porter.  Dave was certified by Ed in the very first class I helped out with as a newly minted NAUI Assistant instructor.  Dave and I are friends to this day.  The arrival and order of opening of the cards had to be more than happenstance.  Is this the hidden hand of the Divine working through the US Postal Service to buoy my spirits? 

I began to reflect on the friendships that I had formed during the life aquatic.  There are lots of connections.  While working on Channel Island boats as a divemaster on the summer weekends during  1986, Dave worked as my rescue diver.  We did a lot of diving and took a fair number of scallops, which we would wrap in thin slice bacon and barbeque back at my house after returning to port.  My brother Andy was living with me that summer, saw how much fun we were having, and got certified in San Diego when he returned to school that fall.  That fall, I taught Brandon Cole, now a renowned underwater photographer, how to dive in one of Ed’s classes.  

Andy at Catalina Island 1990

I began to reflect on the friendships that I had formed during the life aquatic.  There are lots of connections.  While working on Channel Island boats as a divemaster on the summer weekends during  1986, Dave worked as my rescue diver.  We did a lot of diving and took a fair number of scallops, which we would wrap in thin slice bacon and barbeque back at my house after returning to port.  My brother Andy was living with me that summer, saw how much fun we were having, and got certified in San Diego when he returned to school that fall.  

Brandon at  San Miquel--1991

That fall, I taught Brandon Cole, now a renowned underwater photographer, how to dive in one of Ed’s classes.  A year later, at the end of the summer, Andy, Brandon, and I piled into my S-10 pickup truck and did a camping dive trip to Monterey as a dress rehearsal for a longer trip to dive around Loretto in Mexico just before Christmas.  Brandon and I continue to do dive trips, although I now demand that the amenities will be better than tent camping on a beach in Mexico or sleeping in the truck bed.

I have been with Dave, Andy, and Brandon to at least one of Ed Stetson’s annual UCSB Catalina dive weekends, although not all of us at the same time. 

Two of Andy’s sons, JT and Luke, have both learned to dive.  JT was on one of Ed’s annual Catalina trips with me a few years back.  Luke and I are fixing out to head out for Roatan during spring break for a week of diving.  He has yet to make the Catalina Island trek complete the circle but that is just a matter of time!

I am amazed at the number of enduring connections in my life that have resulted from a single connection with Ed..  As Christmas approaches, I am warmed by those memories and anticipate the adventures that await me.   These connections have all the makings of a Hallmark Holiday Drama.  

JT at Catalina-2014	Luke at Kona-2018

Beluga Notebook--Beluga By the Numbers, Part Two

Many folks familiar with my volunteer work as a Cook Inlet beluga whale monitor usually ask me two questions: “How many beluga whales do you see?” and “How many beluga whales are there?” 

In a previous blog entry, I addressed the first question.  In this blog entry, I address the second.

The latest stock assessment estimated the abundance of Cook Inlet beluga whales at 328 whales in 2016, down from an estimate of 340 whales just two years earlier.  To place these two numbers into context, the best available historic abundance estimate is 1,293 beluga whales obtained from 1979 surveys.  Within two decades, in 1998, this estimate stood at 347 beluga whales.  While the large reduction was attributed to an unsustainable harvest by Alaska Native hunters in the 1990s, the numbers have not rebounded as expected after the cessation of hunting.  In fact, the decline continues.

While the estimates of abundance in the accompanying figure show year-to-year fluctuatations, the trend is definitely downward. So when asked how many beluga there are in Cook Inlet perhaps the best response is "328 whales, but they continue to decline rather than increase which is why I and others are doing monitoring."  Hopefully, we are not witnessing a gradual countdown to beluga whales' extirpation (local extinction).

Whenever I discuss wildlife abundance estimates, I recall a conversation I had in 1988 with an official from the California Department of Fish and Game's Marine Resources Division.  "It's not like counting cattle on a hillside to get an estimate of herd size.  In the marine enviromnent you have a great deal of uncertainty.  Many different factors contribute to this uncertainty."  We see this with beluga abundance estimates.  How one counts a thing is as important as how many of a thing one counts.  Numbers play the role of indicating whether things are getting better or worse.  They motivate us to stop keeping score and start refereeing.

One of the earliest estimates of beluga whale abundance in Cook Inlet comes from a 1972 University of Alaska, Fairbanks Institute of Marine Science Report R72-23, A Review of the Oceanography and Marine Resources of the Northern Gulf of Alaska, one chapter of which discusses marine mammals. The section reports that "aerial surveys of Cook Inlet ...made in 1963 and 1964, indicated a summer population of 300 to 400 animals." This statement, if not examined critically, could lead to the conclusion that with a point estimate of abundance of 328 whales today, the population has remained relatively stable of 60 years.    The conclusion is erroneous. 

As noted in the National Marine Fisheries Service Cook Inlet Beluga Whale Recovery Plan (December 2016) "aerial surveys in the 1960s, 1970s and early 1980s counted belugas in the Cook Inlet but only a few of these had sufficient coverage to estimate the population size...The survey in 1979 resulted in an estimate of 1,293 whales using a correction factor of 2.7 developed to account for submerged whales ....This is the best available estimate of historical beluga abundance in Cook Inlet, and represents the maximum observed size of this population."

The trend in abundance estimates since 1993 is shown graphically in figure 2, which is from the Marine Mammal Commission 2018 Cook Inlet Beluga Stock Assessment.  At certain points, the number of beluga whales got the stock declared "depleted" under the Marine Mammal Protection Act and "endangered" under the Endangered Species Act.  In the future, the stock may be "downlisted" from "endangered" to "threatened" when the abundance estimate equals or exceeds to 520 individuals.  "Delisting" from "threatened" to "recovered" may occur then the population reaches 780 individuals.  Other criterial will have to be satisified as well.  The number alone will not suffice.

We have a long way to go to acheiving either number.  As a monitor, I make a small contribution to achieving the goal--a topic that will be covered in a future blog entry.

Beluga Notebook--Belugas by the Number Part One

Many folks familiar with my volunteer work as a Cook Inlet beluga whale volunteer monitor usually ask me two questions: “How many beluga whales do you see?” and “How many beluga whales are there?” 

In this blog entry, I address the first question.

In my recent sessions at Ship Creek, my typical response to “how many did you see” response is “none-zero-nada.”  I encountered beluga whales in only one of my seven sessions at Ship Creek in September. In the one session, my team counted three beluga whales--an adult, a juvenile, and a calf.  In the other six sessions, I saw none—a “batting average” of .142.  Not bad considering the Ship Creek is the station with the least number of sessions where beluga were sighted as a percentage of total observation sessions for the month of September.   

Monitoring Station Data for Beluga Whales, September 1 to 30, 2019
Station/Location	Number of Sessions	Number Session Where Beluga Were Seen	Total Number of Beluga Whale Reported
Ship Creek—Knik Arm	32	12   (37.5%)	50
Bird Point/MM 95.2 Pullout—Turnagain Arm	26	24  (92.)%)	392
Twenty Mile River Turnagain Arm	11	7  (63.7%)	76

Data from Alaska Beluga Monitoring Partnership Siting Log Webpage (accessed  on October 12, 2019,  https://akbmp.org/beluga-observation-log/)

Two necessary conditions determine whether we observe beluga whales during a session.  The first factor—presence of beluga whale--seems obvious.  If the whales don’t show up, they can’t be counted.  The second factor—did the observers see the whales--seems equally as obvious. You can’t count what you can’t see.  Of course, you have to know what to look.  Our training and experience help with that aspect.  

To address the first condition, the research protocol locates observation stations near anadromous streams where the beluga’s prey species, salmon, are likely to be present.  The protocol sets the timing of the sessions around the time of high tide when beluga may safely navigate the shoals and flats of Knik and Turnagain Arms in order to feed on their prey.   Biology and oceanography largely satisfy this condition.

The second condition is more variable.  A number of factors influence whether the volunteers observe and record the beluga whales.  The physical environment--glare, sea state, weather conditions--all could affect the ability of an observer to see the beluga whales.  

Rain and reduced visibility are environmental factors.  We note
the conditions for each session and if they change during the session.

Other factors are related to the individual observer and include scanning technique; the expanse of the area scanned; visual acuity; attentiveness, and so on.  The number of observers has an effect—the more eyes looking for something the more likely it is seen.  A final factor might be the frequency of observers during a session and the number of beluga whales in each encounter.  That is, the number of pods passing by the observation point and the number of beluga in each pod increase the likelihood they will be seen.  The protocol can control some of potential observation errors to some degree.  

October is pretty much shaping up to be a repeat of September for me.  I am comforted by the knowledge that negative observations (no beluga seen) provide important data.  I describe beluga whale counting as “hours of scanning, punctuated by minutes of intense observation and data recording.”  I will keep on going to Ship Creek.  You can’t see them if you are not there to see them.

Beluga Days--ATB Edward Itta

ATB Edward Itta aŕriving on September 25, 2019

While scanning the waters of Knik Arm for signs of beluga whales this year with the Beluga Whale Alliance, I have witnessed the comings and goings of various vessels around the small boat ramp and the Port of Anchorage.   These movements, which we dutifully note on the observer’s log sheet, take place near the high tide. Our two-hour observation periods also occur around the high tide, when beluga are likely to be present.

My observations on the late afternoon of September 25, 2019, recorded the arrival of a tug pushing a barge, which on first glance looked like a single vessel.  I had seen the barge departing the port on a high tide during a previous session.  Today, it approached Knik Arm on the incoming tide and arrived off the port as the tide was peaking.  Another tug met the vessels to escort them into the harbor. The barge hull bore the name EDWARD ITTA—a name I immediately recognized as that of the late Inupiat Whaling Captain and Mayor of the Alaska’s North Slope Borough whom I had met some years earlier.  “So how,” I wondered, “does a tug barge come to bear his name?”

A quick internet search revealed some details about the tug-barge, known as articulated tug-barge unit or ATB, which the consists of a tank vessel (barge) matched with a large, powerful tug that is positioned in a notch in the stern of the barge  A hinged (articulated) connection allows for separate movement between the two parts.

An article dated November 2, 2017 on the Professional Mariner website reports “the vessel names have a very personal meaning for Harley Franco, chairman and CEO of Harley Marine Services…The barge is named for Edward Itta, an American Inupiat politician, activist and whaling captain who died of cancer in 2016.” 

A Harley Marine publication “What’s in a Name: The Story of Our Vessels” from 2018 provides additional details on the barge’s name.  The publication explains, “Harley Marine’s mission statement emphasizes involvement in the communities where we work and live. We have been inspired to give back by a variety of individuals who exemplify good citizenship…we salute past and future leaders and friends who we believe make our world a better place.” The entry for Edward Itta, an 83,000-barrel capacity, refined product barge with a length over all of 430 ft, 3 in and a beam of 76 ft. 8 in. states

Edward Saggan Itta was born on July 5, 1945 in Barrow, or Utqiagvik, Alaska. Growing up in a house of 11 children, Edward learned how speak up and be heard from an early age. After he graduated from Mt. Edgecumbe High School in 1964, Edward trained as an electronics technician at the Griswold Institute in Cleveland, Ohio, and in the U.S. Navy.  He was raised in a traditional American-Inupiat household and loved fishing, hunting and camping which eventually led him to a career as a whaling captain.

The proud life-long Alaskan was a pillar of his community and served two consecutive terms as the Mayor of North Slope Borough (2005-2011). While serving as mayor, Edward Itta was met with the challenge of maintaining and protecting the strong traditions of the Inupiat lifestyle while also facilitating the potential of economic growth from the oil and gas industry. In 2012, President Obama appointed Edward to the seven-member United States Arctic Research Commission. He also served as vice chairman of the Alaska Eskimo Whaling Commission, as President of the Inuit Circumpolar Council of Alaska and as President of the Barrow Whaling Captains Association.

Edward Itta lost his battle to cancer on November 6, 2016. “His achievements and contributions to Arctic policy and the state of Alaska will long be remembered,” said Alaska Governor Bill Walker in a statement to the Anchorage Daily News. It is very fitting that the EDWARD ITTA will continue to serve Alaska and her citizens for many years to come.

The ATB Edward Itta departed Anchorage the next day at 1600 hours on the rising tide.  Its stay in Anchorage lasted about 24 hours.

Beluga Days--Ship Creek

I stop, look both ways, and listen for a train whistle or the sound of rolling stock. The approach appears to be clear. My car lurches across a double set of railroad tracks.  Stacks of shipping containers tell me that I am on the edge of the Port of Anchorage.  I continue down the road to the dead end that marks my observation point for the evening’s Cook Inlet beluga monitoring session. 

To the left, the two bays of the small boat ramp await the flood of the incoming tide.  To the right, the tidal flat extends to the mouth of now-exposed Ship Creek channel.  A flock of seabirds mills just above the tide line.  

Straight ahead is a huge ship’s anchor and exhibit of the fishing village and people that once occupied this place.  

At the end of the promontory, two park benches offer an unobstructed panoramic view encompassing the entrance to Knik Arm, the mouth of Ship Creek, and the wharves of the Port of Anchorage.  The dockside’s alive with the bustle of machinery loading a green barge with all manner of shipping containers and other cargo.  Two motor coaches sit atop a stack of containers, most likely heading south to serve other tourist destinations as the Alaska summer season winds down with the shortening days.  Overhead, a small, single-engine airplane heads for the traffic pattern at Merrill Field.  For the next two hours, two or three observers, including myself, will scan the waters for signs of the endangered Cook Inlet beluga whales. If the belugas are present, given today’s nearly ideal  viewing conditions, we should be able to see them from this elevated location at water’s edge.

I am amazed at how many people in Anchorage seem unaware of this place.  When I talk to them about the monitoring project and this location, I sometimes get a perplexed look in return as if they are thinking “Anchorage has a small boat ramp?  Why? I have never seen any small boats on the Inlet.” The more adventurous sport fishers know this location.  They thrive on the prospect of getting first crack at the salmon and a little bit of relief from the shoulder-to-shoulder combat fishing farther up Ship Creek at Kings Landing and the Bridge.  Tourists on bikes seem pleased to stumble on this spot while following the downtown attractions map in the tourist guide.  The entrance road, not well marked, has an “On the Waterfront” look to it.  The reward for their perseverance is an absolutely breathtaking view of the Arm in front and the cityscape behind. 

Over the next two hours, in addition to documenting the presence of beluga and their behavior, as well as that of other marine wildlife, the crew will make note of some of this human activity.  Tugs occasionally dispatch to escort an incoming or departing cargo vessel or barge and the very rare cruise ship.  The dredge with its clamshell bucket sometimes operates scooping mud from the bottom and depositing the muck on an adjacent spoils barge to maintain the ship channel.  Without this activity, I wonder how long the channel would remain navigable.  A trailer-launched small boat fleet, mostly skiffs but a few runabouts and couple of inflatables, use the ramp.  A well-stocked “Kids Don’t Float” station at the top of the ramp offers free use of personal flotation devices.  Once in the water the boats quickly motor away, most of them heading in the direction of the opposite shore.  Small boat operation in the Inlet with its cold water, huge tidal swing, powerful and contrary currents, every changing bottom, and sometimes adverse weather conditions is not for the inexperienced.  These circumstances may account for the scarcity of activity.  I have seen a solitary kayaker (not counting his dog) unloading at the ramp in the last few sessions.  This part of Cook Inlet does not really seem that conducive to water-borne recreation.  By far, the most plentiful activity is airborne, with a number of small airplanes passing overhead as they arrive or depart Merrill Field.

People come and go to the end of promontory.  Kids scramble up and down the rock rip rap as their parents caution them to stay well away from the water and mud.  The kids pick up rocks and chuck them into the water in a ritual that I suspect has gone on as long as this point has been peopled.  Most people take in the view but really don’t linger too long.  It is as if the vastness and solitude hurries them away.  A visitor will sometimes regale the observers with “you should have been here this morning or yesterday when I heard so-and-so saw lots of beluga just swimming around for about an hour.” While such reports are invariably second- or third-hand, with the number and duration increasing with each telling, they are frequent enough that I sometimes wonder if the belugas’ echolocation senses my car’s approach to the parking lot as a sign that “the observers are coming, time to clear out quick.”

The conversation I am never quite prepared to have is when a long-time resident stops by and asks “what happened to all the beluga?  I’ve been here thirty (or more) years and we used to see them all the time, now we hardly see them at all, if ever.”  I can respond with information about the decline and the current population estimates that place their numbers in the mid-300s.  I can speak about how our monitoring effort is part of overall recovery strategy.  I can educate the folks in a conversation about beluga conservation efforts.  What I can’t do is assuage their feeling that something magical about the not-too-distant past is now missing.  You can sense their nostalgic yearning to see the plentiful pods of beluga and the sadness that what once was common is now rare.  They long to show beluga to their grandchildren.  I can only hope that the data I collect as a citizen scientist beluga monitor collect will help in the beluga recovery.   That prospect keeps me coming back for another shift.  Hopefully, the belugas, known as “the canaries of the sea” for the sounds they make are not now “the canaries in the coalmine.”