M/S Endeavour: Landing on Inaccessible Island

M/S ENDEAVOUR:  THE LANDING AT INACCESSIBLE ISLAND

By J. Brock (SARTMA – TdC)

We had just departed Endeavour by zodiac after a particularly water-filled Lunch.  No wonder!  While climbing on Nightingale Island I had worked up quite a thirst and drank a few cups of tea when I boarded Endeavour for the sail towards Inaccessible Island – an hour’s journey.  It was time to relax and have a good chat with my new-found extended family.  We graduated from tea to beer while putting on our rubber boots and rain jackets.

This would be the first ever landing by the Endeavour zodiacs, the first for Tristanian students, first for me and the other passengers.  Lindblad Expeditions have a policy of trying to make landings where no one has been before.  Unfortunately, it wasn’t a first ever landing by tourists.  According to the guides it was the third landing and would be added to the sights to visit for future expeditions.

One of the bird species endemic to that island only, the Inaccessible Flightless Rail, was the target of the photographers and bird watchers on the trip.  I recall Tom Richie mentioning to one of the Tristan guides that someone had a recording of the bird and he thought it might be helpful in luring it out of the undergrowth.  It supposedly sounded like two rocks being banged together.  In fact, the Inaccessible Flightless Rail has a loud trilling call, various contact calls and a loud chip alarm call.  There was no recording available on Tristan and the rocks didn’t work either.

Prior to the landing there was a circumnavigation, then a recognisance visit by zodiacs, after which the blower came on and Tom Richie, the Expedition Leader, described the beach as rocky and slippery like bowling balls covered in slime.  True to form, the landing was extremely slippery and the beach had bowling ball sized rocks on it that made walking very difficult.  Some of the passengers collected marine rubbish while others tried to find a path in the undergrowth above the beach to the yellow scientific hut that was visible at the end of the circumnavigation.  It was a daunting task and no one wanted to venture far from Salt Beach because they were afraid to disturb any ground nesting birds that might inhabit the tussock and other vegetation.

Inaccessible Island Flightless Rails have a battleship grey underside and are dark rusty-brown above, with black bills and grey legs.  They are shy creatures that rarely come out of their habitat.  The tape had been used by some birders to lure it out.  Another method, not used by Endeavour’s tourists, was to beat them out of the undergrowth.  .

The afternoon had heated up and, after stripping the outer layer, I began to photograph the panorama of Salt Beach.  It wasn’t until I had been there for about half an hour that I began thinking about finding the nearest bush, and I quickly clambered over the rocks towards the thick undergrowth where, if I had timed it right, I could relieve myself and get back to taking pictures.  With my eyes focused on a particular spot, I climbed even faster, until I reached a rather large Tussock bog and began to unzip.  What went on next could have come from the script of “One Foot in the Grave.”

“You were going mighty fast,” panted someone behind me.  “What did you see?  Was it the Rail?”

When I turned around, there they were like Penguins, six people, all following me, with cameras. They had seen me take off towards the tussock.  The last in line, an 80-year-old lady with a camcorder, was determined to have the same photographs that I did.  Victor Meldrew uttered those famous words from the grave as I got over the shock of not being alone in my make-shift loo.  Scuppered!  My teeth were floating and the entourage wanted to photograph a non-existent Flightless Inaccessible Rail.  As the company was mixed, the dilemma was, do I wet my pants or tell a little white lie?  “There aren’t any Rails here just now,” I said.  And, after some pleasantries, the men took off, leaving me to moon the ladies in a last ditch effort to keep my trousers dry. 

There was no Rail sighting but I spotted a few thrushes and a lot of seabirds.  Admittedly I was surprised to see such thick vegetation, as it just looked like a grass covering from the ship – an easy walk.  But the tussock and other plants came up to my chest and it wasn’t an easy slog to get through it.

I know that on Gough Island there is a catwalk around the weather station and I wondered whether something like that could be rigged up on Inaccessible Island so that people could easily negotiate the beach and vegetation.  It would help to protect the ground nesting birds as well.

Climbing down to the beach for the zodiac ride back to Endeavour was a quiet, deliberate affair, interspersed with the odd giggle from the ladies having a nice piece of gossip to share with anyone who would listen.   But I should have wee’d me trousers as I first thought, because the weather began to deteriorate, with the seas becoming rough.   And, an incoming wave engulfed the zodiac from the stern while we were just sitting down, soaking me clear through.

With boots squelching, I returned Endeavour’s lounge, where Geoffrey Haydock was busy tuning a dodgy note on the piano and Penny was sorting through music that would be used for a future concert.  She saw the soaking trousers and came to my rescue with some dry clothes.

As the sun set, we approached Tristan, and I said my final adieu to the Endeavour and to Geoff and Penny, with whom I had an excellent budding friendship.  It wasn’t long before Jim Kelley manoeuvred the Zodiac past the jacks that defined Calshot Harbour and protected it from much of the South Atlantic’s fury.  We said so long and he landed the students, guides and me safely ashore along with a huge pile of rubber boots and other bits and pieces.