Gisele Nelson - Hawaii Wildlife Fund
Week 2

July 16-22

The Soul Searching of turtles

            I left my warm and welcoming bed in Volcano to spend a couple nights somewhere else. My cozy room was replaced with a starlit sky and a never-ending ocean. I spent two nights camping on a beach far from home with an old military cot to sleep on. Let me add that very little time was actually spent sleeping, not because of my evident fear of centipedes and cockroaches, but because I was on the lookout. Four others and I met in Kamehame Point, on the south-eastern side of Hawaii’s Big Island, with one common interest: to find an ancient dinosaur rising out of the sea and arriving on the beach. We had hopes and anticipation that she would crawl out of the tide line and make it up the shore to lay her hundred plus eggs. If we shield the eggs, we can protect the nest so that the offspring will have a higher success of surviving. The Hawksbill Turtle Monitoring Program, based out of Hawaii Volcano National Park, works on keeping a close eye on Hawksbill activity around the island in an effort towards improving population growth. These stunning prehistoric creatures have been here since dinosaurs roamed the earth and certain species, such as the Hawksbill Turtle, are now threatened by extinction. On the Big Island, only 80 females have been tagged since 1990. This is a dangerous number. On a global scale, Hawksbill sea turtles have experienced a decline of 80 percent or more during the past century.

            My trip in Kamehame gave me a taste of what it’s like to look for a rare creature that isn’t easy to find. We covered several small, scattered beaches along the coast by hiking six miles out from our camp every morning. We looked for turtle tracks in Punalu’u before the tracks could be stomped out by a tourist.  Then we would continue to Ninole, Kuhua, and turn around at Kawa for another six mile hike back to camp. The journey along the coast took the majority of the day and we would stop to swim and shower in Punalu’u which was necessary because of how hot you get hiking over lava rock. Lava rock radiates the heat in the same way that snow reflects light, giving you a good sunburn in return. A fellow turtle aficionado and I were swimming and had the opportunity of swimming with several green sea turtles while they foraged on algae on the rocks. It was a great reward after having no luck finding tracks over the miles and miles of beach that we crossed, not to mention that the water was so cool and refreshing.

            With rejuvenated feet and wet hair to keep you cool, we hiked back to camp and got ready for the long night that lay ahead. We checked the 20 traps around the beach to make sure that mongoose or other rodents didn’t get into the nesting area. We cooked a classic modern camping meal, Annie’s Macaroni and Cheese, and ate it out of the pot to prevent from having to do more dishes later. We changed into our dark clothing in hopes of being invisible during the night. Then, we grabbed everything we needed to tag or re-tag a new or returning Hawksbill, along with the supplies we needed to mark the nest, and a tree caliper to measure the diameter of any visiting turtles. As the sun was beginning to set we made ourselves comfortable on the steep black sand beach, facing the water in lawn chairs, so we could watch for a turtle to come up. You stay up until at least two a.m. and do a full beach check every hour. Once the sun is gone and the slight silver sliver of the moon is out you use nothing but a red light, which makes everything around you a little harder to see. The purpose of having a red light is to use a light source that the turtles can’t see and avoid disorienting any hatchlings or other turtles emerging from the sand or coming onto the beach.

            Every time we got back to our little set up at mid-beach, I would dump the sand out of my shoes, and the five of us, nearly strangers, would continue chatting where we left off with our eyes meditated on the white ocean foam. The easiest way to spot a turtle in the darkness is to watch the waves at the shore recede, and if there’s a turtle, you’ll see a round dark protrusion as the luminous water separates around the shell. Of course, this strategy is not fool proof. Our group made the common mistake of confusing a rock with a turtle. After jumping off our chairs to lie low in the sand to wait for our pretend turtle to make her way up the beach, we noticed a certain lack of movement. One of us went down the beach with a red light to see if it was a turtle and came back with the disappointing news that it was, in fact, only a rock, false alarm.

            We did find more exhilarating moments later on that night when during one of our beach checks we found two tracks. Unfortunately, one track was the turtle coming up the beach and the other track was the turtle going down the beach, back into the water. We just missed her. It appeared that she was discouraged when she ran into a wall of vegetation. She knew that putting her nest and eggs so close to the shore would be dangerous. We could tell that this visit was from a Hawksbill by the pattern of her tracks. By the size of the tracks, about two and a half feet wide, you can narrow it down to a Green turtle or a Hawksbill. Greens use their flippers all at once, causing them to slowly launch forward up the sand, whereas Hawksbills alternate their flippers, putting one flipper ahead of the other. Hawksbill’s tracks also tend to look like the path of a big tractor wheel. We now knew that we had a turtle that was ready to lay her eggs and we would be on a meticulous watch for the rest of the night, looking for that same turtle to come up further down the beach, where she thinks she can have better luck. There was, though, no luck as the night passed.

            On other nights when the five of us had trouble keeping our eyes open because of our lack of sleep and exhausting hikes, we kept each other up by telling scary beach stories. Some of the stories were made up by our vivid wandering imaginations, and some were stories that were passed on by others. One person in our group, Jeff, more native to Hawaii than the rest of us, told stories of an old Hawaiian legend about night marchers that would march the perimeter of the island to protect the king. They wander the island at night with torches and drums and if you’re seen by one, you have to have your face in the sand or else they’ll assume you’re a threat and put you to death. The king called to them by whistling from anywhere on the island and they would come to attack any type of danger. So even making tea at night, we lifted the part that makes the kettle whistle. Jeff talked about friends that were turtle watching, much like we were, and saw lights in the distance, when they were suddenly pushed into the sand by a native islander who began chanting to the ground. They didn’t know what was happening but they could hear the drums go by and then fade in the distance. Whether the stories were true or not, it certainly kept us up, especially sitting on a dark ominous beach. We would also move on to share stories about the stars and the different various astrological things we knew. It reminded me of what people may have used to do when they were sailing on ships across the sea and had nothing much else to do besides wait. It made me forget that I could be doing things like going to the movies or going out.

            This type of isolation, on a distant beach, with a small group lets you get to know new people and talk about things you’ve never talked about. If anything, the experience was therapeutic and peaceful. Never once were we worried about “what he said, she said”. We had one job, few distractions, and followed the excitement that came to us. I was able to enjoy the company of the group and together we shared at least one common interest: helping turtles.