Show Navigation

Duncan Murrell - A Whale of a Time

  • Portfolio
  • About
  • Contact
  • Blog
  • Testimonials
  • Facebook
  • Archive
    • All Galleries
    • Search
    • Cart
    • Lightbox
    • Client Area

Duncan Murrell - A Whale of a Time

Search Results

68 images

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
x
Refine Search
Match all words
Match any word
Prints
Personal Use
Royalty-Free
Rights-Managed
(leave unchecked to
search all images)

Loading ()...

  • Humpbacks have an enormous lung capacity, which makes it possible for them to dive for long periods, often in excess of 20 minutes, These extended dives allow the animals to descend to deep water for foraging (up to 500 ft - 150 m). When the whale surfaces to breathe, it only has a few moments to exchange the air in its lungs, so it must exhale with tremendous force. The force of this exhalation vaporises the seawater that surrounds the blowhole and creates a "blow". This vertical plume of water vapour is usually the first indicator that a whale is in the area, and can usually be seen and heard over long distances. On several occasions I paddled stealthily up to a whale resting or sleeping on the surface just to be able to observe the blowhole in operation at close quarters, and was amazed at the power and speed that the blowhole opens and shuts during the exhalation and inhalation, and the explosive force of the breath rushing out and fresh air rushing back in.<br />
I observed them often sleeping in the afternoon, their rotund backs completely motionless with their flukes and long pectoral fins hanging down. Whales and dolphins don't sleep for extended periods the way that we do but just take short naps. To avoid drowning during sleep, it is crucial that marine mammals retain control of their blowhole. The blowhole is a flap of skin that is thought to open and close under the voluntary control of the animal. Although still a matter of discussion, most researchers feel that in order to breathe, a dolphin or whale must be conscious and alert to recognize that its blowhole is at the surface.
    Alaska-humpback-whale-sounding10.jpg
  • Humpback whales arch their backs very prominently before sounding, hence the name "humpback".
    Alaska-humpback-whale-sounding11.jpg
  • Humpback whale (Megaptera novaeangliae) on the surface at sunset just after blowing, Frederick Sound, Southeast Alaska, USA.
    Alaska-humpback-whale-blowing3.jpg
  • This was my first really memorable day kayaking with humpback whales in my Klepper kayak in the early 1980s. It was a beautiful sunny day and the sea was flat calm. There was a pod of humpback whales feeding in the area all afternoon.
    Alaska-humpback-whale-sounding1.jpg
  • The flukes of a humpback whales' flukes during sounding is one of the most graceful, aerodynamic shapes in the animal kingdom. I never tired of observing and photographing that hypnotically beautiful form and motion that delighted the eye from every conceivable angle. It was an advantageous benefit to be photographing them from the low sea-level angle from a kayak. The low angle helps to silhouette them against the distant background, creating a greater sense of drama and perspective rather than just against the water. That is very noticeable if you compare photos taken from a kayak and a boat.
    Alaska-humpback-whale-sounding12.jpg
  • This was my first really memorable day kayaking with humpback whales in my Klepper kayak in the early 1980s. It was a beautiful sunny day and the sea was flat calm. There was a pod of humpback whales feeding in the area all afternoon. I managed to capture a lot of good photos on this day with my Olympus OM1 because the conditions were so perfect and the whales remained in the same area for a long time. This was my first photo that I ever saw published in a book on whales. I stumbled across it in a book shop in Juneau, Alaska, which was a great thrill and gave me a lot of encouragement to continue photographing the whales. But the most rewarding encouragement for me was when most of the main conservation organisations, like the WWF, Greenpeace and Friends of the Earth started using my whale photos for their Save the Whale campaigns.
    Alaska-humpback-whale-sounding2.jpg
  • This was another photo taken by Francois Gohier when he was also photographing the bubble net feeding whales around the Morris Reef at Point Hayes. After I won the Mammal Category of the BBC Wildlife Photographer of the Year Competition in 2002 I was commissioned to write an article for the BBC Wildlife Magazine and this photo was used on the cover of the magazine, which was indeed an honour for me as I have been reading the magazine since I was a young boy.
    Alaska-camping-kayaking20.jpg
  • I always felt completely safe in my kayak with the whales. If anyone ever asked me if I was afraid to get as close to the whales as I did, the answer was always a resounding yes because I always trusted them not to be aggressive towards me because I always tried to ensure that I posed no threat towards them. I often stayed with a pod for an entire day from morning to night and they would often surface alongside me and accompany me as if I was one of them. I became a familiar and unthreatening shape and presence to them, with no potentially deadly slashing propeller to concern them; I was virtually no different from other marine creatures like sea lions that often accompany them.
    Alaska-camping-kayaking22.jpg
  • This photo was taken in my early days with Avalon and my Klepper kayak when the Seymour Canal was my regular haunt with the whales. As mammals, humpbacks must come to the surface to breathe.  Typically, humpbacks dive for 5-10 minutes although they can hold their breath for much longer if necessary. Unlike land mammals who store the majority of air in their lungs, whales store less than 25% in the lungs with almost half of the oxygen contained in hemoglobin molecules.  They also store oxygen in myoglobin molecules in the muscles.  When a whale dives, their metabolism and heart rate decrease so that they use oxygen stores more slowly.  At the same time blood is shunted away from the extremities.  These adaptations allow them to breathe much less frequently than land mammals. They also have a higher tolerance for carbon dioxide (CO2). Their brains do not trigger a breathing response until the levels of CO2 are much higher than what humans can tolerate.
    Alaska-humpback-whale-blowing2.jpg
  • A pair of humpback whales (Megaptera novaeanglia) blowing and sounding, Tenakee Inlet, Southeast Alaska, USA.
    Humpback whales-22.tif
  • The lighting for photographing humpback whales in Southeast Alaska is unique, with a backdrop of snowy peaksmountains and forest-clad mountains frequently cloaked in wisps of ethereal mist, the rainbows There was commonly extensive cloud cover but any chinks of light that were able to break through the gloom seemed to highlight the outline of the whales and illuminate their plumes of transitory breath. The effect was even more pronounced when they were set against a backdrop of dark, forested mountains.<br />
This photo was Highly Commended in the Endangered Species category of the BBC Wildlife Photographer Competition in 2002, the same year that I won the Mammal Behavior category with a photo of a lunge-feeding whale, also taken in Tenakee Inlet.
    Alaska-humpback-whale-blowing5.jpg
  • This was an unforgettable wild encounter! The sea was very cold so I had to haul myself back into my kayak to warm up, with my legs dangling over the side and my flippers slapping the surface like a stranded fish. Moments later I was surprised to see another kayaker paddling towards me; It was an American called Corrie who told me that he had just made the long sea crossing from Isla San Jose. It was great to be joined by another kayaker and even greater when I discovered that he had a wetsuit! There was no holding back now so I returned to the underwater circus. I discovered that there was one juvenile sea lion that was bolder than the others. At first it was trying to bite my mask and then it was nipping my chest as if it was trying to suckle from me; I think that the black neoprene wetsuit had transformed me into a marine mammal! This apparent attempt at bonding with me was taken to the next level of hilarity when all of a sudden I was aware of its flippers being wrapped around my body from behind and then feeling the little clown clinging tightly to my back! I reached behind me to feel it and it was very smooth, soft and spongy, making it conform to the shape of my back like an orthopaedic back-support. I continued swimming along with this unexpected diving accessory still firmly clamped to my back like an air cylinder. It eventually released me and disappeared momentarily; then Corrie exclaimed, “look at your kayak!” and to my amazement I watched it hauling itself onto the back of my kayak! It promptly settled down for a snooze on the most comfortable and exclusive bed available. Corrie climbed into the cockpit of my kayak to take some photos of me with my new friend, or should I say foster child, as photographic evidence was surely required. Corrie tried to evict the stowaway with my paddle, but the little rascal nipped at it and promptly slid down inside the cockpit to confirm its status as a stowaway but it was eventually evicted after much protest.
    Kayaking- Gulf-of-California38.jpg
  • I was discovering how unpredictable the weather is along the coast of Madagascar and got caught in a few bad squalls including one on the afternoon of my 50th birthday. I paddled back to the mainland from Nosy Boraha and camped on the long spit that extends out into the channel. Shortly after setting off the next day I had the next mishap; the wooden rudder yoke of my kayak broke, making it virtually impossible to steer my kayak in the big ocean swells and get ashore without capsizing in the surf. I had heard the usual surfeit of shark attack stories involving tiger sharks along the east coast so I decided to err on the side of caution and not enter the water to attempt a repair so I had to try to do it by crawling along the back deck of the kayak and reaching out with extended arms. As I was doing it the kayak was drifting ever near the breaking surf on the steep beach, and waves were swamping the cockpit, so I had to keep crawling back into the cockpit to pump out the water. Eventually, with my arms fully extended and frequent duckings of my head underwater, I was able to make a splint for the broken yoke using some wooden cooking utensils all held together with tape, straps and cable ties. It wasn’t a moment too soon as my kayak was just about to be swept ashore into the pounding surf! But that wasn’t the end of the day’s mishaps because when I got back into the kayak I realized that I had omitted to secure my paddle and it had been swept away by the waves! Fortunately I always carry a spare paddle and I spent the rest of the day paddling around the area trying to find the lost paddle but to no avail. Everything just kept going from bad to worse, and I was less than a month into my trip.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey15.jpg
  • When I was in La Paz with the American kayaker, Corrie, we met an American guide who worked for the main commercial kayaking tour company in La Paz and he invited us to stay at their place while we there. I later arranged to meet up with him and one of his tour groups when I headed north back to Loreto. Shortly after meeting up with them at their camp I heard an animal crying out in the desert not far away from us so I ran in the direction of the cries and surprised a coyote attacking this mule deer fawn; It had its jaws clamped onto the fawn's back as you can see from the wound on its back. The startled coyote ran away leaving the wounded fawn behind. The Mexican support boat operator in the photo, who was accompanying the kayaking group, kindly offered to take the fawn back to La Paz to see if it could be saved.
    Kayaking- Gulf-of-California54.jpg
  • From Lunga I had to return to Mull and get more provisions in Tobermory before continuing on to the Small Isles – Muck, Eigg, Rum and Canna via Ardnemurchan, the westernmost point on mainland UK. This is a view back towards the mainland and Mull from Fladda, one of the other islands in the Treshnish Isles on the way back to Mull. The other islands and skerries at the south end of the archipelago are Cairn Na Burgh Mor and Cairn na Burgh Beag. I paddled above a lot of seaweed to the south of Lunga and the current was very strong. It was evidently another good area for basking sharks to feed because I encountered two more, but wasn’t able to remain with them for very long. The swells were getting bigger and by the time I reached Treshnish Point on Mull and entered the bay on the other side I knew that it was going to be really hard work, and that I had to really stay focussed to stay in control because the combination of the strong south-westerly wind, strong currents and confused waves was swinging me every which way. The conditions were very similar and just as challenging as when I had to fight to get to Arinagour on Coll. I was very relieved to reach the other side and round Callach Point to find calmer sea conditions. From there it was a much easier paddle to gat back to my campsite in Ardmore Bay at the northern point of Mull.
    Kayaking-West-Coast-Scotland25.jpg
  • After a lot of walking through the forest streams I noticed a small uncomfortable lesion on the back of my ankle. It became very tender and inflamed when I wore my hiking boots and the collar rubbed up against it. Over the next few days it became more and more swollen, and then my entire foot swelled up to a grotesque size. With the massive swelling came excruciating pain; I couldn’t stand up for more than ten minutes at a time without having to lay on my back and then count to ten while the pain slowly subsided. When I was standing up I could feel the pressure building up and then the searing pain charging down my blood vessels like an express train. Ironically, I had just been able to place my other foot that had been cut so badly, flat on the ground again without any discomfort ; now I would be hobbling on the other foot for the next few weeks. I was very disappointed that my exploratory forays into the forest had to be dramatically curtailed until I could walk properly again. I found a sturdy staff to help me stand upright for long as long as possible and it became a valued companion over the next two weeks or so. It was now a case of having to do things in short bursts until the pain became too unbearable. I couldn’t have chosen a more isolated location to contract such a worrying condition. I couldn’t believe the size of my foot; it was so heavy and full of fluid, and looked more like a rubber glove that had been filled to bursting point with water. The skin on the back of my ankle had turned purple and split open because of the extreme swelling. It was looking very serious and I was compelled to start the long arduous journey to the next sizeable town, Antalaha, at least 100 miles to the north. It was going to be a daunting journey anyway because of the combination of heavy surf and coral reefs on the outer coast, but now with this latest problem my resilience would be tested to the limit.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey41.jpg
  • The prevailing wind in Southeast Alaska is SE, and in the early days when I was kayaking mainly in Frederick Sound and Stephens Passage I had to paddle southwards back to Petersburg against strong headwinds and waves. But sometimes the wind and waves were too much for me when the weather  deteriorated in late September, and I had to just sit out the storms and wait for a break in the weather. On this occasion I had to wait at least a week, and I was down to my last provisions. It was exhilarating to look out across the stormy sea feeling the full might of the wind rampaging across the long fetch of Frederick Sound. But I was getting frustrated and my tent was being attacked by a very aggressive territorial squirrel that objected to me living on his patch. It was the only clearing that I could find to pitch my tent, and because it was relatively open the forest floor was riddled with the squirrel's burrows. It started chewing holes in my precious "Omnipotent" tent and then it escalated to bombarding it with fir-cones. I had to retaliate and throw them back at him, and the tension continued to escalate from there until I had to declare war on the squirrel. I was always very wary of the squirrels in Southeast Alaska because they were worse than bears for trying to raid my food, and they chewed holes in some of my drybags, with perfect insight into where their favourite snacks like peanuts were located. Eventually I woke up one night and the moon was beaming across a placid Frederick Sound so I made a dash for it and paddled for 14 hours straight to get back to Petersburg before the weather changed.
    Southeast-Alaska-coast11.jpg
  • My Klepper Aerius 1 kayak on a beach on one of the Brothers Islands, Frederick Sound, Southeast Alaska, USA.<br />
This was a truly idyllic location that I loved visiting. I can tell this was taken in my early years kayaking in Southeast Alaska because I was still using the heavy wooden Klepper paddle. It made so much difference to paddling when I started using a very lightweight fibre-glass paddle. It made a big difference to reducing arm fatigue when I was paddling for long periods. But arm fatigue was a minor problem compared to my bottom and back aching, and I experimented for years to try to find the perfect seating and back support. I ended up with several layers of foam until I finally bought a special  inflatable kayak seat and back-rest.
    Alaska-camping-kayaking6.jpg
  • It was hard to tell from my nautical chart exactly where I could expect to find protection from offshore coral reefs. There appeared to be stretches where I would have to take my chances and run the gauntlet on the open sea and then hope to find a way of getting back inside the next stretch of protective coral reef. Sometimes they abutted right up to the shore or there were too many breakers to negotiate. It was a constant maze that I had to negotiate and make the best choices for. I stopped at a village called Vinanivao to see if I could pick up some of the usual provisions like baguettes, biscuits, onions, tomatoes and bananas. I limped through the hot streets dragging my bloated foot beside me and having to seek out the shade because the hot sand was scorching my feet. It wasn’t just the sand and my bad leg that made me feel uncomfortable, as the locals only stared at me as if I was an alien invader. It was the first remote village that I had passed through where I didn’t feel completely welcome. Sitting down was always a great relief now, even if I still had to keep moving my foot around to find the least uncomfortable position. By contrast, the next village that I passed afforded me a memorable welcome even if I decided to stay in my kayak. I skirted the beach and was spotted by a group of young boys frolicking in the water. They came rushing over to me and started clowning around, plunging, splashing, wrestling and plenty of funny faces. I could have spent the day with those little clowns enjoying their simple life but my bad foot meant that I had to keep pressing on to reach a doctor. Sometimes the pain was so unbearable that I had to lay on my side and recite a rhyme until the pain abated. But eventually the sore on the back of my ankle burst open and erupted its suppurating contents, leaving a gaping hole, but at least the pressure and some of the pain was relieved.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey43.jpg
  • It was hard to tell from my nautical chart exactly where I could expect to find protection from offshore coral reefs. There appeared to be stretches where I would have to take my chances and run the gauntlet on the open sea and then hope to find a way of getting back inside the next stretch of protective coral reef. Sometimes they abutted right up to the shore or there were too many breakers to negotiate. It was a constant maze that I had to negotiate and make the best choices for. I stopped at a village called Vinanivao to see if I could pick up some of the usual provisions like baguettes, biscuits, onions, tomatoes and bananas. I limped through the hot streets dragging my bloated foot beside me and having to seek out the shade because the hot sand was scorching my feet. It wasn’t just the sand and my bad leg that made me feel uncomfortable, as the locals only stared at me as if I was an alien invader. It was the first remote village that I had passed through where I didn’t feel completely welcome. Sitting down was always a great relief now, even if I still had to keep moving my foot around to find the least uncomfortable position. By contrast, the next village that I passed afforded me a memorable welcome even if I decided to stay in my kayak. I skirted the beach and was spotted by a group of young boys frolicking in the water. They came rushing over to me and started clowning around, plunging, splashing, wrestling and plenty of funny faces. I could have spent the day with those little clowns enjoying their simple life but my bad foot meant that I had to keep pressing on to reach a doctor. Sometimes the pain was so unbearable that I had to lay on my side and recite a rhyme until the pain abated. But eventually the sore on the back of my ankle burst open and erupted its suppurating contents, leaving a gaping hole, but at least the pressure and some of the pain was relieved.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey42.jpg
  • Madagascar day gecko  (Phelsuma madagascariensis madagascariensis) is a diurnal subspecies of geckos. It lives on the eastern coast of Madagascar and typically inhabits rainforests and dwells on trees. The Madagascar day gecko feeds on insects and nectar. This lizard is one of the largest living day geckos. It can reach a total length of about 22 cm (8.7 in). The body color is light green or bluish green. The skin between the scales often has a light color. A rust-coloured stripe extends from the nostril to behind the eye. On the back there are brownish or red-brick coloured dots which may form a thin line along the mid back. These geckos do not have eyelids, and they have flattened toe pads.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-reptiles3.jpg
  • What an auspicious start to my trip! I had already made one false start leaving too late in the day and having to head back to the relative shelter of Tamatave. The next day I paddled 20 miles along the completely featureless coastline, and all I saw was a continuous, steep beach, with the big swells of the Indian Ocean crashing down onto it. I couldn’t see any ideal places for making a safe landing so I had to just go for it, come what may. I monitored the sequence of waves and made a dash for it at what seemed the safest point. I managed to get through the surf but as soon as I hit the beach and jumped out of the kayak the next wave broke into the cockpit and the powerful undertow started to drag my heavy flooded kayak back out to sea. The alarm bells were already clanging away inside my head, along with the thought, “Here’s another fine mess I’ve got myself into!”<br />
I instinctively started grabbing bags out of the kayak and hurling them up onto the beach while either my feet or knees were desperately anchoring into the abrasive shingle, but I was still being dragged around mercilessly by my unruly kayak. I looked down along the endless beach and saw two diminutive figures so I started hollering for help. As they got nearer my heart sank because I could see that it was a young girl with a child. They could only grab my things that were floating away in the relentless surf but then miraculously a strong young man appeared on the scene, and jumped into the sea to help me wrestle with my half-submerged kayak. The kayak was a dead weight in the water so I decided to start dismantling the cockpit coaming so that some of the water could be drained from the cockpit. It worked, and after much heaving we managed to drag it up the beach away from the surf; we both collapsed on the shore, utterly exhausted and chilled by the cold water. I was eternally grateful for the providential arrival of that young man on that deserted stretch of coastline.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey1.jpg
  • I always pitched my tent back in the forest where it was sheltered, and there was a thick bed of moss on the forest floor giving me a very comfortable bed. I was always beach-combing looking for either natural treasures like skulls, or flotsam and jetsam that I could use in my camp. One of those items, the yellow bottle crate, accompanied me on many journeys and was useful as a stool and for carrying things. I found the bench back in the forest not far from here. Next to the fire is an old pressure-cooker that I found in the Salvation Army charity shop in Petersburg, and it was an essential part of my cooking gear. I stripped down so it was just metal, and it had a lid that closed and locked rotationally, so I could leave it in the fire without fear of it tipping over. It was solid stainless steel with a copper bottom, so it could take a lot of heat without burning the feed ...too much. Sometimes I had my campfire on the other side of the beach depending on which way the wind was blowing from. It was a great beach for firewood because there was always plenty of driftwood washed up around the point.
    Alaska-camping-kayaking12.jpg
  • Apart from ascending An Sgurr, the other essential thing that I had to do during my first time on the Isle of Eigg was to visit the infamous Massacre Cave. During the sixteenth century there was a lengthy feud between the Macleod and MacDonald clans. According to traditional accounts, in 1577 a party of MacLeods staying on the island became too amorous and caused trouble with the local girls. They were subsequently rounded up, bound and cast adrift in The Minch, but were rescued by some clansmen. A party of MacLeods subsequently landed on Eigg with revenge in mind. Their approach had been spotted by the islanders who had hidden in a secret cave called the Cave of Frances (Gaelic: Uamh Fhraing). The entrance to this cave was tiny and covered by moss, undergrowth and a small waterfall. After a thorough but fruitless search lasting for three to five days, the MacLeods set sail again but a MacDonald carelessly climbed onto a promontory to watch their departure and was spotted. The MacLeods returned and were able to follow his footprints back to the cave. They redirected the stream and lit a fire at the entrance so that the cave was filled with smoke thereby asphyxiating everyone inside. Three hundred and ninety five people died in the cave, the whole population of the island bar one old lady who had not sought refuge there. Human remains in the cave were reported to have been found, but by 1854 they had been removed and buried elsewhere.<br />
Massacre Cave sits in the back of a fault-like crevice under a steep rock face near where this photo was taken just around the point south of Galmisdale. It was one of the most eerie places that I have ever visited, and as I crawled along the very low claustrophobic passage into the cave my imagination was vividly reconstructing the horrific event from many centuries ago. I had to crawl for about 7 metres before it opened out into a larger chamber where it was impossible not to feel their presence, and to hear their choking and screams
    Kayaking-West-Coast-Scotland49.jpg
  • Ravens love to fly and appear to revel in it more than any other birds that I have observed. There was a steep cliff on the seaward side of the islet where I was camping and the thermal updraughts from the ocean blasted vertically up its face. The ravens loved to play there, getting carried abruptly aloft, and then tumbling and rolling back down before taking the elevator back up again.
    Kayaking- Gulf-of-California64.jpg
  • Madagascar day gecko  (Phelsuma madagascariensis madagascariensis) is a diurnal subspecies of geckos. It lives on the eastern coast of Madagascar and typically inhabits rainforests and dwells on trees. The Madagascar day gecko feeds on insects and nectar. This lizard is one of the largest living day geckos. It can reach a total length of about 22 cm (8.7 in). The body color is light green or bluish green. The skin between the scales often has a light color. A rust-coloured stripe extends from the nostril to behind the eye. On the back there are brownish or red-brick coloured dots which may form a thin line along the mid back. These geckos do not have eyelids, and they have flattened toe pads.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-reptiles7.jpg
  • Cape Fanshawe was always one of my first anchorages after leaving Petersburg, either in one of my boats, Avalon and subsequently Selena, or in my kayak. It’s on the mainland and at the entrance to my favourite place for vegetation in Southeast Alaska, Port Houghton. Although there are some safe anchorages in amongst the small islands there, and there used to be a fur farm situated there, the actual cape is very exposed to the full power of the elements as can be seen by the way these rocks on the shore have been sculpted; they have been sculpted like waves and are extremely slippery to walk on.<br />
I always remember being trapped there in my kayak late in the summer because the sea conditions were so rough. I was trying to get back to Petersburg at the end of a trip, and when the weather eventually cleared for a while, I had to make a dash for town and paddled continuously for 14 hours to make it back there. I had nearly been out of food, and to add to my torment my tent was being constantly bombarded with cones by a very petulant and territorial squirrel: it developed into squirrel wars!
    Southeast-Alaska-coast12.jpg
  • I paddled onto the town of Mananara, whilst nursing my painful foot injury and infected sores. I had to make a long detour around the next point to avoid the minefield of fringing coral reefs and faced the prospect of trying to find a way through the maze of threatening coral in the fading light of the day, and was relieved when I eventually found a clear passage through to the shore. I received treatment for my injuries, in Mananara, and then shared a ride to Maroantsetra, the gateway town to the Masoala Peninsula, in the back of a pickup truck with other foreigners. I was glad that I was able to experience that road journey through the beautiful, biodiverse vegetation of Mananara National Park. I then explored the amazing island of Nosey Mangabe in Antongil Bay, where I had my first encounter with an incredible leaf-tailed gecko, which was love at first sight.<br />
I then paddled from Maroantsetra to the Masoala Peninsula. The sea was flat calm when I passed Nosy Mangabe but just after midday the wind started to pick up as it often did at that time of day. It was coming in from the entrance to the bay, which opens out onto the Indian Ocean, and in a very short time I found myself battling into winds gusting over 30 mph. Once again I had to keep stopping to pump out water whilst trying to hold my position facing into the oncoming waves. Progress was painfully slow and with every laboured stroke I felt as if my shoulders were dislocating. I was getting drenched with spray every time I ploughed into a wave and the salt was building up on my skin. As my body gyrated with each paddle stroke my back was getting rubbed raw by my backrest and the salt aggravated the sores. My throat was parched and I didn’t have enough water to quench my thirst; I was beginning to feel like a galley slave! My arms and shoulders screamed with the exertion, the salt was burning my flesh, and I had to overcome exhaustion; by the time I eventually reached my destination I was completely drained.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey33.jpg
  • Madagascar day gecko  (Phelsuma madagascariensis madagascariensis) is a diurnal subspecies of geckos. It lives on the eastern coast of Madagascar and typically inhabits rainforests and dwells on trees. The Madagascar day gecko feeds on insects and nectar. This lizard is one of the largest living day geckos. It can reach a total length of about 22 cm (8.7 in). The body color is light green or bluish green. The skin between the scales often has a light color. A rust-coloured stripe extends from the nostril to behind the eye. On the back there are brownish or red-brick coloured dots which may form a thin line along the mid back. These geckos do not have eyelids, and they have flattened toe pads.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-reptiles1.tif
  • Wave-cut platform at Cape Fanshawe, on the mainland, Southeast Alaska, USA.<br />
<br />
Cape Fanshawe was always one of my first anchorages after leaving Petersburg, either in one of my boats, Avalon and subsequently Selena, or in my kayak. It’s on the mainland and at the entrance to my favourite place for vegetation in Southeast Alaska, Port Houghton. Although there are some safe anchorages in amongst the small islands there, and there used to be a fur farm situated there, the actual cape is very exposed to the full power of the elements as can be seen by the way these rocks on the shore have been sculpted; they have been sculpted like waves and are extremely slippery to walk on.<br />
I always remember being trapped there in my kayak late in the summer because the sea conditions were so rough. I was trying to get back to Petersburg at the end of a trip, and when the weather eventually cleared for a while, I had to make a dash for town and paddled continuously for 18 hours to make it back there. I had nearly been out of food, and to add to my torment my tent was being constantly bombarded with cones by a very petulant and territorial squirrel; it developed into squirrel wars!
    coast-3.tif
  • Madagascar day gecko  (Phelsuma madagascariensis madagascariensis) is a diurnal subspecies of geckos. It lives on the eastern coast of Madagascar and typically inhabits rainforests and dwells on trees. The Madagascar day gecko feeds on insects and nectar. This lizard is one of the largest living day geckos. It can reach a total length of about 22 cm (8.7 in). The body color is light green or bluish green. The skin between the scales often has a light color. A rust-coloured stripe extends from the nostril to behind the eye. On the back there are brownish or red-brick coloured dots which may form a thin line along the mid back. These geckos do not have eyelids, and they have flattened toe pads.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-reptiles6.jpg
  • Admiralty Island, Southeast Alaska, USA.<br />
I had my first close encounter with brown bears here. They were feeding on blueberries on the lower slopes of the mountains, and I crept as closely as I could until I started attracting too many biting insects, and had to fend them off without attracting the attention of the bears.At the Northern end of Seymour Canal that almost dissects Admiralty Island is the Pack Creek Brown Bear Viewing Area that offers visitors the opportunity to observe brown bears in their natural habitat as they fish for salmon and interact with one another during the summer months. It used to be the home of Stan Price who co-existed peacefully with the bears for many years. I used to visit Stan whenever I was up that far, and listened to his fascinating stories about the bears, that wandered around his cabins, and even on the roofs. It was in Windfall Harbour adjacent to Pack Creek where I was charged by a bear, and stopped it dead in its tracks by shouting at it with a thunderous voice to "GO BACK!"
    Southeast-Alaska-Avalon18.jpg
  • Observing sea lions at close quarters at their haul-outs was like going to a circus, because there always so much going on to entertain and amuse. They are such noisy and smelly places, and sometimes I had to crawl through the foul, stagnant rockpools to get amongst them, but it was always worth it. There was often sparring going on between the big bulls, which involved a lot of heaving and wheezing, and roaring. If they weren't sparring then they would be posturing in  a high and mighty fashion with their heads thrown back and their chests puffed out. Younger bulls appeared to congregate in gangs like delinquents hell-bent on mischief, usually directed at the less mobile larger bulls. One of the funniest incidents I have ever seen in the animal kingdom was when there was a big bull teetering on a narrow ledge on a rock-face about 2 metres above the sea. Beneath him there were some mischievous juveniles that were leaping up at him out of the water to nip him on his exposed posterior that he was unable to protect because of his precarious situation. He was getting understandably very irritated, and eventually fell off the narrow ledge into the sea making a big splash: it was hilarious! I also enjoyed watching the juveniles playing in the tidal surges that swept them back and forth along channels between the rocks. Sometimes when I was paddling in big swells with waves crashing onto the rocks I marvelled at how the sea lions revelled in the opportunity to play close to the rocks in sea conditions that were threatening to me.
    Alaska-Steller-sealion3.jpg
  • It was hard to tell from my nautical chart exactly where I could expect to find protection from offshore coral reefs. There appeared to be stretches where I would have to take my chances and run the gauntlet on the open sea and then hope to find a way of getting back inside the next stretch of protective coral reef. Sometimes they abutted right up to the shore or there were too many breakers to negotiate. It was a constant maze that I had to negotiate and make the best choices for. I stopped at a village called Vinanivao to see if I could pick up some of the usual provisions like baguettes, biscuits, onions, tomatoes and bananas. I limped through the hot streets dragging my bloated foot beside me and having to seek out the shade because the hot sand was scorching my feet. It wasn’t just the sand and my bad leg that made me feel uncomfortable, as the locals only stared at me as if I was an alien invader. It was the first remote village that I had passed through where I didn’t feel completely welcome. Sitting down was always a great relief now, even if I still had to keep moving my foot around to find the least uncomfortable position. By contrast, the next village that I passed afforded me a memorable welcome even if I decided to stay in my kayak. I skirted the beach and was spotted by a group of young boys frolicking in the water. They came rushing over to me and started clowning around, plunging, splashing, wrestling and plenty of funny faces. I could have spent the day with those little clowns enjoying their simple life but my bad foot meant that I had to keep pressing on to reach a doctor. Sometimes the pain was so unbearable that I had to lay on my side and recite a rhyme until the pain abated. But eventually the sore on the back of my ankle burst open and erupted its suppurating contents, leaving a gaping hole, but at least the pressure and some of the pain was relieved.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey44.jpg
  • Madagascar day gecko  (Phelsuma madagascariensis madagascariensis) is a diurnal subspecies of geckos. It lives on the eastern coast of Madagascar and typically inhabits rainforests and dwells on trees. The Madagascar day gecko feeds on insects and nectar. This lizard is one of the largest living day geckos. It can reach a total length of about 22 cm (8.7 in). The body color is light green or bluish green. The skin between the scales often has a light color. A rust-coloured stripe extends from the nostril to behind the eye. On the back there are brownish or red-brick coloured dots which may form a thin line along the mid back. These geckos do not have eyelids, and they have flattened toe pads.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-reptiles2.tif
  • As I got farther from the shore and out into the fully unobstructed jaws of the Atlantic Ocean, I quickly realised that I was taking a really big chance with such chaotic sea conditions. I debated whether or not to turn back, but I decided against any rational thinking as usual, and adopted my King Canute attitude of defiance against the might of the ocean. If I remember correctly it seemed as if I had waves coming at me from all quarters, especially from the stern, that required some heavy-duty bracing to prevent me from jack-knifing and capsizing. I felt as small and vulnerable as I have ever done in a kayak anywhere in the world. It was quite reminiscent of an epic paddle on the east coast of Madagascar, when the following waves and swell were so big that I had to paddle in a reverse position into the waves, and “back into” the safety of a sheltered lagoon. To say that my heart was in my mouth the entire way would be too understate how genuinely scared I felt, but as always I was fully focussed and defiant, and even shouted at the waves from time to time just to let them know that I wasn’t going to surrender to them. My eyes were fixed on my destination, the small Isle of Lunga, and constantly analysing how much nearer it seemed. <br />
I had good memories of camping on Muck during my previous visit there in 1990. I was really looking forward to being there again, and that as well as my sense of self-preservation kept me battling away with gritted teeth. It may sound very clichéd but when you are paddling along the precipice, as I was in those sea conditions then every fibre of every muscle in your body is as taut as bowstrings. As I slowly got nearer I could already feel some degree of relief coursing through my veins along with the adrenaline. I could see the entrance to the harbour and the new ferry terminal getting delightfully larger and larger. I then paddled around the eastern side of the island towards a sheltered sandy bay on the northern end of Lunga.
    Kayaking-West-Coast-Scotland35.jpg
  • Madagascar day gecko  (Phelsuma madagascariensis madagascariensis) is a diurnal subspecies of geckos. It lives on the eastern coast of Madagascar and typically inhabits rainforests and dwells on trees. The Madagascar day gecko feeds on insects and nectar. This lizard is one of the largest living day geckos. It can reach a total length of about 22 cm (8.7 in). The body color is light green or bluish green. The skin between the scales often has a light color. A rust-coloured stripe extends from the nostril to behind the eye. On the back there are brownish or red-brick coloured dots which may form a thin line along the mid back. These geckos do not have eyelids, and they have flattened toe pads.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-reptiles4.jpg
  • Madagascar day gecko  (Phelsuma madagascariensis madagascariensis) is a diurnal subspecies of geckos. It lives on the eastern coast of Madagascar and typically inhabits rainforests and dwells on trees. The Madagascar day gecko feeds on insects and nectar. This lizard is one of the largest living day geckos. It can reach a total length of about 22 cm (8.7 in). The body color is light green or bluish green. The skin between the scales often has a light color. A rust-coloured stripe extends from the nostril to behind the eye. On the back there are brownish or red-brick coloured dots which may form a thin line along the mid back. These geckos do not have eyelids, and they have flattened toe pads.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-reptiles5.jpg
  • Ankarana was a really special experience for me. I loved the marriage between the sculpted limestone rocks and the lush vegetation. The tsingy limestone formations are amazing but quite hazardous to walk around on because the rock has been eroded into vertical jagged blades. I discovered that some of the local crowned lemurs have become semi-habituated to visitors, and associate them with snacks, which is not usually a good thing, but unfortunately it is often inevitable, especially if the guides encourage it too. I was able to camp overnight in the forest on the way back to the park headquarters, and had a memorable soak in a cooling stream to listen to the nocturnal sounds of the forest – and to avoid the worst mosquitoes on the trip so far. <br />
I was really impressed with Ankarana, so it was with the usual mixture of wonderment and sadness that I looked back at the very finite perimeter of another protected area when I was driving away in the taxi-brousse. The abrupt transition from incredibly rich biodiversity to barren scrubland was painfully depressing and becoming too familiar in Madagascar.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey46.tif
  • This was one of the most amazing things that I witnessed on the trip. I was on a beach where large numbers of squid were beaching themselves after mating. Once they were stranded they started flushing red rapidly back and forth along their bodies, presumably as a sign of agitation. Then I saw several large moray eels wriggling through the shallow water following them right up to the water’s edge and then to my amazement I watched them engulf and swallow the squid whole in the blinking of the eye. I could see why the moray eel has such a large head with wrinkled skin to allow it to swallow large prey whole rather like a snake.
    Kayaking- Gulf-of-California92.jpg
  • I gave up on trying to find my paddle, and tried to find a quiet stretch of beach to make camp; I wasn’t really in the mood for attracting a big audience that evening. But as I was racing through the surf towards the beach I saw some people pouring out of the trees and racing towards me, and they eagerly helped to drag my kayak away from the surf. Looking along the beach I could see a line of huts set back from the beach, and there were more people swarming towards me! Greetings ensued and then I started collecting firewood. I assembled a big pile of wood to be fed to the fire gradually whilst cooking my dinner and when I turned around I was horrified to see that they had set the whole pile ablaze; it was party time and the occasion called for a blazing bonfire to celebrate my arrival. It was time to chill out, so I relinquished any prospect of dinner and a quiet evening, and joined the party. I made tea and tried to find as many drinking containers as possible. Darkness settled and the crackling fire illuminated the circus of animated laughing faces around me. My phrasebook once again became the centre of attention and everyone wanted to have a go at trying to speak some English. The trials and tribulations of the day were soon forgotten amidst the laughter.<br />
I camped near the village for a couple of days, doing more repairs and trying to heal my sores. I continued to be the centre of attention of the village, and many people stopped by to observe the strange piece of flotsam that had washed up on their beach. The apparent village leader milked me as frequently as possible for new English phrases. His big opportunity came when it was time for me to leave, and he put his newly learnt expressions into practice by giving a running commentary on my departure - “Duncan Murrell is leaving today and the sun is shining, it is not cloudy, he had a good time here” – all perfectly enunciated like David Attenborough describing the actions of a wild animal.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey17.jpg
  • I became very familiar with this small local ferry because I usually used it to get to one of the small native communities like Kake, Angoon and Hoonah, from where I started my kayaking trips that often ended up at Tenakee Springs, where I boarded it to return back to Petersburg. It became like a trusted old friend that I enjoyed seeing cruising past my various campsites, and looked forward to being reunited with at the end of my arduous trips, and then relaxing in relative comfort on my way home to Petersburg.<br />
MV LeConte is a feeder vessel for the Alaska Marine Highway System, built in Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin in 1973 and commissioned in 1974 by Alaska's ferry system. LeConte is the older sister ship to M/V Aurora, and both serve as feeder vessels that pick up passengers in small communities such as Hoonah and take them to larger regional communities (this process is colloquially known as the "milk run").<br />
In the case of the LeConte, it primarily serves in the northern portion of the Alaskan Panhandle in between Sitka and Juneau, but it also occasionally ventures all through Southeast Alaska as well, LeConte and the M/V Aurora are the only AMHS vessels able to serve the communities of Angoon, Pelican, Tenakee Springs, and two of the three vessels (the M/V Taku also is able to access these ports) to serve Hoonah and Kake. This quality is due because of these vessels' small sizes thus making them both vital assets for the ferry system and the residents of these rural villages.
    Alaska-Ferry97.jpg
  • This was my main camp for many years when I was photographing the bubble net feeding humpback whales. It was a perfect lookout point enabling me to look up and down Chatham Strait, which is the longest navigable channel in the USA. It’s also the point where the Peril Straits enters Chatham Strait from the Pacific Ocean to the west. It was a perfect camp site in many ways apart from being near one of the whales’ favourite feeding sites, the Morris Reef. It had two protected beaches for ease of launching and landing, facing either north or south, depending on which way the wind was blowing from. It was close to streams for fresh water and there was always plenty of firewood washed up on the shore. Perhaps my favourite reason was that in the forest nearby was the biggest patch of huckleberry bushes that I knew of, and huckleberries were my favourite berries to have on my stack of pancakes every morning, to fuel me up for another long hard day paddling with the whales.<br />
It was also a beautiful spot to eat my dinner in the evening. I cooked very elaborate dinners because that was evening’s entertainment every night. Every night I would slide back into my reclining camp seat and watch the dying embers of the fire flicker beneath the stars, and the moon cross Chatham Strait from Admiralty Island to Baranof Island. The stillness of the night was periodically punctuated by a gentle volley of whale breath, which perfectly complemented the sounds of contentment rumbling inside my full belly.
    Alaska-camping-kayaking14.jpg
  • I had stopped for a rest along this stretch of coastline and came across this mummified carcase of a dead minke whale. I removed a small section of its baleen plates, which I was later able to use in my school presentations to show the children exactly what baleen plates look like and how they work. I also found a lot of nautilus shells washed up on that stretch of coastline and miraculously managed to transport the incredibly fragile wafer-thin shells back to England. They are some of the most exquisitely beautiful objects that I have ever collected.
    Kayaking- Gulf-of-California47.jpg
  • When I was camping on one of the Los Candeleros islets, I was sharing it with three ravens. They were rolling and tumbling acrobatically in the updraughts that were whipping up the precipitous face of the island. I have developed a special affinity with that most ubiquitous, intelligent and successful of all birds over many years in Alaska, where their amazing repertoire of calls is an integral feature of the ancient forests. I have even learnt how to mimic some of their calls and capture their attention. After a few days cutting the ice with my fellow residents one of them started flying out to my kayak to seemingly greet me whenever I returned to the island; it would circle overhead whilst calling out and then escort me back to shore.<br />
After a couple of weeks of familiarisation my glossy black friend vanished. A few days later I landed on a nearby beach at Ensenada Blanca to visit an American living in the local fishing village. As I stepped ashore I noticed a raven flying demonstrably towards me. I replied to its raven calls and it flew overhead and did a few rolls as if it was showing off. The acknowledgement was plain to see, rather like a dog wagging its tail. Then it flew ahead of me and proceeded to harass and dislodge the turkey vultures that were perched in the trees. After each successful assault it called out and then proceeded to dislodge another vulture in the next tree; within seconds the sky was full of screeching, disgruntled vultures! It seemed as if the raven was clearly intoxicated with its own sense of bravado, and maybe it was even trying to impress me. When I arrived at the American’s house at the end of the beach I told him about the hilarious encounter with my shiny black friend and when he looked out of the doorway to see if the raven was still out there he looked at me, laughed, and informed me that it was waiting outside for me, and sure enough it was perched on a cactus just a few metres from the door!
    Kayaking- Gulf-of-California61.jpg
  • I would often lay on my back to gaze upwards, hypnotised by the languid flight and graceful form of the frigate birds flying overhead.
    Kayaking- Gulf-of-California60.jpg
  • I camped on one of the three Los Candeleros islets just to the south of Isla Danzante in the Bahia de Loreto National Park for three weeks on the way back to Loreto. From the top I had a clear view of the southern end of the channel between Isla Carmen and Isla Danzante, a passage frequently travelled by whales and dolphins. I was hoping for my first view of blue whales. I had only seen the second largest whales, fin whales, up to that point. When I wasn’t scanning the horizon for whales I was being hypnotised by the graceful magnificent frigate birds circling overhead in the thermals. They are the ultimate gliders among birds, able to hang in the for hours with harly a movement of their long, thin, angular wings. The shallow water around the islets was excellent for snorkelling although the water was much colder than I expected. It was wonderful to camping under the clear skies, with the stars so vivid because of the absence of light pollution from people. The temperature at night was perfect without any need for a sleeping bag or any protection from insects.
    Kayaking- Gulf-of-California55.jpg
  • This is a view towards the Isle of Rum, from the northern side of An Sgurr across the central moorland plateau, with a series of lochs along the way. The Bay of Laig and the northernmost point of the island where I was camping can be seen to the right of Rum. This was a fantastic hike with breathtaking views all the way. For much of my younger days I had Dartmoor to enjoy as my regular local camping and hiking destination so I was well used to hiking across moorland terrain with ocean views to the north and south of Devon, but not as close as this on the islands of the Inner Hebrides. It was truly magical to be hiking across this ancient rugged terrain, with the sea and other islands always enhancing the view, and adding greatly to the sense of isolation and perspective. I seem to remember that my feet were quite sore by the time that I got back to my camp at the northern tip of the island in the fading light. It was one of my classic “race against the fading light” hikes, especially with a precarious coastal footpath to negotiate at the end.
    Kayaking-West-Coast-Scotland48.jpg
  • Humpback whales have the longest flipper of any cetacean: 5 metres long or up to a third of the body length. They vary in colouration and can be almost completely white like this individual. Humpback whales in the Southern Hemisphere are more likely to have white flippers than in the Northern Hemisphere. I observed how they appeared to use their big flippers to help to herd their prey towards their gaping jaws during lunge feeding. I also observed how they use them for splashing the water to assist in panicking and herding their prey, and they probably also use them for audible communication. But they also appear to use them recreationally like this one laying on its side waving its flippers aloft and then bringing it crashing down onto the surface. This whale rolled over and over towards me with its flippers going around like a windmill or a gigantic propellor.<br />
I once felt the power and weight of a flipper when I was accidentally caught directly above an ascending bubblenet feeding pod. Before I had the chance to get out of the way one of them rolled over and its flipper landed on top of the bow of my kayak, which became partially submerged by the weight: it then rolled back the other way and released me.
    Alaska-humpback-whale-pec-slapping1.jpg
  • It continued to breach for quite some time after that shock. To this day I wonder if that whale had intentionally turned back towards me, and deliberately breached so close to me just to give me a warning, or an early-morning surprise.<br />
Later that afternoon I was taking a siesta with my feet dangling over the sides of my kayak, surrounded by whales and with my freshly dried camera on my lap, when I was rudely awakened by another icy-cold shower. This time it was a mischievous calf that had crept up behind me and flicked the water onto me with its flukes. But this time I had an audience because there was a cruise ship within viewing distance, and I heard someone who observed that I was drying my camera: little did they know that it was the second time that same day!
    Alaska-humpback-whale-breach6.jpg
  • This is the same place where I was charged by a brown bear catching salmon like this one. I was photographing it and suddenly it started charging towards me. I was still looking at it through the viewfinder until I realised that it was starting to fill the  screen, and that in fact it wasn't actually chasing fish anymore but charging me! I lowered my camera and my first instinct was to stand firm and tall, point at it in a commanding manner, and shout as loud as I could " go back!", which it duly obliged in doing. It screeched to a halt, snarled at me, and then swung around and ran away into the high grass, leaving me frozen to the spot with my heart in my mouth, my eyes and mouth wide-open and trembling from head to foot.
    Southeast-Alaska-Avalon23.jpg
  • One of the best features of this campsite is that not far back inside the forest was the biggest red huckleberry (Vaccinium parvifolium) patch that I ever found anywhere in Southeast Alaska, and they were unquestionably my favourite berries, especially when they were cooked into a sauce to have with delicious multigrain pancakes. There were also plenty of blueberry (Vaccinium ovalifolium) and some thimbleberry (Rubus parviflorus) bushes, which was also one of my favourite berries. I started every morning collecting firewood and berry picking. There was also a nice cool mountain stream not too far away for collecting drinking water, washing my clothes and having icy cold baths.<br />
I quite often baked bread either in a reflector oven or one in the ground next to the campfire. It very rarely emerged without getting burnt. This campsite was also particularly good for two of my favourite wild plants that I used regularly: wild spinach, also known as lamb's-quarters, white goosefoot, fat hen (Chenopodium album) and sea asparagus or perennial glasswort (Sarcocornia ambigua). Wild spinach is commonly found along the border of beaches and sea asparagus grows in low mats in flat areas flooded by the sea at high tide. Sea asparagus has a salty taste that reminds me of black olives.
    Alaska-camping-kayaking13.jpg
  • I often used to creep up close to the sea lions hauled out on Yasha Island, just off Point Gardiner at the southern end of Admiralty Island. I could see this young sea lion laying down on its belly, and that it had something around its neck, but nothing could have prepared me for the gut-wrenching sight when it reared up and I could see the full extent of the damage and suffering that this poor creature must have endured. The net had become deeply embedded in its throat as it had continued to grow after first getting entangled with it when it was probably playing with it. One strand of the net passed through its mouth like a horse's bit, and had pulled its mouth back into a horrific frozen grimace. I felt so sickened by the daily torture that this poor animal must have been subjected to, but it also seemed like it had somehow adapted to it demonstrating the incredible resilience of wild animals. Apart from its horrific embedded necklace it looked just as well fed and healthy as the other sea lions. I felt compelled to try to capture it without really knowing how I could hang onto the sea lion to remove the net, but I wasn't able to get close enough without disturbing all of the sea lions. When I returned to Petersburg I reported it to the Dept of Fish and Game, and was glad to hear that they were going there to do a survey, but unfortunately I later heard that they were unable to find the poor animal. I don't know how much longer that it would have been able to survive like this if it was still growing.<br />
This kind of entanglement in fishing nets is a major problem for all marine life, but it must be particularly so for sea lions because they are so inquisitive and playful. A few years later I was working on a whale research boat in Sri Lanka, and we came across two turtles entangled in a big clump of fishing net, but fortunately we were able to free them.
    Alaska-Steller-sealion10.jpg
  • I was now camping near Kinloch Castle built by Sir George Bullough in 1900. His father, John Bullough, was a millionaire from Lancashire, who like many entrepreneurs at the time, especially in the north of England, made his fortune from the Industrial Revolution; In his case as a manufacturer of cotton machinery. After buying the island in 1888 he continued to use it as a sporting estate until his death in 1891, but when his son took over the island he used the fortune he inherited from his father to take it to the next level of upper class extravagance. To build the castle he had to import all of the raw materials to the island. The sandstone used for its construction was quarried in Dumfries and Galloway. At the time there were about 100 people employed on the estate who were paid extra to wear kilts to work on the extensive grounds that included a nine-hole golf-course, tennis and squash courts, heated turtle and alligator ponds, and an aviary including birds of paradise and humming birds. Soil for the grounds was imported from Ayrshire, and figs, peaches, grapes and nectarines were grown in greenhouses. The interior boasted an amazing “orchestrian” device that could simulate the sounds of brass, drum and woodwind, an air- conditioned billiards room, and also a Jacuzzi.<br />
I was fascinated by the place and took advantage of a guided tour. I also ate in the small café at the back of the castle as well as taking a shower in one of the original bathrooms fitted with an innovative plumbing system. Sir George Bullough also used his wealth to travel around the world, and throughout the castle there are interesting artefacts that he collected on his travels, including his large collection of photographs, as he was also a keen photographer. The ballroom, that had a concealed balcony for an orchestra, was particularly atmospheric, and I could visualise the lavish parties that were held there for all of his high society guests from the upper class elite of the UK.
    Kayaking-West-Coast-Scotland59.jpg
  • The main range of hills on Rum are called the Cuillin in the south of the island. They are rocky peaks of basalt and gabbro that are part of a core of a deeply eroded volcano that was active in the Paleogene era 66 – 23 million years ago. This view is looking towards Askival, 812 metres, and Ainshval, 778 metres, from Hallival. Hallival and Askival are formed from layered igneous rocks that accumulated at the base of a magma chamber. The chamber eventually collapsed, forming a caldera (crater). There are near vertical intrusions of basalt on the northwest coast, created by basaltic magma forcing its way into fissures in the pre-exiting rock.<br />
I hiked from Kinloch and up along the Cuillin from Hallival to Ainshval, which included some very steep and challenging scrambling on all fours, and then along a long undulating ridge with a fantastic view out across the sea, before descending down towards Glen Harris to the far right of this photo. It was unquestionably one of my favourite hikes that I have ever done anywhere in the world, with absolutely stupendous views in all directions across the island and out across the sea. I was travelling light, and I knew that I only had a limited amount of time to complete the circuit back to Kinloch, so it became an exhilarating sprint across the challenging terrain that kept my adrenaline pumping all the way. It takes pride of place in my top ten hikes in the world that I would like to redo one day.
    Kayaking-West-Coast-Scotland54.jpg
  • There is a greater density of brown bears on Admiralty Island in Southeast Alaska than anywhere else in North America. Brown and grizzly bears are classified as the same species even though there are notable differences between them. ‘Brown bears” typically live along the southern coast of Alaska where they have access to seasonally abundant spawning salmon. The coastal areas also provide a rich array of vegetation they can use as food as well as a milder climate. This allows them to grow larger and live in higher densities than their “grizzly” cousins in the northern and interior parts of the state. Brown bears are also larger than black bears, have a more prominent shoulder hump, less prominent ears, and longer, straighter claws. Long claws are useful in digging for roots or excavating small mammals, but are not efficient for climbing trees.<br />
I used to visit this area frequently because there was a well-known man called Stan Price who lived in harmony with the bears in nearby Pack Creek for many years; I enjoyed listening to his bear stories. On this particular occasion I received a wake-up call not to approach the bears too closely. This bear was chasing salmon in the shallow streams and I wandered too close while my eyes were confined to the viewfinder of my camera. It suddenly turned its attention from catching salmon to me and started to walk towards me. When the walk became a canter I realized that I was in trouble so I stopped taking photos and lowered my camera. I froze to the spot and as the pace of the bear increased my first instinct was to point at and shout in a very loud, commanding voice “ Go back!” My voice echoed around the steep walls of the valley and fortunately for me the bear obeyed my order; it slammed on the brakes, snarled at me one last time and then ran away through the tall grass.<br />
Like many other animals, particularly immature males, bears will often make a bluff charge to protect their territory but I wasn’t sure of that at the time!
    wildlife-4.tif
  • Duncan Murrell eating his breakfast of huckleberry pancakes at Point Hayes, Chichagoff Island, Southeast Alaska, USA.<br />
<br />
This was my main camp for many years when I was photographing the bubble net feeding humpback whales. It was a perfect lookout point enabling me to look up and down Chatham Strait, which is the longest navigable channel in the USA. It’s also the point where the Peril Straits enters Chatham Strait from the Pacific Ocean to the west. It was a perfect camp site in many ways apart from being near one of the whales’ favourite feeding sites, the Morris Reef. It had two protected beaches for ease of launching and landing, facing either north or south, depending on which way the wind was blowing from. It was close to streams for fresh water and there was always plenty of firewood washed up on the shore. Perhaps my favourite reason was that in the forest nearby was the biggest patch of huckleberry bushes that I knew of, and huckleberries were my favourite berries to have on my stack of pancakes every morning, to fuel me up for another long hard day paddling with the whales.<br />
It was also a beautiful spot to eat my dinner in the evening. I cooked very elaborate dinners because that was evening’s entertainment every night. Every night I would slide back into my reclining camp seat and watch the dying embers of the fire flicker beneath the stars, and the moon cross Chatham Strait from Admiralty Island to Baranof Island. The stillness of the night was periodically punctuated by a gentle volley of whale breath, which perfectly complemented the sounds of contentment rumbling inside my full belly.
    Whaleman-12.tif
  • On the journey back from La Paz I had an exhilarating encounter with a large pod of Bryde’s whales lunge-feeding on a shoal of fish in this channel between the Baja Peninsula and Isla San Jose; Bryde’s whales are medium-sized baleen whales, specifically rorqual whales belonging to the same group as blue whales, humpback whales and others. They closely resemble their close relative, the sei whale, are found in tropical waters and are easily identified by the distinctive, three longitudinal ridges on their rostrum ( the extended dorsal surface of a whale’s head ). After many years of having hair-raising close encounters with feeding humpback whales in Alaska I was taken aback by how much faster the Bryde’s whales were; they can accelerate up to 15 mph compared to their usual cruising speed of 1-4 mph. I was just thinking that I would have to shift into a higher gear of alertness when a dorsal fin suddenly burst into view right in front of me, and it slid beneath my kayak with barely a whisker between us ! A few days later I had my first ever encounter with a grey whale. I had already seen a breaching humpback whale between La Paz and Isla San Jose but I was still yet to see the big one – a blue whale.
    Kayaking- Gulf-of-California48.jpg
  • Inside the protective barrier of the islands and coral reefs there was a beautiful tranquil lagoon. Beyond the tranquillity the Indian Ocean was still hurling waves and creating explosions of spray. I wanted to investigate the biggest breaks on a huge outcrop of bare rock on the outer side of the islands. I clambered up on to the rock and watched the massive swells that had travelled thousands of miles across some of the most tempestuous seas on the planet colliding with a boulder the size of a house. It was an awesome spectacle of the power of the ocean. I took some dramatic photographs but wanted to capture the perfectly timed moment of maximum impact. I dashed out onto the rock to a position that I thought was out of reach of the waves and quickly retreated to avoid the spray. They seemed to be consistently hitting a maximum height but all of a sudden a monster wave crept in unnoticed from a slightly different angle and hit me from the side. I spun around to face it and was engulfed in a surging mass of energised water; it felt like being hit by a car! I was swept off my feet and desperately tried to arrest my slide towards the foaming cauldron below, and to protect my camera. I just managed to save myself from what could have been a desperate plight if I had been swept into the sea. I felt pain, and the first thing that I noticed was that my arm was badly scraped; then I could see that I was standing in a pool of blood. I lifted my foot up and winced at the sight of a huge gash; it was very painful and I couldn’t stand on it. The infected sores on my shins and feet were still causing me some discomfort, especially at night. I wasn’t looking forward to going to bed that night because I wasn’t expecting to be able to find any comfortable positions. When I hobbled back to camp I cleaned and dried my camera and lens, but that camera body and my essential wide-angle zoom lens were now out of commission.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey28.jpg
  • Avalon wasn't the easiest boat to sail in the erratic wind conditions that are so prevalent in Southeast Alaska; there could be sudden gusts that knocked her right over on her side, and prompted much panic  to steer her back into the wind. I'm wearing my favourite hat and Woolrich coat from the Salvation Army charity shop in Petersburg, which was an endless source of useful items, and probably had the richest pickings of any charity shop that I have used regularly used.
    Southeast-Alaska-Avalon6.jpg
  • This was one of my favourite campsites. It is directly opposite the native town of Angoon, where I often used to catch the ferry to from Petersburg to start my kayaking trips in the summer. I then usually had a relatively easy crossing to get here. To the right and south of the photo is Peril Strait, which is a narrow passage that leads to Sitka and the Pacific Ocean. Offshore is the submerged Morris Reef, which was one of the regular feeding places for bubble net feeding humpback whales, which were usually the ones that I dubbed "the Famous Five". The converging currents there create strong upwellings and choppy water that made the conditions difficult at times. It was a great campsite because it has a beaches facing north and south with a small causeway leading to a small islet that was cut-off at high tide. It made it easier for me to land  depending on which way the wind was blowing. The islet looks odd in this photo because half of the trees burnt down one summer. I was paddling across Chatham Strait and could see smoke belching from the islet that was such a special lookout point for me. As soon as I landed I found a big empty plastic oil drum on the beach and used it to go back and forth with water to make a fire break to save half the islet. But it was still upsetting for me when I was sitting next to my campfire in the evening watching one tree after another crashing down on the other side, sending up fireworks of glowing embers in the night sky. It was a really dry summer that year and small islands without any groundwater are particularly vulnerable to slow burning fires smouldering in the tinder-dry forest litter. In the foreground is a rudimentary totem and circle of log seats that some Tlingit native people from Angoon must have carved. I had been coming to this campsite for a few years, and was pleasantly surprised to find these here one summer, and they added more unique character to this campsite, as well as the islet with half its trees gone.
    Alaska-camping-kayaking11.jpg
  • There is a greater density of brown bears on Admiralty Island in Southeast Alaska than anywhere else in North America. Brown and grizzly bears are classified as the same species even though there are notable differences between them. ‘Brown bears” typically live along the southern coast of Alaska where they have access to seasonally abundant spawning salmon. The coastal areas also provide a rich array of vegetation they can use as food as well as a milder climate. This allows them to grow larger and live in higher densities than their “grizzly” cousins in the northern and interior parts of the state. Brown bears are also larger than black bears, have a more prominent shoulder hump, less prominent ears, and longer, straighter claws. Long claws are useful in digging for roots or excavating small mammals, but are not efficient for climbing trees.<br />
I used to visit this area frequently because there was a well-known man called Stan Price who lived in harmony with the bears in nearby Pack Creek for many years; I enjoyed listening to his bear stories. On this particular occasion I received a wake-up call not to approach the bears too closely. This bear was chasing salmon in the shallow streams and I wandered too close while my eyes were confined to the viewfinder of my camera. It suddenly turned its attention from catching salmon to me and started to walk towards me. When the walk became a canter I realized that I was in trouble so I stopped taking photos and lowered my camera. I froze to the spot and as the pace of the bear increased my first instinct was to point at and shout in a very loud, commanding voice “ Go back!” My voice echoed around the steep walls of the valley and fortunately for me the bear obeyed my order; it slammed on the brakes, snarled at me one last time and then ran away through the tall grass.<br />
Like many other animals, particularly immature males, bears will often make a bluff charge to protect their territory but I wasn’t sure of that at the time!
    Alaska-wildlife-bearAlaska-wildlifeA...jpg
  • I gave up on trying to find my paddle, and tried to find a quiet stretch of beach to make camp; I wasn’t really in the mood for attracting a big audience that evening. But as I was racing through the surf towards the beach I saw some people pouring out of the trees and racing towards me, and they eagerly helped to drag my kayak away from the surf. Looking along the beach I could see a line of huts set back from the beach, and there were more people swarming towards me! Greetings ensued and then I started collecting firewood. I assembled a big pile of wood to be fed to the fire gradually whilst cooking my dinner and when I turned around I was horrified to see that they had set the whole pile ablaze; it was party time and the occasion called for a blazing bonfire to celebrate my arrival. It was time to chill out, so I relinquished any prospect of dinner and a quiet evening, and joined the party. I made tea and tried to find as many drinking containers as possible. Darkness settled and the crackling fire illuminated the circus of animated laughing faces around me. My phrasebook once again became the centre of attention and everyone wanted to have a go at trying to speak some English. The trials and tribulations of the day were soon forgotten amidst the laughter.<br />
I camped near the village for a couple of days, doing more repairs and trying to heal my sores. I continued to be the centre of attention of the village, and many people stopped by to observe the strange piece of flotsam that had washed up on their beach. The apparent village leader milked me as frequently as possible for new English phrases. His big opportunity came when it was time for me to leave, and he put his newly learnt expressions into practice by giving a running commentary on my departure - “Duncan Murrell is leaving today and the sun is shining, it is not cloudy, he had a good time here” – all perfectly enunciated like David Attenborough describing the actions of a wild animal.
    Kayaking-Madagascar-journey16.jpg
  • This was the photo that won the Mammal Behavior Category in the BBC Wildlife Photographer of the Year Competition in 2002. It wasn’t until after I attended the award ceremony at the Natural History Museum that I discovered that many of the judges were unhappy that it wasn’t awarded the title of the overall winner of the competition, and I subsequently discovered that that was the general public consensus as well. It was unfortunate that the controversy that surrounded the overall winner that year soured such a proud moment in my photographic career. I was contacted a few years later by the new head of the judging panel, Mark Carwardine, to ask for any guidelines for submitting a winning photo, because he felt that my photo was the best entry that year. C’est la vie !<br />
But the moment that can never be diminished or tainted was the moment that I captured the image. I was photographing a bubble net feeding group very near the community of Tenakee Springs, which can be seen to the left of the whale. They came up behind me and I can clearly remember zooming my lens back so that I could fit the entire throat of the whale into the photo, and fortunately I was just able to do that or else it might not have been a perfect award-winning photo.
    Alaska-humpbackwhale-bubblenet33.jpg
  • This amazing day was probably one of the most seminal days in my whole life; one of those days, as many were that I can still vividly remember, like the first really close encounter on this day when a whale surfaced right in front of me, but then it stopped abruptly and its massive rotund back rolled like an enormous ball right up against and beneath my kayak without creating barely a ripple. It gave me a sense of exhilaration that I had never ever experienced before. I may have just been paddling on flat calm water but it felt like I was gliding in the air because I was as high as a kite.
    Alaska-camping-kayaking2.jpg
  • Humpback whale (Megaptera novaeanglia) lunging during cooperative feeding using a bubble net, Tenakee Inlet, Southeast Alaska, USA.<br />
<br />
This was the photo that won the Mammal Behavior Category in the BBC Wildlife Photographer of the Year Competition in 2002. It wasn’t until after I attended the award ceremony at the Natural History Museum that I discovered that many of the judges were unhappy that it wasn’t awarded the title of the overall winner of the competition, and I subsequently discovered that that was the general public consensus as well. It was unfortunate that the controversy that surrounded the overall winner that year soured such a proud moment in my photographic career. I was contacted a few years later by the new head of the judging panel, Mark Carwardine, to ask for any guidelines for submitting a winning photo, because he felt that my photo was the best entry that year. C’est la vie !<br />
But the moment that can never be diminished or tainted was the moment that I captured the image. I was photographing a bubble net feeding group very near the community of Tenakee Springs, which can be seen to the left of the whale. They came up behind me and I can clearly remember zooming my lens back so that I could fit the entire throat of the whale into the photo, and fortunately I was just able to do that or else it might not have been a perfect award-winning photo.
    Humpback whales.tif
  • This was one of the most amazing things that I witnessed on the trip. I was on a beach where large numbers of squid were beaching themselves after mating ? Once they were stranded they started flushing red rapidly back and forth along their bodies, presumably as a sign of agitation. Then I saw several large moray eels wriggling through the shallow water following them right up to the water’s edge and then to my amazement I watched them engulf and swallow the squid whole in the blinking of the eye. I could see why the moray eel has such a large head with wrinkled skin to allow it to swallow large prey whole rather like a snake.
    Kayaking- Gulf-of-California91.jpg
  • This is a view along a jagged ridge that juts out into Glen Harris from the northern side of Ainshval. After reaching the top of Ainshval I continued along a less daunting ridge towards the southernmost point of the island to Sgurr nan Gillean before following the gradually descending ridge to the west down towards the shoreline of Glen Harris. From there I followed a moorland track that goes up to the lovely forested Kinloch Glen and then back to Kinloch. I had already visited Harris on the shoreline of Glen Harris, partly because I wanted to see where the Bulloughs are interred. Originally John Bullough was interred in a rock-cut mausoleum under an octagonal stone tower, but this was later demolished, and his sarcophagus moved into an elaborate but incongruous mausoleum modelled as a Greek temple overlooking the sea at Harris. <br />
The extravagance of his son, Sir George, and Lady Bullough, could not be sustained indefinitely, and their finances gradually declined in the 1920s, and their interest in, and visits to Rum decreased, but when he died in France in 1939 he too was interred in the family mausoleum on Rum. His widow continued to visit Rum as late as 1954, and died in London in 1967, aged 98, and was buried next to her husband. Right up until her last visits to the island she would drive along the bumpy track to get down to the isolated mausoleum to visit her deceased husband and father-in-law. I couldn’t imagine a more bleak and isolated place to be interred, which is so exposed to the wildest elements of the Scottish coastline. It’s a hauntingly beautiful but lonely location for the mortal remains of three people interred beneath their marble effigies to command such a dramatic view out across the wild Scottish sea.
    Kayaking-West-Coast-Scotland56.jpg