War of the Whales (58 page)

When they moved onto the back deck to watch the sunset over Haro Strait, Reynolds immediately recognized the view from the video that Balcomb had shot in 2003 of the USS
Shoup
blasting high-intensity sonar while J Pod cringed along the shoreline. Reynolds had always thought of it as the Zapruder film of whale strandings. He stood there and took it all in. The splendor of the cove at sunset, with the specter of the
Shoup
still hovering in the background.

On this late afternoon, six kayakers were paddling near the shore, and a few fishing boats transited the mouth of the cove. As the sun dipped behind Vancouver Island, Balcomb shot a time-dated photograph, as he did every evening.

Reynolds had bought a bottle of scotch from the ferry station dock. They sipped their drinks as the lights of Victoria, Canada, came up across the strait. Balcomb described how the resident orcas had continued to dwindle in number, down to 80 from a peak of 100 back in 2000. In addition to the drop-off in the local salmon population due to overfishing and runoff from logging operations, Balcomb attributed the orcas’ decline to man-made noise from shipping and increased sonar and explosives trainings in their homewaters. Meanwhile, his funding from Fisheries to monitor the orca pods throughout the Pacific Northwest had been cut back from $125,000 to $80,000 a year, which meant less money to hire staff and maintain and operate his research vessel. The Capitol Hill budget battle and sequestration hadn’t helped things.

They talked about the upcoming court dates with the Navy and the ways the two of them might work together, particularly on the Northwestern ranges. They ticked through a roll call of all the players who had cycled out of the various federal agencies over the years, from ONR and the fleet and the Navy secretariat, from Fisheries and the Department of Justice. But Balcomb and Reynolds were still here. And so were the whales. They lifted their glasses in the direction of the cove.

Balcomb turned on the speakers connected to the underwater hydrophones, and suddenly the serene visual landscape was overlaid by a cacophony of mechanical sound. A speedboat crossed the mouth of the cove, trailing a rattling roar in its wake. They heard the lower-pitched rumble from the engine of a distant fishing trawler as it chugged past.

Just as the last amber light faded to dark gold, a bank of fog drifted in from the south and unrolled like a deep-pile carpet across the cove. The lights of Victoria went soft, and the drone of the distant engines was interrupted by the occasional bleat of a foghorn.

Just then a different sound came over the hydrophone speakers. A chirping, overlapping conversation, like a flock of shrill birds.

“You hear those chatterboxes?” said Balcomb, rising from his seat and peering into the dense fog. “Sounds like five or six of them, heading in this direction.” As the sound of the pod drew closer, the two men moved to the porch railing and strained to look and listen through the fog-damped silence. Then, just below them, something moved through the water. A gentle lapping rose up through the fog.

“Wait for this . . . ,” Balcomb said quietly.

And then they heard it: the unmistakable whoosh of air being forced through a half dozen blowholes. Soft yet powerful, like the rumor of a whale.

* In December 2013, Fisheries approved a five-year permit allowing the Navy to expand its sonar and explosives training activities on its Southern California and Hawaii ranges. Within a month, in separate lawsuits, Earthjustice and NRDC, along with half a dozen co-plaintiffs, sued the Navy and Fisheries for violations of the Marine Mammal Protection Act, the Endangered Species Act, and the Coastal Zone Management Act.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Researching and writing this book turned into a seven-year odyssey that sent me around the world and, at times, around the bend. I am deeply thankful to the people who guided me from shore to shore and, finally, safely home.

Had I grasped at the outset the depth of my ignorance concerning whales, submarines, the Navy, the ocean, and the law, I never would have dared embark on this project. It was my great good fortune to enlist some of the world’s leading experts as my tutors along the way.

Naomi Rose, formerly of the Humane Society of the United States and now at the Animal Welfare Institute, schooled me in the basics of marine mammalogy when I was an absolute beginner. She also introduced me to the world’s elite whale scientists at the biennial conference of the Society for Marine Mammalogy in Cape Town, South Africa. Darlene Ketten, whom I first met in Cape Town and later visited in Woods Hole and in Washington, DC, is a gifted teacher who patiently explained to me the fine points of whale hearing, forensic marine mammal pathology, and acoustics. Peter Tyack and Chris Clark were also generous with their time, their anecdotes, and their expertise in bioacoustics. Bob Gisiner and Roger Gentry gave me an insider’s perspective on the machinations of the Office of Naval Research and the National Marine Fisheries Service, respectively. Jim Mead of the Smithsonian Institution was my guide to the hidden realm below the National Museum of Natural History, as well as the unseen world of beaked whales. Michael Stocker of Ocean Conservation Research helped me grasp the fundaments of marine acoustics.

Two historians were particularly helpful when I reached out to them for guidance. D. Graham Burnette, professor of history at Princeton University, shared his extensive research into the twentieth-century science of cetology, including his deep dive into the John Lilly archives at Stanford University. Anyone in search of a riveting book about whale science and scientists would do well to read his recently published
The Sounding of the Whale
. Gary Weir, chief historian at the National Geospatial-Intelligence Agency, shared his trove of knowledge, as well as his published and unpublished research into the early days of the US Navy’s sound surveillance program. His book
An Ocean in Common
remains the best history of the Navy’s patronage of research oceanography.

My special thanks to Retired Admiral Dick Pittenger at Woods Hole, who not only schooled me in the rudiments of antisubmarine warfare and sonar but also vouched for me to other retired admirals who were instrumental in my naval education. Admirals Craig Dorman, Bob Natter, Bill Fallon, Pete Daly, Paul Gaffney, and Larry Baucom all were gracious enough to share their experiences and insights drawn from decades of dedicated service.

I’m also grateful to Admiral Pittenger for introducing me to the world’s greatest living oceanographer, Walter Munk, who was in residence that August at Woods Hole’s geofluid physics cottage. Dr. Munk subsequently invited me to visit him at his home in La Jolla, California, near the Scripps Institution of Oceanography, where he has taught and conducted research for more than 65 years. It was my singular privilege to spend several fascinating afternoons with Dr. Munk. Further south on the California coast, Sam Ridgway was kind enough to host me at the SPAWAR (Space and Naval Warfare Systems Command) headquarters of the Navy’s Marine Mammal Training Program, where he has served continuously since 1961.

I’m indebted to Ken Balcomb and Joel Reynolds, who granted me unfettered access to their friends, families, and colleagues, and patiently taught me what I needed to learn about whale research and environmental law. Michael Jasny, now head of NRDC’s marine mammal program, was always ready to answer my questions on an array of topics and offer suggestions for further research.

My editor and publisher, Jonathan Karp, lashed himself to the mast of this book seven years ago and never bolted for the lifeboats—despite my many delays and detours in delivering the manuscript. I will always be grateful for his steadfast encouragement and unerring course corrections, without which I would have been lost at sea.

I am also the happy beneficiary of the topflight publishing team that Jonathan has assembled at Simon & Schuster. Special thanks to art director Jackie Seow for designing such a terrific cover and to Joy O’Meara for the elegant inside pages. (Kudos to Paula Robbins at Mapping Specialists for the excellent endpaper maps and thanks to Mary Challinor for her flawless designer’s eye.) Michael Szczerban, another remarkable S&S editor, was kind enough to read the penultimate draft of the manuscript and offer me his astute notes. Production editor Jonathan Evans lavished great attention and care on my book, and Phil Bashe combed through the manuscript with the eagle eyes of a great copy editor. The publicity and marketing group of Cary Goldstein, Sarah Reidy, Richard Rorher, and Elina Vaysbeyn is a dream team whose savvy and smarts have served me well. Finally, I want to thank Nick Greene for shepherding this book through every stage of production and for saying yes to each of my many requests.

My agents and trusted friends of twenty years, Gail Ross and Howard Yoon, brought their patented blend of professionalism and passion to this project. The Ross Yoon Agency is the gold standard for excellence and integrity in literary management. Nobody does it better. Anna Sproul, Jennifer Manguera, and Dara Kaye are talented members of the Ross Yoon Agency whom I also count as friends.

I’m pleased to acknowledge the sponsorship of the Ocean Foundation, which enables people like me to dive deeply into important marine topics without going broke in the process. My thanks to its president, Mark Spalding, and board member Angel Braestrup for helping me build bridges to funders. I am grateful for the grant support I received from the Pacific Life Foundation, the Hawley Family Foundation, and Furthermore, a program of the J. M. Kaplan Fund.

Every author depends on his writer friends for tough-love responses to manuscript drafts, early and late. I’m particularly thankful to Elsa Walsh for giving me detailed and incisive notes when I sorely needed a fresh perspective. I’m fortunate to have a family rich in talented writers. Tony Horwitz, Elinor Horwitz, and Geraldine Brooks waited patiently until I asked them to read, and then gave me their corrective best. So did my wife, Ericka Markman, who read my first complete draft and gave me detailed notes during what was supposed to be a vacation in the South of France. Peter Glusker is like family, which is why I felt free to ask him to read my first draft. Howie Garrett made several key corrections to my final draft. And to coach and counselor David Pellegrini, thanks for all the solid swing tips along the way.

Two friends deserve special mention for their editorial contributions. Kenneth Wapner is a talented writer and editor who volunteered for the hand-to-hand combat of whipping this manuscript, and this author, into shape. His contributions were invaluable. Stephen Mills, another seasoned veteran of the writing wars, served heroically in the trenches. I trust these guys with my life, and with my darkest writer’s fears.

I want to thank Tanya, Julia, and Charlotte for sharing their father with this whale of a book for so long. Encountering the gray whales of Laguna San Ignacio alongside Tanya, and then with Julia, were the best of times for this dad. Charlotte, you’re next.

Finally, my heartfelt gratitude to Ericka, who believed in me enough to say, “Go write it,” when I first fell hard for this story but lacked the confidence to tell it. Throughout the long and winding passage to publication, she never stinted in her support for me—or in her tireless attention to the daily needs of our daughters—despite having recently launched her own business. She’s a spectacular woman who amazes and humbles me every day.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

© CAROLYN MILLSTEIN

Joshua Horwitz is the founder and publisher of Living Planet Books, which specializes in works by thought leaders in science, medicine, and psychology. He lives in Washington, DC, with his wife and three daughters.

For more information go to: www.warofthewhales.com

ILLUSTRATION CREDITS

ENDPAPER MAPS

Paula Robbins, Mapping Specialists

FACEPLATES

Parts 1, 2, and 3, depicting Globicepharus of Risso, the Hyperdoon, and Great Northern Rorqual: steel engravings by William H. Lizars from Sir William Jardine’s 1937
The Natural History of the Ordinary Cetacea of Whales.