Pirates and plane crashes: Searching for whale sharks in troubled waters

At the end of 2022, we secured funding from National Geographic to visit the south of Galapagos again in 2023, and to carry out aerial surveys along the Ecuadorian coast. Whale sharks are seen sporadically off mainland Ecuador, and we have been registering reports, sightings and strandings over the past few years. Unlike in Galapagos, we were getting males and females from four metres upwards in size, and there was no real pattern to their presence, either spatially or temporally. However, those large females we tracked from Galapagos over the last decade that made it to mainland Ecuador all did so around January, so we decided to begin work in late January and early February.

We split the entire Ecuadorian coastline into three sections, the idea being that we would spend a week in each section, making daily flights with boat support. However, this was not as simple as we hoped, and we were going to have to be careful about where we stayed and worked from. Ecuador was becoming more dangerous with each passing day, with local gangs, now linked to drug cartels, extorting artisanal fishers and coastal businesses. Fishers were also vulnerable to piracy – they would be held up at gunpoint and relieved of their boat engines, leaving them adrift at sea, and without their only source of livelihood.

We spent our first week in Esmeraldas. On the second morning, fishers at the jetty discovered that several engines had been stolen during the night. We worked off a wooden skiff, and did not encounter other vessels. Luckily the sea was calm and we had great visibility from both the air and the boat. Each day, we went out along a different path, with Julio covering a much wider area from the plane, and checking in with us at agreed times. At the end of the week, we had seen plenty of dolphins, some whales… but no whale sharks.

Our second week was centered around Isla de la Plata, an amazing island that is home to blue-footed and Nazca boobies, and even a few breeding pairs of waved albatross (the only individuals of the species not to nest in Galapagos). Underwater, it hosts the largest known population of oceanic manta rays, which come to the cleaning stations at its coral reefs at certain times of year. It is the prime dive site for mainland Ecuador, and whale sharks are also occasionally seen here.

We would cover the area from the island out to the shelf break. This made the boat captain incredibly nervous, and on the first day, a few miles out from the island, he began to feel unwell, so we returned to the island and left him with the rangers at the Park headquarters, and headed out with his boathand at the helm. We agreed that if any vessel approached us, we would speed back to the island at full throttle. Fortunately, we did not encounter any vessels. As with the previous week, the sea was calm, the ultralight spotted plenty of dolphins, some whales and some mantas… but no whale sharks.

We were unable to find any boat willing to take us out to the southern portion of Ecuador. This area, bordering Peru, was just too risky. This was disappointing. A few years earlier, I had mentioned to a colleague in the government that I expected whale sharks to hang around the gas platform outside the Gulf of Guayaquil, and not long after that, he had seen them there while on a helicopter ride. To date, we have not been able to find a way to survey this area under reasonably safe conditions.

Without having encountered a single whale shark during our mainland surveys, we flew back out to Galapagos and to the area around Española that had been so productive for us in 2022. There, we encountered eight whale sharks over a period of five days, and were able to tag six. All except one were large females. Two had cuts on their fins, indicating they had been in contact with boat propellers. Our team also had an amazing in-water encounter with orcas. We were wrapping up a successful trip when disaster struck.

After placing all the tags on the sharks, we had set aside some days to carry out aerial surveys of the entire marine reserve. On the afternoon of the second day, Julio did not check in and we became concerned as to his whereabouts. Alberto Andrade, founder of the local grassroots movement Frente Insular, was acting as spotter on the plane. The airport at San Cristobal closes around 4pm, and he would never intentionally stay out beyond this time. The ultralight had a tracking device that had not pinged since 2pm. Its last known position was northwest of Isabela, an incredibly remote location. Together with the control centre at the airport, we decided to activate the emergency protocols and begin a search.

The navy sent out a patrol vessel, and we had a call from the captain of an industrial fishing vessel outside the marine reserve, who offered the use of their helicopter to search the area. An oceanographic research vessel in the western region of Isabela stopped its work and moved up to the search area. The Galapagos Science Center contacted artisanal fishers on Isabela to join the search. Looking back, it really was an example of how ocean users, so often at odds with each other, put aside their differences for something that unites us all: the search for comrades missing at sea. At the time though, we were all sick with worry. We could not explain how the plane could vanish or why Julio had not triggered his emergency beacon, and the scenarios that played out in our minds all led to a very dark place.

The following morning, at about 11 am, we finally got the news we were waiting for: Julio and Alberto had been found unharmed, not far from their last known position. The navy rescue vessel had found the plane floating at the surface, with a life vessel attached to it. They were on their way back to port. I cannot describe the relief all of us – Julio and Alberto’s family, our research team, friends, and the rescue team… I don’t think there was a dry eye among us.

So, what had happened? Apparently, the engine had stuttered and finally stalled while they were flying back from the furthest survey point. According to Julio, this was a classic indication of water in the fuel. This is a problem that local fishers often complain about – they buy fuel that is watered down, and this affects their boat engines. Julio recognised the symptoms immediately and told Alberto to brace for impact. With no wind, and a flat calm sea, he was able to land the plane on the sea surface with minimal damage. Once on the surface, the pair inflated the life raft, attached it to the boat, and waited to be found. By then it was late afternoon, so there was a lower risk of sunburn and dehydration, and in any case they had liquid to keep hydrated. However, the emergency beacon had failed, and they did not know how long they would be out there until they were rescued. Twenty-two hours later, as the Navy rescue boat appeared on the horizon, it is hard to imagine what went through their minds. Watching them reunite with their families once their reached port was an incredibly emotional moment.

2023 had been a mixed bag in terms of research success, but all we could feel was gratitude that our friends were back and safe, with their families.