Written and Photographed by Cassidy Wayant

Walking down the concrete docks, I could hear the sea lions yelping at each other across the marina. The salty sea air felt refreshing on my skin. I had just arrived in Ensenada, Mexico, eager to see the boat I would call home for the next few months. 

Sea Shepherd acquired the R/V Martin Sheen in 2014. She is 48 years old and nearly 90 feet long—a cutter ketch with a history of ocean adventure. Once a luxury sailing motor yacht, remnants of those years remain in the weathered, greying teak decks and uniquely carved handrails. In recent years, she has served as a research vessel for the Sea Shepherd Conservation Society and other nonprofit organizations conducting marine research and environmental studies. Although this wasn’t my first campaign with Sea Shepherd, it would be my first aboard the only sailboat in their fleet. 

I settled into my quaint cabin, which would later house a biologist, a park ranger, and our talented vegan chef. As I unpacked, I took in the warm wood details and stashed my empty bag in the back of the closet. There was work to be done and no time to dawdle. I immediately jumped into preparing for our next campaign, Operation Guadalupe. 

While this was my first time sailing to the mystical island of Guadalupe, this boat was no stranger to these Mexican waters. This would be the seventh year that Sea Shepherd had teamed up with CONANP (Comisión Nacional de Áreas Naturales Protegidas), a Mexican government agency responsible for managing and conserving the country’s protected areas and key ecological regions. With a mission to protect Mexico’s biodiversity and natural heritage, CONANP plays a vital role in promoting sustainable practices that benefit local communities. 

The objective of Operation Guadalupe was to study the elusive Goose-Beaked Whale, formerly known as Cuvier’s beaked whale. Armed with a small crew and a new captain, we set out on a 24-hour ocean passage to the beautiful island nestled in the Pacific. Once there, our eager biologists boarded a local fisherman’s panga and, within moments, were documenting their first sightings of these arcane creatures. But what I came to learn about this island fascinated me just as much as its resident whales. 

Isla Guadalupe is a remote volcanic island about 160 miles off the west coast of Mexico’s Baja California Peninsula. Having first learned to sail in Hawaii, I immediately recognized the volcanic landscape and knew that the distance from land was the depth of water we glided through. While some believe the Indigenous Cochimí people first arrived on the island, its location didn’t start appearing on maps until the early 17th century, when Sebastián Vizcaíno sailed past, recording its position. 

 It is a unique world all its own; many of the island’s inhabitants are endemic to its soils. The Guadalupe palm, Guadalupe cypress tree, Guadalupe storm petrel, and the charming Guadalupe caracara once thrived solely on this island. However, the arrival of Russian fur trappers seeking fur seals and sea otters dramatically altered the delicate environment of this volcanic island. They introduced goats, cows, mice, cats, and even dogs. These invasive species quickly decimated the vegetation and devastated native bird populations, reducing the lush native foliage to bare ground. 

But it wasn’t the island’s fauna or beautiful birds that required our presence in this environment. Goose-beaked whales are an elusive species whose impressive diving skills make them very difficult to study. I experienced this firsthand as we watched these large, dolphin-like mammals disappear beneath the surface, sometimes never making their presence known again. Understanding the behavior of these deepest-diving mammals is research that benefits not only curious minds but also the conservation and biodiversity of our oceans. 

Many years before our arrival, the island had become famous for its large population of white sharks. About a year prior to our visit, the Mexican government designated the area a natural park, eliminating the once-popular white shark cage dives and creating an oasis for the many species that frequented the island’s shores. They restricted vessel traffic to local fishermen and military personnel, with occasional permits granted to researchers like us. 

While we were conducting our studies, a few boats drifted into the area, one even dropping anchor beside us one night. Little did they know that we had the park ranger on board. She promptly hailed them on the radio, explained the situation, and politely asked them to leave, which they did without hesitation. 

One of the first requests made to us upon entering the island’s waters was to turn off our sonar. Beaked whales are highly sensitive to underwater noise pollution, with sonar being particularly harmful. It is believed to disorient them, causing them to ascend too quickly from their deep dives, which can lead to decompression sickness, which is often fatal. A fact that so many boaters are completely unaware of. 

A campaign that might have seemed uneventful to some was incredibly interesting to me. We were up by sunrise, and if the weather cooperated, we would lift anchor and patrol the area, moving in imaginary boxes along the shoreline. Once a whale was spotted, the biologists would pile into the panga and head out for a closer look. A couple of biologists stayed behind to launch the drone, using it both to capture images and to spot the whales before they surfaced. 

In the panga, they carried cameras, a radio to communicate with the R/V Martin Sheen, a logbook of images to help identify individual whales and a crossbow. If they were lucky enough to get close, they would use the crossbow to collect a small skin sample, which is critical for genetic and health studies. 

While shooting whales with a crossbow might seem dramatic, it is a standard practice in marine mammal research. I was assured they felt nothing more than a pinprick, far less than what they endure daily from sea lice, barnacles, or cookie-cutter sharks. The small sample collected provided valuable insights into the whale’s DNA and where they had been, offering a deeper understanding of their migratory patterns and behavior. 

I found it exhilarating whenever I had a free moment to join the team on the panga. We had only seconds to grab our gear and jump into the small boat before Jorge, the panga pilot, carefully—but at full speed—pulled away from the R/V Martin Sheen and approached the area where we had spotted spouts. Then, everything would go silent as he killed the engine. Cameras in hand, we scanned the horizon for any sign of the whales. Sometimes, we were lucky, and they surfaced right next to us as if to say hello. Other times, Jorge would skillfully start the engine and glide us closer, doing his best not to disturb these ocean inhabitants. 

I picked up a few fascinating facts about Goose-beaked whales along the way. Though they resemble dolphins, they are not closely related and are actually more taxonomically similar to sperm whales. They hold the record for the deepest dive of any marine mammal—plunging to depths of over 2,500 meters, the deepest record being 2,992 meters. And can stay submerged for over three hours. These deep-diving skills allow them to feast primarily on cephalopods. During one excursion, we spotted a few whales surfacing in the distance, and upon approach, we noticed a dead squid floating nearby, possibly remnants of a meal they had just devoured. 

I am incredibly grateful for my time aboard the R/V Martin Sheen, as it opened a world of science I didn’t realize I craved. I came to appreciate the immense effort these biologists put into their work, gathering data that contributes to a larger body of research shared across institutions. Their findings are essential in expanding our collective understanding of marine life, insights that would not be possible without campaigns like this. 

What also intrigued me were the environmental shifts now that white shark diving has been outlawed and the island and its surrounding waters are beginning to rewild. While our mission focused on beaked whales, the rangers aboard were also studying the island itself, working to restore its original foliage. Their efforts have already led to the return of species once thought to be extinct or critically endangered, such as the Guadalupe fur seal, elephant seals, and the Guadalupe storm petrel. 

Curious about how these environmental changes might be affecting the whales, I asked one of the biologists if she thought the ban on shark diving and the resulting decrease in noise pollution could be influencing their behavior. While the research is still ongoing, she acknowledged the high possibility that a quieter environment could provide new insights into their natural habits. 

This campaign and the enigmatic species we had the privilege of studying may not have been as action-packed as some of the Sea Shepherd Conservation Society’s other missions, as we were not chasing down illegal fishing vessels or retrieving ghost nets. But the work we did was no less important. It was a mission of discovery, understanding, and contributing to the broader scientific community, a campaign I believe is vital to the future of ocean conservation. 

To learn more about our mission and how you can get involved visit us HERE.