Environment correspondent Richard Black joins researchers on board the yacht Song of the Whale as they look and listen for whales around the Canary Islands.
Beaked whales are probably the least understood large mammals on the planet, but sound can help us track their mysterious movements.
SATURDAY, 27 SEPTEMBER: FAIR AND FOUL WINDS
"No-one Earthquake toll rising in southern China ...
Black holes 'dodge middle ground' ...
Plane skids off runway in Madrid ...
South Korea to recall Japan envoy ...
Porn pops up on New Zealand rugby show ... told us about this."
The headline, strapped across the front page of one of the Canary Islands' main newspapers above a picture of a pylon felled by the power of wind, summed up my thoughts exactly.
My first view of these fabled holiday islands was a glowering skyscape over roiling coastal seas - more like Skegness in February than a sub-tropical archipelago famed for its climate.
Locals were clearly surprised - "once-in-every-five-years weather", as one described it.
All this might have raised concerns had I been here for the sun and sand.
But in the context of spending a week aboard a whale research yacht, the implications were a bit more alarming.
Conditions are a great leveller in the whale-spotting game.
One scientist told me he once spent all but three days of a scheduled 60-day aerial survey sitting at a Greenland landing strip with fog preventing take-off.
Beaked whales are difficult enough to see at the best of times. Would we spot them at all in this gloom?
Would we even be able to get out of port and go to sea?
On a more personal level, every time I venture out into this great natural environment that I spend so much time writing about, I have a suspicion that the hardy beings who spend their lives here see me as a softy Londoner with cappuccino for brains and a stick of organic asparagus where my backbone should be.
Having nearly vomited all over the last research boat I went on - albeit with severe provocation from bouncing Bristol Channel seas and a lobstery smell that seemed to invade the air's very molecules - how would things go out here, in these choppy days that no-one had told me about?
Rays of hope
But sometimes, with the weather as with games of chance, you get the breaks.
And as video producer John Galliver and I made the hop from Gran Canaria to the tiny island of El Hierro, the clouds parted, a sun fit for holidaymakers came through, and - as if the light carried an anaesthetic charge - the sea's fury abated.
Now, after a drive through El Hierro's jagged landscapes - testament to the brutal beauty that volcanoes raise - John and I are on board Song of the Whale in the peace of La Restinga harbour.
This pretty village has been the base for the International Fund for Animal Welfare (Ifaw) research yacht all summer.
For skipper Richard McLanaghan, La Restinga is ideal, as the elusive beaked whales are "just around the corner" - although one suspects the beach, the bar and the peace here must help.
And tomorrow we sail, to look and listen for the creatures.
(BBC)
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