Highs and lows of working on a remote volcanic islet
Posted onJanuary 15, 2025byRosie Heffernan|Canada's New Noah, Canada's New Noahs, News and Events, Rosie Heffernan
Since 1988, the Canada’s New Noah program has provided young conservation biologists in Canada the opportunity of a lifetime. Each year, WPC selects a dedicated biologist from applicants across Canada to undertake a 3-month course at the Durrell Conservation Academy in the U.K. followed by a 6-month internship on the islands of Mauritius and Madagascar in the Indian Ocean. This is an opportunity unlike any other for young Canadians to learn firsthand how the world’s most successful conservation recovery programs are managed and to bring this knowledge and experience back to improve Canada’s conservation capacity. Rosie Heffernan is WPC’s 33rd Canada’s New Noah and reports on her experiences and how she will apply them on return to Canada. The Canada’s New Noah Program is generously supported by the Alan & Patricia Koval Foundation.
Note: This piece was written in September 2024, reflecting the conditions and events at that time.
The news that I was flying across the world to embark on month-long island restoration excursions in the middle of the Indian Ocean, with no running water or reliable cell service, was met with a wide range of responses. There were varying degrees of confusion as to why, exactly, I was choosing to undertake such a lifestyle. Many valid points were brought up, such as: “How will you go to the bathroom?”, “How will you shower?” and “Why are you doing this again?” In this blog post, I will answer these questions and more as I attempt to explain why pooping in barrels and wearing the same clothes for days at a time is worth the challenge.
Rosie holds a red-tailed tropicbird chick. (Photo: R. Heffernan).
Rosie holds a radiated tortoise. (Photo: R. Heffernan).
Low: Poo pit
Depending on how you look at it, the Round Island bathroom is either an open-concept garden oasis, or a barrel in the woods. Once full, the barrel is sealed and swapped out for an empty one, a task which, though far from pleasant, is not terrible. Swap out enough barrels, though, and your fate is sealed more tightly than a poo barrel. Undoubtedly the most cruel and unusual task on Round Island is the job called poo pit, which, as the name suggests involves digging a giant pit and burying the contents of the barrels. The humble sacrifices of hygiene and dignity allow this glorious system to operate in perpetuity.
High: Habitat restoration
Maintaining biosecurity is the number one priority on Round Island, and believe it or not, poo pit plays an incredibly important role in preventing the spread of invasive alien species. For 48 hours before a trip, along with meticulously checking all packed food and clothing for wayward seeds and insects, we are not allowed to eat certain fruits whose seeds can survive the digestive tract and potentially become invasive species on the island (papaya, tomatoes, and guava, to name a few).
In the event that the latter rule is forgotten, the poo pit system ensures that the germination of any invasive seedling is contained to a very remote region of the island. Here in “Poo Valley,” invasive species can very easily be detected and removed before spreading. One walk through a restored plant community on Round is all that is needed to buy into the importance of the poo pit in maintaining the integrity of the island’s various restored habitats.
A restored community of endemic grasses, shrubs, and palms dominates this jaw-dropping view about ¾ the way to the summit. (Photo: R. Heffernan).
Low: Wet wipe showers
No amount of back country camping could have prepared me for living without running water for up to several months at a time. While hydration needs are met by filtering rainwater, other uses of fresh water (i.e. washing) are restricted to just half a litre per day during the present dry season. Wet wipes can only be used to cheat showers so many days in a row, and eventually you have to choose between having clean hair, body parts, clothes, or bedding.
Imagine saving up your washing allowance all week to wash your hair on the weekend – only to have a seabird regurgitate their dinner on your field pants during the last survey of the week. Now you have to choose between smelling like squid guts or having the dirtiest hair known to humankind the following week. (My solution? Chop off 5” of hair to reduce washing needs, and use the shampoo water to clean my field pants!)
High: Reptile-dominated fauna community
Gently snoring giant tortoises and multi-coloured ornate day geckos, glorious Gunther’s geckos and scurrying Telfair’s and Bojer’s skinks are just a few of the variety of stunning reptile species that greet me every morning. Round Island is one of the world’s last islands to not have been invaded by carnivorous mammals, and living there provides a unique opportunity to observe a thriving reptile community that can be found nowhere else in the world.
Conserving resources to reduce our impact on the island as much as possible is part of what makes these spectacular interactions possible. The value of this trade-off is reaffirmed when we conduct nighttime surveys and get to see the reptile community really come alive. It is an indescribable feeling to be a guest in such a special ecosystem and this privilege is well-worth any hardship.
Telfair’s skink enjoying a sunny snooze atop a large “boulder.” (Photo: R. Heffernan).
Low: Backpacking cement up a volcano
One of the most backbreaking jobs has been transporting mixing cement for a special building project on the island. Hiking up a 45° sloped volcano with 20kg on my back in the unrelenting sun is undoubtably one of the most physically challenging tasks I have ever undertaken. Staggering back to the field station after emptying my carry frame at the construction site, I imagine I felt similar to Frodo as he made his way back to the Shire, contemplating the meaning of life, after delivering the One Ring to the Fires of Doom in Mordor.
Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee making their gruelling journey across Middle-earth. (Photo: R. Heffernan).
High: Hurricane palm project
The site to which we are transporting cement is home to a very lonely tree called the Round Island hurricane palm – so lonely, in fact, that it is the last mature individual of this variant remaining in the wild. The cement will be used to build a platform to support a ladder tall enough to reach the top of the 30-foot-tall palm, so the flowers may be pollinated by hand. Hopefully, this intervention will help produce the very palm saplings that will one day grow to dominate the island once more.
Mauritian Wildlife Foundation flora biologist testing ladder and platform system to reach the world’s last wild hurricane palm. (Photo: R. Heffernan).
Low: Failed changeovers
I wrote this blog going into my seventh week on the island, having experienced a failed changeover two weeks prior. Changeover days are particularly harrowing: Starting at 5am, we transport dozens of supply barrels to Landing Rock, where we transform the hostile rock ledge into a boat docking site, and then brave the two-hour boat ride across the open Indian Ocean back to the mainland.
Sometimes, however, an unpredicted swell in the ocean prevents changeover from being completed safely, and the boat must return to the mainland, carrying with it the staff that was supposed to relieve us, and our hopes and dreams of clean clothes and flushing toilets. We are left to physically undo the morning’s work, and mentally prepare for tomorrow’s.
High: Getting to do it all again – food, friends, and fulfillment
Changeover days are exhausting even at their smoothest operation, and when they fail, it can be challenging to keep up the group morale. However, it can’t be denied that there is comfort in being with like-minded friends and knowing that what we are doing really matters. That night, we make an extra special meal together, perhaps a local rougaille or butter bean curry.
As we sit around the table eating, laughing, and planning our field work for our remaining time on the island, I can’t help but feel an incredible sense of gratitude for the continued opportunity to be here, to fall asleep on an island that I am helping restore with my own two hands, for another night.
Rosie Heffernan
Canada’s New Noah
Rosie is WPC’s 33rd New Noah. She is building upon a wealth of conservation knowledge that she has gained working in conservation in Ontario and Costa Rica through this hands-on training program with some of the most endangered species in the world.
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