A dolphin surfaces in Azores waters. Photo / Supplied
Are you ready to experience life as a research scientist on a 10-day whale tracking expedition? This is not your average cruise holiday, it’s hands-on fieldwork, writes Sarah Schmitt.
It’s said there’s a moment in wildlife conservation that brings strangers together, turning them into a community. I remember mine clearly. On a whale-watching expedition with Biosphere Expeditions in the Azores, west of mainland Portugal. We’d tracked a blue whale far offshore and when we found her, an eerie silence and stillness fell across the boat.
Waiting to capture images of her dorsal fin, and her magnificent fluke as she deep-dived, I barely recall the boat churning in the swell and our bodies being tossed around like feathers. That didn’t seem to matter. But I can still hear the Cory’s shearwaters calling through the wind, the waves lapping against the hull and the inky black water stretching endlessly beneath us.
That moment on our second day, was when we moved from individuals to being united in a shared experience.
With the rise of conscious travel, people are seeking more than passive sightseeing. No longer satisfied with viewing the world through glass, we’re drawn to immersive, participatory experiences that create real impact. The need to return home with new perspectives, deeper awareness and a stronger sense of responsibility is palpable. This is where citizen science is finding its moment.
Citizen science, at its most basic, is everyday people contributing to scientific research, often through simple, structured data collection. You may already be doing it. Perhaps you use iNaturalist to log local flora and fauna, or take part in birdwatching. There are countless ways to get involved, many without leaving home. But now we are beginning to see tourism and citizen science intersect.
To be clear, this kind of travel isn’t always comfortable, and it’s certainly not to everyone’s taste – but that’s okay. Different strokes for different folks so we say. But for those seeking ways to contribute to conservation, it’s a good place to start.
Unlike a safari, you may not even see the animal you’re studying. Some experiences are so remote, there are no bathrooms. Days can be long, the work repetitive, and outcomes uncertain. Nature offers no guarantees. But when you move through a landscape with purpose beyond sightseeing, everything changes. The moments you capture become part of something larger and knowing that you’re making a contribution to science is thrilling.
On my 10-day expedition, I arrived excited and mildly panicked. Was I smart enough? Had I packed enough sea sickness medication? And how would I go sharing a room with a stranger?
Run by Biosphere Expeditions, a non-profit organisation that runs expeditions around the world, this one in the Azores is now in its 20th year.
Mornings started early, especially if you were on breakfast duty. We’d set out breakfast and lunch items, then walk to the bakery in Horta on the island of Faial to pick up the morning bread order. Carrying a paper bag of freshly baked rolls along cobblestone streets and past old colourful buildings before sunrise felt like I was in a fairytale. It was worlds away from everyday life.
Under the guidance of our tour leader Craig, and field scientist Lisa Steiner we initially had a half-day to learn our roles and equipment before setting out on the water. By 9am each morning, we were heading into the open ocean, the catamaran crashing through waves, wind whipping our faces. It was wild fun.
With a new task allocated each day, we got a broad experience of life as a research scientist. From being on lookout and scanning the water for signs of animals, to recording the data being collected (which included things like wind speed, water temperature, animal behaviour, numbers, species and GPS coordinates), to being the day’s photographer. Perhaps the most important job on board was to photograph the flukes – whale tails, capturing their distinctive markings and shapes made from the bite marks of other sea creatures. The job involved bracing against the railing, held in place by another person, so you didn’t fall as the boat rolled in the swell. Then there was the “poo collector”. If a whale surfaced and left a sample, we were ready with a net. The local university was keen to study it but, sadly, no whale poo was collected on my trip.
Back on land, we uploaded the day’s data and organised the photos. Our evening meals were communal and were followed by a daily debrief and guest speakers who discussed their research. By 9pm, we were exhausted and happy to fall into bed.
A couple of land days were built into the schedule. One was for working on the data, the other was a free day to explore the island. A group of us took off hiking the Caldeira rim.
When I asked others in my group why they chose this style of travel, their answers were consistent. They wanted more from their holidays, something meaningful, something with purpose. These expeditions offered that.
People are seeking new ways to experience the world, and in doing so they’re reshaping tourism. By weaving citizen science opportunities into travel, we’re opening the door to lesser-known places and creating space for meaningful travel experiences and forging a deeper relationship with the world we move through. And that’s got to be a good thing.
The writer was a guest of Biosphere Expeditions.