Ullapool teenager’s life-changing Cyprus turtle trip was ‘life-long dream’ come true
Ullapool teenager Arwen Horsburgh shares her experience of volunteering at the Sea Turtle Research and Conservation Project in Cyprus over the summer.
Growing up I was immersed in the sea both physically and mentally, as it was only two metres from my bedroom window. The sea was always an enduring stable entity in my life, a reliable constant that promised always to be there — which is why I feel compelled to try and protect it.
I had always wanted to work abroad and volunteer in the marine field, so when this opportunity to participate in the Sea Turtle Research and Conservation Project in Cyprus came up, I jumped at the chance.
After a long day of traveling, I hadn’t quite realised how grounding being able to see the ocean is for me — It wasn’t until the next day as we drove to Karpaz that I felt a huge sense of relief when the turquoise blue cut into view. It was in that moment I came to fully understand the depth of how important the sea is to me.
During my two weeks in Karpaz from July to August, hatching season was starting to pick up. After a 4:30am start the volunteers and team leaders would split off into their assigned groups, with the fleeting remnants of sleep clinging to our tired eyes.
Locating the turtle egg chamber was a complex task: after laying their eggs, the turtles completely cover the chamber with sand, meaning there was a large scattered area in which the egg chamber could be.
The experience of finding my own nest for the first time was marvellous, after feeling a drop in the sand, a surge of excitement raced through me and I began to dig. Digging in that top layer of dry sand is a tiring job, just as you think you’re making progress the hole refills itself, but slowly headway is made.
My hand then touched something round and solid, slowly and carefully I drew my arm out of the pit, clasped in my hand was a bright white and perfectly spherical ball, similar to a ping pong ball. A euphoric pride whirled in my stomach along with a sense of incredulity, it almost didn’t feel real, I had dreamt of this from such a young age.
As we walked across the unstable sand, a whisper would occasionally dance through the group, a mother was nesting up ahead. I was ecstatic, my eyes transfixed on the dark shelled body just peaking out from the surrounding sand. She was slow yet strikingly strong, her front flippers spraying the heavy sand metres into the air. Keeping our distance, we admired her huge shell and her wise eyes. As I watched, I became overcome with an indescribable feeling of awe — she held this presence of enduring immortality, of wisdom and patience.
For me, the highlight of the trip was excavating a nest full of babies, the feeling of digging your hand into the sand, meeting intense wriggling and grippy flippers beating their way to the surface was incredible. Their robust little bodies battling one another for purchase, utter instinct and determination coursing through their miniature veins. My face would always ache after a hatchling rich excavation as my mouth was set in a permanent grin, from either pulling out hatchlings or being handed writhing handfuls of them.
After the excavation was complete and the numbers counted, we would release the eager buckets of babies, off they would go scurrying across the sand towards the sea. Their innate sense of direction was astounding, of course there were a couple little guys that needed some extra assurance on their way to the water. Once they reached the water line they would face their first big obstacle, those first few waves, pushing them back up the beach. Nonetheless, they beat their tiny flippers and off they went. I watched through an almost maternal gaze as these little black dots created drifting constellations in the turquoise waters.
Another cause for dismay came from predations, dogs, foxes and crabs would dig their way to the eggs and have their fill of the developing babies below, leaving eggshells littered around the nest. We would count the predated egg shells and bury them at the back of the beach and then recover the remaining eggs with sand.
Coming from a small town in the north-west of Scotland that is relatively sheltered from plastic pollution I was not prepared for the level of plastic that created a blanket coverage across the beaches in northern Cyprus. Not only were there larger pieces such as old washing machines and pipes but also minute beads of plastic that stretched as far as the eye could see.
It was truly appalling, it felt hopeless trying to clean up as it would take an entire day to cover even a third of the beach and not even considering the micro plastics. This didn’t stop and start just on the sand itself, a layer of micro plastics also lay at the water’s surface. We were snorkelling through a graveyard of old crisp wrappers and cellophane — it’s no wonder that plastic is the leading cause of death in sea turtles when there's more plastic than food.
I would urge anyone interested in marine conservation or conservation of any kind to check out volunteer opportunities and get involved in any which way they can.
I would also like to again thank the Seaful charity and Felix Appelbe, the founder of the Ocean Citizen Award for choosing me as a recipient. The experience this award has equipped me enormously for a future linked to the protection of our seas.