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31 January 2006

Suddenly Summer

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

After nearly two months in Antarctica I woke today to find summer outside my porthole. The sea has been so calm that cabin mate Slava and I left it open over night, and before going to bed we actually debated closing it due to the chill. But today people are out working on deck in t-shirts, and I'm wishing I could take a swim.

We've also got the porthole open today in the campaign office to let the wind in. This is quite a momentous development - since this morning we didn't even have a porthole. Then Frank (the captain) came in and with Philster (bosun) replaced our old, un-openable, window with a new stylish and ventilating porthole.

The ocean is also a different shade of blue today. Maybe it's the strong sunlight, but it is definitely a lighter shade than I'd grown used to. Quite a change, but then tomorrow we'll reach Cape Town and I'll have more than shades of blue to look at.

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The Spirit of the Rainbow

by Naomi, onboard the Esperanza

I have been working on Greenpeace ships for 32 years now. Not all the time - Greenpeace has a history of burning people out, including me. The first time I stayed away for 9 years, the second time for 12. The old sailing ship ‘Fri’ - which set sail from New Zealand to try to stop French nuclear testing at Moruroa in 1973, then set off on a 3 year nuclear ‘Peace Odyssey’ to all nuclear powers - wasn’t owned by Greenpeace, but sailed under the auspices of Greenpeace NZ for many years. Some of the more venerable looking faces around Greenpeace NZ started their careers on the ‘Fri’. I joined the ‘Fri’ on her voyage to Moruroa in 1973, and stayed on for the Peace Odyssey until 1980. By then we thought Greenpeace had been around forever, and it was only 9 years old.

Greenpeace NZ back in 1974, when the crew of the ‘Fri’ helped to set it up, was a tiny shoestring operation. In 1979, when the ‘Fri’ finally reached Europe, it still was. When Greenpeace International was finally established in Amsterdam at the end of 1979, and the reins of Greenpeace were handed over by its Vancouver founders, three us on the ‘Fri’ attended as non-voting delegates for the NZ office, who could not afford to fly any of the volunteer staff to Europe.

Shoestring does not mean ineffective however. And not everyone in Europe had a Northern Hemisphere perspective. David McTaggart, the Canadian who masterminded the setting up of Greenpeace International, was a central character in the Moruroa story. When the French marines beat him up in international waters off Moruroa in 1973 shortly after they had arrested the ‘Fri’, thinking there were no witnesses, they started a chain of events that profoundly affected Greenpeace’s growth. McTaggart later turned his full attention to creating a centralized Greenpeace, and supported New Zealand’s pressure to bring the Rainbow Warrior down to the Pacific to continue unfinished business at Moruroa. It is still amazing that the French government felt provoked and threatened enough to bomb the Rainbow Warrior. Greenpeace had been growing steadily, but the big growth worldwide dates from that time.

I have a soft spot for early Greenpeace, because there was less concern about presenting a careful image, and the image then reflected the times – egos, 1970’s counter-culture, and a belief in mysticism. But Greenpeace’s strength has also been to change with the times. Egos haven’t changed, but we now reflect more of a modern corporate structure, and we are a lot more international, which is essential.

I come back to Greenpeace ships when financial, family and career circumstances allow, (I left Greenpeace for many years to gain my commercial shipping qualifications). I keep coming back because working on Greenpeace ships can be the most satisfying work of all, especially on Oceans campaigns, and I am inspired once again by the people in the organization.

Each time I come back, I notice two things. One is personal. I am reminded how much Greenpeace history is a central thread of my own life. The other is the spirit of Greenpeace. That hasn’t changed much. People still join the organization and vessels with a passionate sense of ownership and commitment to the environment. True, there have also always been those who remain detached or unconvinced, and valuable people who burn out and leave, or feel that their valid criticisms and observations are ignored. However, there is always the feeling that Greenpeace succeeds in the end, with echoes of the spirit of the rainbow leading the way.

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30 January 2006

Top Five

by Shane, onboard the Esperanza

Before I left for the Southern Oceans, plenty of people asked me why we were going to spend several months over the festive season sailing in some of the remote waters on earth, and why Greenpeace is opposed to the whaling program taking place down here.

So, since it is the season for making lists, I thought I would do a “Top 5 reasons Why Greenpeace opposes the whale hunt in Antarctica”. Here goes:

1. It is a Whale Sanctuary

The Southern Ocean whale sanctuary was established in 1994. As the feeding ground for 80% of the world’s great whales, the sanctuary was designed to enable whale populations to recover after being driven to the edge of extinction by hunting during the 20th century.

2. It is not scientific whaling

There is little doubt that the hunt down here is not science. The Scientific Committee of the International Whaling Commission has repeatedly criticised this program and said it does not need the data produced. You do not have to kill a whale to study it.

3. A huge increase in the quota

For the last decade or so, the annual quota has been 440 minke whales a season. This year, it could go up to 935. This is nearly half of what the Japanese quota was when the moratorium on whaling came in to effect, and points to the clear desire to resume commercial whaling.

4. Endangered species will be hunted

This year, fin whales will be added to the hunt. Fin whales are the second biggest creature on earth after the blue whale, and are listed as ‘endangered’. There is no justification for hunting an endangered species.

5. It’s not just hunting that kills whales

Whales face many perils throughout the oceans – toxic pollution, ship strike, sonar, and climate change all make it much harder for whales to survive in the ocean. The last thing they need, and the thing most easily stopped, is hunting.

What they do need, is your help.

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The Oranjemund

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

I recently read a very cool Ports and Ships article about the Oranjemund, the tanker that came down to refuel the Esperanza north of the Antarctic Treaty area. In one sense this was strictly business for them, but from the article it was obvious the crew was well up for the extra challenge and adventure the job presented. Their account reminded me that there are a lot of things we accept as "normal" on a Greenpeace ship that are actually extraordinary by common marine standards.

I don't mean the icebergs, the penguins or even the chance to physically intervene in a whale hunt - these things I think are exceptional in anyone's book. Instead it is all of the extraordinary logistics and safety precautions allowing us to operate in the Southern Ocean. I take almost as a matter of course the polar survival gear, the additional long range emergency radio equipment, the ice class hull of our ship - not to mention the rigorous maintenance schedule and professional training - that lets us do what we do as safely as possible.

Now if only we had a cat...

Extra spare parts for engines and other critical machinery were stowed in the engine room. Stores, sacks of potatoes and other fresh produce were stashed in every available nook and cranny including the ship’s small office. Emergency repair materials such as quick-setting concrete, steel plate, piping, angle-iron, plywood and timber were put on board in case of need, as were portable pumps and hoses and tools.

One each additional navigating and engineer watch keeping officer were embarked for the voyage.

Every member of the crew was provided with suitable polar work wear while polar-fleece sleeping bags supplemented the duvets on the beds. Everyone was issued with a survival immersion suit. Even Tommy the cat received a knitted woollen overcoat.

The crew of the Oranjemund were certainly a welcome sight in such a remote region, and I am glad to hear their own preparations and skill were sufficient to see them safely home again.

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29 January 2006

Update from not-so-down south

by Nathan, onboard the Esperanza

Over the past few weeks there's been a lot of talk about what it will be like to return to land, part company and head back to our 'normal' lives after a trip like this. Of course, no one really knows. Most of think we'll be fine, 'no worries mate', lookin' forward to getting back home, but that is said without having entered a major grocery store in months, or found oneself in a tight crowd of strangers, or hit rush hour traffic, or seen a television.

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Going with the flow

by Lally, onboard the Arctic Sunrise

Something strange happened to me when I wasn't looking. At some point during the last 70 days, I really couldn't say when but probably around week three, living here in this little metal box with 24 other people floating around this endless ocean became normal. One day I was dragging myself around and just walking was an endurance test and the next I ceased to notice that I was even on a ship. I stopped fighting the constant movement and simply became part of it...part of the waves, the swells, the ebb and the flow.

It isn't just the fact that I no longer shave my armpits (I dare you to put a razor near your skin in a force 10!) or that I have been spotted wearing socks with sandals (I have no excuse for this one) it's more to do with the little things, like how I now walk without mentally preparing myself first and how I naturally hold my plate while eating.

It might not have been the smartest move I've ever made, to make an indefinitely long journey around the most hostile ocean in the world my first experience of life at sea. And I´m sure that throwing some equally hostile whale hunters in to the bargain didn´t help things either. Maybe a summer tour of the Mediterranean or a jaunt along the coast of Thailand on a yacht might have been a gentler introduction to life at sea? But then hindsight is a great thing and I look back on my blogs from my first few days out here, with their graphic descriptions of how to open a door in a storm and how to survive life in a giant washing machine and I chuckle, amazed that that was me.

Initially I thought this ocean wasn't my friend. What kind of friend makes you queasy, throws you at a wall or would kill you in seconds if you fell in her? And what kind of friend would find it funny to empty an entire bookshelf of encyclopedia sized books on top of you nearly breaking your foot with a copy of 'The Greenpeace Guide to Antarctica'? (This actually happened but it just sounded too unbelievable to write about!) But I realise now that I was wrong.

This ocean has carried me for the last ten weeks, rocked me to sleep like a child when I was sad, taught me about humility, about just being, about taking every day, every moment as it comes. This sea has become my north, my south, my east, my west and for the few remaining days of this voyage my home, my friend and my world. Just like she is for the wondrous creatures we came here to defend.

Please join us by becoming an Ocean Defender

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28 January 2006

Convergence

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

Yesterday we sailed through the thick band of dense fog that heralds the Antarctic Convergence. If you were watching our bridge webcam you would have seen only an even whitish grey that reminded me of those those joke, "London in the fog" postcards.

The fog is caused by warm air flowing over colder water. That is the nature of the Convergence - a difference sharp difference in temperatures. South of the convergence is the cold Antarctic water, which sinks where it meets the warmer water from the North. In turn, the warm water rises - bringing nutrients up from the bottom with it. And because colder water can hold less salt, the Convergence is also a salinity boundary, with saltier water on the northern side.

This hydrological boundary separates the sea life of Antarctica from the rest of the world Few animals ever cross it - some whale populations and some migratory birds being notable exceptions.

The shift in water temperature at the Convergence is reflected in air temperature. The Thermometer on our bridge wing read, 5°C yesterday at 4pm and 10°C today at the same time. This marks the true boundary of Antarctica, which we have now left. A welcome change reminding us that port is now only a few days away.

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27 January 2006

Sounds of the Sunrise

by Lally, onboard the Arctic Sunrise

I knew ships were noisy. It kind of went without saying due to the presence of gigantic engines, but what I didn’t really count on was how loud it would actually be. I guess I envisioned crashing waves and squawking seabirds being the norm. In reality my entire world for the last two months has been dominated by our ships engine, which is loud and makes you constantly vibrate.

Thankfully though, as time goes by, you don´t really hear it anymore and its regular sound turns into a kind of heartbeat with the undertones of a deeply resonating purr, the same deep purring you get when you give a tiger a good scratch behind his ear. You can ask my friend ("Meow") if you don´t believe me!

Besides the engine room the noisiest place is the hold, which is found below deck at the back of the ship. Besides holding things - including my cabin - by day the hold is the ships main workspace and by night it is where the crew congregate to mill about and play. So living and working in the hold means I get to enjoy a constant and full spectrum of ship noises ranging from angle grinders, sawing metal and hardcore rock to Vivaldi and laughter and basketball games but all at maximum volume and for at least 18 hours a day.

I find the most interesting sounds that emanate from the hold come from the music system that is hooked up pretty close to where I sleep and therefore pretty close to my head. I try my best to appreciate the eclectic music tastes that inevitably come as one of the joys of an international crew. But however hard I try, thrash metal and hard rock have yet to make it onto my personal play list. Maybe I’ll get into them when I grow up? Or maybe I’m genetically predisposed to find them painful. You can give me angle grinders any day, at least they don´t shout at you.

To add to the ambiance, my cabin not only receives noise from the hold but also has its own microcosm of sounds and seems to be alive with weird and wonderful eking and creaking, the volume of which is directly proportional to the amount the ship is rolling. I could swear my wardrobe plays host to a family of bickering chipmunks and a couple of stray woodpeckers seem to regularly emerge after dark to exercise their beaks.

When I mentioned my mystery chipmunks over dinner I discovered that each cabin has its own unique cacophony of sounds. Cabin 3 enjoys the irregular sound of the ships anchor hitting the hull, which reportedly is like sleeping with your head near a large and unpredictable cannon. Cabin 15 has a poltergeist that impersonates someone making weird knocking noises and for a while both cabin mates secretly thought the other one was making the irritating noise. And for a whole week one pair of cabin mates endured, with every roll of the ship, what sounded like a golf ball rolling around inside a drinking glass until it was discovered that it was infact a golf ball rolling around inside a drinking glass and the ball was removed. With that in mind I might ask around to see if anyone has spotted a posse of chipmunks roaming about...

I’m going to sign-off with this thought...imagine waking up on a Sunday morning - your only morning off for the week - to cupboard full of frisky chipmunks, a purring tiger and a bunch of invisible woodpeckers going berserk near your head. Enhance this with a thrash-metal hard-rock combo blaring from the sound system and vibrating your sternum all while someone makes earrings out of scrap metal with an angle grinder...

...and all before you open your eyes!

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26 January 2006

Haiku

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

Haiku, a traditional Japanese poetry form, is possibly the coolest kind of poem on Earth, and the only kind you will ever catch me writing. But take that with a grain of salt as I find the essence of haiku is not easily grasped, and would be the first to admit my total lack of mastery.

None the less, keeping in mind that I do not know what I'm talking about, here are the rules for our haiku contest:

Traditionally a haiku has seventeen syllables, written in three lines: five syllables, seven syllables, five syllables (5-7-5), but this is not an absolute must.

Also each haiku traditionally includes a special "season word" (kigo). This can be "winter" or something subtler - like "pumpkin" for fall. Again, not an absolute requirement. A lot of people skip the kigo these days.

Many good haikus are about the small details of a specific moment.

For our contest, each haiku should be about the ocean, ocean wild life, Antarctica, whaling or some such.

Sample haikus:

An old pond
A frog jumps in -
The sound of water

Basho, Matsuo (1644-1694) - Considered the first great haiku poet.

A whale!
Down it goes, and more and more
up goes its tail!

Buson, Yosa (1716-84) - Followed after Basho, but with his own style.

The whale squirts water
Don't kill the whale he is nice
He likes everyone.

Donny - third grade student

To enter, submit your haiku as a comment to this update. Like all comments on this site, it belongs to you. However, it may also be published in some other place or places - like a Greenpeace magazine or a haiku website (you would be amazed at how many of them there are).

Only haiku comments will be allowed for this update, but you can also leave your name, age and where you live if you want. Be sure to enter a working email address so I can contact you if you win.

Creation of a sublime haiku is reward enough in itself, of course, but I'll also send the winner something from this page (winner's pick, $20 max item price).

The winner will be picked by myself, or whoever else I appoint as my deputy haiku evaluator. Chances of winning may or may not correspond with the quality of your haiku, as my expertise in this area is admittedly dubious.

More about haiku:

I have seen haiku described as, "a conversation with nature". And I have been given the advice to, "aim for simplicity with elegance in expressing the 'haiku moment,' the truth of the original noticing". So I think a good haiku is essentially a humble thing.

A more thorough description of "haikuness" can be found at tinywords.

***Submit your own haiku***
Note: Entering this contest will not put you on any email list or anything like that. I'll only use your email to contact you if you win, or if I have a question about your entry. If you want to receive email updates and be told about ways to help, then please sign up as an Ocean Defender. Contest ends 9th February 2006.

IF YOU POSTED A HAIKU ON THE 2ND OF FEBRUARY, AND YOU CAN'T SEE IT HERE, PLEASE RESUBMIT. WE HAD A SLIGHT TECHNICAL PROBLEM!

UPDATE: I've closed the contest. Thanks for all the haikus! Will announce a winner soon.

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25 January 2006

Radio log Arctic Sunrise, 50+ days at sea, 20+ days with the ICR whalers

[ Web editors note: Today is another slow transit day. Weather is still good I am happy to report. Other than that we are each working on our own separate jobs. Washing and stowing all of our cold weather gear, putting the ship in order for the next leg of the Defending Our Ocean expedition, etc. Since it's a slow day I thought I'd share this one last action update. It's by Neil, refers to a day about two weeks ago and is written in his native language (Australian) - so there's any of it you can't understand just ask.

-- Andrew ]

by Neil, onboard the Arctic Sunrise

0800 normally after a bit of breaky the call PD6464 this is PCTK hey guys what's' up on the blue thing? Bit more of a rag chew (RO talk for passin the time on the radio) and I settle into some floor cleaning and dunny divin! (cleanin duties) Normally Sj will do the download first, usually quickly followed by a call through the radio room door "when did you last down load?" as if it didn't happen at this time for the last 50+ days.

After the daily grind is out of the way we decide on what we need to get repaired or setup for the days activities. Not unusual to have to repair electronics when it is mixed with large amounts of salt water. However later in the day my chance for a session as boat crew but. Also I do the fill in paparazzi! The vidiot (as the Videographer calls himself) is down with a stomach bug (driven the porcelain bus).

So out in the African Queen our big orange bus of a tender later in the day we are on the chase again YM2 had just transferred an earlier kill, and its off again. I thought science was painstaking and methodical with detailed appraisal of each step in the investigation, well this ain't. Us in the paparazzi boat are in front of the pump boat but still apart of the distraction process in a weaving pattern in front of the bow and harpoon. We catch up to the hunter and take up a position in front of the bow ahead of the Orca. My first attempts with the camera are clumsy as we bounce about. Later Jari comments, "you managed a few shots in line with the horizontal" ;-) . I quickly realize this hunting machine looks more like a machine from war of the worlds as manoeuvres with military precision for the kill. Science! Lot of years of killing machine science here, doubtful much else. As we turn and cross the whales break the surface beside and ahead of us, a pod of maybe 4 or 5.

Thinking to myself they must be gasping incredible amounts or air to keep this swim speed up. 18kts at times. After 40 minutes of this one becomes separated from the pod , before long we all have the same feeling of urging the whale on and willing it to dive out of harms way hiding from the killing machine. Unfortunately there is spotters posted all over the hunter and they also use forward looking fish finders to predict were the whale will surface next, this information the helmsmen feeds to the harpooner because one can watch the harpooner turn the gun before the whale surfaces.

The manoeuvring continues. I notice how stabilized the harpoon turret is as it glides from side to side quite a few times it directly lines us up as we pass. Looking down the barrel of a gun would be the comparable feeling I could imagine. This is open sea and not owned by anyone. Because they have "a permit" it justifies them to point guns at anyone? (Lets not forget it's a very large gun, a harpoon.) I have as much right to occupy the water in front of them as they do to sail through it, and normal morality would suggest they don't point their guns at anyone. Seems to me they are failing their first basic lesson/rule in weapon safety! "never point a weapon at anyone". Quite obviously very un- professional with regard to weapons safety.

This harpoon is more like an Artillery Piece, using something like a 75mm charge shell, can't tell exactly from down on the water. This is a machine of war in an agreed sanctuary, another 40 minutes goes by, I have some video but not sure as the camera I have the viewer keeps closing so I constantly have pull it back to see what I'm pointing at. My hat off to Jari who produces smooth stable shots in one of these things. Visibly the whale is tiring we (both boats) are starboard and the harpoon is fired, it's a shock! I feel the pressure wave, I see the line whip through the air and a splash approximately 10m to port from us. The hunter slows, the line is tight down their port side by the time we circle to look for the Whale but they have missed! We all breath a sigh of relief however it not over for this Whale. In the air is that burnt cordite smell (only a person with experience with guns or war, like a soldier or sailor would recognize) after a big gun has been fired. Thinking to myself this is not a cultural activity the ICR/JWA would have you believe, it's a modern weapon for waging a war in a sanctuary.

Without hesitation the hunting machine readies itself for the next shot, workers re-stow the lines and haul in the failed harpoon. You can see the frowning of the constant drive for efficiency on the crew's foreheads, for the corporation! Spotters frantically looking about to see which way the Whale went, again begins the relentless chase. “sic You know this sample ain't getting away 80 minutes now can't have no productivity from this.” You know there is science to be done, butchering, freezing, packaging to be done and of course marketing to keep the shareholders happy. There must be a report to the IWC, but quite a bullshit one I'm sure. Personally I think the only thing the whalers have learned from their years of research is how to lie with a smile and have people believe you.

We cross and turn more, I find it hard to hold the camera in the boat and keep the other eye on what's going on, this is nuts. 85 minutes. (This is not science only a disturbed experiment of the mind, only thing gained here is a show of face, “your not stopping me/us in what we are doing, killing whales for commercial gain”.) WHY?... we turn more but the Whale is slowing now in fact we going half as fast as the beginning, even the Arctic Sunrise is just behind. The Whale turns more now it does not have the stamina to keep swimming fast (85 minutes over 10kts). Now the hunter is turning extremely hard leaning and lurching like a monster machine. Between us on the African Queen there is the work of spotting the Whale to help guide the driver between the Whale and the hunter, there isn't time for radio chatter between boats the speed they conduct the chase at keeps everyone holding on. But another shock wave hits us as the harpooner fires again this time to the Starboard side the Whale soon dies, I'm hit with the most depressing feelings I have felt in a long time over 90 minutes and you believe you can help this Whale save itself. The industrial process proceeds on, no time to waste within minutes even after an attempt to slow the process down the Whale is hitched to the port side and transported off. 13kts to the Processing and Factory ship Nisshin Maru (Mother to us) and what for? There is already a stoke pile of dead Whale. Senseless Industrial Culturalism gone wrong, everything must be quantified and managed by the corporation for the shareholders' benefit, otherwise it serves no purpose.

Its now 20:00hrs I walk back into the radio room in a dry suit cause I here the persistent phone ringing, "Good evening this is the Arctic Sunrise Neil speaking," in a benign tone to cover my feelings, "can you hold while I track..." Later on the file transfers begin, downloads continue, and a quick check of the safety radio gear from the boats.

Neil out
73's VK3GRN

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24 January 2006

Sealords and whaling

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

Someone sent me an email with some good news. The Western Australian reports the Federal Environment Minister, Ian Campbell is backing our campaign to put consumer pressure on Sealord - a New Zealand seafood company linked to the whaling industry.

Sealords is half owned by Nissui, a major player in the whaling industry. Nissui cans and distributes whale meat to supermarkets, and owns a large part of Kyodo Senpaku, the company doing the actual whaling.

New Zealanders strongly oppose whaling, and their government lead last week's international diplomatic protest. Australians feel similarly. No doubt the connection between products on their store shelves and the whaling industry came as a shock to them.

Now Sealord management is saying that they have already told Nissui "100 times" about New Zealander's opposition to whaling. I guess that means Nissui either doesn’t care or isn't listening. But if enough shoppers themselves speak out, through Sealords, then Nissui will be forced to take notice.

Speak out - Send a message to Sealord.

More about the Sealord whaling connection.

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23 January 2006

Leaving Antarctica be

by Nathan, onboard the Esperanza

Well, the time has come to leave the whaling grounds and head homeward. We left the Nisshin Maru and her hunters a few days ago and headed south into the ice towards Antarctica, the white continent, to take in the wonders of the waters and the seascape there. After all the violence and grey steel we've seen, it was nice to have a little time to pay full attention to the marvels of this magical, beautiful, terribly inhospitable place. I have never been at such a loss of words, struck so speechless... words and language seem limited, insufficient for capturing this place, as I suspect the images we took will prove as well, for this is a place that fundamentally defies capture.

The Arctic Sunrise is an icebreaker; the Esperanza is ice class but not an ice breaker, so the Espy stayed just inside the ice field edge, among the flat plates of ice rising and falling softly on the slight swell of the Antarctic ocean, rising and falling as gentle as a person breathes in a peaceful slumber. The presence of the ice breaks any momentum the wind or currents have built on the ocean, so the waters are just this side of stilled and for once it seemed we could begin to exhale. The 'Sunrise slowly carried on, easing it's way cautiously but steadily deeper in the field, weaving her way in and among the thousands of iceberg islands scattered in all directions, doing the work she was made to do at the hands of a captain born for this work: Arne is considered one of the best ice captains alive.

The Sunrise worked her way through the drift ice until she reached the fast ice of Antarctica, the apron of ice extending and spilling out onto the sea from the land itself, just above the continental shelf. She nosed into the edge of the apron and came to rest aside a vast, flat, frozen plain rising five feet or so above the sea and extending inward to the continent, flowing around and encircling icebergs between the ship and the shore.

The next morning, under a brilliant sun and clear horizons we ferried over from the Espy and joined the Sunrise crew for some fun on the ice and some cautious exploring, as ice is always something to be wary about, regardless of how solid it may appear. The pilot door of the ship opened onto the vast table of solid white, extending, rising ever so gently up and South, all the way up to the exposed faces of the coastal range of the continent, which rose jagged and sharp and untouchable into the deep blue air. And there it was: Antarctica, in person.

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22 January 2006

Whale song

by Lally, onboard the Arctic Sunrise

There's just so much we don't know about whales. I'm no expert, in fact far from it, but I have just read an email from someone on earth (as I now call it) with details of a new research paper published in the January edition of the Journal of BioScience. The paper reports that whales of the same species sing in different dialects depending on where they are from. They discovered that "Blue whales off the Pacific Northwest sound different than blue whales in the western Pacific Ocean, and these sound different than those living off Antarctica." No one knows why they speak or sing (whichever you prefer) in different dialects but apparently the differences between dialects are "striking".

My guess is that their language evolved in a similar way to ours, intricately over time due to separated breeding groups. We don't know if there is a common thread that runs through the different dialects and we certainly don't know what they are saying. What we all know though is that language is used to communicate thought and feeling and whales use different pulses, tones and pitches to achieve this. Although the noises whales make may sound to humans like song, I have no doubt that this is their version of language.

Just because we can't interpret or translate whale sounds into something that makes sense to us it doesn't mean the whales aren't talking to each other in much the same way we do. Certain sounds are probably whales having a chat or in moments of loneliness them shouting a long distance "hello? Is there anyone out there?". Others combinations of clicks and sounds may well be mummy whales saying to baby whales "If I have to tell you one more time to stop teasing the dolphins you'll know about it". We just don't have a clue and can only marvel at each new finding.

All these new discoveries only go to reinforce the fact that killing whales and pretending it's for research is just ridiculous when you consider how little we know about them when they are alive. Saying you are analysing their stomach contents is a farce, it tells us nothing we don't already know and the 'results' are known to be meaningless. Killing them for profit is a crime against life itself. These sacred animals - and all other animals as far as I'm concerned - belong to no one, only themselves and no one should be arrogant enough to think they have the right to take their lives.

One thing we know for sure about whales and that is that we know almost nothing about them. We also know that there is something about them that we as humans connect with on a level we can't quite understand, a level that inspires awe and wonder, that touches our souls. I often get asked "why save the whales? What makes them so special?" To which I can only answer, "have you ever seen one?"

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21 January 2006

We're going up

by Jeremy, onboard the Esperanza

"Are we going up?", a question I ask when I see the pilot, Hughie, running around in his yellow jacket or green flying jumpsuit.

Hernan, the videographer, and I have the enviable position on the ship of being the regular passengers in ‘Tweetie’, the ship’s little 4 seater, one engined helicopter. We go up, flown by Hughie, and assisted by a deck crew, to observe the goings on of the whaling fleet, to document what they’re doing, and to take images which make their way to the media all over the world.

But going in the heli has it’s own fun, walking towards the heli in my Tom Cruise Top Gun suit I can’t help but smile that I’m about to fly, above the icebergs, above pods of whales, all to be able to photograph. And this is my job. It makes me smile, smug I know.

Some of the nicest moments are seeing the icebergs from above, seeing the ice below the water which shows up more blue or green, and a lot more visible than from sea level. To show his skills Hughie never fails to have fun in landing us on icebergs, touching down gently and lightly on the virgin white snow, allowing Hernan a steady, stable platform from which to film his video scenes.

I’m not sure if the dramatic, acrobatic, circus turns Hughie executes are for fun or for actual need of manouevering, but they never fail to elicit stomach churning groans from Hernan and I as we hold on, white knuckled, looking out where the doors once were, to see a wall of ocean facing us. “Look at the horizon” Hughie once told me, “I would if I could see it” I replied, facing nothing but the Southern Ocean where 2 seconds ago the floor used to be.

Seeing the ship from the sky, from 700 feet, or 3,000 feet makes us realise how small our ‘home’ is, and how vast this ocean is. Not something to dwell on too much. Until the next flight.

[ For some basics on heli flying, you can read a weblog from Hughie on a previous trip. ]

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The London whale

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

Today was remarkably slower paced than the last 30. And since it's a slow day I've found myself drawn into this whole London whale thing. I've seen hundreds of whales over the past month - some dead, some dying but many swimming free and safe - so I guess I know what it feels like to want a whale to live.

The fact that it has a name might also play a role. Two names actually - I've heard both "Gonzo" and "Boomerang". And of course it is great that so many people are getting to see a real live whale. I gather that doesn't happen often for Londoners.

But I can't help also thinking about the hundreds of whales I have seen over the past month - the ones without names. The truth is, the whalers are going to try and kill 945 of these nameless whales this year alone - including ten endangered fin whales. We were able to protect some individual ones, but the reality is that commercial whaling will continue as long as the world lets it.

I know we are a long way from London. We're a long way from any city. But if after this one London whale is safely returned to open sea, the same passion could be put into saving these nameless whales, then I know that the Southern Ocean Whale Sanctuary could become just that. A place of sanctuary for the whales.

Our take action page lists many ways to help.

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View from the sky

by Hughie, onboard the Esperanza

Having a bird's eye view is always very revealing, especially if it’s from a helicopter. You can twist and turn, stop and start, more or less as you please, thus placing yourself in the best viewpoint. Helping the camera guys (and girls) to get the shots is always a challenge, but they usually succeed. What we see from up there tells a bigger story than when you are at sea level. To be able to see into all the corners, the stacks of harpoon under the gunners deck, the piles of meat that are ready for boxing, and of course, all the whales on the deck waiting to be butchered. These are some of the grim sights.

What we also have the privilege to see is the whales swimming. When seen from above it is indeed a wonderful sight. Their grace and agility can only be admired.

For every whale that falls victim to the harpoon, there is another four or so that escape. We have watched a lot of mothers, with their calves swimming in symbiosis, ever graceful and gliding along silently.

When you see the hunters latch on to an animal, it is fairly certain that the end is inevitable, although we have watched the odd one twist under the surface and elude the grenade tipped death arrow. They are the lucky ones.

For most it is a gruelling chase, with the poor animal coming to the surface for a breath of life giving air, only to expose its self to the eagle eyed harpooner who will show no mercy or discrimination.
The explosion that comes from the cannon is something that literally shocks you, the acrid smell of the charge going off, and then you watch the rope snake out, knowing that it is following the harpoon which has by this time, buried its self deep into the poor animal.
An instant death is all you can hope for, but again from our viewpoint we have watched the whale dive and turn under the surface trying to escape. Pulling the line out taught, surfacing for panic breaths as it tries in vain to free its self from this agony.
The hunters, more often than not, have to put the poor creature out of its misery with a high power rifle when the have reeled it in to the ship.

As you climb away, suddenly this world of slaughter and blood is gone – out before you is the majestic Antarctica. Is this really the same time and place? It is a bit like the surrealism of a dream, but this is real.

The huge ice flows, the massive icebergs, and, on occasions, the mountains of Antarctica are very haunting and make you feel special – privileged – yet we are witnessing all this carnage.

People are strange.

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20 January 2006

"Give us a P"

by Lally, onboard the Arctic Sunrise

Last night we arrived at the edge of the Antarctic ice shelf and for this journey it marked the end of the road. We could literally go no further and the ship was parked for the night in the total stillness of the ice edge. Sadly this was not just the end of the road in the physical sense and a few hours ago we left the ice shelf heading north and we will not be stopping again until we reach Cape Town.

To mark our departure we decided to write a final message to the world. But this time, rather than painting a banner we used ourselves and around 30 people from 20 different countries curled and contorted themselves into the words: HELP END WHALING

Getting everyone in position was a feat in itself and it seemed that last nights practice run was totally forgotten in the excitement of standing on firm ground for the first time in 60 days. Getting everyone in position was like trying to herd cats and eventually after 20 minutes of people wondering around saying things like "I think I'm in the wrong E?" and "But there isn't a T" we were all in position when a little penguin wondered up to the letter H to see what was going on. It just stood there staring at the strange pile of orange people sprawled out on the ice and as you can probably imagine its arrival did nothing to help proceedings and caused several of the letters to disintegrate entirely. Anyway, after much faffing (and after the penguin got bored and wondered off) we finally managed it and the message is clear.

So after exactly two months we have reached the end of our time down here but even though this is the end of the physical road for the crew on these ships our activities in the Southern Ocean Whale Sanctuary are just the beginning of the larger campaign to stop whaling once and for all. Just because we are no longer down here actively trying to stop the whalers does not mean the fight to save the whales is over. Whales are still being killed and will continue to be killed unless we all act now to stop it. HELP END WHALING is our departing message and request to the people of the world to join forces and let the Japanese Government know that killing whales is not ok and it has to stop for good.

Sign up as an Ocean Defender.

And send a message to Gorton's asking them to pressure their parent company to get out of whaling.

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For now, we are done here

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

Yesterday afternoon we left the whaling fleet and turned south. Now, I have just returned from the Arctic Sunrise, where most of the crew from both of our ships are gathered following today's activity. It almost surprised me how positive we are all feeling. The sense is that we have done exactly what we came to the came here to do. We have protected individual whales, we have put ourselves into the line of fire, we have kept our cool in the face of the whalers' intimidation, and we have shown more graphically than ever the truth of what is happening here off the coast of Antarctica.

For the first time, we had a ship that was able to keep up with the whalers' factory ship. We stayed in contact with them for a month - longer than any other Greenpeace expedition - and with two ships and new tactics were able to protect more whales from the harpoon than ever before in the history of Greenpeace Antarctic expeditions.

Those accomplishments and the fact that we are all heading towards home safe and sound is no small cause for celebration.

Still, work remains to be done. As we have said since the start of our journey, it will be consumer pressure on companies linked to the whaling industry - such as Gorton's (in the US) and Sealords (in New Zealand) and Nissui (in Europe among other places). This is where you come in. The support we have received throughout this tour, from people all around the world, has been phenomenal. Now we need to turn that into consumer action.

Shortage of fuel and supplies, plus the demands of future work, are forcing us to head for Cape Town. But it will take us roughly two weeks to return to port, and we'll keep pushing for the whales during that time. Then we will all go back to the lives we left behind to join this expedition. Some of us will return later in the year for another leg of the Defending Our Oceans tour. Others will go their own separate ways.

But none of us will ever forget what we have seen and done - here in the Southern Oceans Whale Sanctuary - and none of us will ever give up. Together, we can end commercial whaling once and for all.

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19 January 2006

Keeping them moving on

by Nathan, onboard the Esperanza

For the past several days, since the African Queen had the harpoon fired over her and the rope came down into the boat, the fleet has broken up and the mothership has picked up and run around erratically, as we've seen before. We have not had to launch the inflatables because the seas have been up and rough, which isn't good for hunting whales nor driving small boats.

So it is as before: right when we needed it we get a break to get some rest and make repairs, and although that means the ship is bobbling around, it's a very welcome development.

Why did they pack up and run? Who knows, but it does fit a kind of pattern we've seen. After the first two days of action, where the Kyo Maru rubbed sides with the Esperanza, we made it hell for them to do transfers and then we showed them the sprayer invention and the fact that they couldn't shake us in the ice because of the jetdrives, they raised tail and ran for a while, perhaps to give things a think and talk to their handlers back home after the story hit large in the press. When they did resume whaling they stayed out of the ice but we stayed out in front of the harpooners. They attempted the transfer of whale meat to the Oriental Bluebird which earned that ship a new paintjob, then the Nisshin Maru intentionally collided with the Arctic Sunrise and the Sea Shepherds appeared. Again the story went wide and again they packed it up and ran, perhaps to have another think? The third (and last) time they restarted their efforts they seemed intent on whaling regardless of our presence, until the harpoon crossed over a boat and again there was intense coverage.

Perhaps now they've decided to wait until we chose to leave, as we've made it known before that we haven't intended to stay with them the whole season, for practical considerations.

If so, I take it as a huge victory in terms of action tactics: they couldn't intimidate us out of the effort down here and, perhaps under a spotlight a bit too intense for them, had to cease whaling? For the first time they can't outrun us, can't outmaneuver us, and, forced to carry on their work in front of us, can't hide the graphic truth of their activities from coming to light.

While there is no way to know for sure about any of this, the fact remains that they have stopped whaling and that was our goal.

61 days we've been at sea, 28 of which we've been with the fleet. I haven't done a count of how many of those days with the fleet were days where we launched the boats, but I expect it may be roughly half, at one point sustained everyday for a week. It has been quite a haul but again I'm just amazed at the tenacity of the crews down here and their focus and determination, and their ability to remain inventive and actually improve our equipment when making repairs. We've broken every boat we've launched at some point, but all save one will still be running when we return to port (hell, I won't be surprised if they find a way to get that one back on line too) and there have been no major injuries.

I'm not sure exactly what will happen next, but will write more later then things become clear. It appears we will return to Cape Town eventually after all, because of the demands on these ships for their next endeavors. At this time, however, I'm not sure of the expected schedule and above all on this trip, I've learned that you can only take it day to day because the unexpected seems to happen here as the rule.

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Colouring in a storm

by Lally, onboard the Arctic Sunrise

If someone had told me when I was a little girl that the endless colouring books I was presented with were actually essential training for my future, maybe I would have taken them a bit more seriously. But then I guess no one expected me to still be colouring in at the age of 30, least of all me. And whether you like it or not banner painting is an intrinsic part of life in Greenpeace.

Contrary to popular belief, under the right circumstances banner painting can be highly therapeutic and even verge on the meditative. I for one actually like it and it has a warm fuzzy place in my heart as I was in fact painting the words "No War" on a bit of yellow fabric while working at Greenpeace Australia when I spied Mikey, who is now my husband, for the first time. Sadly however, painting a banner on the Arctic Sunrise during a storm is a different story entirely and painting one while sitting in the freezing cold on a lumpy metal floor in a wobbly ship does not lend itself to a feeling of therapeutic calm or warm fuzzy recollection. I would say that increased stress levels, spinal deformity and having your knees fuse in the kneeling position would be a more accurate description.

So just in case you ever find yourself in this situation I thought I'd share my learning's on how to paint a rather large banner in a storm...

1) Find a grown-up and get them to draw out the letters to be coloured in. Get additional grown-ups to check spelling. Spelling mistakes that go undetected until the banner is complete can be costly in terms of having no one talk to you for the rest of the trip so are best avoided.

2) Find a paintbrush. This is easier said than done and may require theft. Banner painters can become very protective of their paintbrushes and will often display hoarding behaviour, laying claim to a thin one for edges AND a thick one for colouring in. Effective tactics for getting a paintbrush include the "Distract them with a shiny thing" technique. To do this just wander around until you spy someone with multiple paintbrushes then point at the corner of the room shouting, "What's that? Ohhh isn't it shiny!" and as they look for the shiny object, quickly remove your brush of choice and back slowly away.

3) Find an old yogurt pot and fill with the correct coloured paint. Note: All reds are not the same. Apparently some are more orangey than others and using the wrong red makes other banner painters cross and can result in you getting told off and having to start again.

4) Find a bit of rubbery stuff to kneel on. The rubbery texture helps you to stick to the floor whereby lessening your chances - although not eliminating them entirely - of sliding across the freshly painted banner when the ship rolls. It also slows the speed with which your knees and spine go into spasm.

5) Sit yourself on your bit of rubbery stuff in front of a letter on the banner. Ask yourself if the letter next to the one you want to paint, on the side of your painting hand, has been recently painted. If it has pick another one so as to avoid letter smudging and the subsequent wrath of the other banner painters.

6) Holding your pot of paint in one hand and your paintbrush in the other take a moment to observe that you have no hands left to steady yourself if/when the ship rolls. I find sitting with my legs folded under me, leaning forward and balancing on my elbows to be a quite effective (although painful) alternative to hands. Once you have assumed you chosen position begin to paint the edges of your letter.

Memo to self: Never, never ever put your paint pot down. You are on a rolling ship and putting it down is a recipe for total disaster and has the potential for the instantaneous destruction of the entire banner.

7) Once letter is coloured in select another one and repeat from step 4 until all the letters are coloured in.

And there you have it, a beautifully painted banner. And for the record, yesterday I painted a rather attractive letter E and I must say that my S surpassed even my expectations...sadly no one else noticed which was slightly disappointing...I guess they were just all too busy colouring in.

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Mid day update

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

Like yesterday, sea conditions still too rough for us to operate effectively in the boats. Too much chop. Fortunately, it's not a great day for whaling either, but unfortunately good enough that they have caught a few.

The crew is busying themselves with deckwork, maintenance and all of the other daily tasks that are required to keep a ship functioning, and I am trying to catch up with the mountain of comments that has come in. Our thanks to everyone who has sent words of encouragement. We actually have access to the internet (something I still find amazing), and your support is greatly appreciated.

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18 January 2006

Andy - 1st mate

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Mathijs - 3rd mate

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Bernard - Bosun

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Neil - Radio operator

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Yuske - Campaigner

How did you get involved with Greenpeace? I was Greenpeace staff before this tour. What do you love about being at sea? I've always wanted to visit the Antarctica and see it with my own eyes. What do you not like about being at sea? I do not like the constant motion of the ship which takes away my concentration and makes reading and writing difficult. What do you look forward to most when returning to land? Having natto over rice.

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Isha - Cook

(that's her on the left) Life is magic and dreams, reality. Everything just is… Aldous Huxley said it, but of course he never sailed into the Southern Ocean. Everything here is beyond understanding, comprehension…it’s just wild, uncontrollable mighty awesome. Water… Flowing back and forth with the force of the moon Rising and setting with the heat of the planet People riding it Smiling and crying with it. I’m sure the ocean moves us too, deeply inside… Brings hidden forgotten issues to the surface… Forcing us to deal with ourselves… Existence… Life here, on earth. Earth… This blue ball playing out its existence… And then us! How and where do we leave a mark? The answer wells up from my heart...Overflows from my eyes … An awesome awesome iceberg carved by the wind and sculpted by the ocean, dropped on this earth hundreds of years ago, floating by me today… What are we going to drop on this Earth? And what are we going to leave behind?? Surely we must protect it. None of us...or not each one of us together can create anything as splendid... This is my deepest desire and I hadn’t known it ’till I was onboard the Rainbow Warrior the first time…that I will dedicate my life to this planet…To explore it, understand it, love it, protect it like it were my most precious belonging. On my last trip to Greenland, I realised the ocean is our mother...giving us life. And now in the Southern Ocean…the mother of all oceans...I feel it!! When it’s calm we are good…when it gets rough we just go along and try to keep our heads above the water!!! It’s hard, hard work…but it can’t be easy…trying to protect the oceans and its creatures… It’s a choice we all make in our hearts ’Till it fills our beings And nothing else makes sense. I’m so grateful, so humbled to be able in this lifetime to do a little bit and will strive with every day to do more... A little more So that our planet can grow And grow! Om shanti

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Phil - Outboard Mechanic

The ship is my home for six months of the year, but when not on board I try to live in Canada, not far from Toronto. I've been with Greenpeace for 14 years. The past 11 on the ships. I've been a deckhand, a boatswain, a cook, an engineer and outboard mechanic. On this tour we have four rigid hull inflatable boats on board. Their care and maintenance is my responsibility. I have two teenage children that are the centre of my universe. This is the first time I've participated in the Greenpeace whaling campaign. I hope to save at least one whale. Having the Japanese whaling industry collapse would of course be a better result for all whales. Just being in the Southern Ocean has been quite a challenging experience. Our ship is notorious for the degree to which she can roll in just a moderate sea. The heavier seas common to this ocean have made it a truly bizarre environment in which to work. Trying to conduct normal activities while your workplace is behaving like a rollercoaster presents certain difficulties which we all have to find ways to overcome. We've talked about starting the "bruise of the day" club. The continued existence of these animals should not be left to the likes of us. The world has to oppose whaling. Not just Greenpeace. Wish us luck and prey for the whales. Peace Phil

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Barbara - Deckhand

I very well recall the moment that years later brought me to Greenpeace. I must have been about 8 or 10 years old. My mum and I were listening to the news on the radio and there was this piece about Greenpeace trying to stop the whalers. Now, about 20 years later, after 12 years with this organisation, I m on my way to the Southern Ocean. Obviously I feel very happy to be on this trip - especially this year, that the Japanese are not only hunting in the Antarctic Whale Sanctuary but strongly move towards commercial whaling again. Then there is the Southern Ocean itself - to me, that I love the sea, this ocean more and more feels like the most special one I possibly could sail on - to see her wildness, her vastness, her overwhelming beauty is an incredible gift of life. As always when sailing with Greenpeace brings me to one of those really special places on this planet, I feel very honoured I have the chance to see them - not as a tourist but someone whose presence hopefully will bring them good - so I keep my fingers crossed that we down here not only literally have the world behind us but politically as well - and that it will be possible to achieve some endangered species to be left alone.

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Anne - Medic / Deckhand

I'm lucky enough to live by the sea in Sydney, Australia and I love oceans and sailing, though I have to say the Southern Ocean in a rolling icebreaker has been a bit of a challenge. But today with the real start to our campaign against the whalers, I feel its all been worth it. Just to let the whalers know that we're watching - that you can't hunt on an industrial scale in a Sanctuary - felt good. I have to say I do worry about contemporary 'big business' sometimes, with its absolute disregard for finite global resources and its greed. And unfortunately for the oceans, for a lot of people it seems to be out-of-sight, out-of mind. To me it seems that the fishing industry in particular, is totally out of control, with lots of species and their habitat under threat. So next time you see someone throw a prawn (shrimp) on the barbie (BBQ), ask yourself if the world can take it!

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17 against whaling

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

Seventeen nations, led by Brazil and the UK have issued a formal diplomatic statement known as a demarche to the Japanese government. The demarche was delivered to the Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs on the 16th, and to the Ministry of Agriculture, Fisheries and Forestry yesterday. It calls on Japan to, "cease all its lethal scientific research on whales". Nice one. Reading the UK government's press release one sentence leaped out at me:

In the 31 years prior to the introduction of the commercial whaling moratorium, only 840 whales were killed globally by Japan for scientific research. More than 6,800 Antarctic Minke Whales have already been killed in Antarctic waters under the 18 years of the Japanese Whale Research Programme.

That's right. Their goal is to kill more whales every year for "research" than they did for research in the entire 31 years before the moratorium went into effect.

Along with Brazil and the UK, Argentina, Australia, Austria, Belgium, Finland, France, Germany, Ireland, Italy, Luxembourg, Mexico, New Zealand, Portugal, Spain and Sweden also signed the demarche. See any glaring omissions? Did your country lack the courage or convictions to speak out? It is not too late. Let you leaders know you want action to protect the whales.

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ICR advisor, ill advised

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

Nice article in today's Washington Times. However, it quotes Gavin Carter, an "adviser" to the Institute of Cetacean Research (aka "the whalers"), as saying, "They [Japanese] eat the whole thing. They use every part."

This is not true. We have documented the whalers dumping huge chunks over the side of their factory ship during the butchering process. No doubt the less marketable bits. I do not know who misled Mr. Carter, but I am guessing it would be the whalers themselves. In the future, I suggest he would be better served by reading our weblogs.

Furthermore, Mr. Carter's whole point, that whaling is a cultural issue, is absurd. The reality is that most Japanese do not consider whale meat an important part of their cultural diet. A 2000 poll commissioned by Greenpeace and IFAW, and conducted by the independent firm Market and Opinion Research International (MORI), found that among Japanese:

55% held no opinion or were neutral in regard to commercial whaling - dispelling the wide-held belief that the Japanese public was a strong proponent of commercial whaling. While 14% opposed whaling outright, only 11% of those polled supported whaling. (source: MORI.com)

The same survey found that 61 percent of the respondents had either not eaten whale since childhood (it used to be common in school lunches), or had never eaten it at all.

All that aside, I don't think I have to remind Mr. Carter that traditions can and sometimes should be changed. My own country, the US, has at times had some pretty horrific "traditions", including commercial whaling. The same is true for all countries I imagine.

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Thinking caps at the ready

by Lally, onboard the Arctic Sunrise

It's been nearly two months since we set sail from Cape Town on this mission to save the whales. During that time you'll have read about some of the weird and wonderful things we have been up to down here and on the website to try to put an end to the needless killing once and for all. And if you are anything like me you'll still be wondering "What more can I do to help?" Well have no fear there IS more you can do...

Assuming you've already sent a message to Gortons asking them to pressure their parent company to get out of whaling. You've signed up as an Ocean Defender. You've sent the e-card to your friends asking them to sign up. You're, of course, a loyal reader of the weblog here...well here's the next step...

We need you to help us come up with ideas to help recruit more and more Ocean Defenders. The more people who sign up the stronger we will be every time we take an action together. We want to be a million strong within the next year, and we can only do that with your help. We simply can't win this thing on our own, we need everyone who wants to stop this crazy killing to join forces, get their thinking caps on and send us their ideas. It doesn´t matter how simple or downright crazy your ideas may seem, they may be just what we are looking for to inspire other people to sign up and help out.

Once you have an idea, make sure it's not already mentioned on our Take Action page and then enter it as a comment on this post. Easy peasy. And to inspire you further the best idea will receive a free piece of Ocean Defenders swag. Not that you'd do it for the T-shirt or the mug of course -- it's for the whales.

Need some inspiration to get started? Well how about the example of young Jessica, who changed her family's answering machine message telling people to sign up as an ocean defender. Or the clever reader who changed her instant messenger ID to "I save whales -- ask me how!"...

So what are you waiting for?! Get thinking and get posting!!!

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17 January 2006

Global day of action

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

Today people around the world, in twenty different countries, are protesting for the whales. I'll write more about it tomorrow when the details come in about each action. This is just a quick note to express the support and thanks from both crews down here to everyone who is taking action today - in both large and small ways. Together we can make the Southern Ocean Whale Sanctuary a real place of refuge for the whales.

If you are looking for a way to take part, check out our new Take Action page for tons of things you can do.

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Live and direct from the S.O.

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

Nathan and I just finished doing a live feed to a press conference at the National Press Club in Washington, DC. Pretty cool stuff technology wise. We stood out on the bridge wing with the Southern Ocean behind us. The video went from camera to laptop via firewire, which was plugged into the ship's network (could have used wifi, but weren't trying to be fancy). From our Linux server in the radio room, the feed was pumped out via the big VSAT dome behind the bridge. It came down somewhere in Norway and made its way to DC over the internet. For audio we used a separate satellite phone link.

The main news hook for the press conference wasn't two guys standing in the freezing Antarctic cold though. Today 17 countries - including Argentina, Mexico, Germany, Sweden, France and the UK - called for an end to Japan's whaling program. Respect and thanks from the ship to all of them. Missing in action is my own country - the United States. Pretty sad. You can write your government here, and I encourage all of my fellow Americans especially to do so today.

Antarctica belongs to all the world; these whales belong to no one and everyone; and the US is partner to a number of treaties involved. We have a responsibility to act.

There was also a webcam in the press conference room so that we could watch the event from the ship. From its vantage point it seemed well attended. So please keep an eye on the news, and let me know if you see anything about us.

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Too rough for whaling

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

We're experiencing a fresh Southern Ocean gale today. Wind at 35 knots, chasing the whalers' factory ship through five-meter (16ft) waves, spray reaching our bridge windows. It is not a good day to be a Greenpeace activist or a whaler in this piece of ocean. However, the important thing is that they are not whaling - Mother Nature proving far more effective than we could ever be.

As I'm typing this, we hit a particularly big wave, causing the bow to rise and drop a great distance. Briefly, I am almost weightless, but gripping the desk with both hands because I know from long repetition what comes next. The bow hits the bottom of its arc and surges back up. Weightlessness becomes crushing weight, and I'm jerked sideways in my seat. Behind me, I hear someone falling down the stairs. I check and they're fine - luckily he had both hands on the railings (a smart move).

Through some miracle of gyroscopic technology our satellite connection still works, and checking the day's news I see, "Japan to use foreign aid as strategic tool". Funny how that comes as no surprise. The Japanese government has been engaged in a vote-buying scheme at the International Whaling Commission for years - hoping to end the moratorium on commercial whaling.

This sort of thing is hardly unique to the Japanese government, but I do wonder how the Japanese public feel about their hard earned tax dollars going to support the obsolete, unsustainable and inhumane whaling industry.

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16 January 2006

The story of the Billy G.

by Nathan, onboard the Esperanza

I've talked a lot about the boat I drive, the Billy G, and it's been mentioned in many other postings from down here. I think it's about time you learned the story behind how the boat came to us and how it got its name.

All Greenpeace inflatables have names, though few are named after individuals. While some have names that are simply practical (Novi 1 and Novi 2 are the names of the two smallest twin inflatables on the Espy, both of which are manufactured by Novurania), most have names that often at best only hint at the stories behind them.

Of course, you usually have to hunt down a Greenpeace old-timer to find out, for example, that the African Queen (a boat on our sister ship) is named after a Humphrey Bogart movie.

The story of the Billy G, however, and how it came into our hands, should be told for it came to us as an exceptional act of love, kindness and support following a tragedy. The boat is names after Hamilton Billy Greene, called Billy by those who knew him. I never got the chance to meet the man, but here is what I know about him:

Billy Greene was a promising young filmmaker and animator who was shot and killed in Emeryville, California, on September 9, 2001, during an apparent robbery attempt [You may read more about this at here]. Born March 19, 1968, he was well known to have a sunny and generous personality. His art reflected his acute perceptiveness, gentleness, and subtle sense of humor. Billy’s last work, the independently produced short animated film “Thought Bubble,” premiered at the 2001 Sundance Film Festival. It has since been exhibited at film festivals worldwide and continues to win significant awards. He was also a performing musician and puppeteer.

Billy cherished the natural world and took every opportunity to spend time in it: he was a backpacker, a snowboarder, swimmer, and a conscientious bicyclist. He considered the Earth and everything on it with respect and love. He admired Greenpeace's history of peaceful direct action.

After his tragic death, his mother, Robin Davey, wanted to make a donation to Greenpeace in her son's name. She had her heart set on buying us the best boat we've ever had at Greenpeace USA; activists in inflatable boats confronting environmental wrongdoers at sea may be the most recognizable image of Greenpeace around the world. Activists in Rigid-hulled Inflatable Boats (RIBs) have been chasing commercial whalers, industrial fishing trawlers, ships transporting toxic or radioactive materials, barges loaded with illegally harvested mahogany, and more for decades.

The RIB is one of the safest small offshore boats manufactured. Though we refer to them as "inflatables", they are far more sophisticated than they appear or their name suggest. Though they come in a great variety of sizes and configurations, they all have a few things in common: below the water is a hard fiberglass or aluminum hull (the Billy G is aluminum) that allows the boat to travel at high speeds through rough seas. A specially constructed rubber tube that runs along the bow and sides of the hull gives the boat exceptional buoyancy and stability in the water. A powerful engine makes the boat fast and maneuverable. On top of these basics, Ms. Davey wanted our new RIB to be outfitted with proper navigation and communications equipment, protect the driver and crew as much as possible, carry any equipment we may need and be built for the toughest of conditions.

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Foggy day

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

Visibility is poor today - maybe a mile or two. It's foggy with some light snow. The sea state is rather rough, with white caps. All in all, not a good day for whale spotting. The two Yushins and the Kyo Maru (the ships that do the actual hunting) are somewhere off our radar. We're following the Nisshin Maru (factory ship). It's now more than halfway through the day, and no whales yet delivered. So apparently no hunting yet today - presumably thanks to the weather.

In other news, one of Kate's photos made it to MSNBCs "Week in Pictures". There were also some other good ones, but I voted for Kate's (number 8) anyway.

And while I'm posting links, one more thought... Are you an Ocean Defender yet?

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15 January 2006

Our new best friends

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

We'd become increasingly concerned about the dangerous behaviour of the whalers. This came to a head yesterday when the harpooner on the Yushin Maru No.2 fired right over one of the Arctic Sunrise boats, nearly hitting them. And believe me, this is not a guy you want playing William Tell with a 45kg (99 pound) grenade tipped harpoon. We suspect the crew on the whaling ships are under enormous pressure from their bosses back home - so we took the morning off as a cooling down period. This also gave us a chance to patch up the Billy Greene.

But we didn't want to give them the idea we were giving up either, so later in the day the Billy G. went to say konichiwa (good afternoon) to the Yushin Maru No.2. Luke was driving, Nathan and Cat as crew. Hernan was on board shooting video.

When the Billy G. arrived, the Yushin already had a whale alongside, but it was searching for a second. Nathan started up the pump, creating an artificial shower to make whale spotting difficult. It was a bright sunny day, and the whalers weren't really appropriately dressed for the occasion. As the Billy G. came closer, the crow's nest and flying bridge emptied. Soon all the whalers had gone inside.

And that was pretty much it for the day. Not too shabby. At one point while the Yushin was sitting idle, and the Billy G.'s pump was off, the hydrophone team (in the Mermaid) approached the whaling ship in an attempt to talk to the now re-emerged crew. Although they got the feeling some members of the crew would have chatted if they could, their attempts to strike up a conversation were met with silence.

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14 January 2006

Would you kill, to kill a whale

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

I'm asking a serious question here of the whalers. "Would you kill a person to kill a whale?" Because that is what it is down to here in the Southern Ocean Whale Sanctuary. The reports and video from the Arctic Sunrise boat crew makes that abundantly clear. Meanwhile, out in the Billy G. we had our own close firing - not as menacing as the behaviour the Arctic Sunrise folks saw, but still irresponsibly close.

I've never seen anything like this. It's my third trip to down here, and I can only attribute the whalers' behaviour to two things - the fact that they've more than doubled the number of whales they want to kill, and that we're being more effective then ever before at non-violently protecting these whales from the harpoon.

It's worth pointing out that as Greenpeace activists we've chosen to use peaceful tactics - to not put the whalers' safety at risk, no matter what. We also each choose to put ourselves in harms way. But the whaler with the gun also has to make a choice about whether to pull that trigger. For the safety of my crewmates - I hope he doesn't make the wrong one.

If you know anyone working on the whaling ships, maybe ask them to ask themselves, "If you don't shoot, what is the worst that could happen? If you do pull that trigger, what is the worst possible outcome then? Which would you rather live with?"

I'll admit, I'm partly asking this for selfish reasons. Because that guy in the Greenpeace boat. That's going to be me.

Update: A rebuttal (of sorts) has been posted on the whaler's own website here.

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What can I say?

by Lally, onboard the Arctic Sunrise

I really don't know what to say. I have just witnessed an act of such violent aggression and total disregard for life that I am pretty much lost for words. Today it wasn't just a disregard for the lifes of the whales. Today it was disregard for the lives of whales and human beings.

Things down here have taken a disturbing turn. A while ago the harpooner of the 'Yushin Maru No.2', one of the hunter ships, fired a grenade tipped harpoon across the bow of one of our inflatables into a whale that had just breached in front of their boat. The harpoon flew over the heads of the three people on the boat narrowly missing them before it exploded into the whale. The rope attached to it then caught itself across the console of the inflatable and after a few moments went suddenly taut hitting one of the crewmembers and throwing him into the air and into the icy Antarctic waters.

He is now safe and well and so are the crew. Thankfully no one was killed.

I had been writing a weblog about my own experience in the boats just this morning. We spent around four hours also in front of the 'Yushin Maru No.2' in-between the harpoon and the whale. My weblog was describing the escalating levels of aggression we have been experiencing. This morning before any whales were sighted the harpooner picked up the loaded rifle usually used to kill the whale and aimed it for some time, directly at our boats. A while later he fired a harpoon that just narrowly missed one of our speedboats. I'm talking by three of four meters...thankfully he also missed the whale.

We came here in peace. We have in no way acted aggressively or violently towards the whalers. We simply do not agree with what they are doing, what the Japanese Government are doing. Does not agreeing with someone give them the right to threaten you with a loaded gun or to fire a grenade tipped harpoon at you? Where do the whalers and the Government of Japan draw the line?

...I just don´t know what else to say.

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Killing at any cost

by Maite, onboard the Arctic Sunrise

Once more we were on the boats trying to prevent the hunter from killing a whale. We had two boats on the scene in front of the hunter ship the Yushin Maru No.2. We were successful for longer than an hour but then, the Orca, our other boat which pushes a spray of water up to interfere the harpooner's view, had engine problems and had to leave.

We continued protecting the whale. I thought, "It is lucky that it stays on our starboard side and near, as we are in the way of the harpoon so that it cannot be shot". How wrong I was! The whale made a majestic jump, its whole body outside the water. My jaw dropped watching one of the most beautiful things I've seen in my life. Then we heard the canon-like sound and saw the line of the harpoon flying one metre above our heads. In seconds there was a strong tug. We had the body of the whale attached along our port side, the rope of the harpoon crossing the middle of our boat from side to side, the wire that also goes with the harpoon crossing us from underneath, the boat moving sidewards out of control. We were lucky the whale was dead (so sad to have to say this!), the situation could have been much worse if it had started trying to fight to get rid of the harpoon.

There was an impasse and we were thinking of what to do, how to get rid of the rope. That was not easy as we had a dead body of about 8 tones hanging from the end of it. The situation dramatically changed again. The whalers pulled the rope up in one go. We were three people onboard. Dave got hurt on his right ear, Texas and I fell on the floor pushed by the rope. Just an instant later, Texas' body was not on top of mine. I shouted his name, looked backwards and saw him hanging from the tight rope (it had pushed him from his chest), the sea below red with the whale's blood. Finally he fell into the Antarctic waters. Few minutes later, he was onboard again, he was fine. Once the three of us checked each other's physical integrity, I exploded and couldn't stop myself as a flood of insults came out of my mouth. The crew of that ship had put our lives at risk twice.

We all bear in mind that the whalers were becoming more aggressive. Just a week before, we had problems with another boat and were forced to stop and stay far from the hunting scenario waiting for the Esperanza to come and pick us up. Looking backwards we saw a whale hunter ship coming straight for us, her bow nearer and nearer. We started the engine and moved to be away from her but she changed direction and her bow pointed at us again. In the end, she passed just a few metres from us. It was a dangerous and intimidating manoeuvre, the whalers "playing" with us to demonstrate their power.

But what happened yesterday goes much further. The key question here is: What kind of "scientific research" is this if killing more whales is more important than human lives? At the tip of the harpoon there is a grenade. Humans make mistakes.

However, despite of everything I have just told, this experience has reinforced my non-violent fight against the destruction of our planet, the nonsense annihilation of life that humans are carrying out. We all should move and stop it! I have no doubt we are on the right side.

Update:

Greenpeace footage of the incident.

ICR footage of the incident is also available here on their website. It cuts off before the whalers start winching in the stunned activists.

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My account

by Texas, onboard the Arctic Sunrise

I was in command of one of the tenders to the MY Arctic Sunrise, the "African Queen". On board with me was our Chief Engineer, Dave and one of our Deckhands, Maite.

We were engaged with another tender of the Arctic Sunrise, the "Orca" in protecting a group of minke whales from the whaling ship, Yushin Maru Number 2 owned by Kyodo Senpaku. For over an hour we placed ourselves between the harpoon of the whaler and the minkes. The seas were rough and near the limit of what the Orca could manage. Eventually after pounding in the waves the Orca had to drop out due to engine trouble. We fell in and assumed a position in front of the whaler and behind the minkes as we had done time and time again to prevent the harpooner from firing, thus saving the whales. We put ourselves in this position - and I cannot stress this enough - to prevent the harpoon from being fired, not to have a grenade tipped harpoon fired at us.

As the line paid out from the ship over our heads, it came down on our boat. The line screamed as it tore across the console and sponsons of the boat. I ordered my crew to hit the deck for fear of one of us being ripped apart by the banshee. The whale sunk, the line came tight and our boat was spun around. The whaling ship continued at speed and we were tossed to the side by the bow wake (the second of a series of fortunate events that lead to the avoidance of our demise - the first being that the whale died with the first shot, preventing it from smashing us to death in its own fight for survival). We were then dragged beam to, trapped between the whale and the ship.

Moments later the ship slacked the line and there was an oasis of calm as we sat there in shock. I made radio contact with the Arctic Sunrise to inform them we were alive and the whale was dead. We began assessing the risk that the line and the whale posed to the boat and ultimately ourselves. We were in no present danger with the line slackened from the ship. It was at this instant that the whaler steamed by and began hauling on the harpoon line. I was caught by the chest and flung out of the boat. I clung to the line to avoid the icy waters below me. I was in no way prepared for immersion in the zero degree water. My survival suit was open, the hood was down and the gloves were still in the pockets. This was necessary for operation of the boat, but not suited for entering the sea. Critics claim that I grabbed the line and left the safety of the boat intentionally. To them I suggest jumping in the path of an 8 tonne, bleeding, whale being dragged through freezing water, in an inadequately prepared survival suit and then ask if my acts were intentional. If you need further clarification then I will say it plainly. In no way did I intentionally hit myself with the harpoon line, knock my feet out from under me and plunge myself into the cold, deadly, unforgiving sea.

Now seeing as that is where I ended up I had to react quickly. First I swam out of the way of the whale as best I could (this you can surely seen in the video). Gasping for air I tried to call to the boat but I had not enough air in my lungs, due to both the shock of the cold water and having been "slingshotted" by my chest. Water continued to enter my suit. I was cramping up and my breaths were getting more shallow. I struggled with my hood and managed to close the zipper part way. I tried to put on the gloves but lost the dexterity in my hands and only managed to get one glove on half way. I adopted the HELP (Heat Escape Lessening Position) and waited for the boat to pick me up. I tried to stop the waves from splashing over my face but I was at their mercy and was getting none. Every other shallow breath was replaced by numbing brine. Eventually the water in my suit began to warm with my body temperature. I could not stop the shivering but could move my arms again. It was about 10 minutes that I was in the water. The African Queen is not an easy boat to handle at slow speeds for an inexperienced driver and Dave was forced into learning really quick. Our helicopter pilot even considered trying to pull me out on one the helicopter's skids - a risky manoeuvre that I am glad was not needed. The Orca even had time to reach the scene after being lifted back aboard the Arctic Sunrise after having engine trouble. By that time, and luckily it wasn't needed any longer, Dave had a basic grasp of the controls of the African Queen and was able to position it in a manner that allowed me to climb back aboard. A joyous moment for me.

All the while the Yushin Maru Number 2 carried on its way, making its routine securing of the whale for its trip back to the Nissin Maru where it is then cut up, boxed and frozen for the long voyage back to the Japanese marketplace.

Texas
Second Mate
Arctic Sunrise

p.s. Some personal feelings:

Our goal is to save the whales, not have ourselves killed. However, our presence in the line of fire did not stop the harpoo