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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 harpoon from being fired. What worked in the past was clearly no longer applicable. I admit that there is a risk that we take in putting ourselves in these situations. We put ourselves at the mercy of the captain of the whaling ship, the harpooner, the Institute for Cetacean Research and Dr. Hatanaka-san. We rely on their consciences to make the right decisions. If they show no regard for us and place a higher value on the catching of whales than the lives of their fellow human beings than we can no longer use ourselves as shields. The only protection we can afford the whales is a shield of moral fibre. If the hunters have no regard for our lives we will only slow the harpoon down, as it travels trough us to its target. We have trusted in them as people of compassion. We were wrong.

This is not a personal attack on these individuals. They have a job to do and there actions prove that they are willing to threaten our very existence to do it. Perhaps there is honour in a job well done. I have a job to do as well, saving the whales, but I will not condemn my crew to die for the satisfaction of a job well done, nor will I harm the whalers in my efforts to do my job. I believe that is where we differ. It is a question of values. Mine are different from theirs. I respect them, value their lives, they do not offer the same in return. I will not judge them for it - they can live with their value system. I will live with mine.

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Something I have never seen before

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

This is my third trip down here to the whaling grounds in the Southern Ocean Whale Sanctuary. I've seen a lot of whales killed, and, on this trip in particular, I've seen a lot of whales swim free. I've also seen the whalers do some pretty crazy things. But today I saw them doing something I've never seen before.

I was operating the "snozzle" on the Billy G. to rain a heavy obscuring spray in a lovely arc onto the spotters occupying Kyo Maru's flying bridge. This is pretty important work because once they actually see a whale, they'll just chase it and chase it until it's exhausted. At that point all we can do is block the harpooner's vision with a screen of water, and do our best to put our selves in the way so they won't shoot.

While we're doing this, Nathan driving the Billy G. next to their ship, I see a whaler come out with a crossbow. My first thought was, "Hoh shit, they're going medieval on our ass!" Then I remembered that real whale researchers sometimes dart whales to take a tissue sample. At the same time, the harpoon was loaded and ready, the harpooner went up on the foredeck with the crossbow guy. While we were figuring out what was going on, I kept a heavy rain coming down on their spotters in the crow's nest. When I could I focused mostly on them because they had the best vantage point, and forcing them to look through a heavy rain would severely reduce their chance of spotting whales. Periodically one of them would climb up or down from their vantage point, and I would switch to making whale spotting difficult for the guys on their flying bridge.

But I kept my eye on the guy with the crossbow. It became obvious that they were serious about using the thing, and there was no way they could kill a whale with it. So we made a joint decision to back off, but stayed near by. Soon we saw two magnificently large whales. From our low vantage point we couldn't be positive what species, but folks on the Esperanza also saw them. They were humpbacks, an endangered species of whale, hunted to dangerously low population levels. The Japanese whalers plan to resume hunting them next season, and will sell the meat back home. Today they settled for taking a biopsy (tissue sample).

This was the first time I had ever seen the whalers conducting anything like real research. We asked the Esperanza to radio the Kyo, to ask if they are hunting whales today, or doing actual research. Unlikely, but a possible break through. The Esperanza received no reply to its radio query, and we saw that their spotters had taken up position again - so we re-started our pump. A shame, it would be good to see these ships and crews without harpoons - conducting real research. There is so much still to learn about our oceans.

Sadly, I think that may never happen. They had taken advantage of our moment of attempted diplomacy to spot a whale.

Now that the whale was spotted, we fell back to our last defence. Putting a wall of water between the harpooner and his target. During all of this, the seas had picked up. Nathan was slamming us through the waves - in desperation taking our boat to the very edge of what it could do. Joe tended the pump and Hana was Nathan's second set of eyes. By the end of it, our inflated rubber sponson had been torn free from the hull at the bow.

As for me, I kept the cloud of water drifting back onto the gunner, as the Kyo made sharp turns chasing the whale and trying to throw us. Repeatedly, I saw him tense, but each time the wall of water prevented him from getting more than a glimpse. Finally, I don't know after how long, but not long enough, the harpooner made a split second decision and he fired. The shot hit home. Again, it was very close to our boat. At the moment the harpooner fired, Nathan was steering into the path of the shot.

We turned the engine off to let the hydrophone team in our other boat try and capture the dying whale's last vocalizations, and took the opportunity to have a quick conference. The sea was choppy, the whalers obviously ready to fire dangerously close. All on board chose to continue. To try just as hard to save the next one.

But the Esperanza called us back. Something about one of our fellow activists from the Arctic Sunrise being having been knocked out of their boat. We hurried back to our ship, on its way to rendezvous with the Sunrise.

For the record, Greenpeace would love to see more genuine research on whales in this part of the world. My deepest respect goes out to the scientists, from whatever nation, doing that work. We have even offered to work with the whalers towards real research goals. From yesterdays Greenpeace press release:

"Greenpeace would be happy to put its inflatables and vessels at the disposal of the whaling fleet to assist in the non-lethal research programme in return for a promise that no more whales will be killed in the Southern Ocean Whale Sanctuary."

Now that would be something to see.

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As usual, but all is not good

by Nathan, onboard the Esperanza

Today I woke as usual: clueless to the state of the water and sky. Our porthole lids are down so we can sleep because of the unending light. A great surprise was waiting for me on the deck: the sun. We have seen the sun late in our evening a few times, poking below the cloud line at the horizon, distant and cold, but for the most part we haven't really seen or felt the sun in nearly two months solid. Long ago we resigned ourselves to the overcast, rarely even seeing distinct cloud forms. Today the sun was up and out in full, framed by bands of thin, long, vertebral-shaped cloud spines floating slowly in a gentle wind above a sea made deep blue from the sky above, the sharp horizon broken and defined only by distant brilliantly lit icebergs scattered in all directions and the silhouette of ships. And a living sky of pure white Snow Petrels on the wing.

And into this we launch again. I take the helm at noon, after a morning effort where someone runs in and reports that two whales were spotted breaking off the hunter's course and heading our way. The hunter didn't see them because the sprayer was soaking their spotting nest. THIS is the news that makes your day. Eventually they made their kill but it took them over three hours and we know others got away.

When we launch the sea is picking up from the morning breeze which has been slowing building. It's going to be a rough ride. Again we head towards the Kyo Maru, again we rinse her flying bridge and crow's nest. And after some time, it's clear the hunt is on. We spot two large minkes side by side ahead and move to block, but the sea is heavy and once again we're pushing the edges of the boat's limits. Stuff is crashing around in the boat, straining at their lashings. A fire extinguisher nearly goes off. The safety kit's lid is being battered and breaking loose. You can hear the sound of crunching and stretching all over the boat. The boat wants to leave the water on the tops of the chop. Water is flying everywhere as we try to keep ahead of the Kyo Maru; these large animals can make great speed and it's clear the Kyo Maru is going for a quick kill. But Andrew is directing the sprayer well considering the wild seas and the harpooner has to step back out of the mist several times. Again it feels for a moment like they might lose them among the whitecaps and waterwall we're making, but eventually the all too familiar boom splits the air as the pair rise to our right and the one closest to us takes it inline right in the back. Once again the shot is just along our starboard side, striking the whale as it's alongside our bow, no more than ten feet to our side. This time there's no commands necessary: I've already got the wheel hard over to port as the cable descends and snaps the water as the whale makes for it's last dive.

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Cyberactivists bring victory in Argentina

by Nico, onboard the Esperanza

By this stage I assume everyone must know about our corporate aims for this specific campaign. Basically we want the Japanese companies who finance the whale killing to stop it!

But in order to be effective on this job Greenpeace had to do its homework and research everything we could about these companies. We found out that Nissui (a major stock holder of the company that owns the whaling fleet) has many subsidiary companies all around the globe. So, many of our national offices around the world were asked to get in contact with these companies - get them to get their parent company to stop whaling. Money may not be the most important thing to us as Greenpeace activists, but we have to be realistic. Money talks in this world - meaning the average shopper actually has quite a lot of power if they choose to use it.

I was once told that if I were to dig a hole in my back yard (I live in Buenos Aires, Argentina) all the way to the other side of the world, I would end up in Tokyo, Japan. So what better place than exactly the opposite side of the world for Nissui to receive its first setback?

Back home, we found out that there were two companies linked to Nissui and - that these companies share ownership of three big freezer trawlers that work South of Argentina. If we could somehow make these companies realize how important this issue is to the average Argentinean, Nissui would feel the pain.

We then spotted a third company, Santa Elena, which is partly owned by an Argentinean businessman, and partly linked to Nissui. This company is very famous for its delicious "fish fingers" on sale in many South American supermarkets. So we contacted them and received no answer.

Our next step was to ask our cyberactivists to take action, and within a week more than 25,000 people responded to our request and mailed this company. This obviously didn't make the company very comfortable. Only a week after our first request, Santa Elena decided to stop buying surimi (raw fish material needed to produce these famous fish fingers) from the whale killers.

In fact, we got a signed commitment from the president of Santa Elena not to buy surimi from Nissui any more. Santa Elena even contractually agreed to a 50,000 euro guarantee, to be donated to a non-profit group that works on whale protection in the event they violate our agreement with them. Companies do that when signing contracts amongst themselves so it only makes sense to have them do it when signing an agreement with Greenpeace.

It feels pretty weird to be writing this weblog update in the middle of the Southern Ocean, commenting on our success back home. I should be more worried about my boat suit being dry for the next action, where my gloves are and that sort of thing. But this is a very big and exciting win for us, and mainly thanks to all of our cyberactivists.

I urge all of the English speaking cyberactivists to follow in our lead. Together we can end commercial whaling everywhere.

-- Nico

p.s. Updates are also available in Spanish

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13 January 2006

The triumphant return of the Billy G

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

The first thing they did was take the Billy Greene over to the Kyo Maru to show them our new safety equipment. I'm calling it the "progecting-an-obscuring-spray-from-a-somewhat-safer-distance-device" or a PAOSFASSDD for short. Basically, it's a fire canon schnozzle mounted at the top of the pump pipe, sticking up from the back of the boat. The idea being that now we don't have to drive quite so close to the bow of their hunters in order to send up a whale protecting screen of water. And don't worry, we aren't going to hose anyone at close range (that's the whaler's job), we just create a heavy mist so they can't see the whales.

This afternoon's Billy G's crew line-up - Nathan, Luke, Slava and Joe - was no accident. Joe is our pump master - always tinkering and improving the setup; Slava is our ace fitter/welder who did the metal work on the boat; Nathan is the boat's sort of fairy godmother, and worked relentlessly to fix the sponson. Together they're like the A-Team, except pacifists. Oh, and Luke, I guess he'd be the Faceman. Not sure which one's Mr. T.

When they got over to the hunter, the Kyo Maru were once again quite chatty. John, our translator, was out on one of our other boats, the Mermaid, as part of the hydrophone team (we're deploying an underwater microphone to try and record the last sounds from a dying whale, but that's another whole sad story). He was asked the whalers what they thought about our new set up. They didn't like it at all.

It's clear this new technique will take some getting used to, but it's definite improvement over the previous fixed nozzle. It took them several hours to get a kill. When the shot finally came Nathan told me it was quite close to the Billy Greene, and that our boat was headed towards the whale when the harpooner fired.

Tomorrow afternoon it will be my turn out in the Billy G. again. I've missed a few days of boat work as we keep rotating to stay fresh, and I'm looking forward to getting back out on the water - doing what we came down here to do.

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Another whale shaped hole in the universe

by Lally, onboard the Arctic Sunrise

I have never begged for anything in my life but after this morning I can never say that again. Today I begged with every inch of my being, every part of my soul that the three lives swimming in peace together in this great ocean in front of my little boat would be spared. Two of them were, the third was not so lucky.

Never in my life have I seen anything so beautiful. Maybe they were a family, maybe just friends, swimming together in synchronised formation, the perfect lines of their perfectly streamlined bodies lifting gracefully from the water, rising and falling in front of us. But they also rose and fell in front of the hunter ship and one of them was not going to live to see another day.

In our two little inflatables we tried for as long as we could to mirror their every move, using our boats and ourselves to form a protective layer between the whales and the hunter ship, between them and the harpoon. If you happened to be flying overhead unaware of what was happening below it would probably have looked like a well rehearsed dance, three whales in front, three boats behind, all moving together in perfect harmony...except this dance was one of death and the performance ended suddenly with a grenade tipped harpoon exploding into the delicate body of one of the whales.

The harpoon penetrated below the whale's right dorsal fin and travelled up through its body and out of its head. From this wound the still thrashing whale was dragged to the hunter ship. As usual the whale didn't die straight away and as usual we pulled back to ensure that the failed attempt to kill it was rectified with the rifle that was now being pointed from the bow. I think it took two shots from the rifle to kill it. I don´t know, I was too busy staring in horror at the harpoon tip sticking out of its skull.

As this scene unfolded some of the men on the hunter ship looked over at us. A few times I looked straight into their eyes and they quickly looked away. But one man didn't look away, one man held my gaze and I'll never know for sure but I think he was frozen for a moment by the sight of a woman whose face was also frozen but in horror and pain, tears streaming uncontrollably, hands pleading with them to stop the killing and it was only when I attempted to turn the corners of my mouth upwards that he finally looked away.

A few hours have now passed and I am no longer on standby to go back out in the boats. I have had some pasta and I am now sitting here on my bunk armed with my last surviving bar of chocolate. I am full of horrible memories, visions I can't erase and I start to cry every time I think of the two whales that got away. In my mind I can see them swimming a few miles from here, bewildered but alive. And in my heart I can feel their pain and sadness, created by the whale shaped hole that has just appeared in their universe.

Please join us and sign up to become an Ocean Defender. The whales need all the friends they can get.

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Hate mail

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

Bring on the haters. You don’t like what we're doing, fine by us. We'd love to be loved by everyone, but that's not our job. We're here to save whales, defend the oceans, and demonstrate that peaceful action can bring about positive change.

You don't think whales should be saved? You want to call us names? We have offended your delicate sensibilities? You want to say things that are as hurtful as they are false? Well, don’t bottle it up inside. Get it all out! Tell us what you REALLY think.

Note that we are moving only the most ridiculously stupid, trollish and offensive comments to this space. If you don't want your comment ending up here, just keep it civil and with some modicum of sensibility.

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Emilse - Cook

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12 January 2006

Boat repair

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

Good progress on our boat fixing campaign. The Orange Thing (as it is unofficially named) is back into action. The hydraulic system that controls the bucket was malfunctioning. I know. Bucket what? It's a jet boat so it has a stream of high-pressure water pushing out the bottom instead of a conventional propeller. The "bucket" can direct that stream of water backwards (to push the boat forwards), forwards (to go in reverse) or straight down (a position known as "stasis"). Anyway, basically the boat was stuck in reverse. Pretty inconvenient. But all fixed for now.

As for the Billy Greene, all that needs to be repaired for now is the rubber sponson, which has some small tears in it from yesterday. The sponson is the inflated tube that goes around the sides and bow of the boat. Fixing it is tricky work in this environment. The patching needs to be done someplace warm - so optimally not on the deck of a ship off the coast of Antarctica. To cope, Joe and Nathan built a tent over the boat using a tarp and old banner. We've got it up on the bridge deck while they work on it, so we can bring our other two main boats off and on to continue our protests. It reminds me of camping out in my parent's backyard when I was a kid.

Next, Nathan and Marc (boat mechanic) cut a square hole in the top of the sponson to get access to the rips. Patching below the waterline has to be done from the inside, otherwise the water will pull the patch off. Now that they have access to the rips, a well-lit warm place to work, and have dried the inside of the sponson out, they can start patching. Marc described his plan to Nathan at diner, "First, we patch the first one. Next, we patch the second one. And we keep going like that until it's fixed or I'm too exhausted to do any more work, then we quit for the night". So far, things are going according to plan. All the rips have been patched.

This is how it is out here - triage for the boats. Just get the boats good for the next day, and we'll fix them all proper at the end of the trip. But throughout it all we keep going with our actions to end whaling here in the Southern Ocean Whale Sanctuary.

There may not be much you can do to help us keep the boats running, but you can still help us put an end to commercial whaling. Sign up as an Ocean Defender, and we'll keep you up to date throughout the 14-month Defending Our Ocean's expedition.

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A boat of a different color

by Nathan, onboard the Esperanza

The stamina of this crew has really been impressive - the focus remains tight and all are committed to staying as long as we can to carry on the activities of the campaign. This is certainly the most physically sustained effort I've ever been a part of, and I'm just astounded about how capable this crew is, and it seems to just get better and better as we go. We've got our launch and recovery maneuvers down so well it just flows with efficiency, feeling a lot like a pit row operation at times. Meanwhile, if you're not on deck or otherwise involved in whatever activity of the moment, you're bringing people tea and hot chocolate or doing their laundry or picking up the daily cleaning chores, or helping the engineers.

All the while the boats are out on the water, all this other stuff is always going on. And you can still find someone in the lounge from time to time, having a beer at the end of the day, swapping stories and jokes, playing the guitars. While we pursued the mothership on her most recent run, the captain graciously gave us a full day off; I took the time to fashion a mount out of scrap aluminum for the harmonica I brought along so that folks can play the guitar and harmonica at the same time. For those of you concerned about our mental and emotional states, we are still having fun, still keeping sane, still keeping a good eye on each other and still hungry to do what we can to stymie this fleet.

Yesterday, the Billy G. and the big orange unnamed boat (that's another story there) launched in support of something the Sunrise wanted to try on the mothership during a transfer. I helped 'em launch from the deck then went to work on doing a little camera work on board for the campaign. The boats stayed near the mothership, but there was not a lot of activity. After lunch I suited up to join Zeger in the orange boat so that our bosun, Phil, could take a turn at the Billy G with a hunter. So the orange boat came back, we made the crew change, and drove up to pace just off the side of the mothership. The Sunrise was cycling her boats and crews as well so we hung out for a while, no hunters coming in for a transfer. Eventually a hunter did come in with a whale to transfer, and we decided to monitor the transfer (if practical we check each transfer to see if any fin whales have been taken; they're the second largest whale species and are endangered. The fleet is planning on taking 10 this year, which is a new development).

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11 January 2006

What do they do with their hearts?

by Lally, onboard the Arctic Sunrise

In the early hours of this morning we once again set out in the speedboats in the direction of the whaling fleet. Our inflatables glided across the steely silver grey of the gently rolling ocean. It was a beautiful morning and a band of silver lit the horizon to the east as we approached the Nisshin Maru, the 'factory ship' and two of her hunters. As soon as they saw us coming the hunter ships quickly moved to flank the 'factory ship' on either side, one transferring it deadly catch before we could make it to the scene.

The second one wasn't so lucky and our four speedboats managed to substantially slow the transfer process for some time, which slowed the hunter ship from returning to its deadly hunt.

When the whale was finally transferred the hunter moved away at full speed and my boat positioned itself next to the port (left) side of the 'factory ship', adjacent to a small opening in the handrail on deck about halfway along the length of the ship. Once a whale has been butchered the opening allows a conveyor belt to efficiently dump the bits of whale that no one wants into the ocean. The bits that don´t turn a profit.

As we kept pace with the 'factory ship' the unwanted parts of the recently slaughtered whales, the one we had witnessed being loaded onto the ship, fell from the conveyor belt and splashed into the ocean around us. Other smaller hatches along the deck spewed blood and gristle. For a while the bigger opening provided a clear view of men carrying hatchets chopping up the bodies and a stunned horror held my gaze until suddenly a whale's spine was dumped onto the conveyor belt.

I visibly flinched, my jaw dropped, Kate and Jari reached for their cameras...the bloody skeleton we were staring at looked just like it belonged to a very big human...I'd never really thought about what a whale's spine looked like...what had I expected? Maybe I imagined something that looked a little more like the skeleton of a fish? But seeing a spine that looked like a big version of my own slammed home a vicious reminder of the facts. Whales are mammals. They are way more like us than they are fish. They are warm blooded like us, they have four chambered hearts like us, they have a little bit of hair, they breathe air, the mummy ones breast feed their babies...

They never did dump that giant spine into the sea. I think they spotted our reaction and decided better of it and instead a white board was put in place to block our gruesome view. Then, after maybe an hour, the board was removed and the bones had been moved out of sight, to be disposed of when the world wasn't watching.

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Billy G takes one for the whales

by Philster, onboard the Esperanza

Yesterday after lunch I stepped aboard the Billy G with my boat suit on. I was joined by Cat and Luke - swapping over with the morning team while underway via the Esperanza's pilot door. We then set off towards the Nisshin Maru.

The sea was a lazy rolling swell that the boat enjoyed. We all got settled in and Cat handed me the helm, showing me the controls. I had not yet been off the Esperanza to drive the boat with the pump, I was apprehensive but pleased to be out there. With the continent of Antarctica very near us, the mountains clearly thrust from the vastness of white.

We made it in time for the hand over of yet another whale that had met its demise within the confines of the sanctuary. In the book "The South Pole: A Historical Reader" Anthony Brandt writes "The isolation, the weather and the cold drive people into themselves. Unless you are a scientist there is nothing to do in Antarctica except deal with its conditions. Inescapably it tests people, tests there spirit, their endurance, their courage. No one can survive down there naked, yet as the accounts of the explorers make clear, the place strips you to your soul. It has fascinated a great many people. Who are you? What are you made of? This is the place to find out."
We drove up to the stern of the NM, fire hoses everywhere while the Arctic Sunrise inflatables were attempting to interfere with the transfer. We get a little close and one of the big water cannons nails us, nearly rips the helmet off my head, I was blinded for a few seconds. That was the most impressive force of water I have experienced despite that I used to be a white river rafting guide.

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Rough one

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

Overall, today was a physically rough one on the boat's and crew of the Esperanza - but successful. In the morning we joined two boats from the Arctic Sunrise at the stern of the factory ship - and for about four hours no whales were delivered. I was out there on the Billy Greene, and can tell you it was dangerously cold - we took a hosing right at the start. Without our polar weather boat suits we would have been in trouble, but it was worth it to see that stern ramp with nothing going up it.

Sometime after one, they started hunting again and we changed tactics - focusing on keeping the Kyo Maru from making a kill. We succeeded for most of the afternoon, then the orange boat (or Orange Thing, Orang-utan, Tulip, or Nemo...we haven't really settled on a name for it) had mechanical problems. That's a photo of Zeger and Nathan trying (unsuccessfully) to make field repairs. The Billy G. still stuck with the Kyo, but in the end had its own miss-adventure (more on that tomorrow, Philster's writing an update). It ended up with some minor damage as well. Nothing that can't be fixed, but it will take a day or two to get her back in action. Until then, we'll have to improvise.

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Why we took this photo

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

If you're from the US you probably recognize that guy in the yellow hat as "the Gorton's fisherman". Gorton's is wholly owned by of Nissui, which is also a major shareholder of the Kyodo Senpaku - the company actually doing the whaling. So Gorton's is Nissui's "child company", or a "branch" of Nissui, or one of Nissui's "tentacles". Whatever metaphor you use, it is all about the same in my eyes - just follow the money. Nissui supports whaling and Gorton's supports Nissui with tons of cash from its profitable line of seafood products.

So, if you're like me and you don't want to support a company linked to the whaling industry - as a consumer you choose not to support Gorton's. And you tell them about it.

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They said we said

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

We received our first radio call of the season from the whalers. When we first found the whaling fleet we radioed them to explain why we are here, and assure the whalers we would do nothing to endangered their safety. We received radio silence in return. Apparently they preferred that all communication be done through their home office.

Yesterday, we finally heard back - receiving a formal lecture in Japanese from Shigetoshi Nishiwaki - who I guess you would describe as their expedition leader on board their factory ship. He demanded that we stop our "obstructive activities" and leave the area immediately. He also noted that we have "repeatedly interfered" with their whale killing.

It's good to hear he thinks we are being effective.

Nishiwaki-san also pointed out that we take risks with our own safety. That is true. This is dangerous work we are doing out here, but each of us chooses how much risk we wish to accept. Anyone can choose to stay on the ship; each boat driver makes their own safety decisions; and any activist in any boat can pull make the call to leave the action scene. Last night Frank (captain) made this point at a crew meeting, and it was repeated to my by Alain (boat driver) this morning before we set out.

Unfortunately, those were about the only truthful things Nishiwaki-san said, and he gave no promises to put safety first. Instead, he issued what might have been a veiled threat, "As long as you continue such dangerous obstructive actions it can be easily imagined that more serious accidents involving personnel will take place at some point."

Hmmm. Well, it's not exactly the constructive dialog we would hope for, but better than nothing I suppose.

(Click "Continue reading" for their statement, and our response (both translated by us into English).

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10 January 2006

Outraged? Take action

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

If you've been following all of this - the unsustainability of commercial whaling, the brutal suffering of harpooned whales, the violence on the part of the whalers - you're probably as outraged as I am. Well, don't keep it bottled up (that's not healthy), take action!

Tell Gorton's (in the US) to reign in its parent company, and help end commercial whaling.

Speak out to your government.

Sign up as an Ocean Defender.

Spread the word, tell friends and family what's going on.

Any other ideas? Post them below (but keep em' peaceful because that's our style).

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Everything returns to normal...

by Lally, onboard the Arctic Sunrise

After the Nisshin Maru rammed us in the early hours of Sunday morning, the entire whaling fleet took off at full speed. Following the high drama of that incident things have now returned to normal here on the Arctic Sunrise. However, what I consider to be normal has changed somewhat from when I was a person of the land. Normality now includes that we are once again chasing the Japanese whaling fleet across the Southern Ocean, our little ship is rocking and rolling on huge stormy seas that froth and foam, we are being thrown around like rag dolls and everything I do take 20 times longer to do than it would have in my previous life.

My morning went as follows:
2:34 Wake up for the 234th time due to a big roll and 'The Art of War' by Sun Tzu flying from the shelf and hitting me in the head. Abandon any plans for sleep.
2:35 I decide the books was a sign and start to read it.
7:30 Wake up call actually wakes me up which means I must have slept. Am not convinced.
7:32 Enjoy a two-minute lie-in, get up, attempt to get dressed without knocking myself out while hopping dramatically across my cabin with one leg in my jeans.
7:35 Look in mirror, admire strangely shaped book imprint on my cheek, embark on the walk to the mess.
7:37 Smack into wall in alleyway on route. Receive first bruise of the day on my upper thigh in the shape of cabin 16´s door handle.
7:40 Arrive in mess, mumble something about it being morning. Do not use the word 'good'.
7:41 Search for a mug. Remember that most have smashed during the storms of the last 50 days.
7:43 Abandon search for a mug.
7:44 Put toast in toaster.
7:48 Put more toast in the toaster having lost the first lot butter-side down on the floor in a big roll.
7:51 Attempt zigzag walk to galley to get floor cloth.
7:53 Clean up deadly greasy toast mess.
7:57 Fellow crewmate mis-times a big ship roll while opening fridge. Contents of the fridge spill across floor. Multi-task with floor cloth to help clean up.
8:01 Try again at buttering toast. Intercept dirty mug.
8:03 Secure toast in corner of bread board behind butter dish to prevent it sliding away while washing mug
8:06 Attempt the five-meter walk to sink. Succeed without further injury, wash mug without smashing it and observe that the grips on my trainers don´t work as slide the full length of the galley.
8:09 Wedge sacred mug against wall with the tub of sugar, add coffee and sugar to mug, panic at discovery that hot water dispenser is broken. Consider cold alternatives.
8:11 Abandon whole idea of a beverage.
8:14 Return to collect toast.
8:16 Toast missing in action and subsequent search unsuccessful. Accept possibility that toast may have been intercepted. I promise myself that I will resume reading 'The Art of War'.
8:17 Observe that I am 17 minutes late for cleaning roster. Still have not had breakfast.
8:18 Head downstairs to mop alleyways

I think I'll stop there but in summery our ship is still rolling, the sea is still looking mighty annoyed, we still have a huge dent in our bow. Our mast is also still squiffy and will be until we get it to a ship doctor but thanks to the expertise and brilliance of our onboard engineers it is still attached (or was last time I looked) and fastened tight. Our ship, her contents and the crew are all a bit battered and bruised but we are still firmly focused on why we are here and spirits are amazingly high.

I have just found out that the whaling fleet has stopped and so has the Esperanza so by the time I post this to the weblog we should have caught up with the whole 'party' and would be able to make out the faces of our friends on the deck of the 'Espy' if it weren't for the fact that we would probably all fall in the sea if we went outside without a safety harness.

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9 January 2006

Tons of 'science' packaged up and ready to go

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

Right before it circled around and rammed our ship, the Nisshin Maru was tied up to a combination tanker/freezer ship called the Oriental Bluebird - transferring boxes labelled "kujira" [whale] to their hold. It's hard to estimate how many tons of meat there was, but safe to say it will bring in quite a lot of cash. Past hunts have brought in an annual income of more than $50 million (US) - and this season they have more than doubled their quota.

The whaler's so called "science" has been strongly criticized by legitimate whale researchers, and the International Whaling Commission has repeatedly said it does not need the data produced by the whalers. So why do they really do it? The sheer amount of meat being taken back for sale makes it clear that, as we have said all along, this is in fact a commercial whale hunt.

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Video

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

Prior to the opening shot of this video, the whaler's factory ship was tied up on the opposite side of the tanker/cargo ship (the third ship in the video) while they transferred pallets of whale meat. Then the factory ship cast off lines, went in a full circle around the back of the tanker/cargo ship, and set a collision course for the Arctic Sunrise.

While watching this video I suggest considering the following:

What were the relative speeds of the ships involved?

Which ship was in violation of the International Regulations for Preventing Collisions at Sea? Hint...

Rule 15 states, "When two power-driven vessels are crossing so as to involve risk of collision, the vessel which has the other on her own starboard [right-hand] side shall keep out of the way and shall, if the circumstances of the case admit, avoid crossing ahead of the other vessel."

You can see the video on Ocean Defenders TV.

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Idiots guide to safe navigation

by Lally, onboard the Arctic Sunrise

Yesterday morning, the ship I'm sailing on was rammed by the Nisshin Maru, the factory ship of the whaling fleet. Now that the dust has settled - or should I say the crushed steel and paint from our hull has settled? - there are a few very simple facts that need to be clarified and some serious questions answered.

Firstly there is absolutely no question whatsoever regarding who hit who. The Nisshin Maru rammed us and I would swear on the lives of every whale in the sea and every person I love that this is the truth. Thankfully we have proof of this in the form of live video footage, as I'm not sure how much clout my word has in the international community. But still I will give it to you and that of every soul on this ship whose life was put so stupidly in danger yesterday morning... It is simply a fact that they hit us and our captain, Arne, did everything in his power to prevent it.

Secondly, this may be a big ocean and we may be very far from home but every vessel out here is bound by the 'The International Regulations for Preventing Collisions at Sea'. We are all bound by these rules, including the captain of the Nisshin Maru. They are not hard to understand and even I had to learn them to get my speedboat licence. From what I have seen, read in the collision regulations, and extracted from our captain and 1st Mate (who between them have over 50 years experience at sea) everything the captain of the Nisshin Maru did yesterday was in direct violation of these regulations.

The situation was this. We were travelling at 2 or 3 knots, which is very close to being stationary and were about 1 kilometre from the Nisshin Maru, who was sitting alongside a supply ship, which had arrived on the scene to take away the accumulated whale meat. We had just finished painting "whale meat from sanctuary" on the side of the supply vessel during which our tiny little speedboats in no way threatened anyone or anything and had not even touched the Nisshin Maru - when it suddenly came away from the supply vessel, swung 360 degrees and came straight at the Arctic Sunrise and rammed us.

From what I have seen the whole thing looked very much like the ship equivalent of a 'hand break turn', the kind of thing teenagers do to show off in car parks or gravel roads when they get their first car. If the captain of the Nisshin Maru had been driving a car and was caught red-handed as he has been here, I have no doubt that he would lose his licence and very likely be charged with 25 accounts of attempted murder…

So here's my 'Idiots Guide to International Collision Regulations' especially for the captain of the Nisshin Maru. Anyone with eyes can see that all internationally recognised rules were completely ignored and that this was aggressive and life threatening behaviour. But even so, lets hope this helps to clarify a few things for them...

The Collision Regulations state: "Rule 15 - Crossing situation: When two power driven vessels are crossing so as to involve risk of collision, the vessel which has the other on its own starboard (right) side shall keep out of the way."

We were on the Nisshin Marus starboard side so the Nisshin Maru was the give-way vessel. This means we had the right of way and they were required to keep out of ours.

"Rule 16 - Action by give-way vessel: Every vessel which is directed to keep out of the way of another vessel shall, so far as is possible, take early and substantial action to keep well clear."

The Nisshin Maru was the give-way vessel. Even if we were moving towards her on a collision course which we weren't until she spun 360 degrees and headed straight for us, she was required to "take early and substantial action" to stay out of our way. In the video you can see that the Nisshin Maru had plenty of time to get out of the way but she just kept on driving at us with the now clear intention of hitting us.

"Rule 17 - Action by a stand-on vessel: (a)(i) Where one of two vessels is to keep out of the way, the other shall keep her course and speed."

We were the stand-on vessel. This means we were required to maintain course and speed. It is essential that in the event of an imminent collision the stand-on vessel does this to give the other vessel the chance to take evasive action. This rule exists so that both vessels don´t suddenly react and make matters worse.

"Rule 17 (a)(ii) The latter vessel may however take action to avoid collision by her manoeuvre alone as soon as it becomes apparent to her that the vessel to keep out of the way is not taking appropriate action in compliance with these rules."

We were the latter vessel. When it became clear that the intention of the Nisshin Maru was to ram us we had to do something. So Arne our captain took the only route open to him and slammed the Arctic Sunrise into full reverse in an attempt to avoid collision and/or minimise impact. Fortunately we were only travelling at a few knots so it took less time for our engine to propel into reverse and start moving us backwards.

None of these rule are open to negotiation. There are no grey areas. If you watch the video you will see that the captain of the Nisshin Maru could have altered course and/or come full astern at any time prior to impact. He did neither. The fact is he ignored every single rule and actively accelerated into a collision course. He came along our port (left) side and then swung hard to port at which point he achieved his aim and swung his stern into our bow.

His actions were clearly and cunningly calculated to make it look like we rammed him head on. I can only thank god that we have video evidence to prove that this was not the case.

So as the dust settles once and for all I guess we will just have to wait and see if the truth makes it to the surface alive...

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8 January 2006

Damage Control

by Lally, onboard the Arctic Sunrise

Following todays ramming of the Arctic Sunrise by the Nisshin Maru the entire whaling fleet headed off over the horizon with the Esperanza following close behind. Meanwhile, onboard the Arctic Sunrise the focus of the day swung to damage limitation. From my layman's point of view our mast was sitting at a funny angle, there is a big dent in our bow and the steel has been torn as if it were paper.

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Their desperate measures

by Shane, onboard the Arctic Sunrise

After the horrific sights of the last few days, things took a turn towards the unexpected this morning. The factory ship, the Nisshin Maru, rammed our ship the Arctic Sunrise, in an incident none of us were expecting. All the details are posted here on this blog, but I thought I would reflect on it from a personal perspective, since I was on the bridge of the Sunrise at the time of the collision.

It all happened very quickly. One minute the Nisshin Maru was tied up with the re-supply vessel, offloading whale meat, the next it was heading straight for us. I was on the phone at the time, when suddenly Arne (the captain) said, "they are coming straight at us". I looked around and saw the Nisshin Maru bearing down. It was very surreal, their ship is so large compared to ours. Then it looked like we were going to miss. I went back to the phone interview I was doing, only to be distracted again by Arne sounding the ships horn. The next part was like it was in slow motion, the Nisshin Maru coming towards us, their crew hanging over the rails watching, until suddenly there was a loud bang, and our little ship shook. Then a second bang, as their stern swung around and caught us again. And then the strangest part - as their stern slid past, I looked up and saw that a man was standing at one of their water cannons, and as he passed by, he turned the water cannon straight at us, pouring water at the bridge of our ship.

So was it deliberate? I have no doubt. The Nisshin Maru turned a big circle to come around to where we were. When they started, the re-supply vessel was between us and them - they had to come around it to get to us. Why else would you make such a manoeuvre? And the guy with the water cannon - surely that was premeditated, and it was certainly an act of aggression.

The whalers are now claiming we rammed them, but think about this. Our vessel is 49 metres (160ft) long, the Nisshin Maru is 129 metres (423ft). Our vessel weighs approximately 1500 tonnes, theirs 7800. It would be a suicide mission for us to try and ram them. We are in the middle of nowhere, and we have no interest in having a collision at sea. And aside from all that, ramming a vessel is outside of our ethic of peaceful activism.

And the worst part of all of this? I believe it was a deliberate attempt to create an incident and draw attention away from the terrible images we have seen in the last days of whales suffering cruel and slow deaths. For the whalers it is much better to be talking in shades of grey about who crashed in to who, our word versus theirs, than talking about the black and white reality of just how unjustified, unsustainable and inhumane their business is.

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Arctic Sunrise rammed by whaler's factory ship

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

The first thing I want you to know is everyone on the Arctic Sunrise is fine. No serious injuries. The ship has been damaged, but it is still sea worthy and its crew is undeterred (although a little busy with the damage at the moment, which is why I am reporting in for them). In truth, we were very very lucky. Someone on board our ship could easily have been hurt or even killed.

Here are the facts, based on video evidence and first hand accounts:

Backstory
The whaler's Panamanian flagged tanker arrived on the scene late yesterday, and tied up to the Nisshin Maru's starboard (right) side. Its arrival puzzled us because we had just seen the whalers refuel a few days ago. Then we saw them transferring boxes labelled "kujira" [whale] from the Nisshin Maru to the tanker, which it turns out was really a sort of half tanker / half refrigerated cargo ship combination - a rare thing.

Early in the morning, we made a decision to label the tanker for what it was - part of the whaling fleet. The Orca was launched from the Arctic Sunrise, and its crew began to paint, "whale meat from sanctuary," on the starboard (right hand) side of the tanker (the side away from the factory ship). The Arctic Sunrise approached at slow speed to observe the action.

The ramming
The Arctic Sunrise was more than a kilometre from the other two ships when the Nisshin Maru hurriedly cast off its lines and made a sharp turn to port (left) - coming all the way around the stern of the tanker in a circle - to set a collision course for the Arctic Sunrise. At first Arne (captain of the Arctic Sunrise), maintained his course and speed, as he was obliged to do under maritime rules of the road. But still the factory ship kept coming.

The Nisshin Maru is more than twice as long and six times heavier than the Arctic Sunrise. When Arne realized the Nisshin Maru was set on a collision, he put the Sunrise into full astern (reverse) in an attempt to avoid it. The Nisshin Maru put on more speed, and very intentionally struck the Sunrise a hard glancing blow on her port bow with their starboard side. More of a sideswipe than a direct hit, thank god.

As the Nisshin Maru went by her crew directed one of their massive fire cannons at the bridge of the Sunrise.

We'll get some video footage of the incident up soon. It's possible this ramming was purposefully done in a way that makes us look bad if you don't have all the facts. Fortunately, the video record makes it obvious the whalers were at fault. I really encourage you to watch it so we can get back to talking about how to end commercial whaling.

What next
In the midst of all this, the Sea Shepherd's ship Farley Mowat had appeared on the horizon. The Sea Shepherd boats reached the Nisshin Maru after she began sailing off. Not sure what they were up to since our groups are working independently, and we were distracted with our own troubles at the time.

For now, the whalers are running north at what is probably their best speed. We follow, and after some brief repairs the Arctic Sunrise will join us in the chase. And as I was writing this update, I was interrupted by shouts from the bridge. A pod of endangered fin whales passing us headed in the opposite direction. Whatever else happens, at least those whales are safe today.

Video of the incident.

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7 January 2006

Contrasts

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

Today was my third straight day out in the boat. I was on the afternoon shift in the Billy Greene. The early shift had been blocking the Yushin Maru No.1. Joe found me after he came back - he's a moustached, high energy, fix anything Austrian fellow who is writing weblogs in his own language. "Story Andrew, I have story," Joe told me, "The harpooner, he points his gun directly at me. Many times. No whales around, only us." I chased up a few of the other people who were there - Odin, Alain and Jeremy - they all confirmed what Joe was saying. The gunner was pointing his weapon directly at our boats.

I found this behaviour strange since all of the whalers always seem so careful and conscious of their own safety. I'm sure they would never dream of pointing the harpoon gun at a fellow crewmember. And anyone who knows anything about gun safety knows not to point them at people. Not even with the safety on. Not even if the people are very very annoying. But that's what this guy was doing.

A cheerful palaver
That set the scene for my own turn in the Billy Greene - meaning I was completely unprepared for what happened next. Zeger was driving; Luke, Jetske and I were crew. We went to the Kyo Maru, which had made a kill while we were refuelling. When we arrived, they already had the whale alongside, but were just sitting in the water - not really doing anything. One of them waved us over, so why not, we pulled close to say, "konichiwa" [hello]. They were feeling chatty mood, and fortunately a number of them spoke English, plus Jetske and I had been faithfully attending John's Japanese lessons.

Still we couldn't really communicate much besides agreeing that it was cold out, and it would be nicer if we could all just sleep in tomorrow (Sunday). The Esperanza was nearby so we zipped back to pick up Yuko (campaigner) and John (translator). They had a good talk with the deck crew. It was a strange scene, but productive.

After everyone finished chatting and taking photos of each other (shatta-chansu is one of my favourite Japanese words), we took Yuko and John back to the Esperanza before chasing after the Kyo, now on it's way to deliver the whale to their factory ship.

Uncomfortably close
After the transfer it was clear that friendly chat time was over. There were three spotters up in the crow's nest and more on their flying bridge (observation deck). I felt a twinge of remorse starting the fire pump - our obscuring spray of salt water can't be that comfortable, but they were definitely hunting so back to work. Oh well.

Soon we were in a pod of whales, and the harpooner was manning his gun. The Kyo turned and turned, chasing one whale after another while the harpooner tried to ignore the spray shooting up vertically from our stern, frequently wiping water from his gun-sight and goggles. He didn't aim the harpoon at us, or even really seem concerned at all with our presence - instead only looking intently for the right shot.

Far too soon, he got it. Quite close to our boat. Although in the moment it is hard to know these things I would guess five meters from our starboard bow. A clean and solid hit, but it still took four shots from their rifle to finish off the whale.

Differences
When our morning boat crews returned, they had plainly been through a harrowing ordeal. Besides having a 65mm, 45kg, grenade tipped, explosive propelled harpoon pointed right at them, they had watched a whale suffer a long and agonizing death. No mater how strong a stomach you've got that's going to get to you.

By contrast, I mainly felt disappointment that the harpooner of the Kyo Maru fired so close to our boat. I really didn't think he'd do that - though to be honest, I didn't feel any real fear. We've had the misfortune of seeing his handiwork often enough to know he's a very good shot. Yet, despite his skill the animal suffered terribly for several minutes, I would say five, before they could finish it off.

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A brutal death

by Jeremy, onboard the Esperanza

I saw a whale get killed today. Sadly these days this is not an uncommon scene for me.

I’m one of the two photographers here and as such I either go out in the inflatables or up in the helicopter to document the protests of the activists, and to put these images on the website or out to the media. So in the past few weeks I’ve seen a few whales be killed.
Whilst it hasn’t been pleasant to see any whale be killed this killing today was particularly unpleasant, it died a horrible death.

The ‘Billy G’ boat had already gone out, and was following the Yushin Maru catcher ship. The ‘Orange’ boat, we have never settled on a name for it, was going also, and Hernan, videographer and I, went in that. We were a little slow is setting out, but the crew did a good job in getting us beside the catcher and the ‘Billy G’ relatively quickly, and without getting wet which is always nice. Odin drove us fast, but swerved the waves, only occasionally a little spray, but on the whole we stayed dry.

We reached the scene quickly, and immediately were in the midst of it all. Alain, in the ‘Billy G’, tells us the harpooner had been deliberately aiming the harpoon at their boat. Minutes later as we round the front of the catcher the harpooner does indeed swivel on his green deck, pointing the ominous yellow harpoon with its black explosive tip in our direction. It is frightening. It is plain intimidation, but it works. I want to react, but don’t want to provoke the guy. I try to turn away, to look elsewhere, but it’s scary to not know what is happening behind you. Where to look, what to do? We radio the Esperanza, our ship, to tell them, perhaps subconsciously hoping that somehow this will be a guarantee of safety.

The ‘Billy G’ swerves and weaves in front of the catcher, the water hose going to try and block the vision of the harpooner. Our boat stayed out to the starboard side. It’s hard at this point to try and shoot any stills or video images, the boat is bouncing around, thudding onto the waves, swerving, twisting, more thuds. To try and shoot through a telephoto lens is impossible, the camera jars into your face, your waterproof covers come off, get tangled, settings and buttons on the camera change as things nudge against them. And of course there is always the threat that a huge waves engulfs them.

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Finding the Fleet

by Naomi, onboard the Esperanza

Here is how it happened.

We had sailed day after day into a timeless world of fog and grey, the grey light of twilight stretching into the night, then twilight becoming continuous as we moved slowly closer to the Arctic Circle. No stars, which are the surest map of how far north or south we are on the planet (by tilt of the star map in the sky). No sun, and what glimpses we gain are disorientating, since we grow up with the general expectation that the sun rises in the east, and here the sun rises in the south. The compass is little use either, because we are almost over the top of the south magnetic pole and the compass needle wants to point to the centre of the earth. We seemed suspended in a ghost-like world of grey.

We have satellite navigation. We have ship’s radar that bounces a signal back from another ship at about 15 miles (20 miles for a bigger ship), and we have our eyeballs. Eyeballs work as far as about 8 miles to the horizon, 12 miles for something ship-sized looming over the horizon, and 20 miles and much more for Hughie the helicopter pilot, but are no use in the fog! And most important, we have our experienced seadog captains who carefully calculate where they think the whale fleet should be.

Suddenly we left the world of fog, like Alice stepping though the looking glass, into the world of the midnight sun. Here the air comes right off the ice, too cold to create fog. The cloud base lifted sky high and luminous, with bright silver sheens underneath from where the startling white ice reflection beams up against them. The icebergs were crowding in around us now, massive and tabular. And penguins were starting to pass us by, balancing on small ice floes like a huddle of surfers all trying to balance on one surfboard. It was 0115 in the morning on my watch, and a small group of people were up on the bridge with me to see our first penguins in the bright silver light. We were amazed by the number of whale spouts we were seeing against the horizon, and I was also wondering how close we were to the ice shelf ahead. Nathan continued my horizon scan with the binoculars while I negotiated the ship around the penguins, and was counting out what he saw... 'iceberg…whale spout…iceberg…iceberg…ship…iceberg…hey! Ship!'

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6 January 2006

Mercy shot

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

Today ended with a sad and bizarre scene. At first we thought they had missed. Both of our boats were caught far out of position - on the whaler's starboard (right), while the whale was to port (left) and ahead. Then the Hughie (heli pilot) reported blood in the water. A huge amount of blood. The whale had been hit. It was mortally wounded, but for the first time we have seen the harpoon had not set. Our boats fell to the back of the Yushin Maru No. 2, well out of its way - hoping the whalers would end the animal's suffering.

It is an unpleasant oddity, this moment when Greenpeace activists and the whalers want the same thing...the end of a whale's life. We put our boats in the way, we put our safety on the line, we endure freezing cold spray and brutal conditions to protect whales. But after the harpoon hits home, it is only a matter of ending the poor thing's pain. We often see that taking minutes - sometimes five, sometimes ten, sometimes longer. This time it took roughly half an hour.

The whalers reloaded the harpoon and took a second shot. A miss. Then the whale slipped away from all of us. The whalers, our helicopter, everyone. We knew it was dying, in pain and barely able to swim. Another whaling vessel, the Kyo Maru, came to look for it. For a brief twisted period we found ourselves on the same side, both Greenpeace and whalers working together - maybe for different reasons, but I would like to think that they also regretted the animal's pain.

At one point, the whale was seen off our starboard side. Frank (captain) actually called the whalers on the radio to tell them (in no uncertain terms) where to find it, and to finish it.

Well over twenty-five minutes after the first shot we heard the third harpoon, and then saw the man with the rifle fire from the Yushin's deck, finally putting the whale to rest.

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I smelt it before I saw it...

by Lally, onboard the Arctic Sunrise

Last night I was standing on deck smiling and waving at the crew on the Esperanza who had just pulled up beside us for the first time in nearly two weeks, when my nostrils started to twitch with the arrival of a new and highly unpleasant aroma. I don't know about everyone else but my sense of smell has sharpened considerably since leaving port. I think it comes from breathing some of the purest air on earth, all be it with an undercurrent of diesel fumes. So there I stood, nostrils twitching trying to work out what the awful smell was. After a quick sheepish look at the underside of my boots I looked around and there behind me was the Nisshin Maru flanked by one of her hunter ships.

The cause of the smell was clarified in a second. It was the smell of death, a mixture of butchers shop and decaying flesh and it was coming from the Nisshin Maru. As I stood and stared, the entrails of what would have been, just a short while ago, part of one of the most
beautiful creatures on earth floated by.

A wave of conflicting emotions overtook me. Suddenly the mental
ware-and-tear of the last two weeks chasing an invisible Armada seemed like an emotional holiday. On one side of me were our friends on the decks of the Esperanza making ever more bizarre gestures as the novelty of waving wore off, including a strange little dance that I guessed was possibly an enactment of the song "Walk like an Egyptian". On my other side was the reason we are here, the looming shape and foreboding smell of the factory ship where the dead whales are processed.

That was all last night and as I type, our inflatable boats have been
lowered into the water and are heading towards the factory ship at full speed. We are about to let them know that once again we have arrived and once again we mean business...

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5 January 2006

A sorry thing

by Yuko, onboard the Esperanza

Shaking with the cold I got back to my cabin and had a look in the mirror. The salt water had dried white and was stuck to my skin. My face was numb. My hair was like I hadn’t combed it for a month with so much salt in it, it if felt like a pan scrubber. The fingers of both hands were so numb I couldn’t move them.

How do you end up being in this kind of state, other than some being in some kind of disaster? Try riding a rigid-hulled inflatable on the Southern Ocean for four hours, being battered by rough seas and trying to hold a position in front of a Catcher Boat (easier said than done, by the way) to protect a whale from being harpooned; yes, that’ll do it for you. You don’t actually feel the cold or be aware of how tough the whole experience is when you are caught up in the middle of an action. Alain, the driver, kept asking the rest of us, myself, Caterina, and Joe, ‘Are you OK?’ every 30 minutes or so, I would always reply ‘OK’, but looking back, there was a lot that wasn’t OK at all.

Just as I slowly became conscious of the cold later, so too all the things that I couldn’t think about in the ‘heat’ of the action started coming back to me after returning to the ship and drinking a hot cup of tea. As the feeling slowly returned to my hands a number of thoughts started going through my head. Actually things that I hadn’t just been thinking about in the inflatables but since we left port in Cape Town, indeed even in Tokyo or further back in my last expedition to this Southern Ocean-namely ‘I’m sorry, I really am’. So what am I sorry about? Well a number of things…

"I’m sorry" No. 1- I’m sorry about the fact my fellow Japanese are still totally committed to large-scale whaling, so criticized by other nations, in this day and age (it is the 21st century already, after all), sorry to the people of the world and especially the crew of this ship, who are working so hard on this campaign. Sorry that the Japanese should be doing this...None of my relatives are involved in whaling, there is no need for me to apologize, nor will my apologizing make the slightest difference. Occasionally I hear a member of the crew saying “the Japanese this...” or “the Japanese that...” about my countrymen. I think it’s only natural if you witness a baby whale shot and suffering in front of you to ask, “Why do the Japanese do this?” and for that puzzlement and anger to come out in the form of quite strong language. Every time I hear it I think “Sorry...” or “What a shame”. But the ‘Japanese’ in my “I’m sorry the Japanese are doing this” are not the crew of the Japanese whaling fleet standing there in front of me, it’s the Japanese Fisheries Agency that have sent them here with the order to whale. I’m really sorry about such a government, and embarrassed at the same time.

"I'm sorry" No. 2 – I’m sorry to the men of the whaling fleet. Thanks to the Fisheries Agency hugely expanding the quota this year, they have been forced to work extremely hard. Despite all these efforts to catch the whales the whale meat that comes on to the market as a 'survey by-product' is hardly in any demand and is just piling up unsold in warehouses. These Japanese crewmembers, sent to the extremes of Antarctica doing their job all because of some ridiculous order from the Government. They are just doing their job, and meantime the decision-makers (of the Fisheries Agency and affiliated industries) who formulated this farcical strategy bask in the comfort of a New Year at home in Japan. The crew on the whaling fleet are not the real decision makers, and they are confused in the face of our effective actions to stop them. I feel a little bit sorry about that too.

On the inflatable today I saw some of the crew gesture as if to say ‘Is that a Japanese person?’ Hana who was on the boats in the afternoon said the same thing. I’m sorry, but I think it is really important to be here in the Southern Ocean to protest what is happening where nobody can see it, and to try and reduce, by however small an amount, the unbelievable numbers of whales being taken. So, members of the whaling fleet, it looks like we will be with you for a while yet...

As I was thinking all these thoughts and draining the last drop of warm tea from the mug, Alain came and sat down on the other side of the mess room table from me and started eating a long-delayed lunch. Next to me Caterina seem to be enjoying her soup too. I said, “Great driving, Cat and Alain” they both replied “Thank you” and finished their lunch. Whatever the politics, it is a big ‘well done’ to Caterina, Alain, Joe and all the second and third boat crews. I saw it with my own eyes on the inflatable, and it was witnessed by the crew of the helicopter taking images above, that a large number of whales were able to escape a pointless death because of our actions. Even Frank said the boat driving today was some of the best he’d ever seen. Thank you. Let’s do our best tomorrow too.

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The ones that got away

by Nathan, onboard the Esperanza

I drove the second shift of the day (so far we split the day between two groups of driver and crews); each shift thwarted the hunter for several hours until they finally exhausted the whale to the point that it was almost constantly surfacing for air. The water pump on the Billy G worked for a while this morning then had to be refueled. The harpooner makes his kill while both boats were dodging and weaving about; he shot very near the Mermaid. The whale was a small one, presumably a calf that just couldn't escape. I was on the bridge for a bit and could finally see the Billy G in action from a distance. It's pretty exciting to see, like a gnat on a very irritated beast.

Our experience was pretty similar to the morning crew. When we started out, the water pump belt broke on the engine and we had to shut the boat down so it wouldn't overheat and bring it back up for repairs. Jetske in the Mermaid did a great job off the hunters' bow until we could return and give them a break by giving the hunter a good long soaking - the harpooner got a lot of mist and had to continually wipe off his goggles and gun sight. Then we had problems with the pump (a bolt broke internally due to all the banging and vibration on the boat) and had to fall back to just dodging and weaving and trying to anticipate where the hunter was going to turn. When they sight the pod or whale they want, they weave all over the place and constantly change speed as well, so it really is an amazingly challenging task to stay in front of that harpoon; you have to drive looking backwards if you're trying to stay just off their bow. When the whale tires the speed of the ship drops off, but the steering is highly erratic. The whale can surface within feet of your boat and the harpoon will swing around to see if he's got a clear shot. To look up and see that grenade-tipped weapon pointed directly at your face by a guy with his hand on the trigger, seeking the shot, well: honestly, it's startling.

While we were out there he took a shot and missed. He fired right between our boats. The boom of the explosion that propels the harpoon from the cannon is deafening and the projectile strikes the water with a violent force. It takes a minute to realize they've missed; even they thought they got the whale initially. At least for a brief moment, the realization that they've missed brings pure elation. Then they reel it back in fast and are ready to try again so you have to jump back on their bow.

Seeing that first shot close up makes you realized that to be hit with that harpoon is a no-f*king-around dangerous thing: I'm confident it would tear right through the console of the boat and anything in it's path. I'm not trying to be too dramatic here, but it's an odd feeling to know that the lives of you and your crew rest in the fingers of this guy up there. He's amazing at what he does, no joke; I respect his skill immensely, but it's a dangerous needle being threaded here...while I've done work for Greenpeace that I knew carried some serious risks in the worst case scenario, this literally feels like putting your life in a clear, tense danger.

For long spells of time the whale(s) would be surfacing right next to us and if we hadn't been at the right spot it would certainly have been a kill; the boat crews did an excellent job of spotting the whales break the surface before the ship could turn to line up the shot for the harpooner. Several times we caused them to lose the whale altogether and have to find another one. I am sure of this, because of the behavior of the ship. Once they actually slowed to a crawl and wandered around in circles for a while until more were sighted. That's when you know at least that whale got away...

Eventually he took his second shot and made the kill. The whale dove and resurfaced right in front of us, no more than a dozen feet forward of us. Blood everywhere, it's head emerging out of the water for a second before falling back and going under. A fluke breaks the water a moment later and the harpoon cable starts reeling the whale in. It's done. The harpoon had gone all the way through the whale; the whale appeared to be not much more than maybe fifteen feet long or so. Another young one. Science, my ass, taking down the young of the herd like that...

Then they reel the whale all the way up to below their bow and winch it to the surface and you see it: the entirety of the whale, beautiful smooth blue and white skin except where this jagged dynamite knife blew right through it, it's cable unnaturally tugging this creature of the deep towards the sky, rolled over on it's side, eye dead, a picture of exhaustion, beauty and shameful waste of life.

The helicopter reports later that during the chase, they could see tens of whales breaking off from the pod and getting away. THAT was most satisfying to hear because you simply cannot see that from the small boats; they're too low in the water. On a normal day in these grounds, that hunter would have had quite a day I think; over the course of today, while we were out there, they got only a few small whales and had to go through a LOT of trouble to kill them.

So it feels odd: many got away, but we lost the last one we were fighting for, and we really tried the best we could. We KNOW that they're going to get the whale in the end and it's a matter of how many get away that counts, but suddenly it seems a long distance between what your head is telling you and what your heart is telling you. It's a mixture of emotions, hard to find words for. Perhaps I shouldn't try to write this stuff when it's 19 hours into the day of my first up close experience of such a thing; I don't know. Just do me a favor (and for a second, this doesn't have anything to do with whaling): if you have any critters in your life, hold 'em close and for a little bit longer than usual, alright? I doubt that whale had any idea who we were and what we were trying to do for it, but your animals do understand love and it'd be nice to know that at least some of the animals we humans hold so high and dear are getting it and knowing it. These whales don't need to understand how much we cherish them; our best way of showing it would be to leave them alone and at peace.

I stumbled across this a little while back, from my book of Emily Dickinson poems:

Whole Gulfs - of Red, and Fleets - of Red -
And Crews - of solid Blood
Did place about the West - Tonight
As 'twere specific Ground -

And They - appointed Creatures -
In Authorized Arrays -
Due promptly - as a Drama
That bows - and disappears -

- Emily Dickinson, 1862

This madness down here, it's just got to be stopped.

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What we came here to do

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

Looking back on today, our first day returned and back into action, it is clear we are doing what we came here to do - saving whales. The screen of water is effective. Things get dodgier when the pump' not working. Even then though the acrobatic driving manoeuvres of Cat, Jetske and Nathan held the hunter ship Kyo Maru off for hours.

Unfortunately, my own turn in the boat was far short of successful. The Mermaid had already been refuelled and was back at the Kyo - Jetske at the wheel desperately trying to stay between harpoon and whale. Nathan driving, myself, Hana and Luke as crew, were rushing to the scene in the Billy Greene. We had the pump working, one of the spray pipes sticking straight up from the stern anyway, and that should have been enough. Despite the freezing spray I was grinning ear to ear. Bizarrely looking forward to taking my turn in front of that harpoon gun, it's what I'm here for after all. But for some reason, we were suddenly stopped dead in the water. Engine alarm. Something's busted. It turns out to be the belt for the water pump, and all our coolant is in the bilge. While we're sitting there, looking at our overheated engine I hear a boom.

Then on the radio that the Kyo made a kill. Later, looking at footage from the helicopter, I feel a chill. There is Jetske, with Nianke and Odin in the Mermaid. She is racing almost directly towards the whale, on an intercept course with the path of the harpoon. There is roughly two boat lengths, call it 14 metres (46ft) between her and the whale when the gun goes off - much less between the Mermaid and the path of the harpoon. A second or so later and she would have been right in the way. The whale takes over four and a half minutes to die. Finally, thankfully, a whaler finishes it off with a rifle.

We limp the Billy G. back to the Esperanza. The repair is quickly made, and we pump out the coolant for proper disposal. But in the meantime first mate Paul decides he wants to get out there himself. So I watch what follows from the comfort of the bridge - another seemingly endless hunt with our two boats saving whale after whale.

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Everybody goes back to work

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

Our return yesterday established that running from us will not work, and for now at least it is a strategy the whalers have given up on. For now, they hunt whales, and we protect as many as we can by placing our boat in front of their harpoon. This is what we spent the morning doing:

At 08:50 we saw them bring in their first whale. We were ready, but we waited. Then they brought in a second. We put the Billy Greene in the water - Cat driving, Joe, Yuko and Alain as crew. And the Esperanza moved closer. But still we waited. Then came our old friend the Kyo Maru to deliver the whale, and we stopped waiting.

For the rest of the morning and into the afternoon the Billy Greene, later joined by the Mermaid, dogged the Kyo while it hunted. Twisting and turning, going in circles, chasing one whale after another while Cat kept her boat in position - a spray thrown straight up from the stern by the boat's fire pump. For almost two and a half hours it continued. It's impossible to describe the level of concentration this sort of driving requires. Looking forwards for the whale, looking back for the hunter, your crew shouting advice. Whale after whale escaped. Some were mothers and calves.

In the end the harpooner only needs one good shot. It wasn't until the fire pump ran out of fuel, that they got one. The Mermaid moved in and still held the Kyo off. The crew on the Billy G had just got the pump going again and was out in front when the gunner hit an exhausted calf at close range.

So it is here in the internationally recognized Southern Ocean Whale Sanctuary.

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"There's no such thing as an innocent bystander"

by Lally, onboard the Arctic Sunrise

I'm sitting out here in our wobbly little boat in the middle of this huge ocean and something has been really bothering me. For a while I
couldn't put my finger on it and would normally go for a long walk in the mountains to put my thoughts in order. But I have nowhere to go.

Everywhere noise, people, ship...so this is now the ninth weblog I've written in the last 24 hours. The others ranged from furrowed brow ponderings to crazy shouty rants, anger flowing from my fingers. I guess the now deleted weblogs were my way of trying to understand, my way of trying to cope and were the digital equivalent of throwing a tantrum, having a hissy-fit, shaking my fists and throwing all my toys out of my pram...but out of these ravings but one thing has become clear.

We simply can't do this on our own.

I have seen and felt for myself the effect a few little people in a few little boats can have when we put ourselves between the harpoon and the whales. I have seen entire families of whales escape into the ice packs, free. The whalers were on the run for two weeks and not a single whale was killed...but the truth remains, we can't stay here forever...

At the moment we are getting the most amazing amount of news coverage all around the world and daily I read the excerpts that make it onto our ship. My sister emailed me from Brazil to say she saw us on the telly, we were in the news in Tanzania, Ireland, Argentina, South Africa, Japan, Australia, Spain, USA...the list goes on. The horror and disgust felt first-hand onboard from witnessing the barbaric slaughter of these amazing creatures is being felt around the world...and the world is watching...

But then what? Will the killers just bide their time, twiddle their thumbs and wait for our attention to be diverted? They might even stop increasing the number of whales they plan to kill...but slowly, slowly as time passes, as usual they'll up-the-anti, taking a few more every year...they'll keep dropping words like "increased quota", "research", "science" until we are desensitised to their lies and they can revert to business as usual.

Following a chat with Arne our amazing captain, he sent me this quote:

'A lie can go half way around the world while the truth is still getting its pants on.' Mark Twain

How true this is and how many people still choose to believe that this killing is for research and not for money? The Japanese government has even stated that this 'research' is in preparation for a return to commercial whaling...take the pressure off, give them an inch and what do you get...

We are out of time and we simply can't stop this thing on our own. We as thinking feeling human beings need to join forces. We need to channel our shock, our horror, our disgust, our anger into positive action. We need to keep up the pressure on the companies and governments that cash in on this killing. Turn negative feeling into positive change. But we need to do it now because extinction is forever. And that's a mighty long time.

Please join us in letting the greedy governments and dirty businesses that profit from this needless killing know that when they assume they have a god-given right to take and kill what isn't theirs in the first place, they are wrong.

Let Gorton's know what you think about their profiting from whale killing...

Become an Ocean Defender...

Tell your government to oppose whaling...

And tell your friends about what's going on and ask them to join us and take action too.

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4 January 2006

Whalers found, again

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

When Frank (captain) saw a big chunk of whitish whale flesh floating in the water it was our first sign we were once again catching up to the whalers. That was at 6:45 in the evening. Maybe fifteen minutes later, when Alain, looking through binoculars said it, "I see the Nisshin Maru", there were grins all around. But relieved laughter, shouts and applause didn't come until after Philster, and then Frank confirmed it. We had found them, again.

It had been two days since we'd last seen the whaling fleet - giving them what was probably a full day's head start on us. Apparently, they chose to use it for whaling rather than running. Odd, given they had just travelled thousands of miles, and clearly want rid of us. Then again, they are likely behind on their quota now, and maybe just couldn't resist.

No telling how many whales they got while we were gone. We saw today's last one delivered, and seven being processed on the deck of the Nisshin Maru - a reminder of how efficient their operation can be.

Now it's a bit darker. Although at this time of the year you don't get true night here, it seems they have called it a day. Hard to say what the next will bring, but if it is more whaling then our boats and crew are ready to peacefully defend the Southern Ocean Whale Sanctuary.

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Empty words

by Mikey, onboard the Arctic Sunrise

A couple of weeks have passed since we endured the face-to-face ordeal with the cruel, disturbing and so called 'scientific' whaling activities of the Japanese whaling fleet.

My, my, the oceans will be a lonely place if this is allowed to continue. We all know this destructive reality, it is also happening to our forests, rivers and to the wildlife left on our continents. Why is it that we must continue to make the same mistakes over and over again?

We accept the reasoning of scientists, governments and the like on what is best for our planet. But we intuitively know what is best in ourselves - but society and its conforming structures have forced us as individuals or as communities to feel powerless and that we must rely on our governments to decide whether to take action on matters or not. No wonder we suffer from so much ill-health in this time. How much self-restraint and resistance do we put upon ourselves when wanting to speak the truth or take action on situations we inherently know are wrong? But those we have empowered to make the right decisions for us in these matters tend to be misled by self interest or lack of understanding.

The crews on the Greenpeace ships that are here on this whaling campaign are here because they are not afraid to speak up and act on what they know in their hearts is inhumane. And all those individuals that support us whether financially, in heart or in mind are in touch with their hearts and intuitively know it's wrong and it must come to an end...propaganda can only deceive human intuition for so long...

Greatness is those that are willing to move beyond their fears against all odds and act in accordance with their heart and inherent intuition and be virtuous in the consequences - the outcome will always be greater than expected. Violence or anger in your actions cannot exist when you act from your heart and feel your way.

We all know that this whale hunting is for the Japanese meat market and yet as long as the ICR (Institute for Cetacean Research) and Japanese Fisheries Agency (Government) says that it is 'scientific research', we are expected to accept it. Human intuition can never be underestimated.

We resonate to the truth of matters and know a blatant lie when we hear one.

Japan, being a culture of such great inspiration, integrity and honour that has given the world so much with its beautiful, harmonious creative arts and disciplines, must feel great shame in the child-like ignorance and lies that its government tells the world about its defiant whaling activities. I have studied Japanese Samurai arts for nearly 20 years and I feel I have a mild understanding of Japan's wonderful culture. This childish, shameless lying by its government on so-called 'scientific whaling' to the world, makes me wonder whether it must bring great shame and sadness to the Japanese people and culture.

The whalers and their vessels down here in the icy waters are just the tools that carry out the brutal lies and deceit of the Japanese Fisheries Agency. So it is pointless for us in our actions to show anger towards them - the whalers are not the core problem. And for a Japanese Fisheries Agency that assumes it is allowed to do whatever it wants in our world against constant requests of the global community, well - why should they 'not'- no government or authority has showed any action, only words, for them to assume otherwise.

It will take more than an angry letter to the Japanese Fisheries agency and ICR to stop this inhumane whaling.

Finally, if there's any person that still has the slightest thought that this is truly scientific whaling and the Japanese Fisheries Agency is not lying - I can assure you that if you spent a day down here watching this whale hunt, you would certainly think otherwise. And if it was to be scientific research - Oh the disgust at the practises in the name of science you would feel.

'It is not the actions of a person that is defining, but the intentions behind the actions'.

Have a happy day...Mikey

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Open Thread - What's wrong with whaling?

Recently we had a comment submitted, which asked several questions that we really wanted to answer and just so you don't miss out on the opportunity to interact with this discussion we're posting it separately rather than leaving it buried in the comments from a few posts back. Here's the original comment written by David in Tokyo together with responses by John Frizell - Greenpeace campaigner and our representative at the International Whaling Commission. (David's questions in italics, John's answers in bold).

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3 January 2006

My world in a corner

by Emilse, onboard the Arctic Sunrise

One more day in this world of hardness and fragility...company and loneliness...one more day in which I submerge myself in my thoughts, tired from the hours and the work, I find my corner, between smells, noises and movements, to write some thoughts...thoughts that float in my mind...

I feel that I feel what is going on...

I woke up...I woke up from a long dream, I found myself...I refound myself...making my world a corner and of my corner a world and I remembered...I remembered my dream, and in my dream I dreamt...I dreamt that they danced, they danced in freedom through ice, through oceans, the bad sea protected them, intimately it welcomed them...they couldn'demolish them, not yesterday, not today...I dreamt their escape, their freedom...

They relaxed, they swam placidly, without tension...they danced between waves...

I do not mind how different it is to be different, I do not mind how incomprehensive and compromised it is to walk in the opposite direction...I do not mind...I only know that it comforts me, that I feel good, that it makes me feel good, that it gives sense to my world, a foolish and risky world but full of fragrances in which I subtly try to touch with my hands the coherence of my movements, of my thoughts, in which I try to decipher something in the act of annihilation, to break, to kill...I cannot find the reason, not in my reason.

We defend whales, we defend freedom, we defend life...

Defend then comprehension. Defend also the essence of what really moves us to be ourselves, and therefore the compromise to be people, people that do not kill, people that do not crash, that do not invade and that certainly respect...to our compromise with our self, with the most intimate of ourselves.

...then, only then, we would have defended whales, those that swim in my dream, those that swim in this huge sea, our interior whales, those that I see in my days and those that from inside make me be myself...

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2 January 2006

60° 26' South - Whalers take on fuel

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

06:40 this morning the bridge watch (John and Zeger) spotted another ship in the distance - one about the same size as the Nisshin Maru. As we approached, it was clear that this was a fuel tanker, a sort of sea going gas station, waiting for the whaling fleet. At least now we know where they have been running to these past days. As we approached, the hunter ship that had been following us went past and joined the other two already waiting. A short while later the Nisshin Maru was alongside the tanker preparing to take on fuel.

This development is not really unexpected, although the location was a small surprise - south of the 60th parallel and still inside the Antarctic Treaty area. Given the distance traveled, almost 2,000 nautical miles (3,700km) over the past eleven days, you would think they'd go another 26nm (48km) just to avoid refueling in the specially protected treaty area.

I assume they have completed an environmental impact assessment, and filed all the necessary paperwork for such an operation in the treaty area - it would be arrogant in the extreme to violate the treaty right in front of a Greenpeace ship (and of course we took tons of photos).

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The blog that tried to get away...

by Shane, onboard the Arctic Sunrise

NOTE FROM LALLY: Trying to get Shane (the expedition leader) to write a weblog was like trying to herd cats. So when it was discovered that he has been writing them all along for his friends - one of whom turned informer which is why I know of their existence - it was decided that they were just too good to let escape. So here is his latest one and I can assure you there will be more, because I know where he lives...

Dear friends

As I sit down to write to you, it is New Year's eve, and we are at the end of the seventh day in a row when no whales have been killed here in the Southern Ocean. Between Mother Nature whipping up some punishing weather, and our efforts to hound the fleet, the whales have had it pretty good for the past week.

Since I last wrote, you have probably seen some of our exploits in the media. For me personally, it has been a very emotional time. I thought I would try to tell you about it. It is hard to articulate the swirling emotions, the ongoing battles with seasickness, the images of dying whales, the exhilaration of (at least temporarily) stopping the hunt. Forgive me if this turns in to a rave.

On December 21, the longest day of the year in this part of the world, a day when it never gets dark, we finally found the fleet. After a month at sea, it was relief, excitement and sadness to finally have them in our sights. The day we found them was a beautiful blue sky day in Antarctica. We found the fleet on the edge of the ice shelf, surrounded by icebergs, and an area where the whales gather due to the abundance of food.

Our tactic on the first day was to simply let the fleet know we were here, to see what they were up to, and to show them we meant business. We launched all eight of our inflatable boats, and steamed towards the fleet. As we closed in, a pod of at least 15 orcas passed across the bow of the Artic Sunrise, perhaps welcoming the beginning of the battle to save the whales.

It soon became obvious what the whalers were up to. Our helicopter had been ahead earlier in the day scouting out the fleet, and had captured graphic footage of a whale being harpooned. The beautiful weather also meant ideal conditions for hunting whales, evidenced by the row of six whale carcasses lined up on the deck of the factory vessel.

Within minutes it was chaos on the water. As we surrounded the factory vessel in protest, a hunting boat returned with another dead whale. The plan changed now we were determined to stop the transferring process, in an attempt to slow down the hunting. The Esperanza was positioned perfectly, just behind the factory ship, and exactly where the hunting vessel needed to be to offload it's catch.

Undeterred, the whalers sought to press on with their dirty business. The water cannons were turned on to our inflatables, one was capsized in the chaos, unceremoniously dumping the crew in to the frigid waters. We watched nervously from the bridge, a collective sigh of relief as the two occupants emerged from under their little craft and clambered on to the hull of the overturned boat. Meanwhile, the hunter ship was moving up, twice bumping in to the Esperanza, trying to push her out of the way.

Ship collisions are not part of our tactics too dangerous at the best of times, let alone in this part of the world, but here was the whaling vessel with no such qualms. As the whalers closed in a third time, the Esperanza pulled away, ensuring no damage more serious than a scratched paint job. The inflatables continued to harass the fleet -- another was nearly sunk as the water cannons completely filled it with water. Less than an hour in to it, and we had two boats completely out of action.

In the middle of all of this, the phone rang. It was Karen Barlow from the ABC radio program AM. At this stage, we had not had time to advise the media we had found the fleet -- Karen was just ringing to see if there was any news! Great timing, giving her a chance to record the interview with me describing these events as they unfolded.

The day ended with the whaling fleet sitting in a circle, like an old wagon circle in a Western movie. As we patrolled around them, discarded pieces of whale carcass floated by on the water, reminding exactly what had taken place that day.

The next day our objective was to stop the hunt before it even started, putting ourselves in between the whale and the harpoon. Our inflatable boats are both fast and manoeuvrable, making them ideal for this job. The first crews launched, the Esperanza going in one direction after a hunting boat, the Arctic Sunrise going after another. On the bridge of the Sunrise, we watched and waited, wondering whether our plan would work. And soon it was -- the hunters could not get a clear line of sight on the whales. As the boat sped around, whales were escaping, slipping away amongst the icebergs.

As our helicopter buzzed overhead filming the chase, the pilot reported that a pod of five minke whales we had been defending had just escaped. Pure elation. That is the only way to describe the feeling as we battled on behalf of these beautiful and defenceless creatures.

The next emotion is much harder to describe. I jumped as the grenade harpoon tipped exploded in the whale. The harpooner has spied his chance, firing past our inflatable as a whale came up for air, not missing his target. A terrible silence. Lost for words, we could only stand and watch as the hunter began to reel in its prey. Looking across at the boat crew, they sat dejected in the inflatable, their failure tearing at them.

Soon the crew of the hunter vessel were bustling about, preparing to return to the factory ship with their catch. We followed them back, preparing to start again, as determined as ever. As they headed out again, it was my turn to get in the inflatable.

Standing on deck, feeling just like a penguin in my survival suit and several other protective layers (including three layers of gloves!), we prepared to launch. Soon we were bumping across the water, chasing fast after the hunting boat, dodging the lumps of floating ice. The hunter crashed through the water, men standing on the deck and in the crows nest peering through binoculars, looking for whales.

As we sped along next to them, I sat looking at the vessel. A crewman walked out on to deck, and saw me looking up at him. He turned and offered a friendly wave. I waved back. Such contrast to what was about to come.

The whalers soon had a whale in their sights, and immediately we moved in, right in front of the harpoon. There we three of us in the boat --Regine from Germany driving, Paul from Canada and myself the spotters -- looking for the whale, looking for ice, watching where the harpoon was aimed, and screaming directions to Regine over the roar of the engine. The whales appeared, the hunter shipped jagged towards them, we wheeled around, blocking the shot. The harpooner would step down as the whale disappeared again, then coming back to his post as another target appeared. The chase went on, a crazy, weaving battle of the wills, until we turned the wrong way, the harpooner got a clear sight and fired. That same sound. A feeling of emptiness, the quiet as our boat idled. The dead whale floated to the surface, blood pouring from its wound.

We returned to the Sunrise for a crew change. As we came back on deck, we were met with a quiet and knowing look a look of admiration for our efforts, and a look of sadness, the same look I had given the earlier crew. There is not much to say at such a time.

Over at the Esperanza, their efforts we proving to be more effective. We had installed a portable fire pump in one of their inflatables, which sent a spray of water directly in to the air, providing a screen that the harpooner could not see through to shoot whales. It took six and a half hours for that catcher to kill a single whale, much longer than usual. We may not have stopped them entirely, but we certainly slowed them down.

At the end of the day, the fleet got in to formation and steamed off. Suddenly they were running from us, trying to flee from the exposure and harassment we were bringing to bear on them. And so it has continued. For nine days now, the fleet has tried to sail away from us, stopping only briefly on Christmas eve to catch five more whales. Right now, the fleet is scattered, and no whales are being killed.

What are their plans? We don't know. All we know is that soon, they surely must start trying to hunt whales again. And all they know is that as soon as they do, we will be there trying to stop them.

I will write again soon to let you know what the next moves are, but in the meantime, the latest updates are at http://oceans.greenpeace.org/

regards Shane

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1 January 2006

One to remember!

by Lally, onboard the Arctic Sunrise

I'd kind-of guessed that New Years Eve on the Arctic Sunrise was going to be a bit of a surreal experience. There was an attempt at normality ith party food, floating candles, strings of little lanterns and even tablecloths. But when you put the normal bits against a backdrop of survival suits and life jackets then throw in the fact that we are 2500km from the nearest pub in a little boat surrounded by ice bergs and lots of water, you start to get the picture.

I spent the first 12 seconds of the New Year on the bridge with the entire crew following the Spanish tradition of scoffing a grape per
second. The grapes themselves, having also been at sea for 6 weeks, hadseen better days and were in rather short supply so raisins were offered to latecomers. But as I shoved the 9th one into my ever-expanding hamster-like cheeks the fact that the grapes were a bit funny looking and already well on their way to becoming wine had me questioning the benefits of good timekeeping.

Then, after much happy-new-yearing on the bridge, we descended to the heli-deck to marvel at the daylight followed by the sudden crazy snowstorm that had descended with us. I escaped back below deck as it
quickly dawned on me that my party frock was never intended for Antarctic conditions even if accompanied by thermal underwear. Safely back in the hold I discovered that someone had set up a flashing red light that looked decidedly like it had once belonged to some kind of emergency vehicle and it added a slight sense of urgency to the already surreal situation.

I don't really remember much after that apart from having a jolly good time but later on as I drifted off to sleep I did remember seeing a polar bear sitting in the mess drinking tea...maybe there was something funny about those grapes after all?

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2006 starting.... now

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

Yesterday, we made a big New Year's themed banner, and all held it up on the heli deck for a picture. It was quite tricky getting almost thirty people to all move and rotate properly to line up the photo we wanted, while Frank steered our ship in a circle.

Not much else we can do, as the situation is unchanged from my last update. No whaling for eight straight days now. We are still following the Nisshin Maru (big factory ship) and the Yushin Maru No. 1 (one of their hunters) follows us. Yuko called both ships on the VHF radio to wish them safe sailing and a happy New Year.

Last night, most of the crew gathered in the lounge to ring in the New Year. We did the big countdown. Some signing, some dancing, and all that sort of thing. Suffice to say a good time was had by all, but also everyone at least a bit homesick. We have 15 different nationalities on board, but they all celebrate New Year's and many also have the tradition of making New Year's resolutions - such as being an Ocean Defender for example.

I asked a few of my crewmates what they'd be doing for New Year's if they weren't out here helping protect the Southern Ocean Whale Sanctuary. Here's what they said:

Charles -
This year I would be with my family, all my family on my mother's side. Thirty or forty people, without a doubt. Every year at the holidays we have a big family reunion. This time it is at New Year's.

Yuko -
I would go to the Shinto shrine with friends to wish for a good year at midnight. There would be lots of people there. Maybe eat some special holiday food at the stalls they set up there for the occasion. Very, nice. At 00:00 they ring in the New Year on the temple bell.

Colin -
Oh, pretty quiet I suppose. Don't make too much of a fuss these days. Probably go to a party. Bonfire, fireworks. The Sydney to Hobart Classic got in a few days ago so a big one down no the docks.

Slava -
Lots of everything. Evening, usually stay at home. Family first, have a big meal with them. After midnight, at one maybe two, go out onto the streets to one of the big Christmas trees set up. Lots of people there. Lots of fireworks - sometimes even too much. Some talking, some drinking, if someone is there that can play music then some dancing. Finished four or five o' clock. This is normal Russian way.

Alain -
Probably partying with my brother and friends in France. First, a big meal. We would have oysters and all the traditional French things, and good wine. Then party.

Jetska -
Eat at home with friends. It's usual to have some oliebollen [fried dough balls with raisins and powdered sugar] or appelflappen [similar but with apple inside], which I prefer. Sometimes play old Dutch games, or they always have a comedian on TV telling jokes about the past year. At midnight people set off fireworks in the streets. So you go outside to watch the fireworks, or light them, and wish your neighbours happy New Year's. After that you go to a party or go from bar to bar to bar until very late.

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