4 April 2006

Gorton's, Sealord and Nissui Withdraw from Whaling!

by Dave, onboard the Esperanza

A big hardy thank you to all of you Ocean Defenders! You stuck with webbie Andrew and the crews of the Esperanza and Arctic Sunrise all through the 70-something days of the whaling trip. Even when the ships eventually had to return to land, you still helped push for an end to whaling through consumer and political pressure. Globally, Ocean Defenders sent a total of 100,000 emails to Nissui-related companies. And they didn't like it, not one bit. But why are we thanking you?

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26 February 2006

Southern Ocean leg highlights

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

With the ship is about to depart on a new leg of the Defending Our Oceans expedition it is time to finally close out our first leg - where we went right down to the ice of Antarctica to protect the Southern Ocean Whale Sanctuary.

Here are a few of the updates from that work:

Zen and the art of opening a door - As our two ships head south through the notoriously rough "Roaring Forties" and "Fearsome Fifties", Lally muses about life on a rolling ship. More along the same vein here, here and here (we had a lot of rough weather).

Gorton's = Whaling - We get down to naming names, highlighting companies with a connection to the whaling industry. More about Gorton's and whaling here.

Kisses from the Kyo Maru - We find the whalers and go take peaceful action to shut down the hunt. They respond with violence. More about the whalers' first deliberate "collision" with one of our ships here (including video).

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Departing the ship

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

The ship is ready to depart Cape Town, and its time for me depart the ship. It was a privilege to be on board for the first leg of the Defending Our Oceans expedition - helping protect the Southern Oceans Whale Sanctuary. I will never forget the brutality of the whaling, the peaceful determination of my crewmates, the beauty of the icebergs or the feeling of standing on the Antarctic ice shelf.

I am sure the work yet to come will be equally amazing. A small part of me wishes I could stay on to take part in person. However, while on shore, as I go about my life away from these ships, I will take great comfort in the fact that there are people here, and working in many different ways, for a green and peaceful future. I also look forward being part in that work as an Ocean Defender.

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Arctic Sunrise leaves for Brazil

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

Repairs all complete, provisions on board, fresh crew eager to leave - the Arctic Sunrise cast off from where it was docked behind us and headed out to sea. It is a rare thing when two Greenpeace ships are docked next to each other. It's a big world and the demands of work usually keep our ships on the go in separate parts of it. For us, it was great having the Sunrise crew around, but at the same time we know how desperately they are needed in the Amazon. Recently we have seen a huge victory there, but if the forest is to be saved we need to keep the momentum going. From the Greenpeace International website:

The decree by President Lula of Brazil to create the 6.4 million hectare (around 16 million acres) conservation area is a great victory for the people of the Amazon battling landgrabbers, cattle ranchers and loggers. The decree calls for around 1.6 million hectares to be permanently protected and totally off limits to logging and deforestation.

Another 2.8 million hectares will be used for sustainable logging concessions to prevent deforestation and ensure well-managed forests. Development guidelines will be improved in an additional 2 million hectares of forest.

Whilst the 6.4 million hectares is a victory for many communities in the Amazon, it still represents less than two percent of the total Brazilian Amazon. An area one-third the size of the new conservation area is lost every year in the Amazon to logging, soy plantations and cattle ranchers.

So with lots of shouts and waves, away they went. We wish them success and safe travels.

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25 February 2006

Haiku contest winner declared

Picking one haiku out of the many submitted was just about the hardest thing I've had to do on this whole trip - in part because there were so many good ones, and in part because I don't know anything about haiku judging. However, after consulting with my crewmates and much agonizing, I settled on...

Vast icy water
A minke whale surfacing
Breaking Sunlight

Posted by: Wiebke Lotz at February 4, 2006 11:10 AM

Thank you for that Wiebke. Even though it doesn't perfectly match the syllable "rules", it paints an excellent picture of a moment in nature, which I feel is the most important thing. But there were so many fantastic entries (almost 200!). Here are my personal favourites...

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22 February 2006

Loading stores and the letter "T"

Today we loaded on new towels, toilet paper, tofu, tea, tined vegetables and lots of other things that don't start with the letter "T", including (because I know you want to know): marmalade, rice, coffee, meat, chilli sauce, frozen vegetables, cornflakes and muesli. Stand by, because tomorrow the fresh fruits and vegetables.

All very exciting because it means preparations are nearing completion.

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20 February 2006

Weekly preparations report

by Pete, onboard the Esperanza

Another week has gone by and our preparations are proceeding apace. Sometimes it seems like one step forward and three back. But that's quite normal.

Apart from the daily routine of ship's tasks we've been making repairs and modifications that are needed, charts and nautical publications have been corrected and new ones ordered where necessary. We've drilled in emergency fire fighting and had familiarisation safety tours (all part of on-going on board training and safety). Stores have been ordered, and this week we will load them, plus take on fuel and top up with freshwater. We'll be ready to go towards the end of the month.

Also, during the course of the coming week, the rest of on board Defending Our Oceans team for this leg will arrive. For the last couple of weeks it's just been the crew here, and we're all looking forward to their arrival. We don't make any distinctions between crew and campaigners - we are all working together towards a common purpose - and as crew we know that none of our ships would ever sail as an effective and efficient campaign tool without the work of committed people throughout the rest of Greenpeace.

I have been involved in some of the planning for Defending Our Oceans, which has been going on for some months now. The state of the world's oceans demands a campaign of this nature, and Greenpeace has the expertise and maturity throughout the organisation to do this. It has taken a lot of hard work, commitment and resources to get even this far, and we are now about to embark on a year's voyage which is the focal point of the overall project.

The Defending Our Oceans campaign is an exciting and innovative one. It will provide the platform to change the way that people currently think of the oceans. It is quite a change from "traditional" Greenpeace campaigning - this time we are looking at the oceans as a whole instead of focusing on one species, industrial practice or specific area. A vital (and integral) part is the work and participation of our Ocean Defenders. I hope a lot people will join us, not just throughout this year, but also into the long-term oceans campaigning which will follow afterwards.

The world's oceans, and the life they support (including our own), need our help before it's too late. We don't just want to expose the destruction and over-exploitation that is taking place there. We also want to show and suggest and demand positive and achievable solutions to stop this abuse and to save and revitalise the oceans.

We can only do this with your participation. The first step is to sign up and become an Ocean Defender - become part of it.

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Ocean Defenders visit part 2

by Mike, onboard the Esperanza

With the interior of the accommodation starting to shine from a weeks worth of elbow-grease, Eddie and his deck team tackled the decks and superstructure of the ship, blasting it with copious amounts of fresh water - the salt of the Southern Ocean was washed away. The Esperanza feels lighter and glistens in the sun, a breath of fresh air has swept through and she is nearly ready to go back out to sea again.

Two groups of twenty Ocean Defenders from Cape Town paid the ship a visit in the afternoon. Andrew, the web editor and last remaining from the Southern Ocean, joined me in taking everyone on a tour of the ship. We watched the crew video from the first leg of the Defending Our Oceans campaign, in the mess room which is sparkly clean. Andrew talked of what he had seen; of how the hunters had drowned a minke that would not die - they harpooned the whale and then hung it by it's tail, head down in the water.

Last year I became a cyber-activist; having upgraded the family computer to receive high speed internet, through a twisted copper cable. My work station was open and online in November when the opportunity arose to become an Ocean Defender. "Have any of you looked through the web camera online?" I asked; on reaching the bridge. There was a general nod of acknowledgement - I pointed out the webcam behind the bridge window; that was focused on a dock-side crane. "Here with a twist of the hand we can change a cyber-world view," I turned it to face Table Mountain.

Thanks to one visitor for the Melk Tert, dit was lekker and al die matroos aan boord het dit geniet.

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18 February 2006

Cape Town Ocean Defenders visit

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

The deck crew has been working hard all week, and just this morning finished a deck wash, so when our guests arrived the Esperanza was looking quite presentable.

We haven’t been able to hold open boat days here in Cape Town due to port security regulations. Instead, we sent an email to local cyberactivists and Ocean Defenders - arranging for two groups of about 20 to visit the Esperanza this afternoon. Mike, the chief mate, led the ship tour since he knows all about the nautical stuff, and I stuck to talking about commercial whaling and our work in the Southern Ocean.

The second best part was when we reached the Engine Control Room (ECR) - a place full of lights, buttons and switches, which very likely control the engines - but I am only guessing as the ECR is one of those mysterious engineering rooms where I am always careful not to touch anything. So I was shocked when Mike invited our guests press some of the many buttons. Fortunately, these specific buttons turned out to be labelled, "lamp test". They make all the indicator lights go on so you can check for burnt out bulbs. A very cool disco type effect was obtained.

The very best part of the tour was the melk tart and chocolate that two of our guests brought for the crew. Melk (milk) tart is a sort of a pie that is a local favourite in South Africa. Mighty tasty. And, of course, everyone knows that Greenpeace ships, or at least their crew, run on chocolate. So big thanks for that.

Confectionary aside, it was good fun meeting local cyberactivists and Ocean Defenders in the flesh, especially since they had so many questions. I think I spent nearly an hour with one group in the mess after I showed them a crew video and some photos from our time down south. It was great how engaged everyone was - even coming up with ideas about how we could foil the whalers and get people more involved. Fantastic.

It was a welcome contrast to the deadlocks and endless talk that I've been reading about in the political meetings updates. On our ship today were regular people more ready to take action than the world's leaders. People already making efforts to shop responsibly, lobby governments and pressure companies.

Big thanks to everyone that came down to the ship. It was great having you on board. If we manage to set something like this up again, we'll make sure that registered cyberactivists and Ocean Defenders hear about it first.

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Sea Scouts

by Mike, onboard the Esperanza

As the sun set behind Signal Hill, The Sea Scouts of Hout Bay, wearing full uniform and led by my son Kai, embarked the Esperanza. I put out my wrong right hand to greet them. They had arrived in time for the duty mate, that was me, to strike the flags and turn on the deck lights. "Why do you fly the French flag?" A question from the troop as we did rounds of the ship. “Ah. It can be easily mistaken for the Dutch flag; the colours are the same. The Esperanza is registered in the Netherlands and fly’s the red, white and blue horizontally-striped Dutch flag. Whilst in Cape Town, out of courtesy, we also fly the South African flag from the fore-mast halyard. It’s a maritime tradition to fly flags only in daylight - both flags came down at sunset.

Around the ship we travelled, and on the way we stopped at the bow, to slack on the head-lines, just a little - the ship was bowsed in (the bow pulled toward the quay and the stern a way off). I warned them to stand clear of the old-man (a vertical bit with roller that guides the rope from the winch-drum to the fairlead). They watched and for a moment under the fore-deck floodlights, as I manipulated the large mooring lines, I felt that I was a sailor on stage. We have three headlines holding us in position against the strong SE’ly wind that comes out of no-where - a local anomaly.

Before the scouts disembarked an hour and a half after sunset I presented Bronwyn Glass, her brother and parents with green Greenpeace sweat-shirts. To each sea scout I gave a flag, 'Defending Our Ocean'. Then, following the right left-hand hand shake (as scouts do), down the gangway, waving their flags, they left the ship.

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15 February 2006

Japan government pushing citizens to eat more whale

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

From yesterday's Asahi Shimbun article titled, "Officials to public: Eat more whale":

The whale meat stock soared to 4,800 tons at the end of August, before falling to 3,511 tons at the end of December. The stockpile was between 600 tons and 700 tons in 1998.

Fisheries Agency officials say the mounting stockpile could fuel anti-whaling nations' arguments that Japan should reduce the number of whales it hunts or terminate the whaling program altogether.

The agency plans to develop new sales channels and reduce prices to lift consumption.

The whaling industry in Japan is having a hard time selling their product, and the government is stepping in to help create a market for it. Sad.

How you can help end commercial whaling.

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13 February 2006

From behind the lens

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

Jeremy, the ship's photographer from the first leg, has since headed for home. But before leaving he put together a selection of his favourite photos from our expedition to the Southern Ocean Whale Sanctuary, along with an audio commentary where he talks a bit about what he witnessed.

Launch audio slideshow.

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12 February 2006

Sunday reflections

by Pete, onboard the Esperanza

I've been back on board now for just over a week, and it's Sunday so there's chance to catch a breath and look backwards and forwards. All the crew from the Southern Oceans tour have left now and most of the new crew are here. With both our crew and the Arctic Sunrise crew changing together, it was a great opportunity for lots of people to catch up - swap stories and experiences - and for us to hear first hand the accounts of the anti-whaling actions.

The Sunrise was alongside us but left on Friday for dry-docking and repairs. The advantage for me is that I now have an uninterrupted view of Table Mountain and the Waterfront from my cabin window. Well - being Captain has to have some compensation!

The last week has been spent settling in, taking over the ship and starting the preparations for the next leg of the Defending Our Oceans tour.

It's a time of transition but there's continuity too. The basic running of the ship continues 24 hours a day 365 days a year regardless of who is on board - and this is the way that ships have operated for hundreds of years. I like that knowledge and that continuity.

We have about 10 more days "on our own". During this time the voyage must be planned, charts corrected, stores ordered, equipment checked and 101 other things that can't be overlooked taken care of. From about the 20th onwards the campaign team will start to arrive.

The Captain's role is to keep an over-view, make sure nothing is forgotten, and to make sure that it's all done and that we're ready to go on schedule.

So far so good!

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11 February 2006

Ed and the dishwasher

by Ed, onboard the Esperanza

This is my first weblog (I imagine, the last also) and I have been nominated to share the wisdom and ancient knowledge of the onboard dishwasher. First things first, my name is Ed, from the UK, and I am a deckhand. I've been sailing with Greenpeace since 2002, on lots of different campaigns, and I'm looking forward to continuing the good and revised work of Defending Oceans that has already spanned decades.

So, during my harbour watch the other night, I was shown by Mike (the 1st mate) how to dismantle and clean the dishwasher, which I was to do later during my watch. Mike tried his very best to give a sense of professionalism to the job: by first showing me the on/off switch, then demonstrating the removal of the holding shelf, plug, strainer basket and strainer tray. We also agreed on the best strategy for cleaning away the old food particles from the strainers, namely with the use of a wire brush.

Mike then deliberated and decided to share with me (which I am now sharing) the 'knowledge of the salt'. This apparently has been passed on throughout the generations of his family, in an unbroken lineage (it's true). What you have to do, after removing the working parts, is get a very small handful of dishwasher salt (and not the soap, which looks the same and is in a container with a confusing label), then simultaneously cast the salt into the empty machine whilst making a wish! Ohh, the anticlimax!

That's about it really, needless to say that later that night, whilst the cleaning was happening, after having dirty water drip down my neck on to my clean t-shirt and spending twenty minutes with my head inside the machine, scrubbing the grime away, my wish was not to find a good wife, health and happiness, but only to not clean the dishwasher again.

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Whale meat dog food

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

No joke, unfortunately. It's recently been reported that some of the massive glut of excess and unwanted whale meat in Japan is being turned into... dog food. Well, that and school lunches. From The Times article titled, "Giant of the sea used as petfood":

The commercial freezers of the whale meat industry are already stuffed with 2,700 tonnes of uneaten stock, and the public appetite for the flesh is dwindling so fast that much of it will end up as pet food or in school dinners.

The Japanese Government’s response has been to begin an extraordinary drive to promote the gastronomic delights of the "scrumptious whale".

One website selling whale meat for pets shows a picture of a dog with the slogans: "I’m Charlie. I love whale meat!" and "Pets love whale meat too."

Whale burgers and whale spaghetti bolognese are appearing on school menus and the meat is being distributed to old people’s homes.

It's a glimpse of what the future might bring if commercial whaling is allowed to continue. And a sign of how desperate the whaling industry is. Really, commercial whaling doesn't make sense. Sign up as an Ocean Defender, and see our Take Action page for ways to help end it.

Read more on The Age, BBC and WDCS websites.

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9 February 2006

Haiku contest ends today

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

The Defending Our Oceans/Save the Whales haiku contest is almost over. I am amazed at both the number and quality of entries so far. I'll keep the contest open until midnight tonight ship time (GMT +2) to give folks a last minute chance to enter. Then I'll get the rest of the crew to help me pick the winner - to be announced on this weblog Monday.

Read/Submit haikus.

And while you're at it, sign up to be an Ocean Defender - join us on our journey.

Important: If you submitted a haiku on February 2nd, and you don't see it, please resubmit. We had a slight technical problem. (Sorry!)

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8 February 2006

Warping

by Mike, onboard the Esperanza

Yesterday morning we shifted the ship astern by about a hundred meters using the ropes; and then in the afternoon we shifted it back to the start position. The purpose of this little manoeuvre was to bring a 40-foot open-top container alongside the ship into which we placed the Billy Greene (the most loved inflatable-boat within Greenpeace).

Warping the ship astern (a nautical term for winching the ship with her lines) we ran into difficulty; the towing winch failed on the poop-deck. During the last campaign the winch had come awash with the heavy seas of the Southern Ocean and the electrical control box had filled with sea water – Electric Mike and the engineers where called to the scene immediately, but it left us with only one capstan down aft to do the warping. We had two ropes running astern and some people on the quay to shift them from bollard to bollard as we moved backwards. Pulling on one rope brought the ship astern but swung the bow of the ship toward the quay; coming into close proximity with some old cranes at the very edge of the pier. To avoid the tip of our bow colliding with the cranes we had to heave on the second stern line which caused the stern of the ship to swing towards the quay where there where no fenders and many nasty bits of hard metal protruding from the edge; like can-openers hungry for the hull. In order to avoid both obstructions we had to pull on one rope until we where close to contact with a crane, then pull on the other until we where close to gouging the side of the ship with a line of can-openers. With only one capstan we could only do one thing at a time. The poop deck was a busy place with crew running from one rope to another, and the marine director of Greenpeace, visiting from the office, watching the circus.

The container that was too narrow at the top to lower the boat directly into it; Billy Greene’s shipping cradle was too wide by two inches. Eddy the Boatswain with his forty-seven years of experience at sea glided the boat suspended from the crane wire through the doors of the container. “A piece of cake,” his comment, but the whole operation had been complex (more than I can describe in a paragraph of words) and had taken four of us off the deck two hours to complete. It was hot work in the sun replacing the metal cross beams and the tarpaulin that covered the container, Ed the deck hand from England was melting, and his legs cried cherry red. The job complete, I felt my first sense of team spirit developing.

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7 February 2006

Goodbye Billy Greene

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

The other big event today was the departure of the Billy Greene, which involved moving the Esperanza down the dock so a truck could pull up with a shipping container.

The Billy Greene is a purpose built boat, with something of a story behind it, that's being returned to Greenpeace USA. Originally, it came over on board the Arctic Sunrise. For the trip back, a cradle was built for the boat to rest on, and with newly arrived bosun Eddie driving the crane, plus a whole bunch of other people helping, the Billy G was loaded into a shipping container.

It returns to the US via cargo ship having proved its worth many times over. Both the boat and Nathan, its principle driver on this trip, will continue the good work back home. To help from your own home, check out our Take Action page.

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Shifting places

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

If you were watching our weblog shortly after 9:00am this morning you might have been surprised to see the Esperanza, with the Arctic Sunrise still alongside, moving backwards. This was accomplished with ropes, winches and sweat, but without engines.

Yes, for longer distances we do use the engines, but for just going down the dock this is actually how it's done:

The ship is held to the dock by ropes. Each one has a loop at the end that you put over a bollard (a large metal post attached to the wharf). In our case, since it gets windy here and we have a whole other ship secured along our other side, we use lots and lots of ropes. Today was calm so we took most of the ropes off, and hauled them in by hand. But we left four attached to shore - two at the front (aka bow) and two at the aft (aka back).

We also brought the gangway up onto deck - leaving a few crew on the dock. This is an important step. You will look like a total amateur if you don't leave some crew on the dock to move the ropes around.

Next someone takes one of the ropes at the back and drags the end of it a ways down the dock. Then you slack on the forward rope while using a winch to haul in the one at the stern. And voila! The ship is moving backwards.

If this is all a little hard to picture, and you have a skateboard, you can give it a try at home. Tie off two ropes to some sturdy furniture (say a desk and a couch). Note first any precariously balanced lamps, TVs, easily annoyed animals, etc. on top of said furniture and reconsider as needed. For simplicity's sake each rope should be long enough to reach your intended destination. Start at the couch, sit on the skateboard and pull yourself towards the desk while keeping tension on the couch line.

That's the basic principle. Now try doing more or less the same thing, but instead of a skateboard use a ship weighing about 1,500 tonnes and for good measure attach an extra 950 tonnes worth of ship alongside - that was this morning's job. Then, in the afternoon, we put the ship back where it started.

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6 February 2006

The mysterious Doctor

by Mike Mate, onboard the Esperanza

The Cape Doctor (a Cape Town wind named for clearing the smog away) blew all day yesterday. Having Sunday off, the crew journeyed onto the Cape Peninsula to feel the earth beneath their feet. Naomi reached Cape Point, the point of the peninsula where the Indian and Atlantic Ocean meet. There she felt the fury of the gale lift her spirits. "And I watched, what's the foam that spins on the top of the waves?" she said on her return to the ship. "Spindrift," we both said together. Facing south, if she could have seen for thousands of miles; and perhaps a little to the east, she perhaps could have seen the whale hunt continuing. Jetske found her way to the top of Table Mountain and as she walked back down again through the fire ravaged fynbos, she noted rich smoky perfumes that hung in the air with each step she took. Mike and Remon, have just joined the ship with me, they listened to music from a band playing in the sun soaked and wind sheltered botanical gardens of Kirstenbosch.

I remained attentive on board the Esperanza as duty mate where I pondered over the most recent synoptic chart in an attempt to understand the weather we where all being subjected to. It was unseasonable. I could find no reason for the wind and in the late part of the evening I sat down with Captain Waldemar of the Arctic Sunrise, we had sailed together last year on the Grand Banks of Newfoundland. "Where is this wind coming from man?" he asked me in his Argentinean accent. I lifted my hands up into the air and shrugged my shoulders. I pulled a face and we both started to laugh. Independent of each other we had both studied the weather maps and we had both been left feeling confused.

This gale force south-easterly that has been tugging at the ship for twenty-four hours cannot be associated with the low-pressure system in the south – it is positioned too far away. Nor can it be a trade wind - the velocity is too high and the spacing of isobars associated with the Atlantic high are too wide. "I’ve even considered the tropical cyclone way off the coast of Mozambique," I said. Waldemar leaned towards my ear and spoke softly, "I thought it was in my head man, I’m tired, I’ve just flown in from Alaska. And this wind cannot be interpreted from that chart." I looked at his hand that was close to mine on the table, "Hey man I got married!" He held his hand out to show me his new wedding band.

Both Waldemar and I had studied the weather maps, together we span forty years of at sea experience, independently we had both been confused today. We could find no reason for the gale, it had literally dropped out of the sky and perhaps it’s Climate Change. Any help from a meteorologist is welcome.

It's a Great Mystery to us.

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Signing off

by Nathan, onboard the Esperanza

After 74 straight days at sea we arrived in Cape Town under a hot, sunny African sky, greeted by the continuous chatter of gulls, an escort of harbor porpoises and the ambivalence of sea lions. Our entry was easy and we breezed through immigration and customs. We are now tied up alongside a dock within a short walk to the public waterfront, which bustles with shops and restaurants. The Arctic Sunrise and Esperanza are tied up together so for the first time since we left in late November, the two crews can finally, fully mingle.

Returning to land was a welcome event and all around it seems that spirits have lightened. The local pubs have no doubt noticed the sharp decrease in their draft stores and the increase in their coffers as returning sailors are doing what sailors are known to do. However, the delight in having a real beer or cocktail was heavily overshadowed by the happy riot that broke out when the fresh fruit and vegetables arrived within hours of the gangway landing: after more than five weeks without any fresh fruit and only the random fresh carrot or cabbage now and then, crisp, cool lettuce and crunchy grapes sparked a celebration on the foredeck. I kid you not. It took most of us hours to even bother setting foot on land due to the joyous labor of attempting to eat all the lettuce that was brought aboard.

All's well overall, and already the crew change is well underway, as folks trickle off in a slow but steady stream and others arrive. Business carries on as stores are loaded on, recycling, garbage and such are unloaded, briefings with replacement crew are conducted and various equipment specialists come and go. The Arctic Sunrise will go to dry dock for major repairs soon then leave for the Amazon; the Espy will stay in port for several more weeks before heading up the west coast of Africa, continuing the year-long ocean's campaign. For us, the Southern Ocean expedition component of this year's ocean campaign work will end as most expeditions do: with a quiet grin and a wave more than a bang and shout, the crew splits up and slips off quietly towards home as the work carries on in the hands of the next crew.

The Billy G. is ready to ship home, back to the states. She's been given an inside and out fresh water rinse and dried in the hot summer air. She's been lifted from her portside sea cradle and set on her shipping cradle, which has been built on the helideck. Her sponsons have been fully deflated and lashed in tight and the equipment has all been cleaned, inventoried and packed. In the next few days the container truck should arrive to start her trip to the Port of Baltimore, for hopefully a hero's welcome (she's been among the most valued and reliable tools we had) as well as some much-needed repairs and well earned TLC.

So, well: that's it.
It's been a great honor to work alongside this crew and my deepest respect and gratitude goes to all those who made this campaign possible.

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5 February 2006

The Cape Doctor

by Mike, onboard the Esperanza

Kirsten and the children where blown along the quayside with me, we had just been to the cinema together - a family thing. Whilst eating popcorn in that Hollywood space between home and the sea, the wind that is called 'Cape Doctor' paid us a visit. In a flurry of dust and airborne dockyard enzymes I bid farewell to my little family, then turned into the wind and headed back to my new and old home; the good ship Esperanza. I have joined to relieve Paul as chief mate in my home port of Cape Town, South Africa.

At the top of the gangway silhouetted in electric flood light stood the second mate, Naomi, she was looking down at the ropes. "I’ve run an extra head-line" she yelled above the wind, "and I think we should put out another stern-spring". The boatswain came out to assist us and together we ran more lines to the bollards on the quay, coming up to four head-lines and two spring-lines forward, four spring-lines and two stern-lines aft. The South Easterly gale was coming from ahead and had reached force eight, gusting nine (about 40 knots). The situation was intensified by having the Arctic Sunrise tied up along our starboard side. The wind whipped in between the bows of the vessels and levered the Sunrise in its attempt to pull the Esperanza from her berth.

I live on the Cape of Storms and walk on her beaches. She was named such by the Portuguese captain Bartholomew Dias, the first navigator to beat against the incessant South Easterly gales in his little Caravel in 1488. I have sailed around the Cape many times; and been battered by her tempestuous seas. It was here on the Cape that I studied navigation. But now I join the Esperanza to leave the Cape and my family behind me, to take this Greenpeace ship onward, and as an Ocean Defender to bring our Oceans together.

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4 February 2006

First things first - part II

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

Among those of us just returned from the Southern Ocean Whale Sanctuary, the main topic of conversation is home - when we'll leave for there, the weather where we all come from, how were getting there and what we're looking forward to. So I asked a bunch of my crewmates, "What's the first thing you're going to do when you finally get back home?" Their answers:

Zeger - Put on my wood stove, make some nice food and chill out with the animals - cat and dog. Probably fall asleep.

Mostly looking forward to being able to set my own agenda. No, have a good sleep, that's the first one.

Emily - I'm shopping today for gifts for everyone helping take care of my home.

Have a shower and go to sleep I suppose. Drink cups of my own tea.

Nathan - Pack my dog up in the car, and head out to the Maryland woods to go hiking along Patuxent River.

Naomi - Sleep I guess, and take a walk on the beach where I live.

What I'm not looking forward to is doing my own cooking. However, I am looking forward to not getting up at midnight every night. I don't really mind it when I'm working because you just get in the rhythm of it. But it will be nice to have my evenings back. I do miss socializing.

Colin - Give my girls a big hug, kiss and a cuddle at the airport. My wife and daughter are meeting me. I've been home one month in the last six. The dog'll bite me and the cat'll scratch me, they'll be thinking, "who are you?"

Alain - I am going travelling, will enjoy a good bottle of wine with friends. And sleeping.

Mannes - I'm going to sit next to my girlfriend in front of a big fire in my fireplace.

Nico - I am going back home earlier then I have told everyone. Only my sister knows. She will pick me up at the airport and we go surprise my parents.

Jari - Unpacking is the first thing I will do when I get home. Then the next day I go to work for a production company.

Mathijs - Get eaten by my dog. It weighs 65 kilos and always wants to be the first to say hello.

Texas - Going to Germany, then for one month in Mallorca, before jointing the Sunrise again for the Amazon. Not going home at all. It's February in Canada and I have no intention of being in Canada in February.

Shane - Going to Australia first to work in the office and visit my family. It will be a few weeks until I get back to my own home in Amsterdam.

Nienke - I think I will love to go for a walk in Amsterdam, just a walk around the canals.

Isha - Kiss my sister's pregnant belly. Because she's going to have a baby and I'm going to be an aunty!

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How I see it

by Philster, onboard the Esperanza

Some parts of this expedition you try to push to the back of your mind. The storms and the sleepless nights. The feelings that you experience when, despite every effort, you hear the loud bang, see the puff of smoke and the explosion of blood in the water. The feeling of helplessness, the knot in your stomach. The deadly silence as we watched to see if they had killed the whale or not. The harpoon line pulled taut as the Antarctic Minke Whale is stopped mid-stroke of its tail and the mammal realises something is terribly wrong.

Something is terribly wrong. Genetic analyses have shown that Antarctic and common Minke Whales differ significantly in many ways, and have been separated for millions of years. Yet this whale was only recently assigned separate species status. And even more recently assigned to die in the name of "research". Two separate sources of information point out that more than 100,000 Minkes were killed in the last century in the Southern Hemisphere, most of which were Antarctic Minkes. Japan continues to kill many hundred per year. In fact, since they began "scientific whaling" 10,000 miles away from Japan, more than 6,800 Antarctic Minke Whales have been killed in this "scientific" slaughter.

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3 February 2006

Frantic pace

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

Although stationary, work on both ships continues at a high speed. We've got two entirely fresh crews arriving eager to get down to business. And at the same time, two crews about to depart, eager to finish all their projects and leave the ships in the best possible condition for the next folks on board.

We've did some tough sea time over the past months and it shows on the ships. One small example is the Sat-A dish on the Arctic Sunrise. The satellite dishes are in the one-meter wide mushroom looking things (aka satellite domes). A satellite dish looks more like a giant wok than a dish. It's shaped that way to focus the relatively weak satellite signal onto a small antenna.

On a ship the tricky bit is keeping the satellite dish pointed right at the satellite - even when the ship is turning in circles or bouncing around in rough weather. The dish is mounted so that it can rotate in a circle as well as pointing up or down or in between. It's kept steady in all but the worst weather by a very clever bit of applied physics called dual flywheel gyroscopes.

The Sat-A is an older generation of technology, pre-digital, and the one on the Sunrise had been in service for well over a decade. Sometime during the past expedition one of its heavy flywheels broke free and went crashing around the inside of the satellite dome spinning at approximately 700 revolutions per minute. The dome and dish are fine, as well as most of the dish aiming equipment, but considering the age of the thing, and availability of improved technology, the decision was made to replace it.

They craned the dome off, and Neil crawled into this portable sauna to dismantle it from the inside. I happened by just in time to help with the last bolt. We'll save the bits that we can use as spare parts, and put a new, digital F-77 Satcom instillation in to replace the Sat-A. Like most important equipment we have multiple back ups including another satellite telephone and shortwave radios.

Where the ship is headed next is not as remote as Antarctica, but still plenty remote enough to make our satellite communications vital.

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First things first - Part one

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

After spending a long chunk of time on a rocking rolling floating bit of steel, different people react to shore in a variety of ways. So I asked my fellow crewmates (on both ships), "What was the first thing you did when you reached land?" This is what they said:

Naomi - Well first I greeted the Arctic Sunrise crew when they pulled alongside. Then I carried on working until later in the afternoon when I finally took a walk on the beach.

Alain - Just having a walk on the quayside and trying to understand what is happening - surprised that it is not moving.

Odin - Went for a swim just over there, 100 metres from the ship. In the nude.

Marc - Got to work fixing the orange boat. Actually, first went and bought some latex gloves for working on the orange boat. And I bought an apple and some green tea.

Colin - First thing I did when I touched land was go to a bar.

Mikey - I didn't even notice that I'd stepped on land. When I stepped off the ship it took a few minutes for it to hit me.

I've been sleeping in the lounge these past few days. When I woke up in the middle of last night to go to the toilet I had completely forgotten that we were docked. I zigzag walked halfway to the toilet before I realized the ship wasn't rolling, and I could actually just walk in a straight line.

Emily - Got myself a smoothie, then went straight off to the beach for a swim. Then had a nice dinner by the beach.

Nico - Went with Holly for a walk and we stuck our heads in the ocean.

Jari - Finished up my video editing for a German TV station, and the media DVD for the press conference. Then I went for a cookie and a cup of coffee.

Only kidding about the cookie. Really I hung out with my Esperanza friends.

Mathijs - I grabbed a piece of sand and rubbed it in my hands.

Texas - Actually I haven't gone to shore yet. I was on duty the first night, and then stayed on board the second because Barbara was leaving and I wanted to see her off.

I'm going to get in a cab and go to Table Mountain. That's the plan anyway.

Andrew - I ran down the gangway first chance, then realized I had a ton of work to do so went back to the ship's office.

Shane - Talked to Mike and John [part of the land based team, met us at the docks]. Second time I stepped on land I went down to the shop to buy some fruit.

Nathan - Went to dinner at a Belgian restaurant - drank a nice Belgian beer.

Isha - Watched some birds. Cormorants I think they are called. There were thousands of them. Then went and walked on some grass.

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2 February 2006

Arrived in Cape Town

by Andrew, onboard the Esperanza

It's hard to describe the feeling of returning to land after a long time at sea. Land, you come to realize, is a big place. It's full of things like rocks and trees and buildings. Also there are a lot more people than the 31 crewmates I'm used to seeing on a daily basis. Some of these land people work in shops where you can buy things, others are found in restaurants where you can eat. Most of them are busy busy busy going about their own affairs. A few of them even have microphones, cameras and lots of questions. We call these people, "media". A bunch of them (about 20) came to our press conference today - including all the main agencies, local TV outlets and newspapers. Unusual to see new faces on board, but nice that they visited.

The press conference on was on our heli deck. Weather was excellent, but with fierce sun - so the deck crew put up an old banner for shade. We didn't even notice the pirate like skull and crossbones on it, but it worked out since our next job will be confronting pirate fishing off the West Coast of Africa.

Nice story by Reuters. I like their photo choice (click on it to open in a new window and read the caption). It shows how regular people around the world are helping to defend the Southern Ocean Whale Sanctuary.

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1 February 2006

This is just the beginning

by Lally, onboard the Arctic Sunrise

Today marks the end of my life at sea. For the past 74 days I have been honoured to be part of this campaign helping to defend the whales in the Southern Ocean Whale Sanctuary and on the way I have experienced the highest highs and lowest lows of my life and never have I laughed or cried so much. But where this is the physical end of this journey for me it is merely the beginning of the wider campaign to defend our oceans and the creatures that call the ocean their home.

As for the whales, they still desperatly need our help. The Japanese whaling fleet is still out there carrying on with its dirty business, a business built on lies, pain and greed. But as long as whaling exists Greenpeace will exist to stop it. We will not give-up until whaling is banned for good.

Greenpeace still amazes me in so many ways. It defies the laws of science by being so much greater than the sum of its individual parts. The individual parts are those individuals that donate their time, those that donate their money and those that simply believe in it. To me Greenpeace is a lighthouse in an ever-darkening world and each one of us adds their self to make it even brighter.

But for now my time is up and I am bowing out gracefully and taking a step back. Mikey (my husband and cabin mate) and I are off to find space to reconnect with ourselves, with each other and to take the time to assimilate the learnings of these past months. In the spring we will return home to Ireland and start up our little business again. We will visit Crowleys Bar and drink Guinness again, pop into Hughes organic shop on the high street for provisions again, visit our friends in the pet shop and say hello to George the guinea pig again...but accompanying our return to normality is something inside of me that will never be the same. I have bared witness to the reality of the incredible pain and suffering we inflict on other living beings in the name of money and it will never be something I will sit back and accept. I may be bowing out but I am not giving up.

I wish every soul on earth could have seen through my eyes and stared into those of the dying whale whose fear and terror still fills my world. If all those in positions of power could see what I have seen the politics and foreign trade agreements that prevent them from stopping this needless killing would fall by the wayside when they saw their own faces reflected in the eye of a dying whale.

The fight to defend the whales is not over. This is just the beginning. Pleasejoin us.

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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.