The Coast Guard was true to their word and let us drop anchor a mile off shore at 11.45 a.m. Monday morning. We were foolish enough to think that we would be able to start bringing people off the Arctic Sunrise at that time. Instead, half a dozen officers boarded the ship, searched it and interrogated members of the crew. They weren't finished with us until 1.00 pm., so more people missed their flights. A few of us were able to reschedule for later in the day, and the rest flew out on Tuesday morning. The ship is still anchored, and the crew is trying to complete a million errands in preparation for the month long transit to Cape Town, which won't begin until Wednesday or Thursday.

I refuse to let a tropical storm or a government agency on a power trip ruin what otherwise was an incredible experience. We had a lot of great times onboard, and even when things got bad, that's when we laughed the most.

I learned how to drive a rigid inflatable boat, I spent a wonderful weekend in New York City and I got to experience a protest as a "protestee" rather than an activist. Over the last month, I was fortunate enough to get to know an unforgettable crew and it was a pleasure to work with all of them. I'd also like to give a shout out to the people in the office who have been providing support for this project on land. We couldn't have pulled it off without you.

I'm really proud of the work we did during this tour. The open boats, press conference and projections in Cape Cod generated a lot of support for the proposed offshore wind farm. We're all confident that it will become a reality as early as next year. Combined with the groundbreaking research conducted in Greenland and Lonnie Dupre and Eric Larson's polar expedition, Project Thin Ice 2005 has truly made a difference in the fight to stop global warning. Even though this project has come to an end, climate change work will continue.

A lot of the crew asked me if I would want to do another ship tour in the future. My answer is "absolutely". I just hope I'm lucky enough to get the chance again.

- Maureen

On Saturday morning, the sun was shining, the birds were singing and it was a beautiful day onboard the Arctic Sunrise. Tropical Storm Tammy was nothing but a bad dream, and we had finally woken up. Even the seasick gang had emerged from their bunks, blinking their eyes in astonishment at the expanse of calm, blue water and the hint of land in the distance.

We should have arrived in Miami on Friday, but the weather made that impossible. So we re-arranged our press conference for Saturday and knew we would have to scramble a bit to host our donor event and Open Boats on Saturday and Sunday. But the powers-that-be came together to make sure that didn't happen.

Miamarina at Bayside (a marina in downtown Miami operated by the City of Miami) never bothered to look at the depth of their berths. When they finally did, they found out that is was too shallow to have the Arctic Sunrise there. Scrambling at the last minute to find another spot, we came up empty handed.

Everywhere else was too shallow or occupied. If trouble bringing our ship to Miami sounds familiar, you probably remember the runaround we got in 2003, when the Justice Department put the entire Greenpeace organization on trial, threatening the right to free speech. A judge ultimately threw the case out of court.

Donor reception onboard? Cancelled. Press conference to oppose offshore drilling? Cancelled. Open Boats? Cancelled. There were a lot of disappointed Floridians this weekend, and all of us onboard feel terrible about the turn of events. We have a lot of passionate, dedicated supporters in Miami that helped us pull off an incredible image in 2004, and we were all looking forward to seeing them again.

Our Tax Dollars at Work

So plan B was to dock in Fort Lauderdale. We changed course and set off for our new destination and that's when the Coast Guard stepped in. They informed us that they needed 72-hour notice for a destination change so we were NOT allowed to enter Fort Lauderdale and we had to stay 12 miles out to sea. If we disobeyed these instructions, we would be fined up to $50,000 and the Captain could be sentenced to up to five years in prison.

I am ashamed and embarrassed by my government (it's not the first time and I'm sure it won't be the last). It doesn't serve any purpose to make us jump through these hoops. The international crew has traveled to every corner of the world, and the only time they get hassled is in the United States and it happens EVERY time.

I am constantly amazed by the amount of time, energy and money the Bush administration spends on reinforcing the fear of terrorism on the American people. If Americans knew that the agencies designed to protect us from danger waste their time on silly games like this one, I'm sure they would be as furious as I am.

The Coast Guard even told our ship agent that they were "throwing the book at us." So, count up all the hours wasted by the Port of Miami, Port Everglades, the Coast Guard, the Broward County Sheriff's Office, and even the park rangers at the lovely state park where we were to host our donor event, and wonder how your tax dollars are spent to fight the real terrorists.

Meanwhile, there are 14 people waiting to get off this ship and return home, and there are two crewmembers in Miami waiting to get onboard. The Arctic Sunrise is scheduled to depart for Cape Town on Monday evening and a 30-day supply of food needs to be bought, six weeks of recyclables and trash need to be disposed of and Tweety - the Greenpeace helicopter - needs to be brought back onboard.

We thought we would be in port three days ago, so we are running low on provisions (not to mention all the food that ended up on the floor and the walls during Tammy). Some activists from the D.C. office came down to help with the supporter events, and they are not even allowed to bring us out supplies from land. We are also just far enough to be out of cell phone range, so people can't speak to their loved ones or make new arrangements since they'll be arriving home days late.

We can see Fort Lauderdale from our port side (it's 12 miles away...at least). We are so close and yet so far. Our latest information is that we will be allowed to drop anchor one mile off the coast (whoopee) at 11:45 Monday morning. Then, we'll use our rigid inflatable boats to take the people leaving the ship onto land and bring new crewmembers and supplies onboard. Of course, we've already missed our flights and Monday is Columbus Day so all the other flights are booked. We still don't have any real idea of when we'll get home.

-Maureen

By noon Wednesday, everyone (that wasn't sea sick) was having a few laughs at the state of affairs. The ship was rolling and pitching, and people were stumbling down the alleyways like they were drunk (not that we know what that feels like...). It was deemed too dangerous for the cook to prepare lunch, so we all took turns with ramen noodles in the microwave.

It was impossible to get any work done in the afternoon, so some retired to their cabins for a rare nap and others of us gathered in the lounge for a movie. We all agreed it would be cool to watch The Perfect Storm, thinking that the ship's movement would provide an added effect to the film - which it did (fun fact: the bar that the fishermen and their families gather in was actually shot in an old Greenpeace office we had in Gloucester).

For dinner, the cook still wasn't able to cook so he reheated and laid out a buffet of leftovers including spaghetti, mashed potatoes, fruit and ice cream. The first two crewmembers got their dinner without incident, and third and fourth in line were Mathew (assistant cook) and Olivier (second mate). A wave came as the two were preparing their plates, so they held onto a slate of wood on the countertop until it passed. But instead of keeping the pair steady, the wood broke free and sent Matt and Olivier sailing across the messroom floor. Not far behind them was the entire buffet the cook had set out. That's when things took a turn for the worse.

The messroom was officially declared a disaster area. At the height of the cleaning, there were probably eight of us trying to throw away the food and mop up the remains. Another particularly big wave hit and Barbara (deckhand) was slammed into a table. I then slammed into Barbara and the wave began to swing back the other way. I saw Eric (explorer/deckhand) coming for us at high speed, but I wasn't able to get out of the way in time. He knocked our legs out from under us and the three of tumbled to the ground. Spectators said it was like Eric was a bowling ball and Barbara and I the pins.

Tammy is a tropical storm that formed just off Florida's east coast early Wednesday, dropping rain into north Florida, Georgia and South Carolina. We changed our course to avoid going straight through it and have been dancing around the outskirts of it for a few days now. I don't know many specifics of the storm, but we've been feeling windspeeds of about 60 knots and our ship has rolled more than 60 degrees a few times. The maximum number the ship can register is 70 degrees.

A Smelly, Hungry, Bruised Crew

Showers are off limits, and are needed more than ever since most crewmembers have been rolling around in food. Everytime we finish mopping up an area, someone else wipes out and spills the bucket of mop water all over and we start again. Chris (campaigner) was trying to help in the galley and had a collision with the dishwasher. Rumor has it you can see the brand name of the dishwasher imprinted on his leg.

I've lost count of the number of people I have seen bounce off walls, ejected from chairs or tossed off couches. The only people onboard without black and blue marks are the ones that have been holed up in their rooms with sea sickness. Every time someone falls down someone else chirps "looks like you forgot to pay your gravity bill" and for some reason, even after 100 times, we find it funny.

The one comforting thing onboard is a visit to the bridge. It's the scariest view, and because it's at the top of the ship, it rolls more than anywhere else. But whether it's the captain, first mate or second mate at the helm, it's comforting to see how at ease they are in the midst of the drama. They chuckle at your suggestions that the situation is anything anyone should be worried about and tell stories about "real" storms they've seen over the years.

I don't think I would mind if this is the worst weather I ever experience while at sea, and my guess is most people onboard feel the same way. We're all looking forward to arriving in Miami, but everyone is trying to keep each other's spirits up and we can't wait to tell our friends about our skirmish with the Atlantic Ocean.

-Maureen

Every once in a while you hear on the news about some cruise ship with a bout of food poisoning. Hundreds of guests are confined to their rooms with a bucket lying next to their bed or are elbowing each other out of the way to make it to the bathroom first. I can't imagine what a horrible scene that must be, but I have a feeling it's pretty similiar to what's happening onboard the Arctic Sunrise at the moment (although on a much grander scale). We are located just off the coast of Georgia and feeling the affects of Tammy.

People are SEA SICK. Some started feeling woozy as early as Monday afternoon, but by Tuesday morning they were out for the count. I think the worst victim was Beverly (D.C. office) followed closely by Taleen (D.C. office), Matt (assistant cook), Andrea (prizewinner), Allison (D.C. office) and Denise (prizewinner). Matt learned the hard way that if you need to throw up over the side of the ship, don't do it into the wind or you get back an unpleasant surprise.

By Wednesday morning Allison and Taleen had made an impressive recovery, but the other four aren't showing much improvement. Some are using a patch, others dramamine and others motion sickness wristbands. Apparently there is an old sailor's antidote for seasickness: put a rock in your shoe. Your foot will hurt so bad that you don't notice the nausea. I don't think anyone has tried that one yet.

It's no surprise that so many are sick, the ocean has been VERY choppy and the ship is ROLLING mercilessly. For those of us who feel ok, the ship has become an obstacle course with danger at every turn. Walking down the alleyways, going up the stairs and even sitting in a chair is a challenge. Since I sat down to write this, a wave carried my chair all the way to the port side of the office and then sent me hurtling toward the starboard side where I was caught by Chris (campaigner). Taleen wasn't as lucky. She ended up sprawled under the desk, completely hidden from view, laughing hysterically.

Boo

Afterwards, I went down to the mess to have a snack. I opened the fridge and half the contents came spilling out. As I started to clean it up, a cabinet burst open and two glasses flew out, crashing into the opposite wall and shattering all over the kitchen. As this was happening, the condiment jars secured to the kitchen table were rattling and the dishes in the sink were clanking. I felt like I was in a bad horror movie where a haunted house is letting the new owners know that they are not welcome.

A few seconds later, three or four people came running into the kitchen to see what had happened and found me crouched in a corner holding on for dear life. They took one look at the mess in the mess (ha ha) and asked me, "What did you do?"

After I explained that I did nothing and that the mess was haunted, they helped me clean up. As we were sweeping, Barbara (deckhand) rushed into the mess looking for ice. Taleen had banged her leg pretty badly on a door and this time she wasn't laughing.

We're going against the Gulf Stream and during one four-hour shift last night we had only travelled 30 miles. It's expected that the conditions will not improve for at least another 24 hours, so there's no doubt there will be more excitement to come.

-Maureen

It was exciting for me to board the Arctic Sunrise in New York City. The Arctic Sunrise is a working ship and there is so much going on everywhere. There is a lot to be done and everyone does their part in keeping things together.

I was surprised at how rugged the ship actually is - it takes some effort to keep up with everything. It's hard to keep a balance onboard.

Everyone onboard has been wonderful, very friendly and open-minded. There is an international crew which provides for a diversity of thought and conversation. Some have talked about finding a "rhythm" that goes along with everything. It's true, there is a rhythm to the ship, the crew and the ocean - and it's been nice to be given the chance to search for that.

I look forward to seeing up close everything that makes sailing a ship possible.

-Andrea
Project Thin Ice Competition Winner

I'm still in a stupor; I can't believe I'm actually on the Arctic Sunrise! It's so strange for me, since I don't know anybody, but very thrilling at the same time. The crew is great, very friendly and outgoing. It's literally like a League of Nations here - I'm happy to meet so many people from so many different places.

I wasn't sure what to expect when it came to arrangements, food and work. I was hoping to lose weight while here, but I guess that ain't happening, since the food is amazing! The cabins are like closets and I happened to be assigned the "dove" room (the container) right next to the hold. I ended up getting the top bunk, which made me a little scared because I'm such a klutz, but I have been managing well so far with that.

Unfortunately, I don't have a porthole and, despite how hot it gets on the ship, I was actually a bit cold during the night. The bunk was more comfortable than I thought and when the lights are out, you can't see your hand in front of your face. I thought only caves were that dark! My cabin mate is Matt (assistant cook) and he seems pretty cool.

I completely forgot that the outlets on this ship are European, so I went into Chelsea to get an adapter. Hayden (from the D.C. office) warned me that it might blow out my cell phone charger...and it did. Thank God for CVS, I need that charger so I can actually have enough power to call my mother on my way back home to New Jersey this Saturday.

Working Onboard

On Sunday, we had an Open Boat. I met many great, interesting people. It was very nice to see so many supporters and to know that you're not alone in this fight to save the planet.

I'm usually pretty good when it comes to motion sickness, but I didn't want to chance it. So I took one Dramamine pill a half an hour before we departed from Chelsea Piers (even though you're supposed to take it an hour before movement). So far, so good! Since I'm such a spaz, I have to be extra careful on the stairs (they're pretty steep and narrow) and really watch where I'm going, especially when the ship is actually moving. The weather has been beautiful and sunny (yup, brought my SPF 50 sun block so I can stay nice and pasty).

On Monday the crew started making a banner and repainting the ship (which is done all the time). I found it kind of funny that none of us females knew how to deal with a sewing machine much, but Erkut did. The banner will be used to protest offshore drilling during a press conference in Miami.

I'm finally retaining some of the names of the crew. I'm much better with faces than with names! They have all been very helpful and so nice; I really wish I could stay on longer, so I can get to know them better.

Overall, I'm digging this experience big time. I'm so happy to be here; this is an experience of a lifetime.

-Denise
Project Thin Ice Competition Winner

Including both receptions we hosted, nearly 1,000 New Yorkers came onboard the Arctic Sunrise this weekend. For the Open Boats we held on Saturday, I acted as tour guide (a big promotion from greeter!). I think I did a pretty good job for having been onboard three weeks and only had to make up a few of the answers to the questions visitors asked me ;) Judging by the droopy eyelids and incoherent attempts at conversation of the crew today, I think I can safely say everyone enjoyed their time off in the city.

Today we begin the transit down to Miami, which should take four days. That means I have 96 hours to brush up on my Spanish which I studied in high school and college. But if the locals would like to have a conversation with me in spanish about the alphabet, days of the week, months of the year or the numbers one to 100, I am ready to go right now.

Eight women joined the ship this weekend for the transit down to Miami, giving the ship a sorely needed boost of estrogen. Six of the women are from the Washington, D.C. office and will be helping out the crew as needed.

Allison	Beth	Beverly
Jess	Lisa	Taleen

The other two women are winners from the Project Thin Ice competition. They earned a spot on the ship for encouraging their friends to take action to stop global warming.

Andrea

Denise

Welcome aboard, ladies.

-Maureen

P.S. We said goodbye to Maarga (crew administrator) in New York. Happy trails!

The Arctic Sunrise docked in New York City in the early evening on Wednesday. The international crew had a field day taking pictures of the New York skyline, the Empire State building and the Statue of Liberty as we made our way to our new home for the weekend, Chelsea Piers.

Chelsea Piers is a large complex full of leisure activities. There is a bowling alley, roller-skating rink, health club and more. We are docked at the end of a 48-person driving range and from our port side we have a view of golf balls soaring at us from 6:30 a.m. - 11:00 p.m. Our only protection is a net (and the fact that most golfers can't drive the ball that far). But the net has at least one hole in it, because a golf ball came bouncing into the hold yesterday.

Movie buffs will appreciate this isn't the first time a Greenpeace ship has been attacked by golf balls. In the opening scene of Armageddon, Bruce Willis's character is an oil driller, and his rig is being protested by a Greenpeace ship. He obviously isn't pleased about the protest, so he is driving golf balls at the ship, aiming for the activists' heads. Seven years later, the same scenario is being played out, but this time 48 people are using us as target practice. And people said that movie wasn't realistic!

I'm sure this will prove to be a busy weekend. Last night we had over 60 supporters onboard for a reception, and we're hosting another one tonight. Saturday and Sunday we'll have more Open Boats and Monday we begin the transit down to Miami. Meanwhile, crewmembers are frantically trying to trade shifts with each other, hoping to catch a Yankees game, an afternoon at the Met or an evening at the Philharmonic Orchestra. Personally, I'm happy just to walk around the city and take in the sights. After living in Washington, D.C. for three years, skyscrapers have become a novelty.

-Maureen

Everyone has a specific job to do on a ship. The captain commands, the cook cooks, the engineer looks after the engine. Deckhands, in a nutshell, do everything else. Whether it be cleaning, repairing or building, deckhands are the legs upon which a ship stands (in which case they should be called decklegs, eh?).

Here is a taste of the work Alain, Barbara, Eric, PoPaul and Tom do every day under the fearless leadership of the bosun, Kevin.

View a slideshow.

-Maureen

As someone who spends large chunks of time in some of the more remote corners of the world, sleeping in the snow and sharing meals out of an aluminum pot, etiquette is placed near the bottom of my priority list.

While wiping my face on my sleeve may not be such a terrible crime in the Arctic Ocean, (Lonnie doesn't seem to mind) onboard the Arctic Sunrise, decorum, custom and protocol dictate much of daily life. Out of bed by 8 a.m. and sign up for cleaning chores. When the mess is full, eat quickly so someone else can use your seat. Help here, help there. Say please and thank you. Little things, as they say, mean a lot. We are all on this ship together.

But more than just good manners, ship etiquette provides a framework for the entire crew to interact. We are all so different. One of us is from Turkey, another from Germany, still others form Colombia, Canada and France. These small guidelines form a language which help us communicate.

There are more rigorous systems to adhere to as well. Many are designed for the safety of the crew. Fire drills are routine events. Any crewmember on sea watch will always inform the duty mate before making rounds. That way, if the person on rounds does not return, the mate knows something is wrong. These rules apply for other guests, too. Nowhere was this more apparent than during our recent Open Boats.

Interested people were relayed out to the Arctic Sunrise for tours. Of course, the inflatable ride out to the ship was intimidating for some. Welcome aboard folks! You have just passed your first initiation. But through the careful guidance of crew and campaigners each visitor learned the procedures and etiquette required during their short stay. Leaving, I couldn't help but notice their more confident strides.

We are all scared of one thing or another. A different perspective, physical danger, the unknown... small differences in all of us. Recognizing differences and forming a set of guidelines in which to interact is one of the things that makes this ship function. Perhaps this is a lesson for life.

Eric,
Deckhand/Explorer

After two busy weeks in Massachusetts, we are now making our way to Long Island, New York. We tried to make the six Open Boats we held as exciting as possible, so our supporters felt that they'd gotten their money's worth. Then again, the Open Boats were free, so the bar was set pretty low...

All jokes aside, some people drove from all over New England for the chance to see a Greenpeace ship and meet the crew. Many had to wait in line for hours and some days we didn't have the best weather. It meant a lot to us that these supporters we're so committed to the event and we did our best to return the favor.

In Boston and Provincetown visitors simply walked up our gangway from land and the tour began. But for Hyannis, Nantucket and Wood's Hole we had to anchor the ship at sea because our draft (new word #87 I have learned since coming onboard) was too big. So on these days, supporters got to ride a rigid inflatable boat from the dock to the ship. Very few people in the world get the opportunity to actually ride in a Greenpeace RIB, and these supporters enjoyed every minute of it.

What they did NOT enjoy was climbing the three-rung rope ladder from the RIB onto the Arctic Sunrise. Judging by the look of horror on their faces, you would think they saw a ghost, rather than a few feet of rope and some wood. But with a little pep talk and crewmembers helping them up the ladder both from the RIB and the ship, everyone conquered the death-defying feat.

The Magical Mystery Tour

The visitors congregated on the heli deck, and as soon as their hearts stopped racing, the tour began. Usually a deckhand had the honor of leading the group throughout the ship, and their presentation style and knowledge would put any professional tour guide to shame.

Next, the group would go up to the bridge, where the navigational controls are located. The deckhand would give an overview of the equipment and either the captain or one of the mates would be on hand to answer any specific technical questions.

Finally, the group would go down to the hold for a campaign presentation. A short video was shown explaining Project Thin Ice 2005, and then Chris (campaigner) would speak about the proposed wind farm.

After a question and answer period, the tour concluded and it was once again time to climb the ladder down to the RIB. Most supporters easily descended the three rungs that terrified them a mere 45 minutes ago and left the ship with shouts of thanks and waves to the crew.

Read a Cape News article about our Open Boats.

Our opponents (the Alliance to Protect Nantucket Sound) have called us "outsiders" - which is ironic since we have more members in Massachusetts than they do. I think the turnout for our Open Boats proves just how in touch we are with residents of the Cape and Islands. We were happy to share our home away from home with our supporters and even welcomed those who disagree with us onboard. I would be surprised if Robert F. Kennedy, Jr. extended an invitation to us to join him on the six-acre Kennedy Compound to discuss the wind farm issue any time soon. But if he does, I'm up for a game of tennis or a flick in his motion picture theater.

-Maureen

A friend of my parents works for Greenpeace and was able to get me a position as a volunteer assistant cook onboard the Arctic Sunrise for the month-long tour from Halifax to Miami. I came on the ship knowing little about the organization and expected to be the assistant to a grumpy old Navy cook. But as soon as I arrived onboard, I met Charles (the chef) and everyone was talking about a four-course meal he had made the night before featuring seared scallops and creme bruelee. So right away I was excited about working under him.

The thing that impresses me most about Charles's cooking style is that he refuses to cut corners. If there's bread to be had, he'll get up in the middle of the night to bake it rather than buying loaves at port. When it's time to make soup, there's no store-bought broth to be found. He insists on cooking from scratch with everything he makes, and you can tell how much effort goes into each meal the moment you take your first bite.

I've been on the ship for two weeks now and have learned a lot; not just about French culinary techniques, but also about Greenpeace and the amazing work that they do. And thanks to an unexpected recommendation from Charles, I signed a contract today to extend my tour for another month. So I'll be the assistant cook onboard for the transit from Miami to Cape Town, South Africa. In just two short weeks my life has changed more than I ever would have imagined a month ago.

-Mathew

We're no strangers to protesting, but we're accustomed to being the ones actually doing it. So when we docked off of Hyannis and welcomed supporters onto our Open Boats, it was ironic to see our opposition over the wind farm circling our ship, waving banners and chanting against us. This Twilight Zone-moment lasted about an hour until most of the naysayers left anti-climatically.

During the protest, I resisted the urge to offer advice to the protestors on how to do it better. For starters, the boats never chanted in unison, so they were either hard to hear, or were drowning each other out. Most of their banners were too small to read, or were too complicated with their messaging. However, they did know the most-effective, time-honored, universal protesting technique. The one tactic that will hit your oponents right where it hurts, and bring them to their knees: not the single, but the DOUBLE thumbs down. Ouch.

Our supporters were looking forward to the tour of the ship, but when they realized they got to stand with us during a real-life protest, they were elated. If anything, their commitment to see the wind farm realized was strengthened by the behavior of the opponents.

Check out these photos of the opponents' shenanigans.

-Maureen

More than 300 locals came onboard the Arctic Sunrise for an Open Boat tour Friday. I was stationed at the gangway (what I insist on calling "the plank") allowing people to embark in small groups at a time, and asking others to wait for the next tour to begin. While the visitors waited, they bombarded me with questions about the ship, our history, the proposed wind farm and everything else they could think of. They reminded me of hungry restaurant patrons that were dying to reach their table. By the time they completed their tour, their change in demeanor was dramatic; they left the ship satiated, looking like they had just devoured a big bowl of pasta and they were ready for a nap.

We left Provincetown at 17:00 and set out for Hyannis where we'll host another Open Boat day on Saturday. As we approached the canal that would take us into Hyannis, we were joined by a pilot. A pilot is a person who has detailed knowledge of a port approach or dangerous navigational area and comes onboard a vessel to guide it safely into or out of the port.

Shortly after his arrival, he received a radio communication asking him to call his home base from his telephone rather than the radio. He wondered aloud, "What is this all about?" But all of us could guess what was going on: our activists had gone into action.

Three members of our team were using one of the rigid inflatable boats to project a series of images representing global warming onto the Mirant Canal power plant in Sandwich. For about half an hour, melting glaciers, wind turbines and extreme weather events lit up the side of this dirty power plant. It's basically the same principle as when Gotham City projects the bat signal, but we're doing it on a building rather than into the sky.

After the pilot hung up the phone, he told us that "someone" was projecting images onto the plant and went on to point out where we should be looking to see it. We feigned surprise at the spectacle and suppressed giggles that whoever spoke to him on the phone didn't bother to point out that the people responsible for the projections bore the same name as the side of the ship he was currently on.

The pilot hypothesized to the crew "maybe someone decided to project images of whales onto the plant to welcome you into port." Not a bad idea, we'll keep that in mind for next time.

Read the Cape Cod Times story on the event.

-Maureen

After three full days of training, I had mastered driving our rigid inflatable boats. Nicolette (boat trainee) and I spoke to the captain and first mate of the Arctic Sunrise and suggested that we take over driving the ship as well. I mean, how different could it be? They quickly agreed that we were ready, and began making plans for an early retirement.

At 9:00 on Thursday, we lifted anchor and set out for Provincetown, Massachusetts. Nicolette and I thought it best that Frank join us in the bridge for our first time at the wheel, and he reluctantly obliged. Everything went smoothly, as we knew it would. Despite Frank's repeated protests, Nicolette and I decided to leave the Arctic Sunrise in his hands for one more day, so we could participate in our last day of boat training. Bad idea.

We spent a beautiful, calm morning at sea learning some high-speed maneuvers, and practiced the other exercises from the week like launching and recovering the boats. We took a break for lunch and after we stuffed ourselves with carbohydrates, we prepared to once again board the boats. Our agenda for the afternoon session included loading and unloading passengers between the ship and the boats. We were all pretty comfortable with that drill and kept any water coming into the boats at a minimum. So it seemed odd when the first mate suggested we put on rain gear before boarding the RIBs, since there wasn't a cloud in the sky. A murmur rippled through the crowd of the more experienced participants and the only discernible words were "fire hoses."

Ouch

Sure enough, as the first driver approached to unload the rest of the crew from the RIB to the Arctic Sunrise, the first mate radioed the captain and said, "You may now push the button."

"The button," as it turned out, made water spray directly into our boat at an incredible force (six bars, for those of you who know what that means). The crew was simulating the conditions our activists commonly face when boarding and disembarking a hostile vessel. The water comes at you from every direction and it knocks you around like you are going through the spin cycle of a washing machine. Visibility is next to nothing and it's hard to communicate over the sound of the gushing water. The crew was acting out their role as environmental foe by spraying us with the hoses, but I don't think they were faking the sparkle in their eyes or the ear-to-ear grins we noticed as they did it.

I don't know how we managed to complete the exercise and depart in one piece. It was physically one of the greatest challenges I have ever experienced. I've seen classic Greenpeace images of activists being sprayed by hoses and I've always thought "cool!" Now that I know what it actually feels like, I have an entirely different level of respect for them.

I wish I had some pictures to show you from this afternoon, but I know that a camera would never have survived the "attack." In fact, a pair of sunglasses didn't make it out. They are lost at sea forever.

It was a great exercise to end the training. I learned a lot about boats this week and would like to thank all the instructors and advanced trainees for their patience with me. We arrived in Provincetown at 16:00 and here we will say goodbye to the activists and welcome back onboard Chris (campaigner) and Eric (deckhand/explorer). They have spent the week in Cape Cod, laying the groundwork for our campaign activities surrounding the proposed wind farm. Personally, I think they were tipped off about the fire hoses and jumped ship the first chance they got.

-Maureen

My second day of boat training was much more intense than the first. The water was very choppy, the sky was overcast and it lightly rained at times. You would think that even my pale, Irish skin wouldn't get sunburned on a day like today. You would think that, but you would be wrong.

I believe I succeeded at not embarrassing myself too much when I got behind the wheel of the rigid inflatable boat. We learned how to make sharp 90 and 180-degree turns, pace alongside other boats and rescue a man overboard. I pointed out that calling the drill "man" overboard was politically incorrect and suggested renaming the exercise "person" overboard. But Angie (boat trainee) astutely pointed out that "women don't fall overboard."

We wrapped up the day with a lesson in navigation. If you need help while at sea, saying "I'm somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean" just isn't going to cut it. Things like maps, a compass and a global positioning system (GPS) come in pretty handy.

Tomorrow, we'll put our new skills to the test. We'll ride out to a point at sea and try to make our way back to the ship. So if this is the last blog you ever see from me, it probably means there was an error in our calculations.

-Maureen

On Sunday night, nine Greenpeace activists arrived on the ship after a weary day of travel. They will be spending a week onboard the Arctic Sunrise for training on our rigid inflatable boats (RIBs). The RIBs are what most people think of when they think of Greenpeace - small dinghies that speed around the ocean infuriating would-be environmental criminals by impeding or documenting their actions.

These activists all have had previous training on the RIBs and many have participated in actions with them. This week's lessons will cover highly advanced techniques like matching the speed and course of moving vessels, and forming a human pyramid on water skis being pulled by the RIBs.

Even though all the newcomers are skilled activists, most haven't been on the Arctic Sunrise before. In a bizarre twist of fate, I suddenly became a credible source for information about the ship. I spent Sunday night and Monday morning exclaiming, "Yes! I do know what that is! I do know where that goes! Who else has a question?" The student had become the teacher.

I sweet-talked my way into being allowed to participate in the advanced trainings, despite never having driven, ridden in or laid my eyes on one of our RIBs. It took about five minutes into the lecture for me to realize that I had regressed back into my proper role of confused, eager pupil. Oh well, it was a nice feeling while it lasted.

We covered standard safety procedures and radio etiquette and practiced launching and recovering the RIBs. Everyone got a chance to ride in the boats and some got to perform difficult maneuvers. I was thankful to just be one of the passengers for my first day of training. For a Greenpeace activist, riding in a RIB is the equivalent of an angel getting its wings.

We also added to our crew. Here are some snapshots of some more crew that came onboard in Boston.

New Crewmembers

Erkut, Mechanic Turkey	Gionni, Radio Op Italy	Kevin, Bosun United States
Maarga, Crew Administrator Netherlands

Tommorow I'll try my hand at driving one of the RIBs. Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water...

-Maureen

It's 20 past midnight on Sunday morning. I volunteered to do a four-hour watch tonight in an attempt to score brownie points with the crew. The biggest advantage to doing a night watch is that you are exempt from the 7:30 wakeup call and the morning chores. Of course Sunday is the crew's day off, so there will be no wakeup calls or morning chores tomorrow. Hmm...there is a chance I may not have thought this all the way through.

Doing a watch does, in fact, involve watching. I do rounds of the ship checking for fires or anything out of the ordinary and I make sure no one boards the vessel that is not permitted. This would most likely be in the event of a gentleman that has had "one too many" - mistaking the massive icebreaker for his apartment. Essentially, for the next few hours I am responsible for the safety and security of the ship and everyone on board. I find myself drunk on Diet Coke spiked with my newfound, awesome power.

Mi Barco es su Barco

Today was my first experience participating in an Open Boat. Counting the donor reception last night, more than 100 Greenpeace supporters came onboard the Arctic Sunrise this weekend, despite the dismal New England weather. I recognized the starry eyes and gaping mouths of the Bostonians as they toured the ship, since I mirrored their expression nearly a week ago.

It was wonderful to speak with our supporters face to face. For them, it is an opportunity to experience a real-life manifestation of the organization that they have loved for so many years. For us, it is a humbling and motivating reminder that the work we do to protect the environment is only made possible because of their generosity. Our actions are on behalf of them.

Jeff - the very first donor to arrive last night - stepped onboard, presented me with a dozen red roses and a kiss on the cheek, and said, "Thank you so much for the work you do. I'm so pleased to be here." I shared the roses with the other female crewmember, Barbara (deckhand), and she was as delighted to receive them as I was.

Shortly after I met Jeff, I spoke with Ben. Ben said before the stock market crash, he donated to 100 non-profit organizations. Ever since, he has only been able to donate to five - one of them, of course, being Greenpeace.

I chatted with many others, from all walks of life, and I'd like to thank them all for coming out and for their continued support. We will host another Open Boat tomorrow, and with a little luck, the rain will stay away and someone else will bring me flowers.

-Maureen

P.S. With the arrival of Erkut (mechanic) today, our crew is now complete for the remainder of the East Coast tour. We set off for the Cape on Monday.

Anyone who has ever lived in a major city can appreciate the fine art of parallel parking. I, myself, am a master at squeezing my Mazda Protege seemingly effortlessly between two gas-guzzling SUVs. But parking a 163-foot ship on a 145-foot dock is a whole new ball game.

We slowly approached the undersized space at about 13:00 (that's 1:00 p.m. to you) yesterday. Docking a ship is when the deckhands truly shine. Three of the more burly hands were stationed at the front of the ship. They began by tossing the heaving line to some marina workers waiting on the dock. The workers quickly secured the line to the cleat and a game of tug-of-war ensued. The hands used all their might taking up the slack to shrink the distance between the vessel and the dock. Just when it looked like we were in the clear, the cleat ripped from the dock with a resounding bang.

Our principle of non-violence precludes us from destroying property, but I don't think this really counts. After we hauled the cleat from the sea and managed to dock the Arctic Sunrise on our second try, we happily returned the structure to the marina.

Good 'Ol USA

We were welcomed into the United States by a dozen or so armed officers of the U.S. Coast Guard. They boarded and searched the ship, and ensured all of our paperwork was in order. The special attention was a result of our ship being classified as a "High Interest Vessel." I'm not sure if all ships painted with bright rainbows and whales are of high interest to the Coast Guard, or just us.

The Coast Guard was not the only one curious about our ship. We docked next to the White Cloud - a GORGEOUS yacht. The cooks onboard prepared a care package for us, and showed up bearing nuts, chocolate, coffee and more. In exchange we offered some Greenpeace buttons, which they were thrilled to receive. Apparently, it is not uncommon for people to bestow gifts to the ship. The crew was grateful to receive the goodies, but I think we were all secretly waiting for the White Cloud to give us its hot tub onboard as well. Alas, it was not meant to be.

Later in the evening, some familiar faces from the D.C. office appeared. They've come to help us prepare for a donors reception to be held Friday evening. Without our donors, our work would not be possible, so it's nice when we have a chance to show our gratitude. We're planning on serving all our drinks tonight with ice taken from a Greenland glacier - how's that for class? Take THAT, White Cloud.

-Maureen

P.S. Welcome aboard Gionni and Kevin - our new Radio Operator and Bosun, respectively.

I will be the first to admit that I am not a sailor. Port and starboard are relatively easy, but terms like chain locker, gypsy and lazarette might as well be equal parts brain surgery and rocket science. On the Arctic Sunrise, everything is so new and so different from anything that I have ever done before, it has been difficult to find any kind of bearing. However after nearly five weeks aboard, I am finally finding my sea legs and a slight semblance of competence.

Each time I get directions, a piece of advice or a story from a crewmember, I can't help but think of the African proverb, "It takes a village to raise a child." All totaled, the crew's experience easily spans a century. While I dream about far off lands, they have been around the world and back again. Their breadth of knowledge makes my experiences seem relatively provincial in comparison.

Breaking through dense pack ice and navigating the waters around Greenland, they know the exact limits of this ship. They also know every corner, too. Without their diligent guidance I would be just another land lover, fumbling from one project to the next. Even as one crew departs and another embarks, I'm still the beginner.

My New Teachers

I've only spent a few days with this new crew that will tour the East Coast of the United States. Slowly, we are beginning the process of understanding one another. But it is second nature on a Greenpeace ship. I will glean important knowledge from this crew too.

Day by day, week by week pearls of wisdom are dropped carefully so as I am sure to find them. Each person has specific advice to make the whole function. But the crew is more than just engineer, first mate or deckhand. The original Project Thin Ice crew has seen the dramatic changes happening to Greenland's glaciers, firsthand. It is unfortunate to think that they may be some of the last "outside" people to witness the Arctic before global warming destroys it.

This boat and the other ships in the fleet are easily one of the most recognizable aspects of Greenpeace. They are like floating villages - raising their young, casting them out and hoping that sometime soon they will make the world a better place.

-Eric
Deckhand/Arctic Explorer

We left Canada on Monday night and headed for Boston, Massachusetts. I was sorry I wasn't able to stay longer because Halifax seemed very nice (based on the airport and my taxi ride, that is).

I had heard the horror stories of seasick crew and prepared myself for the worst. The ship is definitely wobbly, even with a calm ocean, but I'm fairing much better than I expected. I thought that sleeping would prove difficult, but as Tom (Radio Operator) pointed out, "it's just like when you were rocked by your mother as a child." Which I think explains why babies spit up so often.

My first full day at sea was Tuesday. While I was below deck, other crewmembers spotted some whales and even a seal, which I was really bummed to have missed. But fortunately, I saw some whales today and my bitterness subsided. Other highlights of yesterday included a safety training for new crew, a campaign briefing and my first ever barbecue in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

Meanwhile, back in D.C., our activists pulled off an impressive protest about chemical security. Read all about it here.

We should be docking in Beantown tonight or tomorrow. I spent eight years living in Marlboro (about 30 miles outside of Boston) and another four years at college in Easton (25 miles away). So in addition to the hundreds of supporters we'll be welcoming onboard this weekend, I'm hoping to see some friends and family. And by "hoping" I mean "expecting," so you can forget about those lame excuses and come visit me (you know who you are!).

Our arrival in Boston means our campaign work is now in full swing. Convincing nearly 300 million of my fellow Americans that global warming is happening right now with devastating consequences, seems like an insurmountable task. Of course, the other six billion people in the world have already realized it, so with that in mind, I'm more optimistic. Massachusetts seems like a perfect starting point.

-Maureen

Living on the Arctic Sunrise is like visiting another country. You get lost easily, you're unaware of the customs and you're trying to fit in with the "locals." The crewmembers, my family for the next month, are quite a cast of characters to say the least. It's a good thing the Statue of Liberty is inscribed,

"Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me.
I lift my lamp beside the golden door."

Ok, United States, you asked for it:

Alain, Deckhand France	Barbara, Deckhand Germany	Bob, Chief Engineer United Kingdom
Charles, Cook Canada	Chris, Campaigner United States	Eric, Deckhand United States
Frank, Captain Netherlands	Lino, 2nd Engineer Colombia	Mathew, Asst Cook United States
Maureen, Webbie United States	Olivier, 2nd Mate Canada	Paul, 1st Mate Canada
Phil, Bosun New Zealand	PoPaul, Deckhand Canada	Raul, Electrician Curacao
Thom, Deckhand Belgium	Tom, Radio Op United States

A world map in the mess has a model ship tacked to it to show our position. Note: Image is not to scale :)

All summer, I've been counting down the days until I was onboard the Arctic Sunrise. Now that that day is here, I'm sure my friends, family, coworkers, mailman, dentist and most residents of Washington, D.C. are enjoying a sigh of relief. I admit, I have been talking about the trip somewhat incessantly, but it's not everyday I get to spend a month working on a 160-foot vessel.

I will be acting as the web person for the duration of the Project Thin Ice tour. I've been following the work we did in Greenland closely, and hope my experiences are as memorable and successful as the original crew's were. Although I have a feeling that traveling from Canada to Miami, I will not be seeing as many glaciers as they did in Greenland...A special thanks to Andrew for providing such a detailed account of the work to date.

Today, as the ship was docked in Halifax, Nova Scotia, the crew went their separate ways for some well-deserved time off and a new team was brought onboard. Chris (Climate and Clean Energy Campaigner), Matthew (Assistant Cook) and I joined the ship from the states last night, and tonight we head to Boston - the first of many stops in the United States.

As excited as I am to begin this journey, I recognize that there will be some low points along the way. So in the tradition of David Letterman, I came up with my own "Top 10 List" of pros and cons for participating in the remainder of the Project Thin Ice tour:

#10: Pro - will get to find out why it's called the poop deck;
#9: Con - will not be a phone call away from having a pizza delivered to my door;
#8: Con - will miss a month's worth of episodes of the Daily Show with Jon Stewart;
#7: Pro - won't have to cook for a month (or eat my cooking for that matter);
#6: Con - will miss my friends, family, boyfriend and dog (not necessarily in that order);
#5: Con - will not really be able to exercise (wait...did I say "con"?);
#4: Pro - will get to meet activists from all over the world;
#3: Pro - New York City, baby!
#2: Con - will soon learn my preference: original dramamine or orange flavored?
#1: Pro - will get to see whales and dolphins (I do work for Greenpeace after all!)

-Maureen

We have been sailing our way up, and now back down, the St. Lawrence River for the past week. Along the way we have made new friends and big headlines.

"Power to Change" is Greenpeace Canada's climate campaign tour with the Arctic Sunrise. While Canada has already ratified the Kyoto Protocol, it is still one of the highest greenhouse gas emitters in the world - at least on a per capita basis. Unfortunately, the federal government's policy on reducing emissions hasn't changed much and is essentially the same as before Kyoto.

"The government still needs to focus on reducing subsidies of fossil fuels and shifting toward renewable energy solutions," remarked Stephen Guilbeult, climate and energy campaigner and director of Greenpeace Quebec.

Our stay in Quebec City, Three Rivers and Montreal was successful to say the least. In fact, during the two days of open boats in Montreal, almost 2,400 people toured the Arctic Sunrise. Luckily for us crew, around 40 canvassers helped give tours. All agreed that the open boats were very successful at highlighting the changes happening in Greenland, providing new media coverage on climate change and exposing people to Greenpeace.

The other major part of the Power to Change campaign was an action on September 5 against Gentuilly-2 (G2), the only nuclear reactor in all of Quebec. Over 100 people in canoes, kayaks and rafts participated. Much of the success of the action was due to utilizing and pulling different groups (Nuclear Awareness Project, Environnement Jeunesse, Assembly of First nations for Quebec and Labrador) together to push to get G2 to close down by 2010.

The action was a huge success and received front, second and third page coverage in all the Quebec-based newspapers. Since the ship has been in Canada, there have been almost 100 media hits in local, provincial and federal media.

What's next you may ask for ship and crew? Stay tuned, there is always more to come.

-Eric

The Arctic Sunrise is now making its way to the East Coast of the United States to spread the word about the dangers of global warming and push for America's first offshore wind farm.

We'd like to invite you to come onboard and experience a Greenpeace ship for yourself. You can meet the captain and international crew and hear firsthand what life is like campaigning on the open seas.

Stay tuned.

Map of places we visited in Greenland.

This will be my last update for Project Thin Ice. The ship is taking our message to Canada, first, and then the U.S. This map shows where we have been in Greenland.

We can't all do everything, but we can each do something. I've spent the last two months doing my small part to get the word out, and I hope people have learned a little about Greenland and global warming. Now I'm heading home to Washington, DC. The trip has been fantastic, and part of me wishes I could stay on board. Mostly though, at this point I am just looking forward to going home.

When I get there, I'll still take part in the Project Thin Ice contest, and I'm sure come visit the ship when it's in town.

Keep watching this space though, because you'll hear more from the crew and new folks joining the ship in Canada. They'll be highlighting some of the good work being done to move towards renewable energy, and away from fossil fuels and nuclear power.

Despite their new rhetoric, the Bush administration seems just as determined as ever to block any meaningful progress on energy issues. But more and more I am convinced that is the will of the American people, many of whom are hard at work building wind farms, investing in solar panels and generally showing the world we are ready, willing and able to pull off an energy revolution.

- Andrew

I am a lucky woman. Somehow this year I have managed to work first in Antarctica on a vessel doing marine science and now in the Arctic. The first thing I noticed as we got into Arctic waters was just how different the birds are here. I am used to albatrosses and petrels, and the occasional porpoising penguin, but here almost everything is different. Instead of penguins there are different species of auk. These birds have ridiculously small wings that beat in a blur. Around Iceland we would see puffins trailing fleshy red feet as they flew.

Once we got to Greenland we saw thousands of Small Auks around Scorsbysund - these little birds would perch on the sea ice, diving as the ship approached. On calm days we could see their flight under the water. Guillemots, another type of auk, are also seen along the east coast...for the birdos we were mainly seeing Brunnich's guillemot, but I also saw a couple of Black Guillemots.

Day to day we would be visited by Northern Fulmars, which look slightly seagullish but glide catching the updrafts from waves like a small albatross. Black-legged kittiwakes, the most common gull in Greenland, have also kept us company. Occasionally we have seen a beautiful pure white gull, the Ivory gull. There is also the slightly darker and stockier Glaucous gull.

Close to land, even in the densest fog, we have been escorted by long-tailed skuas which feed largely on lemmings.

But, I suppose for sheer endurance my favorite has to be the Arctic turn. This little bird looks fragile with streaming tail feathers. Amazingly it migrates from the Arctic, where it breeds, all the way to Antarctica, leaving here in August or September and returning in May or June.

- Cath

[Photo - A Northern Fulmar]

We issued a press release today about our new images documenting the effects of global warming, such as melting lakes, that we are encountering in Greenland.

View images of crew and scientists measuring "melt lakes".

We arrived yesterday in Ilulissat, where Ministers from more than 20 countries were wrapping up their three-day discussion on the threat of climate change and what to do about it. I went to the press conference, and listened to a panel of Ministers who were very pleased with themselves and all expressing optimism about the meeting's outcome. It has been no secret that the rest of the world is concerned with the attitude of the U.S. government towards the Kyoto Protocol. They all realize that we are running out of time if we are to avoid the worst consequences of global warming and the resulting climate changes.

Greenland is a perfect backdrop for discussing the urgency of greenhouse gas reductions. As we have documented and learned in the last two months, in this part of the Arctic, warming is already negatively affecting Greenlanders. The Greenland Ice Sheet may be melting its way out of balance, with global implications for sea level rise.

We sent letters and some of the results from our tour here to the Ministers, hoping that the result of the meeting would reflect the urgency of the situation. Unfortunately, I found myself leaving the meeting deeply concerned about the speed (or lack thereof) of political action.

I have been involved in international climate negotiations for many many years and have learned to "read the code" embedded in political documents. They all sound as if some meaningful action has been agreed to, but for those of us used to reading the underlying code, it becomes very evident when one looks underneath euphemisms that there is still no agreement to save our climate from ourselves.

The Danish environment minister summarized the results of the meeting in a two-page document. The crucial term "greenhouse gas emission reductions" is suspiciously absent.

One of the paragraphs states that the scientific debate is no longer about whether climate change is happening or not, instead it has shifted to figuring out how best to grapple with the problem. The shift is hailed as a milestone in politics. But that had already been agreed in Kyoto in 1997, before the Bush Administration contested it. It has taken an additional eight years to reach the same conclusion once again, a problem most of the world attributes to the Bush administration's adamant denial that the science of climate change is conclusive.

It has become obvious to me that in 2005, the U.S. changed its tactic from denying the problem exists, to blocking meaningful action by promoting a lax "do what you want, when you want, if you want" type of regime.

On my way back to the Arctic Sunrise my mind wandered to all the signs of climate change we have observed in the last two months and the threat of catastrophic consequences should we be unable to stop the Greenland Ice Sheet from melting. I thought about Noah's ark and the great deluge. In the context of global warming, the Kyoto Protocol can be seen as that ship that can save us from the flood. And instead of coming on board, the U.S. is now trying to sink it.

We can't let that happen, we just cannot afford to let them get away with it. That is why even after our tour in Greenland is now finished for this year, our work will continue.

- Martina

Out on the Greenland ice sheet, the first melt lake we chose for measuring is about 4,600 feet (1,400m) wide, and drains via a shallow channel ending in a waterfall down a deep hole a bit bigger than John and Jason's small gray dinghy. The ice sheet is more than half a mile (1000m) thick here, and the water probably goes all the way to the base of it. Anything going in that hole is on a one-way trip, which explained the enthusiasm that John and Jason put into their paddling.

Despite their efforts, though, the wind and current took them closer and closer to the mouth of the fast moving outlet stream. Eventually, John gave up. He stepped out of the boat into the ankle high water, and dragged it back to shore. This was not going to be a day for dry feet.

John and Jason relaunched the boat farther from the mouth of the draining stream, and where the slope is a bit deeper, started its four horse power motor and got on with their job.

What you might not know about glaciers and ice sheets

This is the thing that a lot of people don't know about ice sheets and glaciers: the ice actually moves. Where I was standing yesterday, at the melt lake, the ice is flowing towards the coast at about a foot (30cm) per day. If I was very very patient, and long lived, I could have stood in the same spot on the ice and in only a few thousand years I'd have reached the sea. That is, of course, assuming the ice sheet and outlet glaciers still exist by then - a prospect that global warming is making increasingly unlikely.

It's long been known that melt water production (surface melting) coincides with valley glaciers speeding up. As far as anyone knows, the melt water from the surface finds it way down to where it lubricates the base of the glaciers - causing the ice to slide faster downhill. In 2002, research was published showing that this same acceleration occurs inland with the ice sheet itself.

The ice here tends to eventually make its way out to sea, but is also replenished by winter snow. The snow builds up, compacting into hard ice. Ironically, heating the atmosphere is both increasing melting, and causing more snowfall (because warmer air holds more moisture). On the balance though, it is clear that the ice sheet is losing mass overall. Satellite images show that it is disintegrating at its edges. And Jason's research has show that surface melt water production has increased by 30 percent over the last 17 years.

How we got here

One of the big questions remaining is how much all of this additional melt water will speed up the ice draining out to sea. For this, more needs to be known about surface melt water production, and melt lakes.

Under the ice sheet are ridges, valleys and mountains. These topographical contours are mirrored by the ice above (only smoothed out a bit). The melt lakes that form in these depressions cover the spectrum of blue - from light blue at shallow edges to dark blue chasms - and actually stay in place as the ice flows past and under than.

Leigh, one of the University of Maine scientists on board for the first half of our Greenland tour, emailed us with the idea that if we could measure the depth of a melt lake, maybe the color of the water could be matched with its depth.

Jason, who has spent much of his career studying melt lakes, took to the idea. Working with the crew, he developed how to implement it. Our first plan was to dangle a depth finder from the helicopter, but that proved impractical for the precision and number of measurements needed. So we rented an inflatable dinghy small enough to be deflated and carried in the helicopter.

On site, the little boat was inflated, and survival gear stashed on shore. While John drove the dinghy, Jason matched positions from a handheld GPS to measurements taken with the depth sounder. To do one lake this way took all day, but they were able to get over 300 measurements.

At the end of the day, they deflated the boat and stashed it in a small ice cave. This morning, Jason went back out with Hettie, our second mate. Eric (deckhand/explorer) also went along to provide logistics support (specifically - he inflated the boat and helped get the gear positioned for the second lake).

After a second hard day of work, Jason feels he has enough data to create a rough model translating melt lake color into depth. Using this model with satellite images he hopes to estimate the amount of melt water contained in lakes on the entire ice sheet. This new observational methodology will help him, and other glaciologists, further their research into how surface melt water production is changing over time, and what the implications are for the fate of Greenland's ice sheet.

We'll keep doing our part by bringing you news from the frontlines of climate change, but we need you to join us in action. Everyone needs to pitch in, but if you're in the U.S. (the world's biggest global warming polluter per capita) your help is especially needed.

- Andrew

It's Saturday and we are anchored in a lovely bay we've nicknamed "Pete's Haven" after the first mate. We are east of Disko (every time I say "Disko" I move my arm like John Travolta in "Saturday Night Fever") and Arveprinsens islands, it was a short transit of about five hours last night from Ilulissat to get here.

Pete's Havn is really lovely. The ship is located 2.5 nautical miles (4.6km) from Eqip Sermia, a glacier that flows out from the Greenland Ice Sheet into the bay. Even from here the glacier looks formidable. Jason Box, the scientist on board, says the glacier's calving front is 330 feet (100m) high in some places. Yowza. Between the ship and Eqip Sermia lies a nunatak: a rocky point that once poked out from a glacier. The nunatak near us is now an island, but at some point I guess this entire bay was filled with glacial ice and only the top of the island stuck out. The land near Eqip Sermia is barren but the land closest to the ship is covered by green tundra, testament to the influence of glaciers on the landscape.

Last night Hughie flew a reconnaissance flight to check out the melt lakes and other structures on the ice sheet so we could then make a plan on how to best to measure their depth and document them. Jason went along with him and came back with some pretty incredible pictures taken on his small digital camera through the helicopter's plexiglass windows. This part of the ice sheet is riddled with melt lakes, rushing rivers and moulins (a moulin is a large hole where a meltwater river disappears into the bowels of an ice sheet or glacier). You wouldn't think that an ice sheet would have so much moving water on it. The lakes are very striking to look at, much like Mono Lake or the Dead Sea in the middle of the desert. I'm confident we'll be able to document them in a way that will explain to the rest of the world the compelling nature of this huge meltwater system in a place that we all think of as frozen solid all the time. I mean, who would think it'd be possible to stand on the Greenland Ice Sheet with a six km wide melt lake or roaring river nearby? I can't think of a better visual for telling the story of how climate change is affecting the Greenland Ice Sheet.

Our plan today was to begin flying people and gear up to the ice sheet at 9:00 a.m. and use a small inflatable boat and a fish finder to measure the depth of each lake. The depth measurements could then be compared with the color of the lakes in satellite photos, giving scientists a way to approximate the volume of water held in the lakes. This is important because as the melt lakes drain they deliver water and a warming signal into the glacier's core. Some of the water winds up at the base of the glacier where it lubricates and hastens the glacier's flow from the ice sheet into the sea, where it then calves into icebergs.

When we got up at 7:30 a.m., it was clear and calm outside – perfect weather for flying. But a little past 8:00 a.m. catabatic winds started flowing off the ice sheet and by 9:00 a.m. the winds were a steady 30 knots with gusts to 40+ knots (74 km/hr). Hughie could have flown up to the ice sheet, but it would have been difficult and dangerous to deploy the equipment and make measurements in that kind of wind.

So we spent the day waiting, waiting, waiting for the winds to die down, but it's 9 p.m. and they're still blowing with a vengeance. There won't be any flying tonight because there's only about an hour and a half of good light left. Catabatic winds die down in the evening, or so I'm told. I don't completely understand how they work but they seem to be fueled by cold winds on the ice sheet and changes in temperature caused by the shift between day and night. Hopefully the winds will die down by tomorrow morning and we can get an early start. Our itinerary has a lot of 'weather days' built into it, but I always thought they would be used for delays caused by fog and ice. I never imagined our work being delayed by catabatic winds. The winds have an odd feel to them because the sky is clear and blue, whereas the wind is what I'd normally associate with dark skies and horizontal rain. The ship has been swinging 'round and 'round on the anchor chain, it's almost dizzying.

Today is John's 42nd birthday and as part of the celebration, Martin and Isha made him a cake in the shape of Greenland. They baked a sheet cake, cut out the shape of the country and then used cut away pieces of cake to form mountain ranges and islands. A thick layer of chocolate icing covered the cake and whipped cream was the ice cap. A small wooden Arctic Sunrise used to track the ship's location on a world map in the messroom was placed in a "bay" on the cake, along with 43 candles (one for good luck). It's the most amazing cake I've ever seen, and the most delicious country I've ever eaten. I had a piece of Scoresby Sound, Faye and Hettie ate Disko Island, and the Birthday Boy himself demolished Thule, where a "Star Wars" radar station is located, in a mere three bites. The cake was unveiled not even two hours ago and when last I looked, our unregulated addiction to chocolate (1/2kg in the cake, 1kg in the icing) already resulted in destruction of 2/3 of the country.

Signing out from the Greenland lake district,

- Melanie

It was one of those few best days, a day that was like two or more good ones combined. Later, I found myself thinking, was that really today or yesterday? This life is full of wonder. Greenland is a spectacular place.

Helicopter flights took us over spectacular scenes, where colors and scale defy comprehension. One moment you're thinking, 'that looks just like the Caribbean', then you're jarred back to the Arctic by massive flowing ice! This visual stimulation combined with the genuine satisfaction of completing a goal that began so recently as a humble idea. We had just deployed two automatic digital cameras, 'looking' at huge glaciers. This morning, we had been waiting through a lengthy application process for permission to land and leave equipment in this World Heritage site. And just as we were losing hope, the final fax came though, within moments we were starting the engine to go.

Arriving at the first site, the highest/furthest east land possible, beholding a vast sea of tortured ice, Martin, Hughie and I had the equipment up and running without a hitch. We actually couldn't afford a hitch. We had a maximum of 55 minutes for the work. But, it happened to be t-shirt weather, radiant sun, just enough wind to thwart mosquitoes. Landing at this place felt like what I imagine landing on Mars would be like, and the equipment like an alien observer.

The flight to the next site brought us along the 'ice front' of this massive Kangia/Jakobshavn glacier. But what a mess it looked, having retreated so much in only the past few years. There is no longer a well-defined ice cliff that drops down to water. All you see now is a wreckage of ice with a cliff (ice front) that comes and goes. It seems this glacier has retreated to or even behind its 'grounding line', meaning it no longer has a floating part. This is a huge departure from how I remember the glacier from my first flight over it in 1994. Since then, I've seen it from the air almost each year. I remember how in 2003, we did not recognize the glacier. It had changed in its otherwise fractal appearance of somehow organized crevasses and seracs to practical chaos, wreckage, smithereens. Today, this glacier looks even less healthy to me. Anyhow, I took many many photos that will help us understand how this glacier is changing.

After being buffeted around by clear air turbulence en route to our second of two sites, by a stream of air coming off 'the sheet', we arrived at my 'Cliff Cam' site, that had disappointed me so just two days earlier. The equipment had malfunctioned and delivered one image, one, instead of hundreds, the one being a view of a shallow fog hundreds of meters below. What felt so redeeming was to replace the malfunctioning equipment with a different system, one that had proven itself at two successful sites. The redeployment here was a simple task, and the view from this 300m (980 foot) cliff is just incredible. Thousands of sea birds feed below at the brown plume of water coursing from beneath the glacier. What they so eagerly hunt I know not, but these birds, and their prey, share some symbiotic relationship with the glacier.

My day continued to be exciting, as we landed on the ship, just minutes before the open boat began. A crowd awaited. I had time to change clothes, then out into the crowd... I was engaged, talking in detail with a number of people about how fascinating this unfolding climate story is. I had no expectation that studying Greenland would be this interesting and apparently significant on the global scale. I have reason to believe this ice sheet is contributing significantly to the observed 2.8mm (.11 inch) per year global mean sea level rise. More than 100 million people live within 1 m of sea level and so are threatened by expected rise.

One local said to me, 'we know the climate is changing... we don’t need scientists to tell us this...we just look out the window and see the ice and snow are not where they usually are...and the animals behave differently', apparently referring to how the seal or bird hunting season has changed.

The day ended meeting old friends, friends from 10 years earlier, invited back to their house, some wine to drink, a guitar to play, and a view on the walk to a hopping bar of the sun setting over icebergs.

- Jason

Greetings from Ilulissat, southeast of Disko Island. We arrived here two days ago after a day and a half transit from Nuuk, the capital of Greenland. We were at anchor yesterday but tied up at a dock this morning for open boats later today. A mid-sized fishing boat was already at the dock when we came in, leaving not much room to maneuver the Arctic Sunrise into place. Even so, Arne "parked" the ship as easily as I would my car, except there is a huge difference between my comparatively tiny Subaru and a 900-ton ship.

The main attraction here is the glacier in Ilulissat Fjord. The Danish name for the town and the glacier is Jakobshavn, but it's more appropriate and politically correct to refer to them by their Greenlandic name: Ilulissat. Ilulissat glacier is easily accessible from the town of Ilulissat, making it the most studied glacier in Greenland. It's the world's fastest moving glacier at 14km/year (beating out Kangerdlugssuaq by 0.2km/year!), and it doubled its speed and retreated 10km between 1992 and 2003. I'm mentioning this since all of the scientific research and articles I’ve seen on the glacier refer to it as "Jakobshavn Glacier" or "Jakobshavn Isbrae," so keep that in mind if you Google the name to get more information.

At any rate, I went ashore yesterday with Martina, Nick (photographer), Andreas (videographer) and Gunilla (Swedish journalist). The harbor is filled with fishing boats from small skiffs to small trawlers, and the world’s largest halibut processing plant sits on the dock right behind us. Martin (cook) traded half a carton of cigarettes for a huge garbage bag filled with cod that was so fresh it was still moving.

Martina cold-called a tourist shop because it had the word "nature" in its name, which turned out to be a very lucky call. The shop owner is from Italy but has been in Greenland for 25 years and speaks fluent Greenlandic, Danish and English. He hooked us up with an Inuit hunter, Niels, and within a half hour of walking into the shop Niels was telling us how climate change has affected his ability to hunt and fish. Niels offered to take Nick, Andreas and Gunilla out in his boat so they could see where he fishes.

While they were doing that, Martina and I walked through town putting up posters about today's open boats. It didn’t take long to figure out that Ilulissat is different from other communities we've visited in Greenland. For one, a lot of tourists come here to backpack, dog sledge, and see the glacier and ice sheet. Between tourism and the thriving fishing industry, the economy seems to be doing ok and there appears to be a whole lot less unemployment. Yes, there are obvious downsides to tourism, and if not done sustainably, then fishing has its own set of problems. But if a town has to develop itself economically, then given the choice between tourism and oil and gas development, I'd choose tourism any day.

Lots of people here - Greenlandic and Danes alike - ask us about the sealing issue. It's been really good to be able to listen to peoples’ concerns and then respond with what Greenpeace did and did not do vis-a-vis the seal issue. Explaining that Greenpeace never opposed sealing in Greenland and that we don’t oppose their current hunting and fishing goes a long way to mend relationships. Of course, there will always be people who dislike Greenpeace regardless of what we say and do, but that's the same wherever we go. Millie, the Greenlandic translator who was on board for the first half of the trip, told us that for many Greenlanders, it’s important for them to get issues off their chest, and once they’ve been aired, they can move on. Of course that is a simplistic way of describing a cultural attribute, but it does seem to be the case with folks we speak with. It's a very practical, compassionate and forgiving way to maneuver through the world.

It's easy to bridge from the sealing issue to how climate change is affecting and will continue to affect sea ice, and how that in turn affects hunting. Everyone we've spoken to has a story to tell about how the weather has changed: it's not as cold as it used to be, it's hotter than it ever has been, the ice has changed, they can no longer dog sled for as many months per year, or some other anecdotal evidence about climate change. All the people we've met are unanimously in favor of Greenpeace's climate work in Greenland. Many have said they hope we can amplify their voices so that industrialized countries hear the message that climate change is an urgent problem and requires immediate action. Climate change is a threat to their very existence and we certainly don't have to tell them that. As a related aside, the vice mayor of Ilulissat provided great testimony on video about the impact of climate change on this community and on Greenlandic culture, but he started out his interview by basically asking, "do you mind if I begin by explaining how grateful I am that Greenpeace is here and how thankful I am for your work on climate change?" Clearly, our work and message on climate change is very well received and the potential for future campaigning is enormous.

Today's open boats were very successful. Hundreds of people showed up at the ship between 3 p.m. and 5 p.m. and again from 7 p.m. to 9 p.m. The ship was packed the entire time. The earlier open boat had a good mix of European tourists from a cruise ship that's in town for a day, as well as many Ilulissat residents. Members of the Danish Parliament arrived on a boat that tied up near the Arctic Sunrise, so Thom (radio operator) walked over with a bunch of pamphlets and invited them on board to see the ship. Many of them accepted the offer, and it was great to speak with them, too. I can't imagine having an impromptu, honest and forthright conversation with any member of the U.S. Congress, especially on board a Greenpeace ship.

The evening open boat was punctuated by the return of our helicopter. Before the open boat started the helicopter flew off with Arne to Ilulissat Fjord so he could check out the ice conditions and report back to a Jason (a scientist working with us on board) about whether it would be at all possible to bring a ship into the fjord to undertake scientific measurements. There were about 100+ people on board the ship and once we knew the helicopter would be back within three minutes, we corralled them all to safe viewing places forward of the ship's crane. It was quite dramatic and no doubt a memorable event for all of our visitors.

Tomorrow morning we pick up two Italian TV journalists, then head north for a few hours to a new anchorage where we'll document the melt lakes on the ice sheet. More on that soon.

- Melanie

"Please work", said Jason Box (Ohio State Geography/Byrd Polar Research Center glaciologist) as if in prayer, before we even land. This morning he had retrieved the first of his automatic monitoring cameras - set up last May. It had taken exactly one photo (the day after he set it up), and then stopped working. Definitely a setback, although not entirely surprising given the harsh conditions, precarious nature of electronics and this relatively novel application of automatic monitoring.

Now we are landing at a second site. This one on the ice sheet itself. As soon as Hughie (heli pilot) gives us the OK, we're out of the helicopter and getting the camera down. When Jason installed it, the white battery box was at ground level, but as usual the winter snow has all melted by now - leaving the batteries almost out of reach. Carefully we lower the mounting pole and open the airtight camera enclosure. Jason's too eager to check the camera to explain his setup just now, but we go over it later.

How it works

The camera is a regular consumer brand digital still camera connected to something called an "intervalometer" - a device that operates at intervals. The intervalometer takes a picture every few hours throughout the day. The power comes from two sealed gel cell batteries, like car batteries but smaller, recharged by a 20 watt solar panel, which Jason calculates supplies about twice as much power as the system needs. The enclosure is the same type used for security cameras, and is packed with silicon desiccant to absorb the moisture inside and keep the glass from fogging up.

Jason tested his equipment in an Ohio University cold room with temperature sensors inside the camera. Even at -4 Fahrenheit (-20C) the camera kept itself warm enough to stay just above freezing. Although Jason first used a digital camera to do time lapse monitoring (of snow drifts) in 1996, and Station Zackenberg has had a year-round camera on a mountain since about the same time, the ones we took down today are the first long term monitoring cameras on the ice cap that Jason knows of.

[View snow drift animation here: http://polarmet.mps.ohio-state.edu/jbox/drift]

When Jason set the camera up on location, he and his college surveyed the area and set out marker flags at known GPS coordinates to give him some frame of reference when looking at the photos. The surrounding landscape is changed over time by snow, rain and wind (although no matter what time of year it is, the scenery at the camera site can be described as "basically white").

The all important data

When we get it down, the enclosure is intact, and the camera in good shape. Jason gingerly pulls it out, and turns it on. "There are 516 pictures on this camera," he tells me grinning. Looking at the images back on the ship, we realize that he has succeeded in documenting a melt lake forming - and draining, and forming, and draining, and so on. This is slightly unexpected, and possibly interesting. Other melt lakes have been observed to fill slowly, and then drain suddenly.

At the third site of the day, the camera proves more difficult to get down. We end up using a hacksaw to cut through its mounting pole. This camera has also worked. It monitored a ridge in the ice sheet. If the ridge changed position as summer went on, then it was probably related to climate events, if it stayed in one place it was probably structural to the ice sheet. Just eyeballing the images, it looks like it didn't move.

Later, the two working cameras will both be redeployed to monitor the front of Jakobshavn glacier. Jakobshavn is a well-studied glacier that has more than doubled in speed over the last ten years. Intensive monitoring, using these cameras, will provide insight into how fast it is moving at its bottom end, and how much its speed varies seasonally. This is an outlet glacier - meaning it transports ice from the ice sheet down into the ocean. Outlet glaciers are thought to be vital to the fate of the Greenland ice sheet, and the fact that major ones surveyed on this trip are speeding up is alarming.

Results

The data collected, although not Earth shaking, will add to the body of knowledge about what is happening to the Greenland ice sheet. Also important, is that this method of collecting data can be applied in other research areas as well – such as monitoring the volume of ice coming off glaciers in the form of icebergs.

This is often how science works, not with Jurassic Park like suddenness, but with incremental steps forward. One experiment leading to the next, and a continuing refinement of techniques. In fact, it took over a decade, and hundreds-of-thousands of man-hours, before the authoritative scientific body on the subject concluded that our planet is heating up at least in part (probably mostly) because of our greenhouse gas emissions (2001 Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change Third Assessment).

It's folly to ignore so much painstakingly accumulated scientific evidence - yet that is what many, including the Bush administration, are trying to do. Despite their resistance, we need to start an energy revolution - to go from a fossil fuel dominated energy strategy to one that takes advantage of renewable energy technologies. If you are in the U.S., your help is especially needed.

- Andrew

Nuuk is home to the Greenland National Museum, which has displays on Greenlandic art and Greenlandic history. Its most famous artifacts are the Qilakitsoq mummies from the 15'th century. According to our guidebook, these were found in 1972 by two brothers out hunting, but left in place until 1977 when the museum heard about them.

What caught my attention were the replicas of qajaqs (kayaks) and umiaqs (rowboats, used mostly by women). It is amazing how people survived, and thrived, in such a harsh environment for thousands of years, using only the resources available locally.

Since farming is not much of an option up here, the culture that developed was largely dependant on hunting for food. While over the centuries this culture has always adapted to changes, now it is in danger of dying out - and according to Daniel Thorleifsen, director of the Greenland National Museum, the rapidly warming climate is partly to blame. If hunters cannot catch what is needed to keep the economies of their remote communities going, people will have to move elsewhere.

"There is no doubt that with a changing climate the hunter societies will have to move to other places," he told us when we visited the museum. "Mostly, they will move to the cities as climate refugees."

The problem for the hunters is two fold: They need good strong sea ice to get out to where the animals are; and some of the animals they hunt rely on the ice as part of their habitat. So the fate of the hunting culture in Greenland has always been tied to the ice, and now that ice is disappearing.

It is normal for Arctic sea ice to melt in the summer, but what both scientists and Greenlandic hunters are telling us is that the sea ice now melts earlier in the summer and freezes later in the winter. 2002 was a record low year for sea ice, with 2003 and 2004 close behind. And it looks like 2005 may set yet another new record low for sea ice. According to NASA, not only is the summer sea ice diminishing, but it has begun to decline in the winter as well.

Ice reflects light and heat better than open water, so there is a feedback effect - the more ice that melts, the higher the chance of more ice melting. Some scientists worry that a threshold will be crossed (and perhaps has already passed) beyond which the Arctic sea ice cannot recover.

This sort of news is alarming for Thorleifsen. He warned that if the climate continues to heat up, "The Greenlandic sophisticated hunting culture will become something that exists only in museums."

Nothing, however, is certain. The industrialized countries most responsible for human caused global warming can still choose a new energy future - based on efficiency and renewable energy. Some have already begun investing in large-scale wind farms, and other projects. Almost all have signed the Kyoto Protocol. But a lot more work is needed to pull off this energy revolution - especially in the US where the Bush administration has opposed they Kyoto Protocol at every turn, and clings to an outdated fossil fuel and nuclear based energy strategy. If you're from the US, be sure to sign up for the Thin Ice Contest to help.

- Andrew

We held our open boat near the capital of Greenland today. I say "near" since we were at anchor. There was a cruise ship in town, which needed the dock space, so we ferried people out on one of our boats instead. I was boat crew for a few hours, while Phil (outboard mechanic) drove. At times there was a bit of swell, making it a small adventure for people getting on and off the ship. Most of the kids seemed to enjoy the experience, and many Greenlanders are used to being out in boats so took it in stride. Overall, it was a great open boat day, with a constant stream of people waiting at the dock for pick up.

Nuuk is a proper modern city. It's got a Thai restaurant (and an Mexican one), a civic center, a museum, government and office buildings, public transportation and even housing projects. In fact, one percent of the entire Greenland population lives on one block here ("blok P"). Nuuk is also home to Santa's mailbox - a big red thing full of hopeful letters, visible from the ship.

Saturday, the crew got ashore for some bowling and walking around the town. Tomorrow we'll finish provisioning and meet with government officials, then head out to continue the science work.

- Andrew

Just after leaving Narsaq, Jason (scientist) went by helicopter about 25 miles west of the town to Sermilik Isbrae glacier, and brought back this photo. You can see the vegetation line 800 feet (245m) above sea level where the glacier was a century and a half ago. (Look for the dark green stuff in the upper right corner of the image.) Lichen and other vegetation are moving into the newly exposed territory, but much more slowly than the ice is receding.

Measurements of the glacier's height show that it thinned 395 feet (120m) between 1985 and 2000¹ - the largest documented thinning of any Greenland glacier. It used to also have a floating tongue extending down the fjord, but has now retreated back into shallow water where its front rests on the fjord bottom, right at the edge of the ice cap.

With our help, Jason set up an automatic camera that will take a picture of the glacier's front every four hours (during daylight). He will use these images to track how fast the ice is flowing down the glacier from the ice cap, into the sea.

The changes to this glacier were already documented before our visit, but are yet another sign that the Greenland ice sheet is in danger. If you want to help put the breaks on global warming, and you live in the U.S. (the world's worst global warming polluter), sign up to the Thin Ice Contest for ways you can take action.

- Andrew

During our visit to Narsaq, we heard some unexpected (to us) good news here on the front lines of global warming impacts. A small-scale hydro project is under construction just east of here that should free both Narsaq and nearby Qaqortoq from dirty, and expensive, diesel electricity generation.

For many communities in the northern and remote areas, most if not all, of their electricity is produced by burning a variety of diesel known as bunker fuel. This type of electricity generation is one of the most polluting ways to generate electricity (although less polluting than the coal used in a number of different countries like the U.S. that relies on coal for 60 percent of it's electricity production), both from local air pollution as well as from a global warming perspective.

From that perspective, Narsaq is no different than say a small community in the Canadian or U.S. Arctic. The diesel engines used here are 40-year-old ship engines. There are three of them - two are required to produce enough energy for the town, the third one for back-up and maintenance purposes. One would think that in a place like Greenland, people wouldn't suffer from air pollution related disease such as asthma, yet they do.

Generally speaking, diesel fuel has a high content of particulates and other pollutants, which are prone to cause respiratory diseases. In the case of bunker fuel it is even worse. These black diesel particulate emissions also coat snow and ice, making it less reflective and more prone to melting. Furthermore, like all use of fossil fuels, burning diesel creates the greenhouse gas carbon dioxide. So for many reasons the news of the Qorlortorsuaq small dam project, which should help these communities diminish their dependence on diesel power, is quite welcome.

The project consists of a small dam under construction just east of here that will produce 7.2 MW of power, enough for 5,000 people. Transmission lines will also have to be set up to then bring the power to Narsaq and Qaqortoq - hopefully allowing them to shut down their dirty diesel generators for good. This project has the other advantage of being able to produce energy at a much lower cost than diesel generation.

Greenpeace's position regarding hydropower is one of a case by case analysis. As a general rule, we don't like large dams because of the massive flooding they create, local populations they tend to displace as well as the fact they do emit, although less then fossil fuels electricity generation, greenhouse gases (through the decay of flooded vegetation for example).

In the case of small dams, the question that often arises is what is "small" - i.e. the amount of power generation (in MW), the area flooded or some other factor. In the case of the Qorlortorsuaq dam, 7.2 MW would be considered small by all definitions I have seen! Of course, the community needs here are also quite small.

Across the Arctic, there other similar interesting projects being developed such as the "Renewable energy for northern communities" program by the Canadian Government which aims to install hybrid wind and solar systems with conventional diesel generators to reduce communities dependence on fossil fuel. It's encouraging to see that the renewable energy message is reaching even the more remote parts of our world.

If only countries like the U.S., Canada and others could do the same.

- Steven

[Photo credit: Edvard Bach]

It's an oddity of living on board a ship that wherever you go, you bring your home with you. And if it's a Greenpeace ship, pretty much whenever you visit a town, the townspeople also get a chance to visit you. So it feels more like exchanging visits than just going visiting.

Today we exchanged visits with Narsaq. Our guidebook says the town's name means "the plain", although its landscape is a little bumpier than I associate with the word "plain". I would say "mountainous", "fjordish" or at least "hilly " would be more like it - but then maybe this is as flat as costal Greenland gets. At any rate, the town has a good harbor, about 1,800 people, houses in the usual colors (red, blue, green and yellow - very pretty), and icebergs just off shore.

The main industry here is the fish plant, and fishing is also a big form of recreation. They do get a few tourists, and you might be surprised to learn that some of them come for the fishing, which I'm told is excellent. They also have a mighty big hill (it would be called a mountain in some places). I'm told that part way up the hill you can find rare stones called Tuttupit, which range in color from pink to purple and are only found one other place in the world. Walking the surrounding hills is another favorite past time for both locals and tourists. Considering the spectacular landscape, I'd guess the views are worth the more than any precious stones you might find.

The local kids are keen on roller blading. During today's open boat, one of them was even cruising around the deck. Others were playing Attortaanneq - known in English as "tag" - chasing and hiding from each other. Here's a tip: favorite hiding place is behind the bridge chart table.

The adults here echoed the same disturbing news about a changing climate that we had heard in Ittoqqortoomiit - less sea ice, warmer water, a local glacier has visibly thinned, and Otto (our local guide and interpreter) told us that the weather has become more unpredictable, which is a very big deal if you are a hunter or fisherman.

Another local told us about a glacier fed, hydro power plant being built nearby to replace diesel generators. This is probably being done as much for cost reasons as environmental reasons. Either way, hydropower, when done right, is a highly reliable and environmentally benign source of renewable energy.

In a town this size it is easy to know where your energy comes from. In a big city, it can be less obvious. Where does your electricity come from? How much of it is generated from renewable sources? Try asking your power company these questions. No mater where you live, just letting your power company know a customer cares is important. In some areas, you can even choose to buy your electricity exclusively from renewable sources. In the US, also be sure to take part in the Thin Ice Contest.

- Andrew

Greetings from Narsaq on the west coast of Greenland. Yesterday at 3:30 a.m. the ship entered Prince Christian Sound, the eastern entrance to a maze of fjords that zig zag through the southern tip of Greenland and join the east and west coasts.

The other option for getting to the west coast was via open water around the tip of Cape Farewell. Much like Cape Horn and Tierra del Fuego, Cape Farewell is the confluence of three or four currents and some other nautical nastiness that I know nothing about, the bottom line being the conditions are really bad on a good day and utterly horrendous on a bad day.

Needless to say I'm glad Arne (captain) opted for the inside passage route which proved to be quite an excellent adventure, especially given it was Sunday and most of us had the luxury to gawk at the surroundings.

At any rate, we entered the sound when it was still dark. Now that we are below the Arctic Circle and are getting on into August it gets dark for a few hours every night (you would think this is a welcome occurrence but to me it just signals that the short Arctic summer is coming to a close).

The wind topped 30 knots as Peter and Texas maneuvered the ship into the entrance of the Sound. The ship heeled a few degrees to port because of the wind and that's no small feat since the ship weighs SOMETHING LIKE 900 tons. It was a full-on squall with sideways rain which can be lovely if you're tucked inside a strong, capable ship, warming your hands over a heater as you look out the window at the snotty weather.

I couldn't help thinking about the explorers who first entered the fjord 1100 years ago. They had no charts, no idea of where the route would take them, no radar or depth finder to show where the icebergs or rocks were located. Crazy stuff, especially in the harsh weather we were encountering. It's certainly inhospitable here and I tend to forget that when I look out at the world from the comfort and safety of this ship.

As the sun rose it became easier to see the dramatic cliffs on either side of the fjord. Huge waterfalls spilled from the cliffs, often the wind was so strong that it blew the raging streams back up, turning them from "waterfalls" into "waterups." Likewise, from a distance we saw a big tabular iceberg in the channel with what looked like four water spouts jetting out of its top. We couldn't figure out what was going on, but as we came alongside the berg we figured it out: channels of rain and melt water running down the sides of the berg were being blown back up by the wind, which at this point was gusting to 50 knots. Nick snapped plenty of pictures so hopefully you'll get a peak at what I'm trying to describe.

The entire fjord system was spectacular, lined by jagged peaks draped with glaciers and waterfalls. The water in the fjord was a gorgeous turquoise blue-green, and later in the morning the rain stopped, making it a lot easier to spend longer chunks of time outside. At one point we circumnavigated an island in the fjord system, which added another beautiful hour or so to the transit.

Later in the morning I huddled with some other folks on a small deck below the bridge where the life rafts and survival suits are stored. It's a great place to hang out because you're outside yet shielded from the wind (unless it's coming from the bow) and have a perfect vantage point for taking in the scenery. I feel like such a halfwit because it's taken me years to figure out that this "sweet spot" exists on the ship. Duh.

After six hours we got to the end of the fjord system and were on the west coast of Greenland. Lots of big bergs in striking shapes were floating around, the sky turned dark and the wind starting whipping up again, painting a very surreal picture. The sun poked through the dark sky here and there, casting a shiny veneer on the icebergs, some blue and some white, making them look even more stark against the black sky.

We reached Narsaq last night at 9:30 and I was already in bed when the anchor dropped. The early bedtime had nothing to do with waking up at 3:30 a.m. and everything to do with a major food coma brought on after dinner. Hughie had the bright idea of melting Mars bars (like a Milky Way bar in the U.S.) and pouring the resulting warm goo over ice cream. I'm not usually a big ice cream person, in fact, in the world of nutritionally devoid foods, I prefer salty bad things to sweet bad things any day of the week. But something happened last night and I gobbled down three bowls, which was lovely, but the after effects were anything but. Hughie also had three bowls full, but I guess that's more routine for him coming from Scotland where they deep-fry their Mars bars before eating them. Even so, as he waddled off to his cabin to sleep it off, he muttered, "I feel like a python that's swallowed a donkey."

- Melanie

Today I had an interesting experience. I accompanied a scientist up onto the ice sheet to drill for ice core samples. I'll make the distinction between glaciers and ice sheets by saying 82% (at least) of Greenland is covered by a massively thick layer of ice. At its centre it's 3 kilometres (1.9 miles) thick. That's the ice sheet.

When the ice sheet gets close to the coast, it squeases out between the coastal mountains. What is squishing out between the mountains are glaciers. So a glacier, big as it is, pales in comparison to the immensity of the ice sheet.

We were on the ice sheet on the east coast of Greenland. Just a big sea of featureless ice white landscape, stretching away all the way to the west coast hundreds of miles away. It was blindingly white. The helicopter pilot complained that the landscape was so featureless that he had a hard time landing, as it was hard to tell how far above the ice he was. There was no reference point. Just a smooth white surface as far as the eye could see.

The ice coring machine was driven by a small two stroke engine and consisted of a hollow tube which was called the auger and pipes which were added above it as it's depth increased. The auger was 1.5 metres (5 feet) long and cut a cylinder of ice about 10 cm wide x 1.5 metres (4 inches x 5 feet) long. Sections of pipe were added above the auger as it went deeper.

As it went deeper it became heavier and more difficult to retrieve. Once we drilled down a further 1.5 metres we stoped and pulled everything out of the hole to retrieve the bottom auger section.

The auger section contained the core sample. We carefully pushed the sample out of the auger. Then we measured it, weighed it, photographed it, sectioned it into 20 cm lengths, quarterede the sections, then recorded and bagged the quartered section. There were usually 5 to 6 sections per core sample. Then we would reassembled the auger and drilling pipe, adding another metre of drill pipe and started the process again.

We woke up at 05:00 a.m., got to the ice sheet at 05:30, and got back to the ship at 13:00 p.m. We worked steadily during our time on the ice and managed to drill to a depth of 11 metres. According to Jason Box (Ohio State Geography/Byrd Polar Research Center), the scientist for the ice sampling, we ended by drilling ice from the summer of 2003. Eleven metres of compressed snow and ice in two years! I'm impressed. But then again everything thing about Greenland leaves an impression on me.

peace and love,

phil

For the Bush administration, the answer to that question has been clear since 2001: "No." However, simply saying "No" to Kyoto seems to be a more and more difficult position to maintain for the White House. It does seem like the Bush Administration is being pressured on all sides: U.S. states and cities, leaders of the G8 and even members of the Republican Party are calling for action on climate change.

So far, Bush's response to this criticism has been a lot of hot air, and unfortunately the announcement made yesterday morning in Thailand is no exception. This so-called "Vision statement" has no specific objectives in terms of reducing the greenhouse gas emissions that are causing global warming. There are no indications of how this mechanism would work, or how much money is going to be invested in it, and the technological options proposed would please even the most anti-Kyoto forces in the world - like Mr. Bush's buddies at Exxon.

On the other hand, the answer to the question above should be equally clear to the 152 countries that have ratified the Kyoto Protocol: Kyoto has to be the only game in town. Why? Because it is the only global agreement with targets and timetables to reduce greenhouse gas emissions, because it took about a decade to negotiate and clarify all the rules, and finally because thanks to the Kyoto agreement countries around the world are starting to reduce their emissions. Countries should know that the minute we start signing side deals with only a handful of countries and where anybody can choose to do what they want to do, the global effort to tackle climate change becomes seriously compromised. And if I were paranoid, I'd say that's exactly what the White House is trying to do.

I can just imagine Canadian Environment Minister, Stéphane Dion, and our Prime Minister, Paul Martin, waking-up to news of this new agreement this morning, and being rather unhappy with their U.S. counterparts. After all, the vast majority of Canadians take great pride in the fact that we ratified Kyoto despite the Bush administration's refusal to do so.

Not only that, but Canadian officials are hard at work preparing the next United Nations meeting on climate change, which is set to take place in Montreal at the end of November. This meeting will be one of the most important one since Kyoto in 1997. It's the first meeting of Conference of Parties (countries that have signed and ratified the 1992 Rio Convention on climate change – which includes the U.S.) to ever take place in North America, and it's objective is to prepare for the next steps after Kyoto.

For the Canadian government, and most of the countries that have ratified Kyoto, the new U.S. lead initiative is nothing less than a slap in the face. Then again, it wouldn't be the first time. In 2001 when the U.S. announced it was pulling out of Kyoto, Christine Todd Whitman was attending a conference on the Kyoto Protocol with some 34 other ministers of the environment from all over the Americas (that conference was held in Montreal and hosted by Canadian Environment Minister of the time, David Anderson). It seemed Whitman failed, or maybe just forgot, to mention to anybody at the meeting, including Minister Anderson, the fact that the White House was pulling out of Kyoto. Clearly, he was not impressed.

But in July of the same year the rest of the world united and refused to let the Bush Administration 'kill' this important international agreement. We hope that this effort can be repeated, and that the U.S. administration can be convinced to take meaningful action and come back on board.

All of that being said, Mr. Bush and I do agree on one point, Kyoto won't cut it. Unfortunately, the convergence stop's there. For those of us concerned about climate change, Kyoto is only the beginning, since industrial countries must reduce emissions up to 80 percent by mid-century (compared to 1990) in order to avoid dangerous climate change.

- Steven

Steven is a Greenpeace Canada climate campaigner who joined us on July 25th. He has been fielding calls from Canadian press over the satellite phone about the global warming "Vision Statement" released by the White House. After Greenland, the ship will go to Canada.

Being an Indian it's hard to explain but I will try...home is the tropics, and the North was always the Himalayas. The roof of the world was Tibet... What a tiny picture of the world, eh? One email and it is split wide open. An offer to travel to Greenland with the Arctic Sunrise, I will never see the world in the same way again. How can you?

How can anyone who has seen life above the Arctic Circle? Heavenly it is, white clouds blanket you and blue skies peek through, promising a boundless outer world even higher. Ice floating along, sometimes like meringues soft creamy and crunchy; or like high mountains jagged and steep idly floating by, or are they journeying?

I had heard of global warming and climate change. They sounded like a real threat, but never did I REALISE it. There is an unimaginable difference between being told and realising! Realisation comes from experience and the understanding that comes with it. It's been dawning on me, like the Arctic summer sun shines after a long dark winter gently lighting up the horizon and then sharply ascending the sky... the boundless sky of knowing. Looking out here is like looking into our past.

It feels like this is the mother of the oceans, the birthplace of currents. I see it now...ice is life...it gives life little by little...and no one understands it better than the people who have lived here for thousands of years. The awe I feel for people here and the landscape that shaped them is as enormous and endless as the ice I see around me. It's a hard life but it's also free. An arctic explorer Knud Rasmussen said that true wisdom can only be found far from the dwellings of man. Could this be a ray of wisdom dawning in me?

A wisdom than shows me how important it is for change to come, how we are all responsible for the choices we make, to keep old traditions close and try and make place for the new.

We must protect our home, it's the only one we have, without bombarding it with things we create... because honestly we might be mighty but not mightier than mother nature... here, nature humbles me... shows me how puny we are and it's beautiful to feel that way. It is the truth. The arctic is a birthplace of life pure and painful. I shall always revere it and respect it, as being here illuming my world, which gets brighter and bigger everyday.

- Isha

We are sailing back down Sermilik fjord, passing hundreds of icebergs - some of them real giants. By all rights, we should be pretty jaded by now, having spent the past weeks staring at icebergs, glaciers and sea ice, but every now and then you still see something that knocks your socks off.

News of today's prize find spread rapidly through the ship. An iceberg made up of the kind of colors you only see in places like these; colors that are impossible to perfectly describe or reproduce. Even now, 9:30 at night and hours later, we're still arguing about what color you would call this iceberg. Personally, I'd say it was, "a very unusual shade of aquamarine".

Part of the reason icebergs are so fascinating is that each is unique, drifting, and ever changing as they melt. They calve off the glaciers that feed into this fjord, many of which are fed in turn by the Greenland ice sheet. So here you have ice, thousands of years old, making it's way out to sea. Some ice sheet fed glaciers in this part of Greenland are speeding up, and disintegrating, resulting in more ice being dumped into the fjords.

All of this (admittedly very pretty) floating glacier ice does not only add to sea level rise. It also dilutes the ocean, making it less salty - a difference you can taste in the fjord water here. Thermohaline (thermo = heat, haline = salt) ocean currents circulate water from the tropics up the coast of Europe - keeping its winters more mild than otherwise. The fear is that as more fresh water drains into the Arctic Ocean, it will weaken or shut down the "pump" powering this current.

So, in a seeming paradox, global warming could lead to a regional cooling of northern Europe, with major implications for everything from agriculture to summer swimming.

- Andrew

Parecia un domingo "normal", si se lo puede llamar asi a un domingo a bordo del rompehielos Arctic Sunrise, navegando por las costas de Groenlandia y empezando a ver hielo flotando por todas partes despues de un par de dias navegando a mar abierto. Se comenzaba a recortar la costa montagnosa en el horizonte, y desde la visual del barco, el hielo se cerraba bastante en la entrada al fiordo que era nuestro proximo destino.

Estamos recorriendo hace poco menos de un mes la costa este de Groenlandia, llevando a unos cientificos que miden la velocidad de desplazamiento de los glaciares. Instalan unas antenas satelitales, quedando registrado el desplazamiento en ese lapso.

Yo estaba, como decia, domingo a la tardecita tomando mate y mirando informacion tecnica del barco, en esta computadora sin "enies" y sin acentos, cuando se me acerca Phil el contramaestre y con su casi indescifrable acento neocelandes me anuncia: - Fraade, ngfngfrdfdging haauuunn jaalicaapta. -

Por un momento pense que lo que queria era ayuda para hacer algo en el helicoptero, "Tweety" como lo han bautizado hace agnos. Pero no, era mi dia de suerte y me iba a acompagnar a Hughie el piloto escoces, para ver desde arriba bien alto, por donde era mas facil pasar la barrera de hielo a la que nos aproximabamos.

Creo que tarde 3 segundos y medio en subirme al bicharraco, lleno de expectativas por ver y sentir como seria eso. A los pocos minutos despegamos de cubierta lentamente hacia arriba, luego de cola un poquito hacia atras....y todo a adelanteee !!!...tan inclinados que me parecia inexorablemente destinado a masticar el parabrisas. Pero no.

Desde el punto mas alto del barco, la distancia al horizonte visible es de unas 9,4 millas nauticas (unos 16 km), pero es muy dificil descifrar en donde el hielo esta mas concentrado por la perspectiva, que es muy al ras del mar. Nuestra tarea era encontrar desde unos 700 metros de altura, cual era el lugar mas despejado de hielo, tomar las coordenadas en el gps y pasarselas al puente para que ponga rumbo hacia ahi.... y asi se hizo.

Llegamos a la boca del fiordo en unos 20 minutos, y desde esa altura el hielo y los tempanos flotando parecian fideos flotando en una sopa, habia partes de la sopa sin fideos y esas fueron las coordenadas que anotamos. Pero cuando bajamos a unos 10 metros del agua el panorama cambio, y habia tempanos de unos 30 metros de altura y 50 de largo. Hughie amago a aterrizar (seria "hielizar"?) en uno y me dijo que se termino el viaje porque nos quedamos sin motor...por suerte fue su sentido del humor escoces.

Hicimos el trecho de vuelta al ras del mar y esquivando hielos, inolvidable.

Es inexplicable la belleza de estos lugares, montagnas rocosas aisladas unas de otras por glaci ares, y esas lenguas de hielo extendiendose hasta lamer el mar. Y el mar, otro espectaculo, sembrado de trozos de hielo de todas formas y tamagnos, a veces caprichosos.

Y tambien hay vida !...hemos visto ballenas, focas, osos polares...estos ultimos dependen mucho de los campos de hielo macizo que se extienden por el mar, es su habitat, el lugar donde consiguen su alimento. Desafortunadamente ese habitat del que dependen para sobrevivir corre peligro debido al cambio climatico provocado por las emisiones de gases de efecto invernadero. Por quemar petroleo, hablando en criollo. El hielo, segun varios estudios cientificos, se derrite y mas rapido de lo que parecia hasta ahora.

Desde hace mas de un siglo, todo el progreso economico y absolutamente todos los bienes que consumimos a diario -inclusive la comida- dependen casi exclusivamente de la quema de hidrocarburos, ya sea carbon, petroleo o en ultima instancia gas natural. Los gobiernos de los paises industrializados y especialmente el de los Estados Unidos de Norteamerica -primer productor mundial de gases de efecto invernadero con el 30% mundial- se niegan a hacer un corte en las emisiones y a poner un rumbo nuevo en la forma de obtener la energia para la sociedad entera.

Algunos numeros para pensar que encontre en el libro de Jeremy Rifkin, "La economia del hidrogeno":

Estados Unidos acoge a un 5% de la poblacion mundial, pero consume el 25% de la energia, y emite el 30% del total de gases de efecto invernadero del planeta.

En la actualidad hay 520 millones de automoviles en el mundo, de ellos, 132 millones se hallan en los Estados Unidos, cuyo parque movil incluye 1,9 millones de camiones, 715000 autobuses y 21000 locomotoras.

Cada ciudadano estadounidense emite alrededor de 6 toneladas de gases de efecto invernadero por agno (unos 6800 kilos de carbono)

Una persona trabajando 24 horas produce 160 kilocalorias de energia. Si traducimos a eso la cantidad de energia que usa el norteamericano promedio, resulta ser que cada ciudadano precisaria 58 esclavos energeticos trabajando 24 horas al dia los 365 dias del agno. Y para que esto se pudiera llevar a cabo, harian falta 3 veces mas personas que las que hay actualmente en el mundo

- Freddy

We have many pieces of highly sophisticated technological equipment at our disposal here on the Arctic Sunrise. One of the newest is our Lake-o-meter (patent pending). While it may look suspiciously like a length of rope with a shackle on the end, the Lake-o-meter (patent pending) is in fact a depth measuring system with a high degree of operational reliability.

The Lake-o-meter (patent pending) was invented to get a rough idea of how deep the melt lakes on Helheim glacier are. To deploy the Lake-o-meter (patent pending), the helicopter hovers over the melt lake, while the "rope" is lowered through an open door (obviously, seatbelts must be worn at all times). Naturally, the distance from the helicopter to the water's surface must be adjusted for. This can be done by using the helicopter's radalt (radar altimeter), visual observation, or (more accurately) checking where the wet bit starts as the Lake-o-meter (patent pending) is retrieved. If the last method is used, the Lake-o-meter (patent pending) must be "reset" between measurements (by letting it dry).

As silly as the Lake-o-meter (patent pending) might sound, it has a serious side. An average sized lake we measured was 14 meters (46 feet) deep, and only one of hundreds. These glacial lakes indicate surface melting, and absorb more sun than bare ice (thus increasing the surface melting further). The melt water also has a lubricating effect when it drains into the base of the glacier, causing it to speed up.

Faster glaciers lead to more sea level rise when, like Helheim, they drain the Greenland ice sheet. And the faster these glaciers flow the faster the ice sheet gets transported out into the ocean.

- Andrew

Goodbye Thomas.

We're anchored here until late Wednesday, and it's peaceful and quiet on the ship with the engine off. Well, peaceful and quiet except when deck work is in full swing.

Grinding and chipping and banging and painting... yes, even the painting is noisy. Not so much the painting itself, but all the swearing at the clouds of mosquitoes that have found the ship. Considering the scarcity of warm-blooded life in this area, we must look like a floating all you can eat buffet.

The spot we're in is a good compromise location with easy access by helicopter to both the Helheim glacier and Kulusuk international airport.

As scheduled, Steve Morgan, who has taken most of the photos so far, departed yesterday. He's replaced by Nick Cobbing, another UK photographer (who I worked with on the Rainbow Warrior a couple years ago).

Gordon and Leigh, the University of Maine glaciologists, left this morning. Sad to see them go, but glad that they got as much done as they did. In fact, they seemed very happy with the amount of research they were able to accomplish, and the dramatic discoveries of these past days. Best wishes to you both, and many thanks for answering my myriad questions.

And last but not least, we saw off Millie, our Greenlandic translator, and Thomas - a volunteer deckhand from Norway. Both will also be missed. In addition, to translating, Millie was invaluable for her advice as a Greenlander.

Thomas we picked up in Iceland. He had been sent by the Greenpeace Nordic office to help with work there, but put in so much hard labor that he was asked to stay for part of the Greenland tour as well. So on basically no notice whatsoever, he put the rest of his life on hold just to make a little bit of difference. It was great having you on board, Thomas, and Phil says to say that you'll be missed on deck.

If you don't have a month or more to spare to volunteer full time on environmental issues there are still plenty of other ways you can pitch in. Here's one - just turn off your TVs, computers, DVD players and the like when you aren't using them, rather that leaving them on standby. This alone can save hundreds of kilowatt-hours per year.

If you live in the U.S. you should also sign up for our Thin Ice Contest. Take action, win prizes, and help the U.S. go from being part of the problem to being part of the solution.

- Andrew

It's a beautiful Sunday. Warm enough that the hammock is out on deck for the first time this trip, but nobody's using it. Pretty much everyone who has the day off is hiking on shore. For some though, their duties are keeping them busy.

Hughie is working with a helicopter mechanic who's flown in for the weekend. Nearby Kulusuk is a major airport for East Greenland, so it's a rare chance to get some operational maintenance done.

Martina and Melanie (campaigners) somehow seem to be in meetings all day. Funny how you can take the campaigner out of the office, but...

Anyway, I sat down with Martina to talk about how this weblog is going. We're half way through the Greenland leg of the tour, so it's a good time to reflect on what has worked so far and what we could do better in the second half. If you have any suggestions, feel free to post them in the comments.

And if you've been following our tour, but haven't taken action yet on global warming now is also a good time to start. Weatherize your house, buy compact fluorescent light bulbs, ask your power company if there is the option to buy electricity from renewable sources. There are plenty of things regular people can do to help. If you're in the U.S., your action is especially needed. The changes we are seeing, and hearing about from Greenlanders, make it very obvious that we should all really be doing more.

Speaking of changes, Gordon and Leigh have finished their second set of measurements on Helheim glacier. They'll do two more sets, finishing up at around four next morning. Stay tuned and I'll let you know what the results are when we get them.

- Andrew

[Photo: Hughie sets the helicopter down on an iceberg next to the Arctic Sunrise during a test flight.]

It's a tense morning on board. People have been working around the clock. Hughie (heli pilot) woke up at three this morning when the light coming through his porthole changed. The fog was lifting. Gordon and Leigh, the University of Maine glaciologists on board, hadn't been to sleep at all - waiting to see if they could get out to the Helheim glacier. By 05:30 in the morning that the fog had lifted enough for Hughie and Gordon to go scout it.

This is something of a bonus glacier. Gordon and Leigh were scheduled to fly out from nearby Kulusuk on Sunday. But Gordon wanted to at least take a look at the Helheim glacier since the most recent satellite image of it is from 2001.

What he saw was dramatic enough to make them change their flight. Helheim glacier is visibly rotten, and giant pieces of it are calving off and floating away as it retreats. One crescent shaped iceberg, over a hundred meters wide and roughly a kilometer long, had recently broken away from the face. With the glacier crumbling this badly, Gordon wasn't sure at first if they could even conduct their research on it, but made a decision to at least try.

After setting up the usual base camp - with emergency supplies and a static GPS receiver on solid ground (to act as a reference point) - Gordon and Hughie returned to the ship for refueling and to pick up Leigh. Meanwhile, we had been sailing up the fjord through what Martina is calling an "iceberg graveyard". Pete (chief mate) carefully weaving through hundreds of them - some bigger than anything we've seen before on this trip.

The glaciologists didn't wait for us though. They are under pressure to return the precision GPS receivers because another research team is counting on using them. They soon headed off to the glacier.

Finding safe places to land the helicopter and deploy the receivers proved as challenging as feared. Even a kilometer and a half back from the front, this glacier was easily the most difficult to work on yet. As usual, Hughie never shut the helicopter down, always ready for a quick evacuation, and most of the receivers had to be attached to ice anchors to keep them from slipping off into a crevasse while unattended.

Now, the team is back on board, having completed their first round of measurements. They'll return to the glacier some hours later and redeploy the equipment in the same locations (marked with the antenna poles and pink flagging tape). By comparing the two data sets, they'll be able to see how fast the glacier ice is flowing - a critical question for the fate of the Greenland ice sheet, which feeds these glaciers.

It's important to learn more about how global warming is changing our world, but it's also important to act. If we don't rapidly reduce our greenhouse gas emissions by switching to renewable energy sources, global warming is only going to get worse. If you're in the U.S., the world's worst global warming polluter per capita, your help is especially needed.

- Andrew

You ever commute to work, and find your office building missing when you get there? That's probably what it felt like this Monday morning for University of Maine glaciologist Dr. Gordon Hamilton.

He was commuting to his place of work (a glacier of course) with Hughie, flying the helicopter, and Melanie, one of our campaigners in the back seat. Gordon, along with his PhD student Leigh Stearns, had already plotted exactly where they wanted to place their precision GPS receivers, a kilometer from the front of the glacier. But arriving at the research coordinates, Gordon discovered something was missing. "Yeah, it was quite a surprise when we came up here this morning," he explained later, "and found that as we flew over the way points marked for the survey grid, we were still over water and the calving front of the glacier was quite a bit further up the fjord."

Here's a satellite image of the Kangerdlugssuaq glacier. The older colored lines represent where the glacier ended based on aerial and satellite surveys. The dotted orange line is an estimate of where the glacier ends today, based what we've seen. As you can see the change is pretty dramatic. (Image courtesy of ASTER Science Team / University of Maine)

The Kangerdlugssuaq glacier has been surveyed using aerial and satellite images since 1962. In all that time (and very likely for quite some time before) its front has remained remarkably stable.

Now, over just a few years, it's retreated roughly three miles (5km). Previous research, done by NASA, had shown the glacier thinning at a rapid rate - about 33 feet (10m) per year. It had been a little puzzling to Gordon how the glacier could thin so fast without retreating. As he says, "Of course, when we flew over Monday morning, once we saw the quite large retreat, it started to make sense."

A fast flowing ice river

Plotting a new research grid, Gordon and Leigh went about the work of measuring how fast the ice that makes up this glacier is flowing downhill.

Work that was complicated by 20 knot winds, and a more chaotic glacial surface than any they'd ever been on before. Towering pinnacles ready to collapse, tiny landing zones, and crevasses hidden under the weathered surface by ice debris all hampered their efforts. Nonetheless, the science team spent far longer out on this glacier than any other on this trip - taking additional measurements to try and figure out what's going on here.

Their extra work paid off, though, and brought them another surprise. When this glacier was last measured, in 1995, it was flowing at a fairly speedy (for a glacier) 3.72 miles (6km) per year. Yet, preliminary results from Gordon and Leigh's survey suggest that since then it's speed has more than doubled, to almost nine miles (14km) per year - making it one of the word's fastest. As Gordon put it, "that's pretty staggering."

All this ice has to come from somewhere. In this case, as with many other Greenland glaciers, it's flowing from the Greenland ice sheet. Not that the ice sheet itself will disappear completely anytime soon. That would take hundreds and hundreds of years.

But if the Kangerdlugssuaq glacier is an example of what's to come, then it could go much faster than current models predict. In fact, we could be looking at several feet of sea level rise over the next hundred years - enough to wreck massive damage. More than 70 percent of the world's population lives on coastal plains, and 11 of the world's 15 largest cities are on the coast or estuaries. Weather patterns would also change as the ice sheet shrinks. And the millions of gallons of melted ice water would alter regional seawater salinity and global ocean currents. In short, if the Greenland ice sheet is in fact draining rapidly it will be a disaster of global proportions.

We'll keep doing our part by bringing you news from the frontlines of climate change, but we need you to join us in action. Everyone needs to pitch in, but if you're in the U.S. (the world's biggest global warming polluter per capita) your help is especially needed.

Find out more from Greenpeace and view video footage.

Find out more about the work of Gordon Hamilton and Leigh Stearns from the Climate Change Institute.

- Andrew

Unable to find a good anchorage further down, we traveled all the way to the head of the fjord. Pete (chief mate) is driving now. On the bridge with him are Hettie (second mate), Hughie (pilot), Gordon (glaciologist) and Dave (chief engineer).

You ever had a car full of people telling you where to park? It's a little like that. Hettie is being a good second mate - mainly keeping track of the distance from shore and water depth. Hughie has scouted this area more than anyone. Gordon is giving some advice about the nearby glacier, and guesses about the geology of the fjord bottom. Dave is simply taking an interest.

We end up parking in a tiny inlet around the corner from the Kangerlussuaq glacier, which means shorter heli flights and a larger margin of safety for the glaciologists. Judging from the landscape, our anchorage used to be under an offshoot of a different glacier - something the detailed area map seems to confirm. Melting glaciers are a clear sign of global warming, although we can't be sure about the one next to us since it's never been properly studied like Kangerlussuaq. Nonetheless, not many ships come here, and Arne (captain) guesses that we are likely the first ever to anchor at this spot.

I hitched a ride to shore on our jet boat - a handy thing for traversing ice choked fjords since it doesn't have a propeller to be wrecked by the ice - and walked out to a point at the edge of our inlet to shoot this panorama. The Arctic Sunrise is in the direction of the closer glacier, but blocked from view by some of the bigger chunks of floating glacier ice.

- Andrew

We are back in iceberg country and that means every six hours, either Martina or I need to count icebergs, estimate their size, and record the ship's location, sea and air temperatures. Martina did the 11 p.m. count last night so that meant the 5 a.m. count was assigned to yours truly.

Even though I'm a morning person, my first thought at 5 a.m. wasn't, "golly gee, I'm so glad it's time to wake up to count icebergs." My thoughts were more along the lines of not wanting to get out from under the warm duvet, rolling over and going back to sleep for another two two hours.

But get up I did. I figured that if I worked fast, I'd be able to complete the iceberg survey by 5:15, be back in bed by 5:20, and back in dreamland by 5:30. I went up to the bridge with that goal in mind and started in with my work. I grumbled to myself about being outside in freezing temperatures rather than in my bed, like a sane person.

As the survey work continued, I started to open my eyes to take in the view. The sun rose above the mountain tops at 5:20 a.m. and lit up the ice floes, icebergs and glaciers. The idea of going back to bed became less possible and more ridiculous, so I made myself a cup of coffee and spent the next two hours in the bridge, taking in the landscape.

Soon after, Texas (yes, that's his given name) spotted a ringed seal on an ice flow from his perch in the crow's nest. The seal looked up, took a gander around, wiped its eyes a few times with a flipper and then put its head back down on the ice to go back to sleep. Guess it's used to seeing this kind of view in the morning. It wasn't phased at all.

We've had remarkable luck with the weather. All of the crap weather has been confined to transit times while clear blue skies have opened up whenever we've had to fly the helicopter, undertake scientific measurements or document a story. It's been almost uncanny. Martina and I jokingly "ask" Arne for sunshine on the days we need it for our work. So far, every time we "ask," our request is filled, so she and I have started calling him "Captain Sunshine."

Despite the remarkable morning, it got better. Gordon wanted to do a reconnaissance flight of the Kangerdlussuaq Glacier and see how far up the fjord the ship could get to the spot he wanted to undertake measurements. I was able to go along for the ride and I must say, it knocked my socks off. First, the views from 200 to 1000 feet in the air were spectacular. I could go on and on about that. But what really blew me away was a gobsmacked Gordon who ranted on about how the glacier has disappeared, how it's collapsed, how the waypoints he'd chosen for setting up a base camp are now underwater, and how surprised he is in the changes compared with measurements taken two years ago.

We were back at the ship by 8:30am. Definitely the best morning I've had in a while.

- Melanie

It's 11:30 at night. The sun is just dipping below the fjord walls, and Arne doesn't like the drift of things.

We're anchored in a small inlet, and the fjord is chock a block with floating glacier ice. On the chart, I counted seven named glaciers surrounding this fjord, and I imagine they're all dumping ice into it. Everything from big mountainous blocks to tiny ice cube sized bits is in here with us, and all of it's moving.

One big floe in particular is against our bow, pushing us towards the rocky shore. No big deal as long as our anchor holds, but better not to find out if it will. So Arne has the main engines started, and off we head looking for someplace less crowded to spend the night.

Today on the glacier

The science team took their first round of measurements today on Kangerlussuaq glacier, located at the head of the fjord of the same name. This glacier is an exciting one for Gordon and Leigh (University of Main glaciologists) because NASA research in the mid and late nineties found that it was thinning at about 10 meters per year. According to Gordon, the melting of it is visible, and it has a messier look then the previous ones. Lots of crumbly bits. While scouting with the helicopter, Gordon and Hughie also saw a giant melt hole in the glacier, about 12 meters wide, and lots of little melt-water rivers.

This time, the science team is taking extra sets of measurements - deploying their GPS receivers in three staggered rows to get an idea of how the ice in this glacier is flowing. Although visually stunning, Kangerlussuaq glacier is proving the most challenging so far to work on. The team had a hard time today finding places to land and set up their equipment. Nonetheless, Gordon and Leigh want to spend longer here than originally scheduled because something interesting is evidently happening with this one. Gordon even took the unusual step of leaving one of the GPS receivers out on the glacier overnight. A little risky, considering the thing's approximately $30,000 (US) price tag. However, the spot he left it in looked stable enough, and it will give them some data about how the glacier's rate of flow changes over the course of a day.

Time to drag myself away from the scenery passing by, and get some sleep. It could be a long night for the bridge crew though. Sometimes good parking is hard to find.

- Andrew

A little note on the spelling of place names. As best I can, I am going to try and stick with proper Greenlandic spelling for place names from now on, but they won't always match what's in your home atlas. This is possibly down to the simple fact that they don't print a lot of atlases here. Based on the different books and charts we do have on board there are often a few different accepted ways of spelling Greenland place names. Usually though, they will all be pretty close. For example, the most common spelling I've seen for Kangerlussuaq is Kangerdlugsuaq. I've also seen Kangerdlussuaq. Simple, right? Feel free to post a comment if you have a question, or (God forbid) a spelling correction.

By the way, the word, Kangerlussuaq actually means, "big fjord" - a description I certainly can't argue with.

- Andrew

Ladies and gentleman, welcome to the real Arctic Sunrise. The most famously rolling of the Greenpeace ships. Picture a giant half egg floating in the ocean - that's basically us.

Our ship's hull was built without a keel so it won't be crushed if trapped the ice, but that doesn't improve the crew's comfort level in rough sea.

Not to throw numbers at you, but on the wind/sea scales, here's how it's gone so far today: 7/7, 8/6, 7-8/6, 7/6. The Beaufort wind scale goes up to 12. Eight is classified as a "fresh gale", which sounds pleasant enough, but means up to 40-knot winds. The sea state scale only goes up to nine, and at seven the seas are officially "high", meaning 12-20 foot waves. In reality it wasn't too rough for most of today, but when we turned and started taking the swell on the beam (from the side) it certainly woke me up.

Fortunately, the deckhands were busy yesterday, and last night, making sure things are properly tied down. In a way, a little rough weather like this can be a good thing as it makes you appreciate calm seas all the more when you have them.

Ice is nice

That said, we are all happy to have reached the ice edge again since a blanket of ice calms the waves. We're now about 50 miles from the mouth of Kangerlussuaq fjord, and just starting to wind our way in through the sea ice along the coast.

The water here is lovely calm, and in the distance I can see Gunnbjø Feld, Greenland's tallest mountain. With the sea ice you also find more seals and the like. I'm up on the bridge with my laptop. Arne and Cath (both on watch) have spotted two seals just while I've been writing this. Time, I think, to turn off my computer, and spend some a while this Sunday evening seal spotting myself.

- Andrew

[I snapped the photo above from the bridge. That's spray coming over the bow, and up the anchor pipe.]

I refer, of course, to that distinctive arctic plant eater, the musk ox (Ovibos mochatus) with its famously warm longhaired coat.

There are 103 of these shaggy beasts in this valley, or at least there were yesterday when Toke Thomas Hoye counted them. He's a PhD candidate with the University of Copenhagen, working at the station this summer, and musk ox counting is part of the job.

"I start on that small hill," he explains pointing at a hill some ways off. "From there I can see where the herds are and plan my walk." The walk covers a roughly 19-mile (30km) circuit through the valley, and at times there are almost 200 musk oxen in the valley - a healthy population level.

Today, Toke grabs his gear and we walk a short way past the airstrip to where a couple of older males are grazing. Toke uses binoculars and a tripod mounted spotting scope to count the musk oxen and classify them by age and sex. He can tell these are older males from the shape and size of their horns. When they're calves both genders look the same, but by the time they're a year old, males have small pointy horns coming straight out the sides of their heads and a lot of white wool in the middle of their forehead.

Global warming and musk ox

For Toke, the challenge of looking at the ecosystem as a whole is much more interesting than focusing on one species.

He stresses that because so many of the variables are interlinked the overall effect of global warming is difficult to predict.

What's more, there are still a lot of questions about musk ox behavior, and other variables, in the winter. The science station operates only in the summer, and research here in the winter would be a major logistical challenge, requiring funding they simply don't have.

What happens in the winter is an especially important part of the puzzle when it comes to musk ox because, as Toke described it, winter is the "survival bottleneck" for the animals. It's known that musk ox numbers in northeast Greenland can vary greatly from year to year. These changes in population seem to coincide with changes in winter temperatures, and oddly enough, warmer isn't necessarily better.

As Toke explained, "We have graphs in our mess room where the temperature declined nicely over winter, and then suddenly there was this blip of positive temperatures over a day or so and then it dropped back again." In fact, temperatures of 11 degrees Centigrade (52° F) were recorded for several hours in February this year. In general, this sort of thing is not a new phenomenon, but this year was the first time temperatures above freezing have ever been recorded in February.

You'd think in a place where the temperature gets down to -40 degrees Centigrade (-40° F), a few days of warmer weather would be a welcome development for the musk oxen. But the snow melted by the brief thaw soon refroze into a thick layer of ice - covering the ground vegetation that the musk ox depend on for food.

Winter is already the hardest time of the year for these animals, and many calves don't live through their first. If these ice crust episodes become more frequent it could spell disaster for the musk oxen here.

Going, going, gone

Almost half a mile away, two musk oxen see us and bolt - heading off at a good pace. We follow parallel to their course, but more slowly.

At the top of the next rise, they stop and face each other. "Have a look now, they might have a fight," says Toke. Sure enough, they run at each other and clack heads. After a brief shoving match, they walk on. This behavior was puzzling because there are no females around to impress. Toke thought it might have been a sort of stress relief response to being spooked. Soon we give up following. "Once they start to move, they move for a while," he explains.

Watching the musk ox jog off into the distance, I realize that what we have here is an allegory. Once you provoke a response, you sometimes can't control what happens next. And, small actions can have big consequences. All we did was cross an imaginary line, almost half a mile from the musk oxen. The difference between them ignoring us, and them running, was only a matter of a few steps across that line, but there was no way to know exactly where that line was until we crossed it.

The same could be said for global warming. If we keep adding greenhouse gasses to the atmosphere, at some point we might cross a line where feedback effects take over - continuing to heat up our planet no matter what we do from there on.

Of course, this is just an allegory. Reality is more complex. In reality, global warming is already happening - it's only a question of how far it will go, how much damage it will do and how much we can slow it down. In reality, there are also ways to move forward (renewable energy and energy efficiency) without changing the climate.

But the reality is also that business continues as usual, unless we make a real effort to change it.

- Andrew

Five of us from the ship were dropped off by the old hunting station. We were eager to see a little of the countryside.

The scenery reminded Melanie of back home, but that's only because she lives in Alaska. For me, this trip is the farthest I've ever been north, and it brings new sights almost daily.

Line Anker Kyhn, a Master's student in biology with the National Environmental Research Institute (Denmark) and our temporary guide, was waiting on the shore. She told us about her work, lemmings, polar bears, and how it was a little surprising to see a ship in the fjord at this time of year. She was right, it was unusual.

We had bet there would be less sea ice than the historical average - and we'd been right. Possibly just luck on our part, but we think more likely another example of global warming at work.

River crossing

At the river, Line turned us over to Henrik Philipsen, Logistics Manager/Base Commander (aka Philip 'the campground manager' as he his jokingly called), and returned to her work.

The river, fed by melting snow and ice, was fast moving and dangerously cold. The crossing procedure involved a tiny grey dingy, a steel cable, a blue rope, some carabineers, a pulley, a harness and a life jacket. Fortunately, it wasn't nearly as complicated as it looked, and we all made it to the other side without incident.

There I met another member of the logistics team, Marc Overgaard Hansen. Last year Marc was the station's cook. This year he is an all purpose handyman and rescuer (if ever needed). In between seasons, Marc is a Master's student in Physical Geography, and in his spare time here he tries to work out a way to sample snow density over the winter.

They've got good data for snow coverage, and a bit on snow depth - but the density of the stuff (which can vary with temperature, etc.) is a missing piece of the puzzle.

Base tour

After our successful river crossing, Philip gave us the grand tour. There are six main buildings (all painted "musk ox blue"), which house the store room, some accommodation, laboratories, showers (two), kitchen, mess and radio room. For safety, everyone leaving the base takes a VHF radio, and the radio sign-out sheet doubles as a log of who's in the field. With the base antenna, and a repeater that was placed by helicopter on a nearby mountain, the whole valley is covered. It's like having a cell phone, except that everyone in range hears your conversation.

There are also six tents, used for storage, workspace and living quarters (two bunks per tent). The best part of the tour was the unscheduled appearance of an arctic fox (while we were being shown the toilets). It was probably trying to sneak into camp to look for food, but would have been out of luck anyway. All the food and garbage is kept well secured. They don't want to change the diet of these opportunistic animals, or have them grow accustomed to finding food here. The curious foxes even nibble at pipe insulation and wiring to see if it's edible.

The only ground transportation (aside from a mountain bike) is a little amphibious eight wheeler. It's powered by an 18hp engine, and can cross land, snow, ice and water. Smiling, Philip told us how when the Danish queen visited, he was her "royal chauffeur". They keep the driving to a minimum though, and stick to the established track, because it's hard on the vegetation.

Fortuitously enough, our tour ended back at building one, which houses the mess and kitchen, just in time for lunch.

Lunch

Food is an important aspect of life in an isolated place like this. The researchers sometimes work together, but spend much of their time alone out in the field. Meals and even the clean up afterwards are an important social event. Today, eight people - almost everyone - joined us for lunch.

Toke Thomas Høye, a PhD student at the University of Copenhagen, is out counting musk ox. He won't be back until 3:00 the next morning. This is not uncommon since the staff here often work long hours under the never setting sun. Each one has a research program to follow, and sometimes their own side projects on top of that.

They know what a rare opportunity it is to be in a place like this, and take maximum advantage of it. For entertainment there is movie night twice weekly, a volleyball net strung between the flagpoles and a BBQ behind the mess building.

But, the general consensus is that on the rare occasion they get free time, the preferred way of using it is to, "walk to the top of something." Generally though, their only days off are when weather conditions keep them from doing their work.

How to get here

Everyone has their own story about how they ended up working here, but my favorite is Ulrik Nielsen's - he found his logistics job through the unemployment office. Not too bad. But don't be fooled. Zackenberg Research Station is an understandably popular place to work, with very few vacancies.

If you're a researcher, the biggest barrier to working here will likely be funding. On top of transporting yourself and your gear, just staying at the station costs 800 Danish Kronar (about $120 USD) per day due to the remoteness of the place. Plus, you'll need to convince the Danish Polar Center of your qualifications, and the merit of your research.

There's also heavy competition for the non-researcher jobs. This year they had only two open positions - logistics and cook. Ulrik (an Able Bodied sailor) and Malene (who has a Bachelor of Nutrition and Home Economics) had to compete for these jobs with about 200 other applicants. To get here, you need to really want to be here. So, it's no surprise that despite the long hours, mosquitoes, shared rooms, and isolation - nobody seems in a hurry for the summer work-season to end.

- Andrew

Standing a short walk from the base, I have a good view of why this place is unique.

I'm not looking at the snow topped mountains, arctic flowers, musk ox in the distance or blue water of the fjord - impressive as all those things are, you can find them in other Greenland valleys. Instead, I'm looking at the weather station monitoring temperature, wind speed and direction, precipitation (intensity and amount), snow depth and other variables.

Dr. Charlotte Sigsgård, a physical geographer with the University of Copenhagen (Denmark), is removing a black memory module where all of this data is automatically stored. This is her seventh summer at Zackenberg, where an on-going climate observations and research program - taking place around the valley, up the mountain sides and down the fjord - is in it's tenth year.

It's this long-term program that makes Zackenberg Research Station such a special place, but it is also particularly well sited for studying environmental variations.

Being in the Arctic, which is heating up almost twice as fast as the global average, the long term effects of global warming will likely show up here earlier than most places. The research area is also is amazingly pristine because so few people have ever been here. This is a remote location in the middle of the world's largest national park, and a special permit is needed to even visit.

The only human presence is the station personnel, and visitors with the small dog sled patrol. Great care is taken by station occupants not to disturb the area. All waste is carefully disposed of, or shipped out. Glass and metal are separated for recycling. Organic waste is shredded.

This specific location was also chosen thanks to its combination of geophysical variables. It is near the interface of the 'mid-Arctic' and the High Arctic regions, which means there are plants unique to both in the research area. There are two lakes, one with and one without predatory fish. The research area is snow rich in some parts, borderline desert in terms of precipitation, and still boggy in spots due to poor drainage and summer melted permafrost. The area of research also goes from sea level out in the fjord, to the top of surrounding mountains.

Physically, it's strange terrain to walk over - going from dry cracked earth with practically no vegetation, to boot sucking muck in just a few hundred steps. We're too far north for trees or even bushes. The ground cover is all very low. Lots of moss in the wet areas. There are also lots of, "Arctic poppies, purple saxifrage, Arctic willow and cassiope (a type of heather with tiny, needle-like leaves and lovely white, bell-shaped flowers)," to quote Melanie. Steve, our photographer, is obsessed with flower pictures - crouching down constantly to catch them at close range - so expect a flower slideshow sometime soon.

There is already a scientific consensus that human caused global warming is a reality. Scientists here and around the world are doing their part by studying how a changing climate will affect our planet.

- Andrew

People have been asking me about maneuvers with the heli, noticing that when in what (seems to them) the same situation, different maneuvers are sometimes conducted. To answer some of your questions, here is a basic introduction to what can become a very deep subject. If I told you that aircraft are in fact sucked up by a vacuum above the wings, and then went on to explain it, you might be a little bored. So, lets go with the KIS (Keep It Simple) approach.

Individually, the blades at the top of a helicopter are called the main rotor blades; collectively they form the rotor disc, which for all intents and purposes is a rotating, flying wing. When in flight, the main rotor blades of our helicopter (Tweety) turn at 480 rpm (revolutions per minute. Changing the angle of attack (pitch) of the rotor blades collectively, changes the amount of lift - how much they dig into the air. Digging them in less (by making them more horizontal) causes the heli to descend, digging them in more causes it to rise and requires more power. Tilting the entire rotor disc causes the heli to go in the direction of tilt. How the disc is 'tilted' is a complex explanation that would take more writing, than you probably have to time to read.

When flying, the primary concerns are weight and balance. You have a certain amount of power available, and if you exceed that, you will trash the engine - this can happen in about two seconds. The repair bill will resemble a lottery payout. This situation can be monitored at take off, and if you 'red line', you don't fly until you have got rid of some weight. Self-unloading cargo (i.e. people) is usually the answer.

When lifting from the deck you are in 'ground effect' for about the first six feet. This is when your down-wash is stopped by the surface and cannot dissipate quickly. This gives you more lift. Keep in mind that the rotor blades provide both upward lift, and directional propulsion so if you can get more of either from someplace else then you're working the blades, and thus the engine, less hard.

One method of gaining lift, is to get over about 40 knots (46 mph), that's when some aerodynamic wizardry takes over, and generates lift for you, but, in order to get there you have to stay in 'ground effect'. There are various ways of doing that, depending on the situation.

Dropping off the side of the ship, and using the water surface, to generate ground effect, is one method used to achieve this. If I can get into a headwind situation, that helps enormously (for example a 10 knot head wind means I only need another 30 knots of ground speed to reach 40 knots total).

The other method, which is also used to escape from small areas in forests etc., is a 'towering departure'. In Tweety, the blades rotate anti-clockwise. Naturally, the rest of the helicopter wants to rotate with them, but is prevented from doing so by the tail rotor. If, when lifting, I rotate the helicopter in the same direction as the main rotor blades, I decrease the torque effect, thereby diverting power from the tail rotor to the main rotor. I can use this power to increase the pitch of the main rotor blades, and generate more lift. When a reasonable height has been gained, I tip the nose over, and head downwards, using gravity to reach that magic 40 knots. Scary for first time passengers, especially if they don't know what's going on!

Now that we have taken off, we have to land. Take offs are optional - landings, on the other hand, are mandatory. Finding level ground is not always possible. If you land on a steep slope you have the worry of blades hitting on the high side, or worse still, one of your passengers taking a stroll up the hill, instead of down - this generates a lot of paperwork.

Another problem with landing on a steep slope is that if the top of the rotor head goes past a vertical line with the skid (that is if the heli is tilted too far over to the side), a situation known as 'dynamic roll-over' occurs as the gyroscopic effect of the rotor pulls the heli the rest of the way over. This will result in a hole being dug by the main rotors, providing a storage facility for the rest of the ensuing scrap, that is about a tenth of a second behind, to be buried in.

A method of avoiding this is to rest one skid on the ground (keeping the heli level, with the other skid in the air), and have people disembark. I like to know when people disembark, because, as you can imagine, the 'weight and balance' of the aircraft will change dramatically. It is important that crewmembers communicate very clearly with the pilot - especially if it's me. BUT - please remember to take off your headset as you disembark, people do forget - believe me

Balancing on logs, rocks, or ice - with the heli's skids perpendicular to the thing you're landing on - is another method. The basic weight of the machine is supported, and I am just balancing the mass, but again, as in the previous scenario, I like to know when people are departing - that way there are no 'surprises'!

A last mention, about something I am a bit anal about - DOORS. When you leave the aircraft they must be closed properly behind you, with the seat belt INSIDE, and clipped together. If I am flying along, and a door 'pops', I have to land. This may not be convenient. It also scares the living daylights out of me. And if a loose item were to get sucked out, and go into the tail rotor... lots more paperwork, but perhaps not for me and my crew.

I hope these facts and explanations have been helpful. Briefings are given to crews before a flight, but, if in the meantime you want to know anything, just ask, I will try and think of an answer.

- Hughie the pilot

[Hughie, a native of Scotland, has been flying fixed wing aircraft for 10 years, for Greenpeace and commercially. He put himself through helicopter training eight years ago with the idea of being a Greenpeace heli pilot, and has logged nearly 4,000 hours flight time. He has never lost a passenger, and in person is an easygoing kind of guy, except when it comes to helicopter safety.]

I've been through a lot of fire, man overboard and abandon ship drills, but I've never seen a crew muster on deck as fast as we did this morning, when the polar bear alert came over the ship's address system.

It was a big bear, or at least it looked big to me - but then this is the first polar bear I've seen outside of a zoo. Apparently, that the males can weigh up to 900 pounds. Majestic, even from a distance in fairly thick fog, that much I can say for sure.

I do wonder what the bear made of us. It was walking parallel to our course on thick pack ice, going the other way in no apparent hurry. Maybe busy hunting the two seals we saw a few minutes later. Of course, if I'd been out there on foot or in a kayak he might have decided I was breakfast instead.

At the time, we were about 65 miles (105km) from shore, and if you don't know polar bears, you might think it strange to see one this far from land. In reality, this is where they live for much of the year. Out on the pack ice. It's even common for them to go much further out than this.

Polar bears depend on the ice. It's where they hunt seals. They are no match for seals at swimming, but polar bears use a number of clever strategies to catch them anyway. They sneak up on seals basking near the edge of ice floes, break into the their ice dens, and wait patiently at breathing holes to snatch them from the water.

Like many arctic species, the polar bear depends on sea ice for its survival- ice that global warming is melting. Unless we reduce our greenhouse gas emissions, and soon, the wild polar bear could well be extinct in my lifetime. So, I'm glad I've seen one at least, but if someday I have grandkids I hope they get a chance to do the same.

Fortunately, we do have options - as individuals and as nations. We can push our politicians to sign and properly implement the Kyoto Protocol, choose energy efficient products, and demand a switch to proven renewable energy technologies, like wind and solar. If you live in the US, your help is especially needed - act today.

- Andrew

Greetings once again from the ice.

It's 9 p.m. on July 8th and everyone keeps asking when we are going to arrive at our next stop, the Zackenberg Environmental Research Station.

We left Ittoqqortoomiit three days ago and at that time, our ETA Zackenberg was tomorrow morning. But upon departing Ittoqqorttoomiit the ship encountered an unusually heavy amount of pack ice, and that delayed our progress quite a lot. At one point the ship traveled six miles in six hours. In open water we cruise along at nine or ten knots per hour, so the ice definitely thwarted our expected arrival time.

Not only has there been more heavy ice than expected, but we've also had a lot of what we call "our favorite three-letter f-word." FOG. At one point today the visibility from the ship was a mere 250 meters, and with fog like that, finding an open lead in the ice is virtually impossible.

Likewise, there's no need to climb 11 meters up into the crow's nest for a better view of what's out there because there is no view, no matter where your viewpoint is. That makes the going even slower.

Even though the ice hampers our progress, I still prefer to be in it than in open water. I prefer the more noisy slamming, scraping and jarring motion of the ship in the ice to the rolling and pitching of the ship when it's in open water. I don't get seasick when the ship is in the ice, and since my personal goal is to be on board for two months without puking, you can understand my fondness for it.

But it's more than just avoiding seasickness. There's a lot to see and observe since the ice is incredibly diverse in terms of each floe's size, shape, thickness, hardness, age, color, and how much of the ocean's surface is covered by it. You never know what you're going to see when you look out a porthole. The ship can move from thin to heavy ice cover in what seems like a moment.

But the best part of being in the ice is spending time in the bridge watching the captain, Arne, maneuver through it.

Moving a ship through the ice looks like playing chess, Pacman, and bumper cars, all at the same time. The ice is dynamic and seems alive, as if every floe is a member of an opposing team that's trying to outsmart you. Or the ice is a trickster that lays out a set of clues and then sits back, waiting to see how you will react.

Of course I write this as a layperson, aspiring cryophile (if that's even a word) and casual observer. I mean, Arne has been the master of ice-going ships since the 1980s, and when asked the number of times he's piloted ships to the Antarctic and Arctic, he gets a puzzled look on his face, scratches his head and then thinks about it for a while before estimating he's been to Antarctica 16 or 17 times and to the Arctic around ten times. Arne is a zen ice master and incredibly good at what he does, but above all else, he is very humble and modest about his experience, accomplishments and skills.

At any rate, it's been a few days since my last update so I figured I'd spend some time in the bridge tonight watching Arne "do his thing." My goal was to ask him questions so I could get an understanding of the various levers, screens, dials and other tools he uses to make his way through the pack ice. But in the end, I just don't have the mental glue for putting it all together. It'll take a lot more observation and understanding before I can wrap it all up into something that's coherent.

So I'll tell you what I do know: I have no idea when we will get to Zackenberg Station. And neither does anyone else. We will get there when we get there, and it's a matter of how well Arne can play the chess/Pacman/bumper car game against the opposing teams of ice and fog.

I have no doubt we'll be there soon.

- Melanie

We are headed north in thick fog. The ship is rolling a bit now that we are in an area with little sea ice.

Thom has the BBC on in the radio room. Crewmembers are stopping in to listen as work permits. Almost all of us have friends or family in London, and they are obviously foremost in our minds today.

- Andrew

It's the wee hours of July 6, 01:15 in the morning to be exact. Arne is up in the crow's nest maneuvering the ship through heavy pack ice in Scoresby Sound. At some point in the next five or six hours we will hopefully be out in open water, heading north. Martina and I are both at work on our laptops, trying to be productive since it's not worthwhile to even try and sleep with all the jarring and scraping from the ice.

The previous night, when we arrived at Ittoqqortoormiit, we moved the ship's clocks forward one hour so that we would be on Greenland time, and in the morning put up posters around the village offering rides out to the ship for open boat - from 15:00 to 17:00, and then again from 19:00 to 21:00. This should have worked out well since it gave the crew a couple of hours to see the village before having to get back to the ship to host open boat. But five minutes before the first open boat started, we found out that all (or most) of east Greenland is on Greenland time, EXCEPT for Ittoqqortoormiit, which sets its clocks one hour ahead. Honestly, I still don't understand exactly what happened, all I know is that we all got an extra hour of sleep last night, but we had a major scramble and some moderate pandemonium when our open boat started with most of the crew still ashore.

At any rate, the open boats were fantastic. Five hundred people live in Ittoqqortoormiit, and although I don't know what percentage of the town's adults came to the open boat, I know for sure that close to 100 percent of the kids visited. Twice. They loved it and so did we. The crew did a great job managing enthusiastic, energetic kids getting in and out of boats and around the ship, along with the many adults who came out to visit.

We also heard some heart breaking stories about the impacts of global warming on the village and their lives. The mayor talked about how much less food the hunters are able to bring in, now that sea ice appears so late in winter and breaks up earlier in spring. Likewise, he described how the dog sledding season used to start in October, but these days cannot start until Christmas because the ice is too thin to support a sledge and dog team. Although Greenlanders are used to adjusting to changes in the climate, the mayor said changes are now taking place so quickly that folks are unable to adapt.

I wish we could have spent more time at Ittoqqortoormiit, but we have a schedule to adhere to and one can never really tell what the ice conditions will be like until they're encountered. Weighing all the options, it's really best to lay down some tracks for Zackenberg and allow for a few "ice days" along the way.

- Melanie

Last night we arrived at Ittoqqortoormiit near the mouth of Scoresby Sound, and went to anchor a bit off shore surrounded by floating ice chunks.

One of the younger villagers paddled out in his kayak. He chatted with Millie, our translator, and took calls from shore on his cell phone. Yep, with a population of about 500, they have cell phones (about 300 of them), and high-speed internet access.

[So a special hello to anyone from Ittoqqortoormiit reading this. Thank you for letting us visit your village, and it was great talking with the many of you who came on board.]

About the village

The first things I noticed were the colorful buildings - blue, red, green and yellow - not clashing with the landscape but accenting it. The next thing I noticed was the sound of the dogs. You could hear them all the way from the ship - a yowling noise different from dogs back home. Once ashore, I got a closer look. They seemed friendly enough, but were working dogs - not the sort you pat on the head and throw a Frisbee. They looked tough, and like they had a lot of character.

Later I watched one of the villagers cutting up red meat for his dogs. The dogs watched too, with considerably more intensity. They howled in concert, working themselves up in a frenzy, but once fed quieted right down - not wasting time begging for more.

My hour ashore almost up, I headed back to the boat landing. On the way, I surveyed the town's layout. There was a church in the center, a small hospital (with a dental clinic), a little tourist office (they occasionally get tourist ships here) and a general store. Not much food in the store though. No fresh fruit or vegetables. You can't farm in this part of the world, and there's been no supply ship for months.

Later, discussing global warming, villagers told our translator Millie that years ago they used to hunt for almost all of their food. Now, because the ice has become too thin to hunt on for much of the year, they are now forced to rely more and more on store bought food.

Open boat

Phil (bosun) was shuttling people out in one of our boats, but it seemed like every kid in town was trying to get on board. Driving slowly to the ship, Phil let village kids take turns putting their hands on the wheel to "help him steer." You could see they loved it. On the ship, kids were everywhere - examining things, climbing ladders, and playing tag on deck. Despite all their rambunctiousness, I saw they respected the boundaries we'd set up. None of them went past the rope put across the stern to keep people away from the helicopter, and none of them went into roped off accommodation areas.

One Greenland custom is dropping in on friends for kaffemik (coffee) to celebrate special occasions. It's a nice way of wishing well, so we had some out for our guests.

Meanwhile, the kids went crazy over the apples Isha handed out. Many of the younger villagers spoke English. We talked about what it's like to work on a ship, and live in a Greenland village. I was only a little surprised to find out they have a disco here, and listen to a lot of the same stuff as in the U.S. One teenager with a big "50 cent" patch on his pants told me they like a wide variety of music. Apparently, Eminem's big, along with Metallica and pop music in general, but the only live music in town is traditional Greenlandic.

Unfortunately, we couldn't stay to hit the disco. (I'm guessing Tuesday is a slow night anyway.) We're eager to head north to Zackenberg station, where they've been studying the effects of a changing climate for a decade.

- Andrew

Normally, the only ice I see on the 4th of July is in a beer cooler. But this time I went for a walk on a big floating chunk of it.

What struck me most were the winding turquoise streams feeding in to pools so blue it startles you. Maybe to a Greenlander this scenery is perfectly common. For me, walking this frozen icescape was entirely surreal. So, how to describe this scene for those of you who'll never get to walk on sea ice yourselves? Well, if I am going to be perfectly honest, it was like the world's best ever arctic themed miniature golf course. Only better.

I will also say that it was surprisingly easy to get around on - not too slippery at all. There was a light snowy covering, which made for good traction, except over by the pressure ridge (where the ice has been scrunched up on itself), which had large ice granules - maybe from melting and refreezing.

Access to the ice was via a ladder rigged on the bow, which was wedged up against the ice. Several times, but fortunately not while anyone was on it, the ship drifted off - leaving the ladder hanging above open water. Mental note: always good to look down before climbing down. And, in case you're wondering, yes we could have used the helicopter or one of the boats to reach the ice, but in this case a ladder was more convenient.

Why do it?

An entire ship, with a crew of 27, doesn't stay parked for half a day just so the web editor can stretch his legs. This week, leaders from eight of the world's wealthiest nations (the G8) are meeting in the UK. We decided to send a message to help nudge the Bush administration towards joining the rest of the G8 nations in committing to legally binding reductions in greenhouse gas emissions.

It's not an easy job at all, but we were resolved to give it our best shot - mindful that we need to play our role as part of a much larger movement towards renewable energy. After a brainstorming session in the mess, and conversations with the U.S. office, the two messages pictured are settled on. Polar bears are only one of the many species threatened with extinction by global warming.

Personally, I liked the idea of using the U.S. flag, and doing this on the Fourth of July. I've always felt that Greenpeace is also part of a much larger movement of people committed to protecting and exercising freedom of speech. That the artwork was actually done by a Canadian, the guy in the polar bear suit is Australian and that there are a dozen more nationalities represented on board, seems entirely fitting. After all, people who really believe there are solutions to global warming, and who really believe in the power of free speech, are not confined to any one country.

- Andrew

I was up on the bridge all night helping out with a glacier survey we are conducting for a scientist at a university in the UK. The scientist arranged for a satellite picture of Scoresby Sound to be taken last night at 23:15. Our job was to count and document all of the icebergs in the satellite image.

The data we collect will be compared with the satellite photo, which in turn will help the scientist adjust his models based on the difference between what he sees in the satellite photo and the data we collect.

Iceberg behavior - how they travel and degrade over time - is an indicator of global warming. As the Greenland ice sheet warms, its glaciers move faster towards the sea and discharge more ice into fjords.

We took a photo of each berg and used the radar to measure each one's distance from the ship and the size at its base. We recorded each berg's GPS coordinates and its shape (tabular, sloping, dome-shaped, weathered or glacial). This took from midnight until around 09:30 this morning, so by the time we were finished, I'd been up for 24 hours and definitely needed some sleep.

Polar bear with an escort

So I hit my bunk for five hours and when I woke up, I trundled bleary-eyed up to the main deck, looked outside and saw Thomas in a survival suit escorting a polar bear by the arm across cracks and around melt pools in a huge ice flow. It was very surreal and quite an unusual sight.

When I went to bed earlier this morning, the rest of the crew set up two photo shoots that will hopefully be used around the upcoming G8 meeting.

Bernard (deckhand from Canada) used charcoal to draw a 14 x 18 meter (15 x 20 yard) polar bear and a 20-meter (22 yard) square United States flag on the ice flow with the words, "SAVE ME" beside it. While he was doing that, John (who works with Lonnie and Eric at One World Expedition and is on board helping us with logistics and safety) dressed up in a polar bear costume, and was photographed on the ice flow holding a banner that read, "SAVE ME." The polar bear suit looks fantastic but doesn't allow the wearer to see much of anything, so John had to be guided by Thomas, a deckhand from Norway, across the ice.

Even though it looked like a bit of a comedy to watch a person escorting a polar bear across an ice flow, the threat of global warming is very real and not too far off in the distance. If scientific models are right, polar bears could be extinct by the end of the century if warmer temperatures result in an ice-free Arctic in summer. That's in my lifetime. It's a very grim thought.

We are now crunching through ice toward Ittoqqortoormiit on the north side of the entrance to Scoresby Sound. Our ETA (estimated time of arrival) is some time before midnight. I'm looking very much forward to seeing how village life in Greenland compares with village life in Alaska.

- Melanie

We are getting ready to head out after a successful three days of research and documentation in this area. Gordon and Leigh, our guest scientists from the University of Maine, seem well satisfied with the data they collected. After analysis they should have a clearer picture of how these glaciers are reacting to warming temperatures. Getting this data wasn't easy though, or without risk.

To understand the danger involved in glacier work, you need to first know a few things about the nature of glaciers - mainly that they move, or rather, flow. That is, the ice of a glacier flows downhill somewhat like water, only much more slowly. Being ice, it doesn't act just like liquid water. Deep cracks and ridges form - especially towards the front (terminus) of the glacier where both of the ones they studied here flow the fastest.

As the Australian Antarctic Division's Field Manual puts it, "Crevasses are caused by the inelasticity of ice and snow. As the ice flows over obstructions or changes in the underlying terrain, it splits and cracks."

Think of water flowing over a rock in a fast stream. Now imagine if that water froze in an instant, but by the sheer mass of it still kept slowly moving.

Some details of the work

Different glaciers flow at different speeds. The interesting question is whether these glaciers are moving faster now than they have historically.

In some cases, glacier speed can be measured by satellite (this is part of Leigh's work), but in this instance the front of the glaciers are moving too quickly (roughly 10 meters per day) to be measured with periodic satellite overpasses - so on the ground data is needed.

To get this data, the science team use Global Positioning System (GPS) receivers, which get positioning information from between four and twelve satellites at a once - allowing for precision of up to one centimeter (.39 inches) after processing the data.

First the team deploys a static receiver on stable rock, to be used as a stationary reference point. Then five more receivers, with mushroom like antennas mounted on copper pipes drilled into the ice, are placed across the glacier.

To do this the team is brought on site by helicopter because ice this close to its front, the glacier is so riddled with crevasses, some hundreds of feet deep, it would be impossible (or nearly suicidal anyway) to cross by foot.

How and where

"Landing" might not be the exact right word for what Hughie (pilot) has to do on such uneven and potentially unstable ice. Perching maybe, or "hovering exactly at ground level" is a more accurate description.

Hughie picks the location itself carefully with input from John (logistics) or Gordon, who both have extensive professional experience in glacier work. The site needs to be big enough to set up the equipment at least a short distance from the helicopter, to minimize blow down from the propellers. It also has to be at least somewhat flat, and ideally will be slightly bowl shaped to keep people from slipping over an edge. One fortunate thing is that there is little snow in this wind swept part of the glacier since it's summer - so at least the cracks and crevasses are visible. No one goes any closer to the edge than is absolutely necessary, or stays on the ice one minute longer than they need to. In reality, the area they have to work with is often smaller than the hold of our ship, say 50 feet (15m) by 30 feet (10m), and the team usually gets their work done in under 15 minutes.

The entire deployment process has to be done twice for each glacier.

Each unit stays out for an hour or two, gathering positioning data, before being retrieved. Twelve hours later the units are re-deployed in the exact same locations on the ice (marked by pink flagging tape, yellow leftover banner material and the antenna poles).

The ice in this part of the glacier is too unstable to risk leaving the equipment out there for too long. After the second set of data is collected, everything is removed from the site.

Why it's safe

It isn't safe, not really. However, a combination of experience, training, proper equipment, and careful planning reduces the amount of risk to a small and reasonable level.

That said, there still is a certain element of danger that each member of the team has made a personal decision to accept because they believe in the importance of the work.

We are all driven to expand the base of knowledge about global warming - a base of knowledge that scientists world wide now agree indicates human induced global warming. The more we know about how fast our planet is heating up, and the impacts this will have, the better our chances of getting business and political leaders to take real action.

This is an urgent matter, and time is not on our side. Help is needed around the world, but because the U.S. is the world's largest per capita global warming emitter, we are making an extra effort to mobilize people there. If you are a U.S. citizen, join the Thin Ice Contest.

- Andrew

This place has probably ruined me for all the other fjords of the world. Where we are now is part of Nordvestfjord, and in addition to being part of the world's longest and widest fjord system it is also the world's deepest charted fjord.

More specifically, since yesterday we have been anchored in a branch of Nordvestfjord. There are no indications of depth marked on our chart for this apparently un-named fjord - meaning it has probably never been properly surveyed. It is (relatively) small, being only about 27 miles (44km) long, and there is a chance (though I think only a small one) that we are the first ship ever to anchor here. Certainly, around the corner, the branch leading to the face of Daugaard-Jensen glacier is chock full of glacier ice. Hundreds of chunks of it, ranging in size from little growlers to massive icebergs - all moving. Some of that ice makes its way into this branch as well, probably blocking it completely at times.

We do know, however, that we are not the very first visitors. On the hill nearby is what Greenlanders call an inussuk, a cairn in English, left to show that someone once before visited this place.

- Andrew

We are now in the world's largest national park, near the head of the world's largest fjord. The physical beauty of this place is so extreme that it challenges our ability to work and sleep. You literally have to force yourself to stop staring at all the icebergs, mountains and the rest of it, and get on with the job. I know it sounds crazy, but if you've ever been to a place like this I'm sure you understand - otherwise just take my word for it.

Unparalleled beauty or not though, the work has to go on, and as always there is quite a lot of it. Everyone puts in full days, and longer whenever needed. It's half past midnight here, according to ship's time, and the scientists are still out on the ice. For most of today the glacier was covered in fog, and there was a low cloud ceiling overhead - so they're taking advantage of the good weather while it lasts.

- Andrew

We made good time today. Finding not much ice in most of the fjord, we have arrived near its head - within easy heli range of the Daugaard-Jensen glacier.

In fact, Gorden, one of the glaciologists, and Hughie have just left to fly some gear in and establish a base camp.

The camp will be equipped with emergency safety gear such as tents, food and cooking supplies. There is always the risk that after dropping a team at the glacier, the helicopter may not be able to get them back off for a while due to bad weather, mechanical problems, etc. And we're a long way from any other help, so the glacier team needs enough provisions to safely endure an unscheduled stay.

More on the nuts and bolts of the glacier work in another update, but the bad news is you might have to wait for it. The ship will now go to anchor somewhere for a few days while the scientific work gets done. Unfortunately, there is a good chance that the steep sides of the fjord will block our satellite access so this update may be the last until we head out again.

-Andrew

John is on board in a combination logistics and wilderness safety capacity. He's also a member of the One World Expedition team.

After leaving Iceland, we have had a relatively smooth trip across the Greenland Sea North West to the East Coast of Greenland.

The good ship Arctic Sunrise has been a hive of activity in preparing the equipment for the summer in Greenland. Boats have been checked, the dry suits and lifejackets and all the polar clothing have also been checked, and plans have been made with the forthcoming science programs.

I have been involved with training personnel in glacier travel, and getting used to the specialized equipment. I have also been on "watch" twice a day for four hours. This involves keeping a safety watch from the bridge, checking lashings, doors and engine room, cleaning and repairs to equipment and assisting the navigator on duty.

The sea conditions have been fairly good with a following swell of about ten feet (3m) for the first two days. Then the first fields of sea ice were spotted, and we skirted these to seaward to maintain speed.

After about one and a half days in pack ice, we traveled into Scoresby Sound this morning. At about 08:00 we were in the large sound, about 25 miles (40km) southwest of the entrance to Hurry Fjord, about 37 miles (60km) west of the town Ittoqortoormiit. This fjord is the world's largest, around 219 miles (350km) long, 32 miles (52km) at its widest with a 17 mile (28km) entrance, and up to 4,785 feet (1,459m) deep. There are a series of smaller though still spectacular fjords linked to this great sound. We are flanked by mountains on all sides that reach 6,068 feet (1,850m) to the sky, with ice caps and glaciers alongside these peaks.

We are heading towards Nordvestfjord to conduct glaciology on Daugaard Jensen Glacier. This all depends on traveling around or through the rotting winter ice and pack ice, how long and far we will travel towards it before using the helicopter to transport us there.

The glaciology work, by two University of Maine scientists, consists of installing stakes in the glacier a bit over half a mile (1km) back from the calving front, and monitoring them by Differential GPS to determine the speed. This could take two to three days. Due to the dangerous crevasse fields, all participants need to be roped up for glacier travel. They would each wear boot crampons (12 pointed steel spikes attached to a strap-on steel sole), carry an ice axe and be roped together with dynamic climbing rope to arrest their fall in case they slip into a crevasse, a slot up to 820 feet (250m) deep.

It was beautiful and exciting to once again be looking at the surrounding mountain ranges last night in the beautiful golden twilight. Of course the coastline southward along the rugged Blosseville Coast brought back the very difficult conditions Lonnie and I faced in 2001. Steep 1,600-foot (500m) cliffs, bare rocks along the shores devoid of flora and relentless pack ice caused us a lot of heartache and sore muscles during long daily paddles between places to get out and camp.

Hopefully we will be able to start the glaciology work in the next day or two.

-John

Greetings from Iceland. Our ETD is 12:00, a half hour from now. Martina and I just downed our seasickness pills and are tidying up our cabin so that stuff doesn't get tossed everywhere. We also have to go hunt down some buckets because according to Arne (the Captain), "it will be a bit rough out there." For exactly how long, I don't know. He said something to the effect of the wind changing direction to come from the southwest after a while, which will mean it will be behind us and will make the ride a lot smoother. I'm not keeping my hopes up, though, and am ready for a few days of feeling pretty puny in my bunk.

We met with the mayor of Isafjordur yesterday. The whale campaigner, Frode, told us that the mayor is a fisherman and would probably dress casual for our meeting. I wore a jeans and a fleece, and felt kinda bad when the mayor showed up in a suit. Oh well.

We met on the bridge of our ship so it was pretty informal, anyway. Frode talked about how this is the third year in a row that Greenpeace has visited Isafjordur because we are conscious of the criticism that some NGOs visit, make a lot of promises and never return.

Martina talked with the mayor about the town's plans to establish a sort of climate research station here to look into sea currents and ocean temperature and how they are being affected by global warming. The mayor said how he's concerned about the impacts of global warming on the country's fish stocks. Some species of fish seek out a particular water temperature, and if the water temperature of traditional fishing grounds changes, then the fish may go elsewhere.

The mayor also told us an interesting story about how the town's new dock has been built half a meter (1.5 feet) higher than the old one since sea level will rise due to global warming. I chimed in that this kind of information is important for Americans because when we hear that global warming is affecting people, we will be motivated to take action.

This morning I reviewed some footage of a glacier expert in Reykjavik who said that melting glaciers in this country could lead to more volcanic eruptions. I'd never heard that before.

It is VERY interesting for me being an American on board this ship, coming from the country that's the biggest emitter of greenhouse gases and is also the most recalcitrant when it comes to dealing with global warming. The ship's engines just fired up so I am going to shut down this laptop and start stowing things for the ship's transit to Greenland. Next update will hopefully be while en route or, if it's too rough, from the calmer, ice infested waters of Greenland.

-Melanie

Today at around 1400 hours we started to enter substantial ice. I checked the GPS and we were a bit above 70 degrees north latitude. Floes now fill the landscape (seascape?) as far as the eye can see.

It's overcast but not at all foggy so we are going along at eight knots, a decent clip, weaving in and out of ice floes and occasionally bashing into one with a big thud that shakes the ship.

The energy on board - already high - has been cranked up a few notches by the ice. Everyone's wearing a grin and folks are circulating from the bridge to the bow, checking out the ice floes. We've seen some auks and some seals, and one seal entertained us by popping up about 10 meters in front of the bow, then swimming along the starboard rail and keeping up with us for a while before drifting along the side of the ship and diving, showing off with a splash of its tail.

This is Isha's first time above the Arctic circle, in sea ice, and seeing whales and seals. She is positively awestruck and describes feeling "numb with delight." That kind of excitement doesn't wane, at least not for me, and this is my fifth trip on this ship in Arctic waters. I feel the same kind of excitement and awe that she does.

Arne, the Captain, told me earlier today that he thought we would enter the ice at some point soon. He's got so much experience at the poles, I swear, it's as if he can smell the ice as we approach.

There were other signs that the ship was heading farther and farther north above the Arctic Circle. Everyone was issued cold weather gear from the ship's stores. Hot chocolate appeared in the mess. And the reading material posted in each toilet was switched from a briefing on heat stroke to hypothermia (if you want to make sure something is read, then post it in the toilet!).

We are still on the look-out for our first iceberg, and there is talk of starting another contest to predict the first polar bear sighting.

- Melanie

This is Andrew here, reporting in from the bridge of the Arctic Sunrise. This is usually a nice and quiet place to work when were at dock. Henriette, the second mate is my only company. It's as close to a private office as you can get on this ship.

Today Oddur Sigurosson, a geologist and glacier expert with the National Energy Authority, gave a briefing in the hold for crew and guests about the state of Iceland's glaciers. Why does the National Energy Authority need a glacier expert? Mainly because Iceland has a lot of hydropower dependant on glacier melt.

Let me tell you a little about glaciers. Glaciers, as I learned today, are not the static and unchanging lumps of ice. They are always changing, often in dramatic ways, especially surging glaciers. Surging glaciers compress build up mass and then "surge" - traveling downhill in bursts.

Non-surging glaciers are easiest for studying the effects of climate change. Their shape does not significantly alter, being somewhat parabolic, and the terminus (bottom end) only really changes. By measuring where the glacier ends, you know how much mass the glacier has lost. With surging glaciers you can also measure their decline, but need to factor in their individual surge cycle, which varies from glacier to glacier.

Sigurosson also told us that like most glaciers in the rest of the world, Iceland's are melting because of human caused global warming. The only questions are how fast and what we are going to do about it.

Want more glacier talk? Don't worry, there will be plenty more coming right here. Lots and lots more. Keep checking back.

-Andrew

Greetings from Anchorage, Alaska where the pace is frenetic as I prepare to board the Arctic Sunrise next week in Reykjavik, Iceland.

I have a long list of things to do, and at this point, I take tremendous pleasure in crossing things off my list.

This may sound totally lame, but one of the scariest things is contemplating two months without the internet and Google! The Arctic Sunrise relies on a satellite communication system for phone and email, and connecting to the internet is a prohibitive cost. With that in mind, before I leave, I'm downloading web pages on global warming, the Arctic, Greenland, renewable energy in the U.S., how the Bush administration works to derail global progress on global warming... those kinds of things. I know most of this stuff off the top of my head but it's hard to remember the details at times.

Then there's my personal life. I have a dog, so I've found a house sitter to stay with him while I'm away. I'm paying all of my bills for two months in advance so the utilities at my home aren't turned off. I'm letting friends know that I won't be around for the next two months, and explaining to friends here at home why I'm leaving Alaska (again!) for the summer. My pat answer is, "well, if you have to leave Alaska for the summer, then you might as well go north..." What else is on the list? "Make sure there's enough dog food. Pack enough dental floss. Will I need more than one hat? Where is my down jacket? Blank CDs will be useful, how many should I bring? Where are my adapter plugs for the ship's Dutch electrical outlets? Gosh, I hope I don't spend too much time being seasick. Where's that book on oil and gas industry impacts on the Alaskan Arctic? Remember to change the message on your cellphone..." It's a weird combination of things to think about.

But above all else, I feel absolutely honored and really excited to be on board the Arctic Sunrise for this next phase of Project Thin Ice. I live with many of the impacts of global warming here in Alaska, and I'm really curious to see how Greenland is affected by warming. Many of the crew on board the Arctic Sunrise have devoted their winters and summers to protecting the Alaskan Arctic from the ravages of global warming. It will be great to see familiar faces and continue our work in Greenland.

-Mel

I admit to knowing little about how to walk around safely on a glacier, being from Kansas, where we have a sum total of zero glaciers. Yet the task of ensuring that the Arctic Sunrise has the necessary equipment aboard to provide for the safety of anyone going out on glaciers fell into my lap, as my role in this project involves general logistical preparation in support of the ship. Thankfully, I had John Hoelscher from the One World Expedition at my disposal, a veteran of polar adventures. Drawing on his deep experience in Antarctica and north of the Arctic Circle, we set about preparing the Arctic Sunrise for the specific tasks we envision undertaking in Greenland this summer.

Overall, the ship is always provisioned with personal equipment for a variety of excursive purposes, including the basics for camping, climbing, small-craft boating, and, of course, being an ice-class vessel, arctic gear.

What the ship does not necessarily carry at all times is equipment needed for the specifics of this summer's journey: specialized gear designed to provide for the safety of folks visiting polar melt-ponds on remote glaciers. The surfaces of glaciers are highly varied, from smooth fields to tightly compressed fields of deep crevasses and rugged formations, and they're quite dangerous. Even if you're not planning to spend the night, you need to be prepared to, as weather can change dramatically, hindering flight options.

So with John's guidance, we reviewed what the ship had on board that would be used for our safety and travel kits, planning on being able to provide for a party of up to 7 people on the ice:

• Climbing Ropes
• Prussik Slings
• Crampons
• Bod Harnesses
• Ice Axes
• Snow Shovels
• Ice Screws
• Snow Pickets
• Carabiners
• Jumars
• Pulleys
• Figure 8s
• Helmets
• Cook Sets
• Heat Pack Heaters
• Charcoal Elements
• Distribution Tubes
• First Aid Kits
• Ski Goggles
• Sorrel Boots and wool liners
• Gaiters
• High Insulation Pants
• Jackets
• Body warmers
• Heat pads
• Stuff Sacks
• Teddysuits - Fibrepile
• Jackets - Fibrepile
• Pants - Fibrepile
• Wind Pants
• Sleeping Bags
• Backpacks
• Thermal Underwear
• Balaclavas
• Fibrepile Gloves
• Polypro Gloves
• Earhead Hats
• Polar Caps
• Gloves
• Mittens
• Socks
• Nylon Bags (with drawstring)
• Cook sets
• Fuel cans
• Repair kits
• Brown biscuits
• Matches
• Pots and pans
• Spoons
• Flares

A pretty good start - the ship had almost everything we need, and plenty of it. After counting up the number of each of these items available, we then searched our warehouse for what we needed to flush out our list. We sent the following to Amsterdam:

• 1 Large Backpack (for the rescue kit)
• 2 Static climb ropes, 1 dynamic climb rope
• 4 Harnesses
• 7 7mm leg-length prussiks
• 7 7mm waist-length prussiks
• 1 Pulley
• 8 Locking carabiners
• 3 12-point crampons
• 5 6-point (instep) crampons
• 1 Ice hammer
• 5 4m long webbing lengths
• 2 Belay plates
• 4 Rock pitons
• 4 Hand-held VHF radios
• 1 Wire ladder
• 7 Sleeping mats
• 2 4-season arctic tents

We needed to purchase only a few items on our list. We didn't have an ice hammer on the shelf and we were fresh out of rock pitons! We also needed 5 bivy bags; I called to price them out and the good folks at Mountain Hardware donated them in support of the mission, which was mighty nice.

With this list complete and John joining the ship, we should be ready to visit some glacial environments safely and securely during the tour.

-Nathan