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