After a long campaign, the United Nations banned “wall of death” driftnets in 1992.  Stretching up to 50 miles, these floating nets were notoriously indiscriminate, snaring enormous amounts of marine life.  The Japanese squid fishery alone was estimated to take over 41 million non-target fish, sharks, sea birds, marine mammals and sea turtles each year.  Following the UN’s ban on high seas drift nets, the European Union reinforced the move by banning their use in EU waters, and the International Commission for the Conservation of Atlantic Tunas further extended the ban to the whole Mediterranean.

Unfortunately, several countries are not respecting the ban.  Italy is probably the worst offender, with a large fleet of driftnetters operating in the Sicilian Channel, Tyrrhenian and Ionian Seas.  The Italian Government has taken some small steps to limit driftnetting, but in general they have chosen to look the other way.  We just got some good news, though.  After protests by Greenpeace and WWF, Italy just suspended their previous decree that Italian driftnetters would be allowed to operate up to 40 miles from the coast, which would have been in violation of international law.

 

Hard fought victories like the driftnet ban must be defended, so the Rainbow Warrior is patrolling the central Mediterranean to gather evidence on illegal activity, to be submitted to relevant authorities.  

The fishing season for bluefin tuna fishing has ended, and now the illegal driftnet season is in full swing.  Driftnetters target swordfish during their June/July spawning season, but the nets catch anything in their path – including bluefin. They operate at night, during the new moon, to make it difficult for fish to see the nets.  This is necessary because swordfish have highly developed eyes, aided by an exceptionally high density of blood vessels.  Swordfish are able to see far better in low light conditions than humans, to assist them in hunting for prey.

We are now in our target area, with what looks like a driftnet boat on our radar.  We’re going in for a closer look, and will continue to patrol throughout the night.  Our eyes may not work as well as swordfish, but hey, that’s why we’ve got binoculars.

For the oceans,

John Hocevar and the crew aboard the Rainbow Warrior

 

Greetings from the Rainbow Warrior!

We are out in the southern Mediterranean, working to prevent the extinction of bluefin tuna.  I joined the ship in Malta, and we have been patrolling the fishing grounds between Malta, Tunisia, and Libya since yesterday.  There are quite a lot of boats in the area, which is itself a big part of the problem – too many boats chasing too few fish. 

Bluefin are critically endangered, but continue to be sold in trendy high-end sushi restaurants like Robert DeNiro’s Nobu chain.  Bluefin stocks here in the Med and in the northern Atlantic are (mis)managed by the International Commission for the Conservation of Atlantic Tunas.  ICCAT consistently ignores the advice of its own scientists, making a mockery of the “conservation” that is ICCAT’s middle name.  Catch limits for this year were set at nearly double the levels recommended by ICCAT scientists to enable the species to recover.

The US Government is a member of ICCAT.  While the US role tends to be a positive one, it has so far been willing to go along with ICCAT’s mad rush towards extinction for one of the most remarkable creatures in the sea.  Weighing as much as a car, the warm-blooded bluefin is still capable of maintaining speeds of up to 45 miles per hour. 

This year, the big question is whether the US will seek to ban commercial trade of bluefin by proposing it to be listed under the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species, or whether it will continue to leave matters in the corrupt hands of ICCAT.   We’re out here confronting illegal fishing, and compiling evidence which we will share with relevant US and ICCAT authorities.

Things can get a bit tense, as the declining fish populations have created a sense of desperation among many fishermen here.  In 2006, French tuna boats blockaded the Rainbow Warrior in Marseilles.  Last year, Turkish tuna fishermen attacked the Arctic Sunrise, disabling our helicopter with lead weights. 

In reality, however, the measures Greenpeace is proposing may well be the best chance to save the bluefin AND the fishery: creating marine reserves to protect vital spawning areas, adhering to scientific recommendations, and closing the fishery until the species can recover.  Stay tuned, and I’ll keep you updated from out here on the front lines.

For the oceans,

John Hocevar
Oceans Campaign Director
Greenpeace USA

Copy, sign and fax the letter below to Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice, or use the text as the basis for your own letter.  Here’s why:

Today marks one week since the Nisshin Maru first caught fire, tragically killing one crew member and disabling the ship here in the Ross Sea.  The whaling fleet has given us daily progress reports on their repairs, but every day it is the same: we are told they are working to fix the Nisshin Maru’s engines, they would like the Nisshin Maru to sail out of here under its own steam, but there is more work to do so they cannot say when that will be.

Enough is enough. An entire week has passed and the Nisshin Maru is still sitting here, posing an unacceptable risk to human life and the pristine Antarctic environment.

It’s time to get the Nisshin Maru and the whaling fleet out of here.  The Japanese government’s decision to let the Nisshin Maru sit here for over a week is irresponsible and shows a lack of concern for the lives of those who remain on the whaling ships as well as the Antarctic environment. The Antarctic is a global common and is protected by the Antarctic Treaty System. As a signatory, the Japanese government has a responsibility to minimize and hopefully eliminate harm to the Antarctic environment.

The U.S. is also a signatory to the treaty that protects Antarctica, yet the U.S. State Department said today that it would leave the matter of the Nisshin Maru to the government of New Zealand.  The U.S. cannot sign a treaty and then choose whether it will act to enforce it or not.  The Bush administration has a legal and moral responsibility to intervene and do all that it can to pressure the Japanese government to get the Nisshin Maru out of the Antarctic.  Yet the U.S. has said it will stand by and defer this whole matter to the government of New Zealand.

The letter to fax to Secretary of State Rice follows. Please let her know that you care about Antarctica, and that you want the whaling fleet out of the Antarctic, for good.

Thank you.

Melanie



The Hon. Condoleezza Rice
Secretary of State
U.S. Department of State
2201 C Street NW
Washington, DC 20520

Via Fax: 202-647-2283

Dear Secretary Rice,

I am writing to request that you take urgent action to get the stricken whaling vessel, Nisshin Maru, out of Antarctica as soon as possible. The Nisshin Maru caught fire on February 15 and tragically, one crew member was killed. Since then the ship has been disabled deep in the Ross Sea with a reported 1,000 to 1,300 metric tons of fuel on board.

The Greenpeace ship Esperanza rushed to the Nisshin Maru’s assistance and has been standing by since arriving on February 17. All of the Esperanza’s offers to tow the stricken vessel out of the Antarctic have been refused.   The Japanese government must act to get the Nisshin Maru out of the Antarctic, whether it’s with a tow from Greenpeace or a tow from other vessels in the whaling fleet.

I am deeply disappointed that the U.S. has deferred the issue of the Nisshin Maru to the government of New Zealand.   Antarctica is a global common, and moreover, the U.S. has signed treaties designed to protect it.

I urge you to uphold the spirit and intent of the Antarctic treaty by doing all that you can to urge the Japanese government to get the Nisshin Maru out Antarctica as soon as possible to reduce and hopefully eliminate any further risk to human life and the sensitive marine environment.  The Japanese government’s whaling program threatens all marine life in Antarctica and therefore, this season must be the last.

Sincerely,


Your Name Here

This morning at 5:40am marked five days since the Nisshin Maru first sent out a mayday distress call. Since then, the ship has been sitting here, disabled, in the Ross  Sea.  Greenpeace has been on-scene with the Nisshin Maru for over three days to offer assistance, including towing the crippled whaling vessel north, out of the Antarctic.  All of our offers to tow the vessel to safety have been refused by the Japanese authorities in Tokyo.   We have been told that the whaling fleet will use its own vessels to tow the Nisshin Maru north, however, the Esperanza still remains the best-equipped ship for the job. Our captain, Frank Kamp, has ten years experience working on salvage vessels, including experience in the hazardous waters of the North Sea.

It’s not just Greenpeace that’s anxious for the Nisshin Maru to get a move on out of here. The New Zealand government has gone well beyond the bounds of normal diplomatic language to make the point.  New Zealand Prime Minister Helen Clark is clearly losing patience and said to the Japanese earlier this week: “My advice is if you can't see a way of getting the boat out of there without some help from Greenpeace or from somebody else, the world is going to be very upset if there is a spill in that area.”  She has also said that the Japanese government’s whaling program could be subject to a new wave of criticism if the Nisshin Maru spills oil into the pristine Antarctic environment. Other governments should be asking the same questions.   

It seems that Ms. Clark sees what is blindingly obvious: the only issue at hand right now is getting the oil-laden Nisshin Maru out of the Antarctic immediately. Unfortunately, the Japanese government has blinders on, and is more concerned about saving face and not accepting help from Greenpeace – a group that has vociferously opposed its high seas whaling program for decades – than with getting its ship out of this environment.  The Japanese politicians say they can tow the Nisshin Maru with other boats from the whaling fleet, but still, the Nisshin Maru sits here.  It’s a game of Russian Roulette and the odds get worse with every passing day.

In the U.S., the disaster caused by the Exxon Valdez running aground in Alaska almost 18 years ago sparked new state and federal regulations governing oil spill response and clean up plans. The problem with these plans is that they may look good on paper, but in reality, they don’t pass muster.  In my ten years with Greenpeace in Alaska, I have reviewed and commented on oil spill plans for offshore oil projects in the Beaufort Sea, a part of the Arctic Ocean just off Alaska’s north coast.   I’ve also observed “spill drills” where oil spill response equipment is put to the test in the Beaufort Sea.  

My experience and first hand observation is that oil spill response at high latitudes ranges from incredibly difficult to impossible, even in summer months with 24 hours of light and relatively warm temperatures that hover around freezing.   Even in the short polar summer, weather can be unpredictable and fierce, and pack ice is always a complicating factor.  Year round, extreme wind, temperature and ice conditions often make it too risky to human life to even respond to an oil spill in the first place.   And tricky broken ice conditions in spring and fall make response virtually, if not completely impossible.  

And what does “cleaning up” an oil spill really mean?  Even under optimal conditions such as a temperate climate, calm seas, no wind and oil response equipment close at hand, only 15 percent of the spilled oil is actually removed from the environment. The rest remains, smothering birds and other wildlife so that they die of hypothermia, suffocation or by poisoning through ingesting oil in an effort to clean themselves.   The 18-year anniversary of the Exxon Valdez is five weeks away and, even though Exxon Mobil declared the area “cleaned up” two years after the spill, numerous scientific studies show that it still poses far ranging problems for fish and wildlife, and continues to degrade the environment.    Indeed, when the spill first happened, scientists predicted the oil would be long gone by now. What they have found is that the oil is “weathering” away at a rate of three to four percent per year, which translates into the oil persisting in the environment for decades.  

It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that the only way to protect the fragile polar marine environments in the Arctic and Antarctic is to prevent an oil spill from happening in the first place. It’s time for the Japanese to stop playing Russian Roulette with the pristine Antarctic environment and get their crippled whaling vessel, the Nisshin Maru, out of here as soon as possible.

 Melanie

It's now Monday afternoon and we've been with the Nisshin Maru for more than two days. Luckily the weather is holding - it's calm by Southern Ocean standards with light winds, relatively calm seas and this morning there was even a patch of blue sky here and there. But we are still at 73 degrees south latitude and it is getting late into February, which means the clock is ticking and at some point soon, this area will start freezing over in earnest. There's pack ice 14 miles to the east of us and 20 miles to the southwest of us, and things can change so quickly here in terms of temperature and wind that ice conditions can change radically in a matter of hours.

The Nisshin Maru (and the Esperanza, since we are shadowing it and the fleet) drifted 30 miles to the north in the last 24 hours. Thankfully, the overriding currents flow north, pushing the disabled ship, the whaling fleet and us toward open water. But 30 miles is an insignificant distance given the size of the Ross Sea, an area that will be completely frozen over once temperatures drop.

We are in regular contact with the whaling fleet to provide updates on ice conditions.  They’ve thanked us for the information and have kept us posted on the progress of repairs on board the Nisshin Maru.  One of the things they’re trying to fix is the ship’s heating system. They’ve been working on an unheated ship for days and that won’t change until the system is fixed.  It's gotta be a nasty situation. In my experience, having spent a decent amount of time at high latitudes, being perpetually cold is a form of stress that affects not only your body, but your mind and spirit as well.

I'm feeling increasingly anxious and agitated as the days come and go and there is no movement on the part of the whaling fleet to get the disabled Nisshin Maru out of here. My agitation is not due to boredom or wishing I could be doing something else. I know from experience in the Arctic that at high latitudes, autumn can be a sudden flash of time that delineates summer and winter, and winter can come on suddenly and violently.  We’ve been here for over two days, waiting on stand by, even though we have the equipment and expertise to tow the Nisshin Maru out of Antarctica.   What are they waiting for?  

The Nisshin Maru still has, according to media reports, 1,000 or more tons of fuel on board, and the whaling fleet has hundreds of people dispersed between its seven ships. I can't say in strong enough terms that this is not the time to be bobbing around like a cork in the Ross Sea.  No matter how I try to think about it, I cannot understand why a decision was not made days ago to hightail it out of here as soon as possible. The Nisshin Maru first put out its mayday alert at 5:40am on February 15. That was over four days ago. They've waited long enough. It's time to start heading north out of these treacherous waters. Every click of the clock increases the risk that this slow motion disaster will take more lives and lead to an environmental disaster.

Melanie

Yesterday morning at 7am I was in the bridge with my morning coffee when third mate Zeger sited through binoculars the Nisshin Maru and other vessels from the whaling fleet.  As we got closer, we saw that the re-supply and re-fueling vessel Oriental bluebird was on one side of the disabled Nisshin Maru, while one of the catcher boats (the vessels with the harpoons the actually kill the whales) was on the other side.  Two other catcher boats were hovering near the Nisshin Maru.  On our stern was the US Coast Guard icebreaker Polar Sea. The Polar Sea was doing just as we were: getting closer to the Nisshin Maru to assess the situation.

At 8am we radioed the Nisshin Maru, but the ship did not answer, which was not a surprise given the ship had a serious fire and is most likely without power.  We radioed to the catcher boat, Yushin Maru, and told them we are  here only to assist in whatever way was required.  The Yushin Maru replied that it would be helpful if we could assess ice conditions in the area, and it may be helpful if the Esperanza helped them navigate once towing is underway.  Since then we have been standing by, waiting to see if the Nisshin Maru and the fleet are in need of anything from food, water and blankets to medical care or anything else. 

We’ve had a number of conversations with the fleet throughout the day where they have updated us on their progress and we have provided information on the location of the ice pack and ice-free waters. At around 3pm, the fleet contacted us to give us an update on their progress, and at that time they informed us that they had found the body of their missing crew member. 

Needless to say it’s been an emotional day.  My thoughts are with the crew member’s family and friends, as well as with the rest of the crew of the Nisshin Maru.  I can’t imagine how they must be feeling right now.  What a terrible tragedy. I will keep them in my prayers.

I have read many times about instances where tragedy and misfortune break down walls and transcend differences between people. I know that right now, my heart goes out to the people on the ships in the distance.  It sounds  like they are appreciative that the Esperanza is here, on stand-by and ready to assist, and that they would not hesitate to ask us for help if they needed it.    In times like these the walls come down and the spirit of compassion, kindness and cooperation take over. At least that’s how it feels from my vantage point. 

Yesterday the Institute for Cetacean Research issued a statement saying that the disabled Nisshin Maru would not accept any help from Greenpeace because we are “terrorists.”  I hope that the ICR executives sitting in Tokyo have finally come to realize that non-violence underlies all that we do, and that the “peace” in Greenpeace is an integral part of all of our words and actions.

Melanie

This afternoon (Feb 12) at 4:55pm the Esperanza received a distress call from the Japanese whaling fleet's unarmed sighting vessel, the Kaiko Maru.  

The Esperanza offered immediate assistance, heading at full speed to its position.

According to the Rescue Coordination Center of New Zealand, first reports stated the Kaiko Maru was "under attack." Later reports claimed a collision between the Sea Shepherd vessel Robert Hunter and the Kaiko Maru, with the Robert Hunter receiving a hole in its hull above the water line and the Kaiko Maru  suffering unspecified damage to its propeller.

We completely condemn any violent action by anyone. Potentially endangering lives in the middle of the Southern Ocean is completely unacceptable.  In addition, while these three vessels are engaged in a potentially life threatening incident, just over the horizon hunter ships with grenade-tipped harpoons could be killing whales. That is where the focus should be.

At approximately 6:15pm, the Rescue Coordination Center of New Zealand requested that the Esperanza "stand down,” which means we could stay in the area but not go near any of the ships.  We informed the Rescue Center that we would remain within VHF range in case assistance was needed.

Just now, at 8:15pm, the Rescue Coordination Center of New Zealand declared an end to the mayday by sending a fax that read, “seelonce feenee.” That’s the phonetic spelling for the French phrase that means  “end of silence. ”  In ship communication-speak, that means “enforced radio silenced is finished.” In plain English, it means the mayday is over and they’ve called it a day.

We now go back to the reason we came here: to stop the Japanese government from killing whales in the Southern Ocean Whale Sanctuary.

Melanie

Last night at around 11pm, the ship's engines were turned off to avoid having to navigate through ice at night. We spent the night quietly rocking back and forth, and as a result, I had my best night of sleep since leaving Auckland. I didn't wake up or move all night long, as evidenced by the neatness of the bedding when I woke up in the morning. I don't think I moved at all, which was a lovely change from the tossing, turning and rolling around in my bunk that usually takes place.

This morning when I got up, I could see the ice edge about half a mile from the ship. For me, that's better than coffee or anything else for jump starting a morning. Nothing (except for an ice sheet or a high latitude glacier) can beat the polar pack ice. I've been obsessed with it (and all things Arctic) since my first trip to the Alaskan arctic on the Arctic Sunrise in 1997. Since then I've buried my nose in books, research papers, news articles and just about anything I can find about the Arctic, as well as the people who have explored both poles in the past few centuries. It's fascinating stuff, and it can capture my imagination like nothing else. Up until now my obsession has focused on the Arctic since I'd traveled there, worked there and had a first hand "relationship" with it. I never thought I'd ever make it to this part of the world. Now I can feel my obsession shifting to include all things Antarctic, which means a trip to the book store when I get home and another pile of polar books amassing next to the bed.

A little while after I woke up, the ship entered the pack ice. I didn't have to look out the porthole, I could tell by the change in the ship's movement and the crunching sound of the ship's bow pushing large chunks of ice out of its path. The brash ice had formed a solid surface on the water that was punctuated by a mish mash of small and large pieces of ice, some flat, some more than 6m/20ft high, with slush-like ice forming a sort of mortar between the pieces of ice. The best part is watching this seemingly solid layer of ice move with the swell of the ocean…it's positively amazing, and very psychedelic. We saw penguins on the ice, which really drove home the fact that we're in the Antarctic. We also saw a few seals lazing around on ice floes, but I have no idea what kind they were. Yet another thing to learn about this part of the world...

It was tough to rip myself away from the bridge but I did just that since an important part of every morning is cleaning, and the showers were waiting for me. It was probably the happiest I've ever been while scrubbing down a shower stall, the ice buzz will be with me for quite a while. My face already hurts from smiling so much.

And today is Karli's birthday. So far I'm sure it's been a pretty good birthday given the pack ice and all. Now, if we can only find the whaling fleet today... that would be the best birthday gift of all.

- Melanie

On Sunday the ship started to roll and pitch again.  It started at 4am, or at least that's the time that the movement woke me up from a sound sleep and kept me up for the rest of the night.  The wind and waves increased for much of the morning so that by 11am, the ship was being pummeled by 10m/33ft swells coming from the starboard side, and the wind was regularly clocking in at the high 40 knot range with gusts into the 50s.  A lot of us were in the bridge hanging on to railings or permanently mounted objects, leaning to the right and then shifting to the left as the ship rolled 30 degrees.  I've finally gotten over my ridiculous fear that somehow the ship will capsize when it rolls, so I quite enjoyed it.

At around 11am Gavin, the videographer, fastened a camera (lens facing the ship) to the foremast. Once he was back inside Captain Frank turned the ship's bow right into the waves so Gavin could get some good footage of the ship plowing through some rough seas.  The ship stayed on that course for about an hour, and every so often the ship would ride up on a swell and then slide down into a deep trough, sending tons of water (literally) spraying up and around the bow of the ship, filling the entire deck of the ship's bow with water. It looked like a white water river flowing toward the stern and out the scuppers on deck.  Daniel, the photographer, was out on a bridge wing (the small decks on each side of the bridge) taking photographs and he got drenched by a wave... and that's 10m/33 feet up from the waterline!

The ship continued to pitch and roll all day yesterday.  It's tough to do much of anything in that kind of weather, which leads to a wee bit of boredom. I didn't mind it that much because I know that once we find the whaling fleet we'll be working full-tilt for days or weeks without stopping.  I also managed to get through the day without getting seasick, so perhaps maybe this is my first trip where I do indeed "get used to it" with time.

Last night we gathered in the mess to watch crew videos from past expeditions. The last one we saw was from last year's Southern Ocean expedition.  It included very disturbing footage of a minke whale that had been harpooned, had a huge gash in its tail and was thrashing in the water, spewing blood everywhere. It was really, REALLY tough to watch, and after a while it just got to be too much and I had to leave the room.  I can't believe the Japanese government has the chutzpah to call that "research."  It is so wrong on so many levels.  I mean, just what part of "Southern Ocean Whale Sanctuary" don't they understand?  But I can't direct all of my anger at the Japanese government since its governments like the U.S. who have stood by for the last thirteen years, failing to defend the Sanctuary, as well as failing to hold the Japanese government accountable for violating it. Surely the United States can do better than that.  It's high time for the U.S., and other pro-conservation governments, to put their money where their mouth is and put an end to whaling in the Southern Ocean Sanctuary. What are they waiting for?

This morning we saw our first icebergs - big tabular giants that looked like they had just calved off an ice sheet or glacier. They were stunning. And it just started snowing outside, which makes me feel more at home! Time to break out the woolly hat...

More soon,
Melanie

After two days of rough weather the seas have calmed down once more. Hallelujah! I barely slept for the two nights we were in rough seas, the movement kept tossing me around in my bunk. The bow crashing into the water when the ship pitched forward created a loud bang and made the entire ship shudder.  Not fun. I spent many hours looking at my watch and trying to will myself to sleep, which was an exercise in futility.   It was so lovely to get a full night's sleep last night, I went to bed at around 10pm and slept until 7. Sweet.

I was feeling so puny during the rough weather, my grand proclamation about making it through the entire trip without getting seasick went by the wayside.  Being seasick is a pretty miserable feeling, particularly when it seems like most of the folks on board are immune.  I have to keep telling myself that it's not a sign of weakness, that it's just a physiological thing.  Plus, I hear that folks who are physically fit and have good balance are more prone to seasickness, so I'll assume it's all of the yoga and running I've been doing that's contributing to the problem.  I wound up taking seasickness pills yesterday morning after being miserable for a full 24 hours, but the turning point about whether to take them or not was when I was told that Henk Haazen, a long-time Greenpeace ship person who now sails the Southern Ocean in his handmade yacht, gets horribly seasick and takes loads of pills for it.   There is nothing about Henk that is weak or puny, so I figured if he can get seasick and take pills, then so can I.

We're now officially in the Southern Ocean, having crossed the Antarctic Convergence (the line where the Pacific Ocean ends and the  Southern Ocean begins). It's pretty ironic that the seas are so calm now, I mean, I've heard horror stories about the Southern Ocean and so far it's been like sailing along on a lake with a gentle swell every once in a while. I’m sure I’ll wind up eating my words in a few days' time.  Things are noticeably colder now that we've crossed the convergence. I’ve stowed my sandals in favor of boots, and I don't go anywhere without at least one layer of polar fleece.   I have no idea when we’ll see our first iceberg but I'm hoping it'll be soon.  

This afternoon the crew is practicing putting boats into the water, loading people into and out of the boats at the pilot door, communicating with each other and the ship, as well as some maneuvering.  The practice is essential for fine-tuning equipment, finding things that need to be fixed or adjusted, and basically orienting themselves with the equipment and how it works.  Many folks have been on board for previous trips to the Southern Ocean, but even more have not, so it's an important orientation for everyone.   I spent the entire training on the bridge keeping track of who goes into what boat and when, which is a tad bit boring, but I know I won't always be on the bridge scribbling things down into a notebook.  It's pretty impressive to see the boats out in the water, it’ll be even better when they’re being used to stop the whalers.

More soon,
Melanie