Greenpeace

Much of the press coverage of the BP Deepwater Horizon blowout and oil spill in the Gulf describes the disaster as "unprecedented" when, in fact, it is not. Thirty one years ago today — June 3, 1979 — Pemex's Ixtoc I exploratory well suffered a blowout resulting in the largest peace-time oil spill in history. Some 3.3 million barrels (138,600,000 gallons) of oil spewed into the Gulf of Mexico over a period of almost 11 months until the well was finally capped on March 23, 1980.

Greenpeace has been bearing witness to the BP Deepwater Disaster and oil spill for the past month. Click here to read more blogs, view videos and more images.

The Ixtoc exploratory well blowout occurred in 160 feet of water. Yet much is being made of the fact that the BP Deepwater Horizon blowout that killed 11 people and is still gushing oil into the Gulf occurred in 5,000 feet of water. Indeed, the Obama Administration is putting the brakes on new exploratory drilling in deep water, but is issuing permits for new drilling in shallow waters. This policy move misses some important points.  

First, the Minerals Management Service issued a report in 2007 that shows blowouts are relatively common. As this report shows, from 1992 to 2006, there were 5,671 wells drilled in the federal waters of the Outer Continental Shelf, and 39 blowouts occurred, or one blowout per every 387 wells drilled.  

Second, the report shows that 19 of the 39 blowouts in this period occurred in water depths of zero to 200 feet.  

Of course the depth of the Deepwater Horizon blowout makes any response challenging. But stopping the flow of oil in shallow waters may not be any less challenging, as the Ixtoc blowout shows. The Timor Sea blowout in 2009 occurred in 250 feet of water, and oil spilled for more than ten weeks until the fifth attempt to drill a relief well was successful.  

The bottom line is that if we continue to drill off our coasts blowouts will happen, failsafe technologies and redundancies will fail, and oil will spill into the ocean. As conventional oil supplies are exhausted and oil companies turn to ultra-deep drilling and drilling in Alaska’s arctic and other non-conventional areas, the dangers and threats posed by oil drilling will increase by orders of magnitude. The issue is not deep water oil drilling versus shallow water oil drilling. The issue is oil drilling, period.  

Without a full ban on all new exploratory drilling in US waters, blowouts, death and large oil spills still threaten America’s coastlines.

President Obama pledged last week that under his administration all oil drilling will be safe. Greenpeace challenges the notion of  “safe oil drilling” based on this fact: At every stage of the oil lifecycle — from exploration to production and transportation — spills and leaks are commonplace occurrences. Even if not a drop of oil spilled, the oil is eventually burned, which contributes to global warming. From cradle to grave, oil brings with it enormous health, safety and environmental consequences. There’s just no such thing as “safe oil drilling.”

Luckily, we can get off oil. Greenpeace will be releasing its Advanced Energy [R]evolution report next week, showing how the US can reduce its oil consumption 80 percent by 2050 without turning to coal or nuclear power, but by relying on conservation and renewable forms of energy.

Pemex’s Ixtoc, BP’s Deepwater Horizon, and the Montara blowout in the Timor Sea are just three in a long list of tragic oil disasters that could have been avoided if the world had weaned itself from oil. The 31st anniversary of the Ixtoc blowout — while oil is still spilling into the Gulf of Mexico from BP’s Deepwater Horizon — should be impetus enough to start an energy revolution here at home.

As BP’s oil continues to spew unabated into the Gulf of Mexico, Shell continues to push forward with plans for exploratory drilling off Alaska’s Arctic coast. If Shell gets its way, it will begin exploratory drilling in July in the Chukchi and Beaufort Seas, home to polar bears, walrus, whales, seals and other distinctive Arctic species, as well as communities who have relied on these animals and the environment for their culture and subsistence for millenia.

Shell is scrambling to show that its plans are nothing like BP's. Shell’s 2010 Exploration Plan for the Chukchi Sea states, "a large oil spill, such as a crude oil release from a blowout, is extremely rare and not considered a reasonably foreseeable impact.” Shell dismisses the risk of a blowout, just like BP’s 2009 Exploration Plan downplayed the possibility of a catastrophic accident with the Deepwater Horizon, suggesting that it was unlikely, or virtually impossible, for an accident to occur. Yet 11 workers were killed and oil has been gushing from the well for more than three weeks, with no end in sight.

BP’s Deepwater Horizon drill rig was built in 2001 and heralded as state-of-the-art, ushering in a new era of exploratory drilling. In comparison, Shell plans to use a drill ship built in 1966, when Lyndon Johnson was president. Clearly, the risk of a blowout during exploratory drilling are very real, despite what BP and Shell say.

The BP Deepwater Horizon spill is in a temperate part of the country with substantial oil spill response infrastructure nearby. Yet BP’s spill response has been hampered by weather — choppy seas, wind, etc — and “cleanup” in open water has been limited to burning patches of oil or spraying toxic dispersants which merely break the oil into smaller pieces where it can still do damage to the marine ecosystem, not to mention the toxic impacts of dispersants on marine life.

To be blunt, the Deepwater Horizon demonstrates that it’s difficult to respond to an oil spill of this magnitude in the Gulf of Mexico, and “cleaning it up,” actually removing the oil from the environment, is impossible. On a good day, only 10-15 percent of spilled oil is actually removed from the environment. Estimates for BP’s spill in the Gulf are a fraction of that.

Now take the scenario of BP’s oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico and superimpose it where Shell wants to drill in Alaska’s Chukchi and Beaufort Seas. These seas are in the Arctic, where “summer” means temperatures hovering in the 40s, gale-force winds, week-long storms and heavy fog that restricts visibility. Sea ice is also a factor, in fact, Shell’s fleet of seven ships for Chukchi and Beaufort exploratory drilling includes an icebreaker. Some of the wells in the Chukchi Sea are up to 140 miles from shore. Most importantly, oil spill response capacity in this remote part of the world is a tiny fraction of what exists in the Gulf of Mexico, and oil spill “clean up” in Arctic waters is impossible.

The last time the oil industry conducted an oil spill response test in Alaska was back in 2000, off Prudhoe Bay in the Beaufort Sea. I observed the mock test from one of industry’s barges and a smaller response boat. Sea ice prevented the smaller boats from even leaving the dock, the test was a failure, and Alaksa state regulators acknowledged that. However, that was the last time the state required an oil company to test its equipment in a mock, open-water oil spill on the North Slope of Alaska where Shell plans to conduct exploratory drilling this summer.

Shell and the rest of the oil industry will say that oil spill response and “clean up” technologies have advanced since then, that they can deal with an oil spill in the Arctic, but don’t believe it. They rely on field tests where relatively small amounts of oil are released in controlled environments and then extrapolate from there. Moreover, none of their studies are peer-reviewed. The US Coast Guard calls an oil spill in the Arctic its “nightmare scenario,” and with good reason. As difficult as it is to respond to an oil spill in the temperate waters of the Gulf of Mexico, responding to an oil spill is fraught with problems in the Arctic, and “clean up”  is impossible.

BP’s Deepwater Horizon blowout and oil spill have already taken the lives of eleven people and caused as-of-yet uncalculated damage to the people, economy and environment of the Gulf. We can only hope that the horrible loss and damage from BP’s disaster is the turning point for US energy policy so that Alaska’s pristine Chukchi and Beaufort seas are protected from Shell’s drilling and spilling.

The Deepwater Horizon accident in the Gulf of Mexico is a disaster unfolding before our eyes. Eleven lives were lost in the initial explosion, and that incalculable loss is compounded daily as oil continues to flow from the wellhead despite efforts on the part of BP and TransOcean to quell it. No one can accurately predict how long it will take to cap the leaking wellhead: it could be a matter of days, weeks, months. And regardless of how long it takes to staunch the flow of oil, the impacts of the oil spill on the people, economy and environment of Gulf coast states will persist for decades.

Documenting the impacts of the Selendang Ayu spill in Unalaska, Alaska in December 2004.

Here in Alaska, the impacts of the Exxon Valdez oil spill that took place more than 21 years ago are still being felt by people, communities, and the environment. You can still see a “bathtub ring” of Exxon’s oil in Prince William Sound, and you don’t have to dig very deep to find oil lingering below rocks on beaches. Exxon Valdez oil is still being ingested by wildlife more than two decades after the spill, and many species have yet to recover.  

The phrase “oil spill clean up” is an oxymoron. In most cases, the lion’s share of spilled oil is not removed from the environment, it is dispersed, diluted, burned, or it sinks in globs, or it is left behind in one form or another to wreak havoc on the environment for years to come.

And let’s not forget the issue of corporate accountability — ExxonMobil hunkered down for the long haul, using every trick in the book to appeal, stall, and delay court cases seeking accountability or damages from the spill. In fact, one-fifth of the plaintiffs who sought damages for the Exxon Valdez spill passed away before the case finally went to the US Supreme Court.  

Regardless of where the fault lies with the Deepwater Horizon — BP, TransOcean, or some other entity — people who have lost loved ones or their livelihoods because of the spill will have to fight a long, uphill battle for recompense and justice.

On a related note, just last year BP and TransOcean aggressively opposed new safety regulations proposed by the Minerals Management Service, the federal agency that oversees offshore drilling. The impetus for MMS’s new regulations was a study that found numerous accidents occurring in the industry.

The tragedy we’re witnessing right now is but the latest in a long line of oil spills, be they from pipelines, tankers, or exploratory drill rigs like the Deepwater Horizon. Each accident brings with it Congressional inquiries, finger pointing, scathing editorials and public outrage, yet we as a nation are no closer to weaning ourselves from oil than we were after any other big oil spill. So long as we remain dependent on oil we will continue to pay the price in human lives, as well as in environmental and economic damage.

The Deepwater Horizon was lauded as a state-of-the-art “marvel of modern technology” when it was first deployed in 2001. The rig was able to drill at depths that were unthinkable a mere decade before. Let’s keep that in mind as the President, Congress, and oil companies propose expanding oil drilling in US waters — there is no technological fix when it comes to oil exploration, drilling and transportation. You can take action now to tell President Obama that it's time to break our addiction to oil.

Oil will spill, period. And it can’t be adequately “cleaned up.” Let’s hope the legacy of this disaster is not one of more oil drilling and spills, but of a meaningful shift away from our dependence on oil in order to protect human life, the economy, and the environment.

Images from April 28, 2010

The Arctic Sunrise left Kangerdlugssuaq Fjord on August 30 and has been motoring north up the east coast of Greenland since then. It's been a palette of greys outside — grey water, grey sky, grey fog. It's nothing like the unbroken weeks of sunshine we experienced in northwest and southeast Greenland. Here on the northeast coast all we've seen since leaving Kangerdlugssuaq Fjord is shades of grey. We haven't seen any clear skies, sea ice or icebergs to break the monotony of greys.


Click the image to view more "Climate Impacts" pics from the Arctic Expedition 2009 on Flickr.

Until this afternoon, when Arne, our ice pilot, alerted us to the presence of an “ice blink” on the port side of the ship. An ice blink is a bright stripe of white on the horizon between sea and sky that indicates sea ice, it’s actually the reflection or glare from sea ice onto low clouds. I have no idea why it’s called an “ice blink,” and neither does Arne, who is a walking dictionary on sea ice. Perhaps it has something to do with shutting your eyes most of the way — as if you’re blinking — and only having a thin strip of vision? Or maybe the word is derived from a Norwegian or Danish term that has to do with ice or glare? I have no idea. All I know is that the ice blink means sea ice, and sea ice means happiness.

Why does sea ice mean happiness? Because it tamps down ocean swells and waves and guarantees the Arctic Sunrise can motor along without the trademark rolling, pitching and corkscrewing of this keel-free icebreaker. This ship is built like an egg, and it's famous for making even the heartiest sailor seasick. For some reason I avoided getting seasick since leaving Amsterdam on June 12, but all that ended on August 31 when the ship hit some swells and winds that caused her to corkscrew – a motion that caused just about everyone on board to succumb to seasickness.

And seasick I got. In spades. At one point I could not even make it to the toilet down the alleyway, I just hunkered down on the floor of my cabin with a bowl. It was miserable, I tell you, and I swore to myself that I would never, ever step foot on a Greenpeace ship again. If there was a way to jump ship and get to land I would have taken it, I felt that wretched. It kept up through lunchtime yesterday, September 2 when the seas flattened out and, in the words of our Russian doctor on board, Valeriy, “I finally found the meaning of true happiness.”

The appearance of the ice blink this afternoon signals calm seas and means the worst of the transit from Kangerdlugssuaq Fjord to 79 Glacier is behind us. It also means we’ll soon arrive at 79 Glacier and the independent scientists on board will be able to continue their research on the complex interactions between climate change, oceans and glaciers in east Greenland. It also means we’ll soon be able to send more pictures, videos and eyewitness accounts of the impacts of climate change on Greenland’s glaciers to the public, media and policy makers, which in the end, is what keeps us all going. We can’t expect world leaders to come up with a fair, ambitious and binding climate policy in Copenhagen this December without us, the public, putting pressure on them to deliver the goods. And bearing witness to the Arctic meltdown provides the impetus for the pressure.

With so much at stake and so many people all over the planet doing so much to pressure their heads of state to make the right decisions in Copenhagen, the least I can do is to put up with a bit of seasickness. Looking back, it was over in a blink, anyway.

Today is August 22. We are mid-way through leg 2 of this Arctic Climate Impacts Expedition in Sermilik Fjord. We have been wildly busy since arriving in Tasiilaq on August 17, but things are going really, really well. We’ve been incredibly lucky: none of the problems that could have thrown a wrench in to our well laid plans - fog grounding the helicopter, heavy ice impeding the ship’s transit, scientific equipment breaking down – have happened. I chalk this up to “the luck of the Irish” since four of our crew are Irish - the chief engineer, media officer, helicopter pilot and videographer.

Since things are going so smoothly, I’m taking a few moments out of my busy day and have taken my laptop up to the bridge to churn out a blog. Here’s a bit of a running description of what’s going on from my vantage point.

The helicopter is about to take off to take a TV crew back to Tasillaq after they spent the night on the ship. The helicopter will pick up another TV crew in Tasiilaq, and bring them to the ship for their night on board. It’s 9am now and this is the helicopter’s third flight. The helicopter first started flying at 5:30am to take a team of glaciologists to Helheim Glacier to retrieve GPS units that are recording the glacier’s flow speed (an indicator of its melt rate, and in turn, the pace and intensity of global warming here in Greenland).

Off on the starboard side of the ship a team of oceanographers from the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution, led by Dr. Fiamma Straneo, are conducting “CTD casts.” “CTD” stands for “conductivity, temperature, depth,” three indicators in the deep waters of Sermilik Fjord that will help them to understand the complex dynamics of currents and how they deliver warm water to Helheim Glacier at the head of the fjord. The CTD cast is done with a device that is lowered through the water column on a metal line, using a winch that’s been welded to the deck just for this purpose. The fjords here in Greenland are very deep, and the CTD casts often go to depths of 2,300 feet. As one of the oceanographers described it, Sermilik Fjord is like a submerged Grand Canyon.


Here on the bridge, Captain Pete is trying to maneuver the ship through waters that are completely covered by ice at the surface. Huge icebergs float amongst the smaller pieces of ice, and as the ship moves through the ice, it sounds like a huge gin and tonic (Ok, Pete says it is more like a frozen daiquiri, but I maintain the gin and tonic comparison). He can take the ship through the smaller pieces of ice, the ship shoves them aside, but it’s impossible to shove or move the larger icebergs. When I went to grab my laptop out of my cabin I looked outside the porthole and just a few feet away was a solid wall of ice, the port side of the ship was sitting next to an iceberg that measured about 50 high. And that’s a small iceberg. We’ve seen icebergs that are so huge that they look like tremendous walls of ice, or small glaciers themselves. It’s unreal.

Because there is so much ice in the fjord, moving the ship is very slow going. The CTD casts are conducted in lines across the fjord in order to get a picture of water currents and movement. The ship is trying to follow straight lines across the fjord that are drawn on the chart, but in reality, it’s impossible to follow them due to all of the giant icebergs in the water. The ship’s actual course is a zigzag on the chart, not a straight line.

It is crazy beautiful here. After close to two months without sunrises and sunsets, it’s nice to be at a latitude where we can enjoy them again. We have been very lucky with the weather and the skies have been clear, so when the sun sets at night it casts a pink and orange glow on the ice in the fjord. Two nights ago we saw some faint northern lights that was also a treat.

After today we have three more days in Sermilik Fjord before departing Tasiilaq at the end of the day on August 25 and heading north toward Kangerdlugssuaq Glacier, and then on to 79 Glacier even further north up the east coast of Greenland. This period in Sermilik Glacier is our busiest, most hectic time on the entire three-month expedition, and so far it is going swimmingly well, better than I ever expected. The factors that guarantee a successful expedition in the Arctic are a good crew, and lots of luck. We’ve got an amazing team on board, even after almost three months on board together everyone is working hard and doing great work. All we need is for our “luck of the Irish” to continue to hold.