First thing this morning around 7.30am we were in our inflatable boat the African Queen racing towards the whale hunting vessel, the Kyo Maru that had its harpooned manned. Just as we got to its bow the harpooned fired and the whale was struck just below her (she looked very feminine) left fin. Our mouths dropped as we watched the harpoon line zigzagging in the water with the whale writhing like a fish caught on a fishing line hook for a good five minutes, meaning that the neither the harpoon nor the explosive device had killed her.

Our eyes and hearts could not believe what we were seeing as the whale repeatedly lunged out of the water a few metres in front of our inflatable. She was trying to swim away and stay on the surface to breathe but the harpoon and vicious wound in her side was pulling her down. For a moment when she looked straight at us, I saw straight into and through her eyes and could see her mouth gaping open appearing to let out a sound. She looked at us with immense suffering and fear and I knew that she was asking; "Why is this happening? Please help me."

It took two gunshots to her head from a crewmember onboard the hunter ship before she succumbed. The moment was filmed on camera forever and in our minds for a very long time - and I truly hope that no one ever has to view it. The merciless, violent brutality of this whale hunting is beyond comprehension. For the rest of the day I have been fighting back tears and afraid to sleep as then the silence will bring back the visual reality of this morning's horror.

Later on Mathijs and I swerved through the ice packs blocking the Kyo Marus harpoon fire for three hours. Finally the harpooner got his kill just 10 metres off our inflatables right side. It was one of three whales swimming together and by the look of it one of them was a baby. We had been protecting and praying so hard that these whales would swim under an iceberg or something. I managed to climb on top of the dead whales body when it finally surfaced and held its fin for a while before being blasted off by fire hoses. Then along came a small iceberg so I jumped on it and floated out of range of the fire hose jets coming from the Kyo Marus bow. I must admit the look of dismay I had on my face when I looked up at the whaling crew and they were looking down at Mathijs and I with smugness and laughter.

-Mikey 

(photo ©Greenpeace/Davison)

When I saw my first whale in the wild I cried joy-filled happy tears. I also cried today when I saw a family of three minke whales, one of them a baby, all swimming along together. But this time I can't stop crying, I can hardly breath and it feels like my heart is being strangled in my chest, for I have just witnessed the violent death of a creature so sublime, so exquisite and of such wordless beauty that I am now numbed by the extremity of my own selfish pain.

I was standing in the sun and icy wind on the bow of the Arctic Sunrise. Just ahead of us the whale hunter ship the Kyo Maru was in pursuit of the three minkes which were just swimming along doing what they do, heading somewhere with their own plan, for their own reasons.

Spirits were high onboard as already today our tiny little inflatable boat had foiled the whalers attempts to harpoon at least two different minke whales, both of which had escaped and disappeared into the pack ice. The hunter ship may be bigger and faster than our little boat but no matter how many fancy moves it made there was just no shaking us off...and then out of nowhere the three minke whales appeared and rather than the usual squeals of joy heard when whales are sighted, a tangible and almost visible shadow of dread descended...one boat and three whales...suddenly we needed a miracle.

For over half-an-hour the inevitable was postponed but there was no way to cover and protect all three whales. I stood on the bow of the Sunrise physically and emotionally frozen but with child-like hopes shimmering in the back of my mind. Maybe the whales would decide to turn 180 degrees and disappear? Maybe they would hold their breath longer than we ever thought possible and swim away unseen...

The grenade-tipped harpoon exploded like a cannon as it hit one of the whales. It hurt my ears and its fading echo was replaced by a primal cry escaping from my soul through my mouth accompanying the cries of the two other crew standing near me. I can only thank god that I cannot hear the cries coming from that sacred and exquisitely beautiful creature that was now being dragged from the water, away from its family and away from life...

-Lally

(photo ©Greenpeace/Davison)