Posted by nicole on 08/21/2006 2:19 pm

Our ships are having a very busy summer.

The newest addition to our fleet, Witness, is in Cape Cod promoting clean energy.

The Arctic Sunrise is involved in an action at a Dutch Port to stop pirate fishing right now. Trawlers operating in the Berents Sea often under-report their daily catches, and transfer parts of their catch unreported to reefer vessels. Our activists are onboard the Mumrinskiy, a Russian reefer ship that we believe is hauling black market cod.  We are preventing the fish from being off-laoded until a thorough inspection takes place.  The action is being used to highlight steps needed to end pirate fishing.

The Rainbow Warrior is in the Mediterranean, where we have really had our hands full lately. Earlier this summer, our efforts to confront the tuna mafia were hindered by the fact that there are so few tuna that no one was catching any. The collapse of blue fin tuna stocks has developed into a major story - and Japan has been implicated in taking three times its quota (and lying about it for years). The Warrior has also been pushing for marine reserves in the Mediterranean, and also took some time to work with Doctors Without Borders in delivering relief supplies to Lebanon.  And on the way to a press conference in Marseille, we rescued three sailors from a sinking yacht last night. The people are fine, but the boat is lost.

The Esperanza is Defending Our Oceans in the Philippines, where plans to highlight the threat of pollution to some of the world's most diverse coral reefs have coincided with the largest oil spill in the country's history. Greenpeace is working with the Philippine Coast Guard to assess and control the spill.

According to Joaquin Nava, the governor of the afflicted province, the oil spill has ravaged thousands of hectares of fishing grounds and marine reserves - the source of livelihood for a large number of his constituents. "We can only watch in horror how an oil spill can undo in a few days our initiatives which have taken decades to implement," Nava said, choking back tears.

- John 

Posted by jessmil on 08/21/2006 11:45 am

The following post is from Captain Bob...

Aug 16
It’s 7 a.m. and much nicer this morning with about 6-8 ft swells and 10 kt winds still coming from behind us. It’s mostly cloudy at the moment but looking ahead I can see sunrays filtering down in a few places. Our current ETA Newport is about midnight tonight. We will both sleep onboard the rest of the night and get up around seven to get the day started. I’ll be packing my things up to drive about two and a half hours south in my pick up truck to my home in Coos Bay. Willie will get started on quite a list of things that need to be accomplished prior to us getting the ship underway again. We are scheduled to depart in about 2 weeks heading south in the direction of Southern California. Once there, we will be seeking out Blue Whales and Humpback Whales to tag for satellite tracking. This tagging operation has continued to be a successful tool for the scientific community by providing data on exactly where these beautiful animals go and when. And, there is still so much more to learn.

Willie and I both feel that having been part of the expedition we are about conclude and part of those like this next one ahead of us is a real privilege. There is so much data and information to be gained and analyzed that will all help protect and preserve all the world’s oceans and all life the dwells within them. One can’t help but feel good about this kind of job.

It’s now noon and we are about 60 miles due west of the mouth of the Columbia River which borders Washington state and Oregon. We have about 110 miles left to the Newport Harbor entrance and that still looks like an ETA very close to midnight. The seas and winds continue to go down. That, along with the current going south from the Columbia River may start to help our speed a little. Every little bit helps. We just passed another boat from Newport and he gave us a call on the radio. They are out here Albacore Tuna fishing and doing okay. We frequently see and talk to him on the dock so it was kind of interesting to be this far away and this far off shore and cross paths. It was fun to touch base with him again and get caught up.

It’s 6 pm now and we have been doing 9 kts plus for the last couple of hours and now we are down to 8.4 kts. We have an overcast sky, the swells are down to about 2 feet and winds down to about 5 kts. The conditions are great now and I just saw another albatross. We are 30 miles off shore and 49 miles to the Newport whistle buoy.

It’s now 12 midnight and we can see the lights of Newport. We have 4 more miles to the entrance buoy and we’re both smiling. I still can’t see the light on the buoy but I know it will be any minute and I can hardly wait.

We are back, it’s 1:15 am, we are tied up and we are ready for some sleep. It’s really great to be back in Newport again. It will be even greater seeing my beautiful wife Shirley as soon as I get home to Coos Bay. It is with mixed feelings that I’m about to click on the “send” icon which will be like flipping the off switch to officially end this expedition. I sincerely hope that this is not the end of the story but only the end of a chapter in the story that will continue. Willie and I hope to be a part of the next chapter as well. To those of you I know and those I don’t know (yet) thanks for riding with us to port. It has been like having caring friends along with us even though we haven’t spoken directly.

In closing it is my sincere hope that you and all those close to you do what ever you can, large or small, to help protect our planet above and below the water. I wish you all the best till next time. Good night.

- Captain Bob

Posted by jessmil on 08/21/2006 11:38 am

The following posting is from Captain Bob...

Aug 15
It’s 7 am and the weather has come upon us. We have an average of about 8 foot seas and 35 kt winds. While we are rolling quite a lot it’s not as bad as it could be. The swell and wind are coming from directly behind us so it’s trying to push our stern to one side or the other. Our auto pilot has to work overtime and is doing great. At least we don’t have to deal with it from the side. That would be dangerous. I would have to change course if that were the case. Also the sun is in a mostly clear sky and that’s nice. This weather forecast said that this will last through tonight. Bummer!

It is often said that timing is everything and most people can relate to that. I went down into the galley, fixed a bowl of cereal (healthy type), came back up to the wheelhouse, did a quick scan of the area ahead of us and about 100 yards off the starboard bow I see a whale spout. After my double take it did it again. With so many “white caps” due to the high winds, it was amazing that I was able to see it. I saw two more spouts and then it retreated to the calm under the stormy surface. If you were 20 feet under water you wouldn’t know there was a storm above.

We just left the “traffic control” area that started when we entered Canadian waters. We had to check in by radio every so often at check points that they assigned to us. Also, every so often they would call to update us about other ship traffic in our course. It’s a nice service especially in congested ship traffic but I’m glad we are finished with the reporting. Now all we have is one waypoint left and that’s the one at the entrance to Newport. By this time tomorrow…we’ll be another day closer.

I sure hope Willie is able to get some sleep. He didn’t sleep well before he relieved me at 3 am so I hope its better this time. Just saw another albatross. I love watching them. He did sleep better and gave me a chance for a little nap. Willie saw some humpbacks while I was sleeping.

It’s 11:45 pm now and the sea/wind conditions are still the same, as expected. We are currently about 85 miles off shore and 80 miles north of the Colombia River. Hope things settle down soon ‘because this is getting old.,br> By this time tomorrow we should be pretty close to tying up in Newport, OR our home port. I’m really looking forward to sleeping in my own bed again but after 8 weeks at sea I expect it will take a little getting used to being on solid ground again. I’ll tough that part out though with no complaints.

- Captain Bob

Posted by jessmil on 08/21/2006 11:34 am

The following posting is from Captain Bob...

Aug 14
It’s a nice morning again with patchy clouds and some dark ones straight ahead on the horizon. Hopefully they will be gone by the time we get there. We are still on the inside of Graham Island and headed south. We had some heavy rain for a little while last night and I had to briefly change course to pass the north bound Canadian Coast Guard Cutter Vector. The slight wind and wind waves that we have now are coming from directly astern and we are making 8.7 kts. Not bad and I hope it lasts.

9 pm and the day passed as above. It got sunny in the afternoon and stayed that way till sunset. And it was a very nice sunset indeed. We have just passed the northern end of Vancouver Island and set a direct course now for the entrance to Newport, OR harbor. Current ETA 2 days, 2 hours and 35 minutes, but who’s counting? Me!

Since we are back on the ocean side of land we have rejoined the ocean swells. They are coming from the northwest and have us rolling quite a lot. I expect we’ll be tired of rolling like this by the end of these 2 days, 2 hours and 25 minutes. But what fond memories there are to reflect on during that time. Willie and I were talking about some of them today and we are both hopeful we can do it again next year. Many good things were started on this trip and it would be great to see them continue and grow.

- Captain Bob

Posted by jessmil on 08/21/2006 11:27 am

The following posting is from Captain Bob...

Aug 13
Willie let me sleep an extra hour again this morning. As I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes to saw a small island. LAND! What a beautiful sight. As I took over the watch from Willie so he could go down and get some sleep, I saw an albatross, the first one in weeks. Those birds are a work of art in themselves. Their wingspan to body ratio allows them to glide with great efficiency. They can ride the wind currents just inches above the water surface and seldom have to move their wings except to adjust to the gentle rise and fall of the swells. It’s like poetry on the wing.

As we slip into Dixon Entrance, the area at the northern end of Graham Island we are encountering some current. For a very short period we slowed down to as low as 6.7 kts but mostly 7.5 kts plus. It looks like the currents should turn soon and aid us during the next 10 hours that we need to travel before we will turn south on the inside of Graham Island toward Vancouver Island. Once we make our turn south it will be about 230 miles to the northern end of Vancouver. Then we’ll have about 400 miles, (about 2 days), to the entrance to Newport, our home port.

The currents did turn and did help us for a while up to 9.5 kts. As we were ready to make our turn to the south we noticed on the radar a line up of what looked like about 10 salmon fishing boats right where we needed to go. So I slowly headed for one end of the line and then one boat near that end changed course and gave me a clear path through. Nice guy. By the way, fog settled down so not much visibility now.

It’s 10 pm now. It’s dark and I can see a cruise ship on the radar that is headed north and passing about 5 miles off my port side. I know it’s a cruise ship because I heard them talking to the Prince Rupert Ships Traffic Control. As it turns out, because of the size of the ship, I had to go under their traffic control as well. I have to call them on the radio as I reach certain check points that they provide, tell them my current course and speed and then they give me the next check point. I’ve never had to do this before so it’s another new experience to add to this trips “list of firsts”.

The water here on the inside is smooth and the wind is about 5 kts from behind so we’re cruising along at a nice 9.3 kts. It’s a nice evening cruise and Willie just went down to get some sleep.

- Captain Bob

Posted by jessmil on 08/21/2006 11:05 am

The following posting is from Captain Bob...

Aug 12
Go figure! It’s midnight Saturday morning and we’re 259 miles to our next waypoint at the north end of Graham Island and I have a container ship 1.4 miles off my port side that just crossed my bow. It’s a container ship headed for Anchorage. All this space out here and we come this close to each other. That’s a little bit like walking for hours into the back country somewhere and stepping on a piece of bubble gum. Well, that happened to me once too but that’s another story.

I woke up on my own this morning at 5 am and Willie had let me sleep an extra hour. Nice guy. The sun is shining through a patch of blue sky, seas are down slightly and the winds are down substantially, at least for now. They are forecasting a little higher sea and wind this afternoon but down again for this evening. By this time tomorrow we should be inside Canadian waters and headed south inside the protection of Graham Island. I hope it’s as nice going south through there as it was going north at the start of this trip.

Well it’s 9 pm and getting dark. The winds are down to about 5 kts and the seas down to about 4 ft. The ship is very slowly rolling back and forth and Willie just went down to get some sleep before his watch. He should sleep well. Skies are overcast with some dark clouds but it’s been that way most of the afternoon. Only 90 miles to Graham Island and we’ll be there in the morning. It will be nice to see land again after 3 days in the open waters of the gulf.

- Captain Bob

Posted by jessmil on 08/15/2006 3:18 pm

The following posting is from Captain Bob, who is onboard in the Bering Sea...

Aug 11
Well, today is a day that sea lovers like me don’t usually care to talk about or think about. The weather system that I was hoping to get a head start on caught us already and it’s a little more than we were expecting along with heavy rain. Poor Willie had the 2 am – 6 am wheel watch and when I woke up at about 5:30, while trying to keep from getting tossed out of my bunk, he was standing in front of the captain’s chair bracing himself on three sides. I say poor Willie because it’s his time to try to sleep and in this weather it will be extremely difficult at best (as some of the expedition crew can attest to). The ship is safe enough but if we need to move around it means holding on with both hands and leaning on the wall all at the same time. I’ve changed course to try to minimize the rolling and pitching. Hope it helps Willie to sleep though it will extend our travel time a bit.

Willie read my blog for yesterday and when he read my comment about “I need a haircut” he made some smart remark about being lucky that animal control in Kodiak didn’t catch me. What a wise guy.

In the afternoon Willie relieved me on wheel watch so I could take a nap. By late afternoon when I took the watch again the sea conditions had changed directions a few more times and Willie had us right back on course and route again. We are about half way across the Gulf of Alaska now and I guess this means that we’re on the down hill portion.(Unfortunately the speed hasn’t improved on the downhill side.) We are just passed a number of undersea mountains referred to on the chart as Gulf Of Alaska Seamount Province.

The seas and winds are still up but the rain is gone and there are a few patches of blue sky to remind us that there are better conditions ahead. I’ll be glad to see them again. However, with the sun shining on the high seas with the high winds pushing the tops of the waves like sparkling white frosting, one can even find some beauty in the midst of a storm and know that this too shall pass.

We have just less than 300 miles to reach the north end of Graham Island in Canada. We should reach there sometime Sunday morning. It’s 8 pm, still light outside and Willie just went into the engine room to do his regular check up rounds. I can see him in the safety TV monitor we have in the wheel house. There are cameras in the main engine room and generator engine room. As I watch him meticulously go through and check everything I realize what a sense of security I feel with him being here and responsible for keeping this ship running. I’m really glad he’s here both as a mechanic and as a friend. It’s like, together, we can do anything and go anywhere the ship can take us. I look forward to those times and places we’ll travel to for research in the future.

- Captain Bob

Posted by jessmil on 08/15/2006 2:21 pm

The following posting is from Captain Bob, who is onboard in the Bering Sea..

Aug 10
At about 10 o'clock last night I quickly brought the engine down to an idle and took it out of gear to just drift and watch 3 Humpback whales up close. I first spotted the blows straight ahead and then watched them as they all, one right after the other as though on queue, arched their backs and raised their flukes and dove like in a graceful water ballet. It was beautiful and Willie and I stared in wonder and both spoke out our Wow's. A couple of minutes later the whales surfaced within 100 yards off our port side and then just laid there and rolled slowly around for a few minutes like they were resting. Then again, as though on queue, they did their ballet and slipped quietly below the surface. I then put the boat back in gear and we move on. I wish that everyone might someday have this kind of an encounter with these magnificent animals because there are no words that can do justice to describing the personal experience.

There are so many treasures that we have in the sea and on land that we simply must find a way to protect and manage them. If we use, and not abuse, the great renewable resources we have on this great earth they will last and support our needs for all generations to come. Finding alternatives to our non-renewable resources should be of highest priority in everyone's mind though I can understand it may be difficult for some living from one day to the next. I believe that our leaders should be held accountable for their responsibilities to protect and govern and if they don't…get someone who will. I know, easier said than done.

I’ll get off my soap box. Last night and today we’ve had some swells come up from our starboard quarter and as those that were on the trip know, that creates a lot of rock-n-roll and can make it very difficult to stay in your bunk let alone get any sleep. This afternoon it came down a lot so it’s much better now. Willie relieved me on wheel watch so I slept great for a couple of hours this afternoon which made up a bit from last night. We’ve got some overcast and a little rain. The weather forecast suggests that we may have a weather system coming up behind us. We still have another two and a half days out in open waters before we get to Canada so I hope we can get at least most of the way across before it catches up. Who knows, maybe it’ll change directions and pass us by. Hope so. We’ve been underway since June 22nd. I really need a haircut.

- Captain Bob

Posted by jessmil on 08/08/2006 2:22 pm

The following posting is from Captain Bob, who is onboard in the Bering Sea..

9am – We are out of the shelter of the islands and are fully exposed to the Pacific Ocean. Surprisingly, what little weather there is happens to be coming out of the North with winds about 15kts, 2ft wind waves and virtually no swell. There are very few high clouds and steering directly into the early morning sun reflecting off the water is hard on the eyes.

As we are approaching the north end of the Semidi Islands, we are about half the 200 mile distance between the shelter of the Shumagin Islands, which we left about 10 hours ago, and Sitkinak Island at the southern end of Kodiak Island.

Willie had the wheel watch from 3am-8:30. He’s getting some sleep now so I’m once again sitting here thinking about this trip. At the moment I'm thinking about the natives that live up on St. Lawrence Island. I'm thinking about how they live in an environment so harsh that most of us couldn’t possibly imagine living in. They and their ancestors have lived there for literally thousands of years where the sea completely freezes around them for many months out of the year. While some of the conveniences of the lower 48 have made their way here like 4 wheeled atv’s (no cars), refined heating oil delivered every so often by fuel barge, weather permitting, electricity and improved housing, they still greatly depend on the health of the environment around them for subsistence. They still have to fish and hunt to survive as their ancestors have for thousands of years. I saw genuine pride in their island home and their traditions. As we are all brothers and sisters on this one earth, it would be a great tragedy if we couldn’t all come together to properly manage and protect the whole earth for the benefit of all who live on it now and in the future. Wouldn’t it be nice?

11am – Just passed Semidi Islands and in just under 24 hours we’ll be tied up in Kodiak. It looks like we’ll be spending a full day and perhaps overnight there. We need to change the oil and filters in the engines prior to heading across the Gulf of Alaska to Canada. I think we’re also overdue for a Chinese food dinner.

The wind has come way down to about 5kts and there are no white caps and very few high clouds left. The sun is much higher now so the glare isn’t as bad. We can still see the snow covered mountains on the peninsula. It looks like they go on forever. Looking ahead, way off in the distance, I can see a fog bank. I’m not pleased with the prospect of fog but we’ve had such beautiful weather so far, I guess I can put up with a little. We had enough fog during the expedition to last a lifetime but here it comes again. Oh well…life happens and we move on. I just spotted another whale about a quarter mile off our starboard side. Life is good.

5:50pm – It looks like the fog is dissipating before we got into it. Go figure.

- Captain Bob
 

Posted by jessmil on 08/07/2006 11:21 am

The following posting is from Captain Bob, who is onboard in the Bering Sea..

Here it is the second day on our way from Dutch Harbor to Kodiak and we're another day closer to home. Winds are calm and the sea surface is flat. It's almost like a mirror. There are scattered clouds with unlimited visibility to the horizon. It’s another beautiful day going along the Alaskan Peninsula and weaving between the islands and back tracking the route that we took from Kodiak to Dutch. That is with one little exception. I took a little detour of about 4 miles to go through a “real” pass that had 8 full fathoms of water. That's unlike the one that my dear friend George had us go through that had ZERO FATHOMS under the boat. Thought I’d save myself the anxiety.

The shoreline of both the peninsula and the islands are very similar as one might expect. There are places that are sheer rugged and crumbly cliffs that then give way to some flat rolling hills. I'm reminded again of a couple of discussions we had the last few weeks about how there are no trees of any kind in any areas we visited. That includes all the islands we passed when we originally left Kodiak for Dutch Harbor. I think that’s a sign of how harsh things can be at other times while I'm enjoying the sunshine and beauty of today on this voyage home.

As I look out as far as I can see in all directions around the ship, I wish everyone could have the opportunity to see what I'm seeing. There are no clouds in the sky and there is a little fog rolling slowly over the mountains on the peninsula. We are passing about one half mile off the coast if a small but very tall Karpa Island. Its peak shows on the chart at 800 ft. The sides are sheer and there are thousands of birds soaring around the base and on up to the tallest heights. We had the fortune of seeing many of these sights during this expedition. I sit and look in total wonder of how I can see so much right here where I sit and how this is such a small fraction of what we saw and what there is still to see in this great place called Alaska.

I feel a connection to Alaska now that I didn’t have before. Alaska has become part of the fabric of my life and I think it's the color of royal blue. It makes me want to see more and do more to protect this treasure we have called earth. It makes me want to come back again and continue to be part of building on the foundation that was laid on this trip. I hope it works out that way.

- Captain Bob

Posted by jessmil on 08/07/2006 10:43 am

The following posting is from Captain Bob, who is onboard in the Bering Sea...

Well, we are on our way back to Newport, Oregon from Dutch Harbor, Alaska. Willie, the ships mechanic, came back to the boat night before last and it was really great to see him again. I’m sure glad he’s back for the return trip home.

Everyone but James flew out yesterday to their respective destinations after finishing up some last minute things around the community. With mixed happy and sad goodbyes the hugs and best wishes until next timewere abundant. James was the last one off the boat this morning and Willie and I got underway about 1045. On the way out of the harbor I called George on the radio to say our last goodbyes. It was good to hear his voice again one last time before we were out of radio range.

The winds were calm and the sky was overcast but the air was crystal clear and t-shirt comfortable. We made our way out of the harbor, around the spit and headed north out into Unalaska Bay. About two miles into the bay we spotted two small humpback whales showing off and waving their goodbyes as well. There was a lot of ship traffic as we were going out so we slightly changed courses a few times. No close calls or problems. The weather forecast for the different areas in our route to Kodiak sounds favorable so that's a good thing. I looked up the currents expected in a couple of the passes and straits we are to go through and they look a little marginal. We’ll have to see.

Later
As expected, going south through Akutan Pass was a challenge. We encountered a 6.3 kt current going north (head on) that had us down a couple of times to as low as 1.7 kts. We got tossed around a bit in the converging waters but not too bad. It took us some extra time through there but we made it just fine. We are now approaching Avatanak Strait and will cross Unimak Pass in about five hours. Kodiak will be our next stop where we will top off the fuel, get some fresh veggies and turn the pointy end of the ship toward Canada, then south to Newport.

We are on the south side of the island chain now and the seas and winds are calm. There’s some high fog that keeps us from seeing the mountain tops but everything is so beautiful anyway. We keep getting puffins flying by and checking us out or sitting in the water in front of the ship until the last minute. Then they start flapping their wings for all they're worth, trying to get airborne, while bouncing their chubby bellies off the water as they go on a heading still directly in front of us. I feel sorry for them having to work so hard while looking back over one side as they are “flying” and then the other and not being able to get away from us. Then finally they turn or land and dive at the last minute.

Passing close to Akutan Island we can see little waterfalls and a coupleof them were coming right out of the side and about half way down the cliff. I've not seen that before. There have been so many new things for me to see during this adventure. They will be like little treasures tucked away in my memory. Then thankfully, as I continue to get older, the photos will help me remember them. There were all the new people, places, cultural experiences and crew to add to my mental treasure chest. Then on top of all that it was a safe journey. There is so much to be thankful for.

We’ve been underway since June 22nd and to be headed home is a good feeling. I love the sea and being at sea and I’m definitely going to enjoy all the sites that we’ll have going home. However, my greatest love is already there waiting for me at home and I'm sure anxious to seeher. On the grand scale of things, it won't really be long now. It just seems that way.

It seems strangely quiet now with just Willie and me on the ship. The sun is still up. The little wind ripples on the water are sparkling like jewels and everything is beautiful. Life is good.

Posted by jessmil on 08/04/2006 11:14 am

The following posting is from Carroll, who is onboard in the Bering Sea...

It’s six a.m. on August 3, and I’m on bridge watch again as we travel the last few hours to Dutch Harbor and the end of the expedition. It’s dark out, and quiet, leaving me some time to reflect on the last 35 days and 3000 miles in the Bering. 3155 miles to be exact.

When I came out here, I naively expected days of high adventure, racing through the waves in a RIB to get fluke photos of whale after whale. What I found was something slower, quieter, and far grander than I’d imagined. Looking at maps, and flying between continents in hours, it’s easy to believe Walt Disney that it’s a small world. But the world is only small until you get out into it. Spend some time moving at a natural pace, or something approaching one, and you find that the world is truly immense. And in this immensity there still remain some vast expanses where human presence is the rare exception, rather than the
rule, where wildness still holds sway. The Bering Sea is one of those precious, blessed places. And in it, you begin to understand that it is we who are small, not the world around us.

Even with years of experience seeking out wildlife on five continents, I still expected nature to be when and where I wanted it to be, instead of all around me. I expected fireworks, instead of starlight. But nature moves at her own pace and to her own rhythms, and to survive and be content in the Bering Sea you must succumb to those rhythms, become a part of them. I can’t say this was my own discovery. I learned it from the Unangan people of the Pribilof Islands, and the Yup’ik of St. Lawrence—people who, unlike so many of us, still live at nature’s pace, know her faces and her moods, and add their own small, humble voices to her eternal song.

I also learned it from Dave, our onboard scientist for the second leg, who knew the places where we could most reliably find whales because he has spent years, not weeks or days, patiently waiting in those places for the whales to come in their own time, rather than his. I’m sure he didn’t mean to impart any life lessons with his stories, but there you go. The best scientists have, like the islanders we met, accepted the unpredictable comings and goings of their subjects, and adapted their work to allow for that. Working to understand nature on her own terms, rather than their own.

And I think this acceptance and this understanding lies at the heart of what we learned here, and of what we accomplished. We called this expedition “The Bering Sea: A Look from Within” (George’s name. Nice work, George). We set out with the goal, not of confronting villains or righting imminent wrongs, but of developing a deeper understanding of the forces that are changing the Bering, and building bridges to the people who can help enrich that understanding—the scientific community through data and analysis, the local communities through human experience. In our collaborations with Dave and Craig and other scientists, in our community meetings in St George and Savoonga, I think we achieved that. I know we achieved that. And it’s something to be proud of.

We also set out to document the threats to the Bering, and to share what we found with the rest of the world. With you. We certainly saw plenty of trawlers. And we gathered powerful stories about the effects of trawling and of global warming on the local peoples here. But for me, the most powerful evidence of threats, and of the changes going on here, came slowly and quietly, as I compared the names on maps—Otter Island, Seal Island, Sea Lion Rocks—to the empty beaches before my eyes, and the stories of how those beaches used to be. There are still thousands of sea lions and walruses, tens of thousands of fur seals. But once, not so very long ago, there were so very many more. In too many places, the names on empty beaches have become epitaphs to populations that were. I could never have truly understood that without coming here.

But more than proving that there are threats, this expedition showed us again and again just how much remains that is worth protecting. The Bering Sea is home to 80% of our country’s seabirds. And I think we saw all of them. In numbers that would boggle the mind. Northern fur seals in numbers that could survive and thrive if we’d only protect their food supply. Gray whales, and humpbacks, and killer whales and walruses. Stellar sea lions. And right whales that maybe, just maybe, if we’re very careful, could find their way back from the brink of extinction. And human beings, who I now understand are as much a part of this ecosystem, and as dependent on its health, as every other form of life we encountered.

This is what the Bering Sea had to teach us. It was a lesson worth learning.

As we headed into Dutch, much more tired and a little bit wiser than when we began, we were suddenly surrounded by birds. Shearwaters. Hundreds of thousands of them, flocked so close they covered the sea like a carpet, and filled the sky like storm clouds. Not for moments, but for miles. It was like nothing I’ve ever seen, or expect ever to see again. Until I return to the Bering. Happens here all the time, apparently.

As we sailed through the bird storm, a pod of Dall’s porpoises began bow-riding the ship. Beautiful, frenetic little animals darting back and forth under the bowsprit at lightning speed, then breaking the surface just long enough to send rooster tails of spray into the air. They stayed with us for a minutes that felt like hours, then vanished as quickly as they’d come. Leaving no sign of where they’d gone.

And as we entered the harbor and the promise of home, there, at last were our humpback whales. Blowing and diving and fluking in the waves. Nature’s fireworks. At her own pace; and in her own time.

It was a beautiful send off. A fitting end. And a nice way to start my next journey. Three days and four thousand miles to home.

I’ll be home soon, Kate.

Love, Daddy.

Posted by jessmil on 08/03/2006 10:16 am

The following posting is from Carroll, who is onboard in the Bering Sea...

Last night at 11 p.m., I saw the sunset for the first time in weeks. It was a little late in the day for one, but a welcome sight nonetheless, and a nice signpost for the beginning of the end of the tour. We spent last night finishing out our humpback search area, then headed south this morning for a pass between Amak Island and the Alaska Peninsula, our last waypoint before the turn toward Dutch Harbor and home. As we neared the island, we saw a humpback. Then a few minutes later, saw another.

It was nice to spend some time watching real whales. When you’ve been on watch for days on end, staring at the uninterrupted expanse of the sea, the water starts to take shapes of its own. A blow. A fin. The arch of a back. But there’s nothing there. Just ghosts in the waves.

Before we got to Amak, our route took us through the area where most sightings of the critically endangered Northern right whale have occurred in recent years. It would have been nice to see one, of course; but we had no illusions about it. There are no more than 100 Northern right whales left in the east Pacific now, and the true number may be closer to twenty, making them one of the world’s most endangered mammals. The species has become so rare, an accurate count is nearly impossible. Until a few whales were seen with a calf in 1996, there’d been no proof for decades that right whales were even reproducing in Alaskan waters.

The right whale earned both its name and its endangered status from commercial whalers. It was the “right” whale to hunt because the species is slow moving, rich in whale oil, and floats when harpooned. In the Atlantic, right whales were hunted for hundreds of years before being nearly wiped out. In the North Pacific, it took less than seventy. Intensive whaling for right whales started in Alaska in 1835, and by 1900 the species had all but disappeared. And even though the species was completely protected in 1935, it has yet to recover. Although I hope they someday will, the sad truth is the North Pacific’s right whales may never recover. When a population becomes very small, chance starts to play a huge role in its fate: any mortality, any disease, any accident becomes too much. One accident too many, and extinction becomes inevitable. The few animals left become remnants of a species that is already doomed. A collection of ghosts in the waves.

The history of commercial whaling is not a proud one. Blue whales, fin whales, bowheads, humpbacks all were “managed” to the brink of extinction before finally being protected. It’s a story we’ve repeated again and again on both land and sea—with elephants, with rhinos, with crab and cod, tuna and swordfish. Some species, in some places, have begun to recover. Many have not.

In lives saturated with sitcoms and newsflashes and podcasts, we’re trained to believe that problems come and go at lighting speed. The news explodes. The story unfolds. The problem is fixed. Everyone is happy and we move on to the next episode and the next crisis. But nature takes a long time to reveal her wounds, and even longer to heal them. If they can be healed at all.

Each time we mismanage a species or fishery until it disappears, we tell ourselves we’ve learned our lesson. That the next species, the next fishery, will be managed responsibly and cautiously. But then the profits come, and the boom comes, and we don’t want the boom to end. So when little signals arise, when nature starts to show her hand, a litany begins: there’s no evidence; there’s not enough evidence; the evidence is inconclusive; something else is to blame; someone else is to blame…why didn’t someone warn us this was happening? Who took all the fish away? Who took all the whales?

The answer, sadly, is always the same. If you haven’t guessed it yet, I suggest you ask a right whale.

If you can find one.

- Carroll

Posted by jessmil on 08/03/2006 10:13 am

The following posting is from Adam, who is onboard in the Bering Sea...  

2nd August
Near Amak Island
High cloud, gentle breeze, good viz.
After 36 hours of searching through the ocean for humpbacks we finished the pattern and headed south. We had hoped to find whales in that area in order to add whales to the weight of the pollock spawning grounds as an argument against seismic testing and oil drilling in this area already under pressure from over-fishing.

The next day-
Slowly in the south east, around dinner time, an amazing sight began to take shape out of the clouds on the horizon, the massive peaks of Pavlof Volcano, still smoking, and Mt Dana, another volcano but inactive. Below them the silhouette of Amak Island, where we are headed for the pass between the island and the mainland. Craig (the previous whale scientist on board) wants us to have a look around there for killers.
As we approached the island I was out on the back deck having a cuppa watching the world go by when all of a sudden the revs dropped. I stood up, looked over the side and nearly dropped my cup of tea as a humpback surfaced about 60 feet from the boat! We’ve had people up the rig and looking out the windows all day for weeks, and we nearly ran it over! Really goes to show what a difficult creature they are to spot despite their size. This area is well documented and studied re humpbacks though so we took a few photos and moved on.

Only about 20 hours to go now till we reach Dutch Harbour, Unalaska. The crew are pretty excited at the prospect of land, being able to phone family etc. Some fresh food’s going to be a wonderful thing as well. Starting to get pretty sick of freeze-dried broccoli and peas that’s for sure. And to top it all off we get Willie back! Thankfully nothing too bad went wrong with the engine while he was away. We have been religious about following all his instructions and only had to call him with questions once, so we did pretty well I reckon.
With any luck George will meet us at the wharf with a vehicle so we can go into town and shop for the last little voyage of the tour. Either around the island to take samples of the last big oil spill up here, or out what they call the green belt in search of factory trawlers.

Well its back to the binoculars for me, hopefully to find some killer whales that can help us SAVE THE BERING SEA!!!!

Adam

Posted by mariej on 08/02/2006 11:43 am

The following posting is from Carroll, who is onboard in the Bering Sea... 

Yesterday morning, we left our harbor at Security Cove and sailed around the cape into Bristol Bay. We took a chance on the weather that seems to have paid off. The sea’s been much calmer than forecast for the last two days, allowing us to do our research in earnest. We spent yesterday doing killer whale research along the north coast of the Bay, then headed out to the center of the Bay last night to begin a new search pattern for humpbacks.

Our own luck notwithstanding, Bristol Bay is one of the best places in the Bering Sea to find marine mammals. At least nine species of whale and dolphin inhabit the Bay at some time of the year, including humpbacks, killer whales, minkes, and the critically endangered North Pacific right whale. There are seals and sea lions here as well: steller sea lions and harbor seals year round, and ice-dependent species like the ringed seal, spotted seal and walrus in the winter. Most of the ice-dependent species follow the ice north as it retreats each summer, though a few hundred walrus bulls stay in the Bay all summer long. We saw some of them from a distance yesterday as we were looking for killer whales.

But it’s an open question how much longer Bristol Bay will support species, like the walrus, that depend on the ice for their survival. For more than three decades, scientists have tracked the coming and going of the sea ice in the center of Bristol Bay. In the early 1970s, the area between 57-58 degrees North latitude, at the heart of the Bay, had more than 5% ice cover for an average of 130 days each spring. By the end of the 1980s, this had fallen to an average of 67 days. In 1996, a consistent period of abnormally warm temperatures began, and since the year 2000, sea ice has been virtually absent within the monitored region.

The loss of the ice has serious consequences for species that have evolved to rely on it. The walrus is a good example. For the walrus, it’s not just the amount of ice that matters, but where the ice is. Walrus forage on the sea floor, diving up to 600 feet to dig clams and other invertebrates from the muddy bottom of the ocean. As the ice retreats farther north, breaks up earlier, there’s less ice cover over the shallow waters where the walrus forage, forcing them to range far from the ice to feed. Unfortunately, walrus mothers need the ice edge to rest, and to leave their calves while they go in search of food. When the distance between the ice and the shallow feeding grounds grows too great, this becomes impossible. This spring, a research vessel in the Arctic Ocean discovered nine separate walrus calves abandoned in the water, far from shore. The researchers on board found water temperatures in the area 6 degrees warmer than what they’d found just four years before. Warm enough to speed the melting of the ice over shallow water. In areas where the ice remained, the waters were too deep for walrus to feed.

Other pinnipeds that depend on the ice, like the ringed and bearded seals, may face a similar threat. But the changes in sea ice affect not only the walrus and seals, but the ecosystem as a whole. When ice is present in March, it encourages the early bloom of ice-associated plankton. The colder waters of the late winter allow this plankton to fall to the seabed, where it benefits bottom feeders like walrus and gray whales, and bottom tending fish like turbot, flounder and sole. During years without ice, however, including almost every year for the last decade, the plankton bloom does not occur until May or June. Warmer waters trap the plankton in the upper layers of the ocean, where it benefits more pelagic fish, like the pollock.

This might be good news for all the species that rely on pollock as part of their diet, if their other prey species weren’t declining at the same time. And if pollock weren’t so heavily fished. But in reality it is overfished. And this overfishing comes at the expense of an ecosystem already stressed by massive environmental change, itself driven by our overexploitation of oil and fossil fuels.

As we keep drilling and drilling and fishing and fishing, the environment is quietly, persistently telling us something. In Bristol Bay. In the Pribilofs. At St. Lawrence Island. What began as a whisper in temperature gauges, and instrument readings and data sheets is gradually, but inevitably growing into a roar—of vanishing species, disappearing ice, and howling winds. A roar that, like the whisper, carries a simple message. It’s time to Stop. And think. And start again.

Carroll

Posted by jessmil on 08/01/2006 10:56 am

31st July  
Walrus Islands

It’s a great feeling on the eyes to have something other than sea and clouds to look at. We are weaving our way between High island and Crooked island on our way to Round island, the last in this little group. There are supposed to be bull walrus here at this time of year as well as Steller sea lions, but they must be hiding as we’ve not spotted any yet. The crew are all in the bridge avidly looking around. In the distance is the mainland with its jumble of tall volcanic peaks and cliffs. It’s very beautiful in a rugged isolated kind of way and is having an effect on moral that is palpable in the crew.

Dave the scientist is really happy to be here and getting a feel for the place as he will be coming back here next summer for a more in depth survey of killer whales that he suspects may be here due to the rumoured walrus and sea lion.
The seabed has a lot of features here unlike the endless flat desert bottom we have been travelling over the last weeks and is a major spawning ground for pollock and other fish of the Bering that the fishing industry rely on. There are small 3 mile protection zones around the islands themselves that need to be vastly expanded if the ecosystem as a whole is to be protected for the future. Now that we have been here and documented what we see we will be in a stronger position to fight for what is right for the Bristol Bay ecosystem and the people that survive from its bounty.

On a more practical note- the ship is running well, apart from a blockage in one of the toilets that took a bit of clearing. It was quite funny though. Carroll went outside to take a photo and came running in saying there was an awful awful smell outside and what on earth could possibly make a smell that bad. Well, humans was the answer. Even a rookery with a thousand years of bird poop wafting across us smells better than we do!

Well its dinner time again, and its smelling pretty good (a lot of smells in this blog). We’ll eat and then get back to taking the small steps we have to take on this part of the campaign to
SAVE THE BERING SEA!!!

Adam