Posted by melanie_d on 01/31/2007 12:49 pm

The seas have picked up significantly since yesterday and the ship is rolling about 20 degrees to port and starboard, sometimes more. I'm psyched that I haven't had to take any seasickness medicine at all, and while I have a constant lowgrade headache and a tinge of nausea, I'm certainly nowhere close to how sick I've been on past expeditions on the Arctic Sunrise. This ship is so much more stable than the Arctic Sunrise, and I'm pretty confident that I'll be able to make it through the entire expedition with my stomach contents intact.

And just as I finished typing that paragraph Captain Frank took the wheel and the ship started rolling more than 30 degrees. My chair slid on the floor all the way to the port side of the ship, but Sara was between me and the wall so the two of us jumbled up in a pile. But just for a moment, because then the ship rolled to port and we slid in a heap into Sakyo at the other end of the office. All the while trying to keep our chairs from flying out from under us, clutching our laptops and trying to prevent notebooks and other office paraphernalia from sliding onto the floor. The office we work in is on the same deck as the bridge, which is about ten meters/33 feet above the water. So when the ship rolls, it's amplified up here. The best place to be is as close to the water as possible where the movement is least severe.

Word of mouth is that the maximum roll on this ship last year was 40 degrees (compare that to the Arctic Sunrise whose maximum roll was 70 degrees in the Southern Ocean last year), so I figure we've already experienced ¾ of it. It's a bit novel right now since it's our first day of big seas, but I know in a few short days (or by the end of today!) we'll grow tired of this game of 3-dimensional Twister on a roller coaster.

The only good thing about the rough seas is that it forces the whalers to take a time-out. Hopefully these conditions extend all the way to the whaling grounds and has put a halt to the killing of whales.

More soon,
Melanie

Posted by melanie_d on 01/29/2007 09:53 am

Yesterday was Sunday, and traditionally, someone offers to cook dinner so the cooks can have at least half a day off.

Last night the campaigners on board (me from the US office, Karli from Greenpeace International and Sakyo from Greenpeace Japan) cooked a Japanese dinner for the crew. We started at 1pm and it took the entire five hours to get all of the food ready for the crew by six pm. We had a pretty ambitious menu: nori maki (seaweed wrapped rolls of sushi rice and vegetables), onigiri (triangule-shaped rice balls with a pickled umeboshi plum in the middle and a seaweed wrapper), miso soup and two kinds of shiratame (sticky rice balls) for dessert: one with sweet adzuki beans called oshiruko, the second served with soybean powder called kinako. We had a lot of fun, and of course the best was learning from Sakyo how to make rice, the nori maki sushi rolls, miso soup and shiratame. I love Japanese food, and at home I frequently make nori maki and miso soup, but I learned last night that I've been using a lot of non-traditional (read: wrong!) ways of cooking Japanese food. Sakyo was very polite and diplomatic about my and Karli's non-traditional ways of cooking Japanese food, calling it "interesting."

But there was another reason we wanted to make a Japanese dinner for the crew, and that's because the campaign to stop high seas whaling is more than just this ship's expedition to the Southern Ocean. At the same time, our Greenpeace colleagues in Japan are running a targeted campaign to unravel the misconceptions being told to the Japanese public by their government. For years, Greenpeace and the pro-whale/anti-whaling movement has been characterized by the Japanese government as "anti-Japanese," playing to the nationalistic sentiment of the Japanese public. This is flat out false, our campaign is and has always targeted those responsible for high seas whaling: the Fisheries Agency of Japan and companies with a financial interest in high seas whaling, NOT the Japanese public.

In fact, our campaign is on-side with the majority of the Japanese public. Greenpeace Japan conducted an independent opinion poll and found out that two-thirds of the Japanese public are against high seas whaling. The poll also found that 95 percent of the Japanese public has never or rarely eaten whale meat. Contrary to what the Japanese government may say, whaling and eating whale meat are not a traditional part of Japanese culture. It was introduced by General MacArthur after World War II to deal with the starvation ravaging the country. As Sakyo tells us, older Japanese in their 50s, 60s and 70s may have eaten whale meat, but younger generations of Japanese don't touch the stuff.

The most important message we are trying to get across to the Japanese public is that we love Japan, but we don't love Japanese high seas whaling. So last night's dinner, besides being a nice thing to do for the cooks on a Sunday, was a way to bring a part of Japanese culture that we love to the messroom of the Esperanza.

- Melanie

Posted by melanie_d on 01/29/2007 09:45 am

We've now been at sea for a little over 24 hours. We departed Auckland yesterday and it was quite emotional. My eyes welled up with tears and I was a bit embarrassed by it, but then I looked around and realized I wasn't the only one without dry eyes. We had quite the nice crowd on the dock to wave us off, including the folks from the Greenpeace office in Auckland and some folks from the land-based campaign team who have been working hard to get the on-board campaign team prepared and ready for the expedition.

I had one quick flash of terror as the stern of the ship started to push away from the dock. I realized I would not be able to get off the ship for the next long while, which is different from other expeditions I've been on. Even on Greenpeace ships in remote parts of Alaska or Greenland, I always knew I had a way to get off the ship since there was always a small community within a few days' sailing. That's not the case in Antarctica. It's not that I've ever wanted or needed to get off a GP ship, it's just that psychologically, it's comforting to know that I have a way out and can push the emergency escape button, just in case. In case of what, I have no idea. It's just a security blanket type of thing. I always like to know that I have a way out of the situation I'm in, regardless of what or where it is.

We are still sailing under sunny skies and warm temperatures. It's cooled down a bit since we left Auckland, mainly because there is a refreshing sea breeze circulating through the ship. It was sweltering hot and muggy in Auckland so it's a nice change. Uh oh, was that me complaining about the heat? Given it was 20 below zero Fahrenheit when I left Anchorage, I should shut my mouth and not complain about the hot summer weather in Auckland.

A comet was visible in the western sky last night. The last time I saw a comet was Hale-Bopp about 12 years ago, so I take last night's comet sighting as an omen.

We are still hugging the coast of New Zealand so the seas are not bad at all. Things are starting to pick up gradually but it's not gotten to the point where I have to retreat to my bunk. From what I have heard, we will have another night of decent sleep before getting to the Southern Ocean, and that's when things will really start to move. I've decided that I'm going to go for as long as I can without taking seasickness medicine. I'm hoping my body can adjust to the gradual increase in the ship's movement. If I drop out of sight for some time then you can assume that my strategy didn't work.

With that, I'm going to end for today and quit staring at this computer screen. It's a beautiful, sunny Saturday at sea and I'm willing to bet we won't have another Saturday afternoon like this one for quite some time.

Melanie

Posted by melanie_d on 01/25/2007 4:04 pm

Greetings from the Esperanza in Auckland New Zealand. It’s 8pm at night and we were supposed to be underway today at noon, but our departure was delayed due to something in the engine room and some epoxy that needs to dry before we can go. The epoxy is pretty important since from what I have heard (and don’t quote me on this since I’m anything but an engineer) is that it is fixing a crack in the engine block. Sounds pretty serious. Definitely worth waiting for. But I’ve been on board the ship for a week and after a week of preparation, I’m ready to get out of here and head south toward the Southern Ocean and get on with the campaign.

We had a press conference this morning which was pretty well-attended, especially considering the real news will start when we find the Japanese government’s whaling fleet. A reporter from AAP (an Australian wire service, no relation to AP in the U.S.) today asked me if I was scared of dying if I put myself between a whale and a harpoon. The question flummoxed me for a few seconds. The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. It’s not that I’m fearless or anything, when push comes to shove I’m a pretty cautious person. But I guess it’s a matter of being offered an incredible opportunity to participate in one of Greenpeace’s iconic campaigns, and that overrides any thought of the risks and dangers inherent in this kind of expedition. So many folks who I’ve talked to during my time here in New Zealand have commented on how brave I am to be going to the Southern Ocean, which is a lovely compliment, but really, wouldn’t most people jump on the chance to be on a Greenpeace ship sailing south to Antarctica to do righteous work trying to prevent whales from being killed by the Japanese government? That’s how it seems from my vantage point. Plus, the odds are on my side. After many expeditions to the Southern Ocean to peacefully confront the Japanese government’s whaling fleet, no one’s ever been seriously hurt. I figure it’s a heck of a lot more dangerous to stay home and drive a car.

At any rate, I spent the rest of my day after the press conference doing seemingly mundane but important tasks. I was advised to stow away and batten down everything in my cabin that can move. Including books on the bookshelf. Boots. Any hard objects that are not nailed down. I’ve been on a number of Greenpeace expeditions in some pretty rough waters, but the rough waters and storms usually struck for a few hours or a day or two or three and then relatively calm waters followed. Not so in the Southern Ocean, from what folks have told me. They ask if I’ve ever been to the Southern Ocean, and when I answer, “no,” they either laugh, or smile, or shake their heads. Today I was looking at a picture of this ship on last year’s expedition and the port side railing was just about in the water. I also heard that the Arctic Sunrise, the second ship that went to the Southern Ocean last year, rolled 70 degrees. As my Grandma Naomi would say, “oy vey.” I am praying that I don’t get seasick, and still have not decided if I’m going to take anti-seasickness medicine before we even set sail or wait and see and try to make a go of it without medication. Quite the conundrum.

I also took one last trip to the grocery store down the street to buy some last minute “personal items.” Much to my horror, I found out that the ship’s provisioning did not include more than just a tiny amount of oatmeal. To me, a morning without oatmeal is like a morning without, well, coffee. So I stocked up: six kilos. I also bought a few kilos of local, freshly roasted coffee since, as Hughie the helicopter pilot on board says, “the coffee on board tastes like kitty litter.” A very apt description. I picked up some bran for Sara, some soft brown sugar and fresh milk for Karli (the latter she’s put into the freezer for use later on), and spent my last six New Zealand dollars on CCs corn chips, the Kiwi brand of Doritos. They’re for emergency use, only. Gotta have junk food every once in a while. Weird things happen without it.

I think that’s it for me for now. Gonna catch the last of the sunset and then wander around town a bit more. I want to get my last few hours of walking on terra firma since, if there are no more unforeseen delays, we have to be on board at 9:45 tomorrow morning for customs and immigration, and we’ll be outta here in a mere 15 hours.

More soon,
Melanie