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In the early 80s, crews were often given pages and pages of printed matter to read regarding campaigns. There must have been a stack six inches high when we went out to the Marshall Islands in 1985. Two years before, when we were here in Alaska, we also had a large stack to read. It was then I read about the treatment of the Aleuts during WWII.It began when Japanese forces captured Kiska and Attu. The Navy weather observers from Kiska and the Aleuts from Attu were captured, taken prisoner and shipped to Japan. While many Alaskan officials realized the dangers of uprooting the Aleuts from their homes, no one came up with a firm plan. The Army was certainly worried about defending the country.
When a Japanese plane was spotted over Atka on June 12th (1942), Army officials hit the panic button. Giving a preoccupied Army a job it had not trained or planned for was a recipe for disaster. On Atka, villagers were told to go to their summer fishing camp. When they returned that evening, it was to find their whole village and all the posetions in flames. The military, using a scorched earth policy had burned the village so that the Japanese could not use the houses. Some families boarded the Army transport ship, some ran into the hills. Eventually, all were brought to Dutch Harbor.
On the trip to South East Alaska, the Aleuts were treated like slaves, so tightly were they packed into the ships hold. So bad were the conditions that the government doctor refused to go in. Life would be no better in the internment camps. The camps were abandoned fishing camps and coalmines. Food was scarce, and domestic supplies, like soap, brooms, mops etc were non-existent. There were no sanitary facilities, and clean water was impossible to come by. There were no boats or fishing or hunting gear. But imagine forcefully removing people who had lived one place for thousands of years without trees, and putting them in a place dense with them. When the grumbling began, the government decided to send enough men back to harvest seals. Threaten with not being allowed to return if they waited until the end of the war, the men returned, being told they would be supporting the war effort and clothing the troops. In fact, they were working as slaves for the Fouke Fur Company, who kept profits of their labors. It seems that in traditional fashion, when the government made a mistake, it compounded it.
The rest of the Aleuts returned two years after the war, a year after they were promised passage. In Nikolski, they returned to find that there church cupola had been used for target practice, and the building ruined from vandalism from the American soldiers. The Atkans returned to nothing, their village having been burnt to the ground in front of their eyes. The looting in Akutan was so bad that inquiries were conducted.
Ten percent of the Aleuts died during the interment. When they returned, President Roosevelt limited award settlements to no more than $12.00 per person. So being rather shocked and amazed by this, when we got down to Dutch Harbor I called my friend Martha Davis, the wildlife campaigner from the San Francisco office. On the heels of what was a wildly successful whaling action in Siberia, we were given permission to go to the Pribilofs. The Pribiof Islands seal hunt was the last seal hunt in the U.S. My hazy speculation is that the end of the seal hunt was in the near future. If the Aleuts wondered what their fellow citizens were going to do to them next, who could blame them? Our intention is going was to see if we could offer any help in establishing other means of support for the community.
The best plans of mice and men? ..
One afternoon while Martha and the other campaigners were at a meeting, I received a radio call. I had just spent some time on the rowing machine in the hold, and had taken my weekly shower, those being the days before water makers (or at least before we had them). It turns out one of our boat had gotten loose, and was beating itself to death on the rocks. Not thinking twice, I jumped into another boat, and raced for the beach. I could not get close enough to the rocks to get the boat myself. But whether I saw them on the dock, or just up on the hill, there were Dan and Daniel, just where and when I needed them.
Dan and Daniel had become "famous" the month before for delaying our departure for the Siberia whale campaign, when their boat flipped over in the surf after taking someone ashore in Nome. But that’s another story. Somehow I was able to get them to understand I needed them down at the beached boat ASAP to throw me line. I had not really stopped to look at the few seals on the beach. They ran down the hillside. When they were about halfway down, I could see why they had been reluctant. As they ran down through the seal heard, large bull sea lions, the size of small steam locomotives would lunge at them snarling with mouths open. I guess it said something for my powers of persuasion at that time that I got them to do it. And it really was a good show. Any NFL halfback would have been proud to move so quickly. As a bull would lunge at them, both would change directions instantly, and run away a few steps before turning to run back down the hill. They got down the hill, and threw me the painter of the beached boat that was smashing against the rocks. I heard Daniel yell, "aren't you going to pick us up!?!" "Surf too bad" I said, "meet me at the dock". Zoom, I was off.They made it back to the dock a few minutes after I did. I was sitting in the boat sort of steaming. My weekly shower had been done in by several buckets of very cold salt water that had gone down the back of my neck. While we were sitting there calming down, a jeep drove up. An officer of some kind wanted us to "come along". He did not put us in cuffs or say we were arrested, but he was pretty pissed off. Because it turns out, while Martha and company were in their meeting, we had scattered most of the herd that was due to be culled the next day. And the people of the island were pissed. They suspected that we had planned the whole thing. And it took quite some explaining on our part to make them believe that we had just been real stupid. (Maybe that was not so hard to believe...) I remember saying that we never did actions without at least a couple shooters (video) and snappers (stills) around. But the officer took down our names to see if anyone up the line wanted to prosecute us. I apologized at the time, and I will be happy to apologize again when I visit the Pribilofs this summer. We never had any intention of screwing up their livelihood. We went there only with the intention of seeing if there was anything we could do to help. Which is why we are going back this summer. Hopefully with George leading the way, we will do a bit better this time.
Martha left Greenpeace a year later and became executive director of the Save Mono Lake Committee. Dan Zbozien designs solar houses in Boulder. Daniel Burgivan is in artist in western New York State, and has two sons.
Most of the information I used this time was from a history paper of Christopher Cueva. It can be found at: http://www.akhistorycourse.org/articles/article.php?artID=215
More info can be found at: http://www.nps.gov/archive/aleu/AleutInternmentAndRestitution.htm
- Peter Wilcox
In the early 80s, crews were often given pages and pages of printed matter to read regarding campaigns. There must have been a stack six inches high when we went out to the Marshall Islands in 1985. Two years before, when we were here in Alaska, we also had a large stack to read. It was then I read about the treatment of the Aleuts during WWII.It began when Japanese forces captured Kiska and Attu. The Navy weather observers from Kiska and the Aleuts from Attu were captured, taken prisoner and shipped to Japan. While many Alaskan officials realized the dangers of uprooting the Aleuts from their homes, no one came up with a firm plan. The Army was certainly worried about defending the country.
When a Japanese plane was spotted over Atka on June 12th (1942), Army officials hit the panic button. Giving a preoccupied Army a job it had not trained or planned for was a recipe for disaster. On Atka, villagers were told to go to their summer fishing camp. When they returned that evening, it was to find their whole village and all the posetions in flames. The military, using a scorched earth policy had burned the village so that the Japanese could not use the houses. Some families boarded the Army transport ship, some ran into the hills. Eventually, all were brought to Dutch Harbor.
On the trip to South East Alaska, the Aleuts were treated like slaves, so tightly were they packed into the ships hold. So bad were the conditions that the government doctor refused to go in. Life would be no better in the internment camps. The camps were abandoned fishing camps and coalmines. Food was scarce, and domestic supplies, like soap, brooms, mops etc were non-existent. There were no sanitary facilities, and clean water was impossible to come by. There were no boats or fishing or hunting gear. But imagine forcefully removing people who had lived one place for thousands of years without trees, and putting them in a place dense with them. When the grumbling began, the government decided to send enough men back to harvest seals. Threaten with not being allowed to return if they waited until the end of the war, the men returned, being told they would be supporting the war effort and clothing the troops. In fact, they were working as slaves for the Fouke Fur Company, who kept profits of their labors. It seems that in traditional fashion, when the government made a mistake, it compounded it.
The rest of the Aleuts returned two years after the war, a year after they were promised passage. In Nikolski, they returned to find that there church cupola had been used for target practice, and the building ruined from vandalism from the American soldiers. The Atkans returned to nothing, their village having been burnt to the ground in front of their eyes. The looting in Akutan was so bad that inquiries were conducted.
Ten percent of the Aleuts died during the interment. When they returned, President Roosevelt limited award settlements to no more than $12.00 per person. So being rather shocked and amazed by this, when we got down to Dutch Harbor I called my friend Martha Davis, the wildlife campaigner from the San Francisco office. On the heels of what was a wildly successful whaling action in Siberia, we were given permission to go to the Pribilofs. The Pribiof Islands seal hunt was the last seal hunt in the U.S. My hazy speculation is that the end of the seal hunt was in the near future. If the Aleuts wondered what their fellow citizens were going to do to them next, who could blame them? Our intention is going was to see if we could offer any help in establishing other means of support for the community.
The best plans of mice and men? ..
One afternoon while Martha and the other campaigners were at a meeting, I received a radio call. I had just spent some time on the rowing machine in the hold, and had taken my weekly shower, those being the days before water makers (or at least before we had them). It turns out one of our boat had gotten loose, and was beating itself to death on the rocks. Not thinking twice, I jumped into another boat, and raced for the beach. I could not get close enough to the rocks to get the boat myself. But whether I saw them on the dock, or just up on the hill, there were Dan and Daniel, just where and when I needed them.
Dan and Daniel had become "famous" the month before for delaying our departure for the Siberia whale campaign, when their boat flipped over in the surf after taking someone ashore in Nome. But that’s another story. Somehow I was able to get them to understand I needed them down at the beached boat ASAP to throw me line. I had not really stopped to look at the few seals on the beach. They ran down the hillside. When they were about halfway down, I could see why they had been reluctant. As they ran down through the seal heard, large bull sea lions, the size of small steam locomotives would lunge at them snarling with mouths open. I guess it said something for my powers of persuasion at that time that I got them to do it. And it really was a good show. Any NFL halfback would have been proud to move so quickly. As a bull would lunge at them, both would change directions instantly, and run away a few steps before turning to run back down the hill. They got down the hill, and threw me the painter of the beached boat that was smashing against the rocks. I heard Daniel yell, "aren't you going to pick us up!?!" "Surf too bad" I said, "meet me at the dock". Zoom, I was off.They made it back to the dock a few minutes after I did. I was sitting in the boat sort of steaming. My weekly shower had been done in by several buckets of very cold salt water that had gone down the back of my neck. While we were sitting there calming down, a jeep drove up. An officer of some kind wanted us to "come along". He did not put us in cuffs or say we were arrested, but he was pretty pissed off. Because it turns out, while Martha and company were in their meeting, we had scattered most of the herd that was due to be culled the next day. And the people of the island were pissed. They suspected that we had planned the whole thing. And it took quite some explaining on our part to make them believe that we had just been real stupid. (Maybe that was not so hard to believe...) I remember saying that we never did actions without at least a couple shooters (video) and snappers (stills) around. But the officer took down our names to see if anyone up the line wanted to prosecute us. I apologized at the time, and I will be happy to apologize again when I visit the Pribilofs this summer. We never had any intention of screwing up their livelihood. We went there only with the intention of seeing if there was anything we could do to help. Which is why we are going back this summer. Hopefully with George leading the way, we will do a bit better this time.
Martha left Greenpeace a year later and became executive director of the Save Mono Lake Committee. Dan Zbozien designs solar houses in Boulder. Daniel Burgivan is in artist in western New York State, and has two sons.
Most of the information I used this time was from a history paper of Christopher Cueva. It can be found at: http://www.akhistorycourse.org/articles/article.php?artID=215 More info can be found at: http://www.nps.gov/archive/aleu/AleutInternmentAndRestitution.htm
- Peter Wilcox
What a day! This was our third day in Pribilof Canyon, and it was a good one. Kenneth and David took the subs down to about 1,000 feet, and right away they radioed up that they were in a "rich coral area." They surveyed a vast field of soft corals, which provided habitat for a diverse array of invertebrates and fish. This was an exciting find, and one that should make a powerful case for protecting the canyon seafloor from destructive fishing practices - like bottom trawling AND bottom trawling masquerading as "pelagic" or "mid-water" trawling.
One of the things that makes the canyons so important is that they are deep enough to have served as refuges from fishing... at least until recently. Now trawlers can easily drag their nets down to a kilometer or more, so even these areas have come under threat. The uppper walls of the canyons are among the most heavily fished areas in the Bering Sea.
As if the dive itself wasn't enough, Kenneth was visited by a pod of Dall's porpoises, which were highly intrigued by his submarine. I was just watching the video of his experience, and it looked like he was surrounded by salsa-dancing porpoise shaped missiles. These things were FAST, and really left us with the feeling that it would be fun to be a porpoise.
The other exciting thing was that we got the ROV up and running today, which gave us a chance to get into even deeper water. We saw quite a few corals and sponges, some big old rockfish, a giant cod that probably got that way by living deeper than all his cousins, and a good smattering of king crabs. There were also some satisfyingly weird deep sea creatures, like a wolf fish, a kind of squid we haven't seen before, and (my personal pick for deep sea weirdo of the expedition so far) a giant pink snail fish.
I'm looking forward to sharing our photos with you - stay tuned!
John H
This weekend we piloted submarines into Pribilof Canyon for the first time. Ever.
Yesterday, Michelle and David made the first dives, and came across a dense school of squid between 800 and 1,000 feet. Once they reached the bottom, they found the seafloor to be soft sediments scattered with numerous species of sea stars, shrimp, crab, arrowtooth flounder and other flatfish, anemones, and an enormous number of tiny unknown invertebrates.
Today, Timo and I made deeper dives to a similar area - silt bottom, teeming with life just under the surface. The entire seafloor is covered with depressions, holes, tracks, and bumps created by marine life no one has ever laid eyes on before. Once believed to be nearly featureless and uninhabited, the bottom of the ocean is now known to be home to a rich and dynamic web of life.
We were excited to find dozens of sea whips, cold water corals that provide habitat for brittle stars, basket stars, shrimp, and even commercially important fish. Most fun - and most surprising - was an enormous school of bright red Pacific Ocean perch, which swarmed all over our subs. The fish got into every nook and cranny, checking out the lights, the cameras, the manipulator arms, and even the sampling basket. They also spent a lot of time seeming to look into the subs' plexiglass domes, making US feel like we were inside fishbowls being stared at by the fish instead of the other way around. Well, we were on their turf, so I suppose that's only fair!
We covered a lot of area this weekend, spending about twelve hours on the seafloor. After months of talking to scientists in the lead-up to this expedition, I was happy to see that we were able to get some of the images that researchers had told us they hoped we'd be able to obtain - from the Pacific Ocean perch that can be found on some restaurant menus to far more obscure creatures like bryozoans, hydroids, snailfish, and even a giant melon whelk.
Not bad for our first two days! Tomorrow, we'll try using the ROV, a tethered robot which will enable us to collect video down to 3,300 feet - from the comfort of the ship's bridge. One great thing about the ROV is that the whole crew can see it all on the video monitor as it happens, with a new discovery in every frame.
Stay tuned for more pictures!
John H
After months of preparation, we are finally here. The Esperanza has just arrived at the SW edge of Pribilof Canyon, and the seas are calm. After a lot of hard work from the crew, we have loaded on two submarines, an ROV, a decompression chamber the size of a small whale, and more piles, boxes, and bags of dive gear and scientific equipment than would fit in a small warehouse. Everyone managed to get here, which in itself is quite a feat given how far some people had to come and how notoriously prone to cancellations and delays flights into Alaska's outlying airports can be.
Everything seems to be in good working order, so if all goes well today we will get the two submarines in the water this morning, followed by an ROV dive as soon as they come up. Then if the weather's still good, we'll get in another sub dive after that - taking advantage of these long Alaska summer days. And with the unpredictable Bering Sea weather, we want to do as much as we can when the wind and waves allow it.
Yesterday we watched footage of the ROV dives that NOAA did in the Bering Sea back in the 90s, and Bob Stone (the NOAA coral specialist on board with us) showed us video from his groundbreaking work in the Aleutian Islands. No one has ever been down in this canyon before, but these videos will give us some idea of what we might find. Really, though, no one knows what is down there, and we can't wait to find out.
It's time to get in the water! Wish us luck -
John H
I am sure many, if not all of us, have heard those words spoken by mommie at lunch or supper time. For me and my brothers and sisters, both times at home on St. George Island were special. Mom was a wonderful cook, especially when prepairing our traditional foods of seal, ducks, geese, kittiwakes, murres and halibut and cod. She knew what she was doing, cause, hey, she is mom. And Dad, he as you know already was a real man's man. Now I understand him as a true person, a real icon to be emulated and admired.
Lunchtime was always our main meal at home. For supper, we would have leftovers, and even then, it was delicious. Dad would go to work as a carpenter for the Federal Government, mom would be home and we, my two brothers, one older and the other, almost like a twin cept he was and is cuter en me, would be at school. Later two other brothers and two sisters were added to the bunch. The more, the better. My Deedah, Grandpa, would always come over, from two houses down on the same row of wooden building structures, for lunch. He walked with a limp. Sometimes our uncles would accompany him. Anyway, the table was always full. Come to think of it, we had two tables almost everyday. One for the grown ups, and the other, us. It was warm, the coal stove burning hot, mom rushing about, and the men, sitting and talking in Unangan about important matters, at least as far as we were concerned. And we were told to be quiet. And most times we were. Respecct, you understand, is very important in close knit families. In everything for that matter. And we had to learn it quick and at a very young age. No Dr. Spock ideas here. Learn or, well, you get the picture.
Deedah would be at the head of the table. He always said the Lord's prayer in slavonic. He was always served first, then Dad, uncles and the rest until it got down to us. And when it got down to us, sometimes we got the not so best parts of whatever was being served. No mind. It was good. Mom's fry bread (ah la dicks) or home made bread was the best. Only one hour to eat, or 30 minutes was more like it. Then do the dishes, clean up and run back to school down the hill. Laughing and teasing one another as do children all over. Then, back to work. But, I remember very clearly that after we all ate, a cloth, like a napkin, we did not have paper napkins, was passed around to wipe the face and hands, first of course to Deedah. Then the rest in order of respect.
As kids do, we wanted the ah la dicks cause, well, butter and jam was spread over them, and oh, they were and are to this day, so good. Hot. Warm. Tasty. Because we wanted to fill up on this, its our meal and dessert at the same time, often we did not want to finish our main meal, more often than not, some wild and traditional food. Seal, cormorant, or fish. And, as always, we would hear: "Finish your food, because some day you might be hungry." Mom, what a woman. Did not know it then, but I am so thankful now. As a side, Mom was so beautiful, internally and physically. Well, anyway, little did I know how important those words would play out today in the whole scheme of things. I don't know if the meaning was this, but so what. They are so prophetic. "Finish your food, because someday you might be hungry." To me, I think what Mom said was: "Finish your food because someday you might be hungry for it." I wondered as a young boy how we could ever go hungry because it seemed like there was a bunch of food, especially our food. And there was. Sure, there were lean months, but also, when the animals that took care of us were home, they made sure we could not miss them. They showed up in the millions. All of them. Millions.
Now, in real time, I am fifty something years old. My memory of these days had to go back as far as when I was ten, twelve, or there abouts. As rich as we were, we did not know how poor we really were. Anyway, those words of Mom haunts me today. How did she know? Where did she learn this? Was she taught? Who taught her? Or maybe, in my mind, I just want to think that she just knew, for afterall, she is Mom. And smart? Wise? She is Mom. What do you think I think?
And now, fourty some years later, a very short time from those days, I am hungry. I simply cannot believe it ! No Deedah any more, or Dad, or Mom or uncles. And no food. Like I have been talking to the people in the villages, if we no longer can eat and survive at home, we will have to move to the city. Anchorage. What a mess. And now, I am living there. I cannot fish. I cannot hunt. I cannot, only once or twice a year, eat my food. Its hard to find. Its hard to find for our people who are still living at home. And what they catch they have just enough for others in the village. Son of a ...... I am so angry about that. Who said the fishermen on the TV program Deadliest Catch have a right to their way of life at the cost of ours? Who said, its ok for the North Pacific Fishery Management Council to dole out millions of metric tons of bycatch and destroy and make desserts out of the Bering Sea at our expense? Who is playing god here? Why are their ways of living more critical, more important, more better than ours in the villages? Why? Someone, please tell me. And then, when they catch all the fish, crab and kill all the food we depend upon, our compassionate, conservative United States's "pursuit of happiness bull" buys their boats from them cause, well, they cannot catch enough to buy a christmas tree. Where is the honor? Give me more fish. I have to follow the fish further north cause, they are moving. My gosh! Who are these people? And who gives them the rights? Someone, please tell me.
The elder in Mekoryuk said: "My ancestors said we are not supposed to play with our food." Well, lets create councils, scientific committees, advisory panels and play manopoly with our food. Lets wall street it. Lets trade and have a drink to our success! Lets become TV stars over our boo hoo, we cannot catch nuff crab! And lets let the cameras zoom in on a cute dockside homecoming in Seattle, tears and hugs, cause, well, we raped the Bering Sea, but this time, rather than the big million dollar pay checks we used to get, now its a measily hundreds of thousands of dollars. Why? Please, someone tell me. Why? Why destroy and kill? Tell me.
Finish your food, cause someday you will be hungry, on this beautiful planet we call Earth.
Until next time.
George
Well, painfully and sorryfully, we did not make it to Kipnuk. This, however, not for the lack of trying. We really made an effort, but that is not what I wanted to talk about today. Today is all about present-ence, if I am spelling that right.
We spent almost twelve hours, from the time we left the ship until our return, in an absolutely wonderful place with more. Toksook. An unassuming little Yupik town in an unassuming part of Alaska with unassuming people. We were the assuming bunch. Assuming we know of what we speak, and more, maybe of how we speak about what we speak.
We came, saw, and were totally conquored by a people and a village where life is full of present-ence. People who, although from the surface, seem to have so little, but are full of joy. Struggle for them is simply a way of life. We look at struggle in life, I guess, as a negative, something to avoid at almost any cost. They simply seem to see struggle, and sure, always not fun, simply as just a part of it, not to be negativeide, but as a presence.
For weeks now I have been asking questions during our interviews for our documentation of our visits. Research? Outreach? Nay, visits. We are visiting life, and it seems, life in its simplicity. We may, and ofcouse its just my tainted opinion, look at what we do as critical, important, interesting and problems to be solved. We create many of them, simply, perhaps, so that when we solve them, or come close, we feel gratified at our abilities. We invent things, toys, machines and such, often complicated ones, such as the one I am now using, perhaps so that when we finally are able to get good at using them, we must feel intelligent and knowing. Often, I wonder, if that is not what we do with our speak. We often speak in codes, perhaps thinking that those to whom we speak, if they cannot understand our codes, we must be all the more aware. Aware of what? Codes for who? or whom, as the case may be. Solving what, and why and again, for whom?
In an interview yesterday, in unassuming Toksook, somethings happened to me. Well, lots of things happened to me, and in retrothought, is still growing. I saw wiseness, patience, living, honesty, codelessness, plain speak right from a part in us we often do not meet. I witnessed, watched and heard. Looking back on my life, I wanted to be somewhere, someplace, something. Learned. Articulate. Understanding. Smart. And I may have found what I was and have been seeking. Rather than wanting to be all these unattainable traits of "full of myselfness" why not just be? Not just be for anyone else, for if I do that, I am being something which I think someone wants me to be and thus not truely honest. Present-ence.
I was interviewing an elder. A truely full and real human being. We often say, in my culture and language, that before the Russians came and interrupted our ways, we called ourselves Unangan (they called us Aleut). And we say, Unangan means "real human being." And I understand that many people have similar names for themselves, with similar meanings. But, and then, we venture off trying to be that. Not, in my mind, this gentleman. He was not trying to be something. Not trying to solve the mysteries of problems. Not trying to impress anyone. Not trying to do all the other things we often try to do to make ourselves something we cannot be if we don't simply be. He simply said and answered.
I have been blessed with many times in my life to witness simple goodness, and if I am allowed to say, simple holiness and peace. I have vested myself in garb, vestments, clothes which enabled me to stand in the presence of the Lord during worship, allowing me to know I am doing somthing which is not "of this world, but surely in this world." I have stood in front of altars, blessed and dedicated to fully immerse myself, totally and deeply in this act of love. And I have bathed it that. Like that, this man allowed me to stand in that presence. At least in my mind. Now I know of human weaknesses, frailty, and sin. I know they exist, and this man, I am sure, has had his fill, and perhaps in many ways still does. But.....he wavered not. He spoke, not in code. He poured out honey from his soul. And he wanted nothing in return. He said of what he knows. He sought to teach and no returns expected. Not even solutions to the many questions. He is a present-ence. We must seek to meet him. And in so doing, we must, like he, be still. Stop thinking that in our intelligence, in our egos, in our smartnesses, in our abundance of technology, in our learnedness, we can solve anything and everything. In doing that, we become as a lion, lurking in ambush. We must be aware that all we can probably do now is lessen real coming sufferings, sufferings we ourselves have caused. I guess the assuming answer might be, if we hear silence, we are there. We have solved somthing. We will go on and seek and look and ask and hear. We will struggle to find solutions and solutions will come. We are on the right track, we people who are working to restore healthy life. And we are and will continue to meet goodness. We have to be prepared to recognize that when that is present-ence, when that happens. Oh I hope this comes accorss as meaningful, somehow, but afterall, its Sunday morning in Etolin Straigt, village hopping, and I hope I am allowed to ramble. But, I met a good man, and for that, I am humbled and perhaps forever changed. This planet we call Earth is good. She was, is and will care for us. She is simply asking, perhaps in the end, for us to listen to her silence.
Until next time.
George
Yesterday I had my biggest challenge as a jettie driver so far. Guided by a totally unreliable blown up sea chart with last known depths taken 10 years ago, and advice from the local people to turn right by the island and stay close to the shore, we took off from the Espy around noon. Due to swell and a strong NW wind I couldn’t see any island in the first hour. While we were bouncing from wave to wave with spray filling the air around us, I noticed a slight difference in the breaking waves close to us, dead ahead.
I pushed the throttle up and aimed for the middle part of these confused seas where the water was more calm. Surfing the last wave in to this flat sea, I realized we made it so far. A moment of rest for everybody and a moment for me to check position by eye and GPS. Then I saw I took the South entrance between the islands and not the North as planned. These islands were not covered with any green life. They are only 3 feet above sea level and nothing else than a high sand bank. The rest of the lower sand banks were now somewhere under and surrounding us. We had no depth sounder. In my opinion it was not necessary. A long pole with some tape will measure just what I want to know; enough depth or not.
So, there we were; between the islands and the mainland, surrounded by unseen sandbanks, alive and kicking. What to do? Just what I learned as a kid in Holland, take the pole and source your way in. (I gave the campaigners a warning; going in is one thing, coming out is something else, and help is far away, here at 60 degrees North and 165 West). With Freddy standing up front ‘poling’ constantly and on an easy throttle we slowly headed towards the mainland, as advised. After four ‘pull backs’ we dropped anchor and waited for more water. Two hours to go before high tide and 8 miles to go to the village.
Half a hour later we found a way between the banks and we sped up, parallel to the beach. Everything seemed to go perfectly and I even got a compliment. But I rejected that by answering to keep that compliment until we were drinking a beer on board and all is fine. By now we’re doing 20 knots (draft becomes less) and cruising parallel to the mainland into the mouth of the river. The first two bumps I didn’t feel or notice, the third I was wondering; “what’s happening?”, and after the fourth I had the throttle all the way down. But it was too late... we were stuck. And not “normal stuck”, but serious stuck. In the mud; black soft mud.
We had less than two hands of water and the boat had a draft of just one arm. Need to calculate? Six cables to the entrance and here we are. Seven opinions further I used my veto and ordered all (all...) the weight to the front of the boat. That lifts the back of the boat. With a lot of steering and engine force, half a hour later we were in deeper water. By now it was the calculated high tide. We decided to go back to the ship. The programmed way point directed me nicely towards the middle of two other (charted) islands. Because time wasn’t on my side, and I thought I had deep enough water, we were doing 25 knots. But as we came closer to the way point, and I was standing to see further ahead, I realized there was no gap, the way point was exactly in the middle of this extra long island. And before I could slow down and take position we hit a bank, this time hard. In a split second we went from 20 knots to zero. Now all the weight was at the fore ship without asking. And luckily no injuries. After three opinions I ordered everybody in the water to push and pull our way out, steering and throtelling at the same time. The tide was on the way out and we had no time left. Freddy found some deeper water. Everybody pushed and pulled the boat into the deep water. All piled in again and vrooeeeemmmm, full force over the banks, all or nothing, into the disturbed sea between the islands again. Water sprays takes away any horizon. Time to report home:” Esperanza..., Billy green,....we reached deep waters,.. ETA 35 minutes”.
I guess its time to bring up a subject which has always excited me. I have not spoken about this before because, quite frankly, many others have and I just figured many people would and do understand the concept. It is called Local and Traditional Knowledge or LTK. Basically, and this should be evident, what LTK local people have about their environment, their home, must be taken seriously. A case in point.
We are on a ship, the Esperanza, which is equiped with a lot of electronic gadgets. We have GPS's, radars, radios, internet and one of just about everything else. As we set out to visit the village of Kipnuk in the Kuskokwim Bay, we began from a distance of about seven miles off shore. This is just about as close as we can get given the depths of the water near this long established and traditional Yupik village. (Makes me wonder about the 20 miles exclusion zone which the North Pacific Fishery Management Council (NPFMC) took into consideration at their last meeting in Sitka, where there would be no hard bottom trawling done around these villages. There is no water to speak of, and sand bars all over the place. This is prime heritage zone real estate) Suffice to say, we had a difficult time finding safe passage into Kipnuk, and after several attempts, had to return to the ship to regroup. Today we will make another effort, but this time with LTK. We may have just assumed a little much, and are also stimied by the lack of accurate charts. None the less, it was interesting, to say the least.
This is where the issue of LTK comes into focus real clearly, and fast. We really don't know what is happening to the ecosystem or the greater environments in the same manner local people who are intiment with their surrounds. One of the arguements we have been making, western scientific methods versus LTK, is that western science always took a more serious and higher role in decision making than LTK. LTK, it is argued, is anacdotal and not reliable. Well, we proved that theory wrong. LTK says, and said to us yesterday; when you come to the sand bar that has two dead whales on it, follow the sand bar and when you come to the end of it, turn right and you will be home free. Simple enough. Not scientific enough for people who have all the gadgets and methods to prove issues, but very real. Local and Traditional Knowledge.
In the greater debate of the changes happening to our Gulf of Alaska/Bering Sea ecosystems, rather than rely strictly upon the axiom that one plus one equals two, a solution, we need LTK which says, one plus five equals six. The people who live here, who rely upon the environment for their existence and survival have to know. It is not a question of theory or guesstament, it has to be one hundred percent accurate or else, a quick and sudden death, or as we may be seeing, a slow and painful PEST which eventually leads to that death. We must stop the oftimes arrogence of we know better cause we have better toys to play with and that often proves we know better, and begin a relationship with LTK such that LTK is taken seriously as science, or as the NPFMC likes to say, the best available science. Interestingly, the best available science is failing us in our home. Fisheries are being shut down, or, taking in some cases years to do, but nonetheless, being done. Stocks are not rebounding in numbers that our best available science predicts they would. Damage is being done to the sensitive habitat that our best available science is not telling us, but wait, LTK is telling us. One, the people are making hourly, daily, weekly, monthly, yearly observations, plus five, they are seeing the total picture, all things being connected.
So if there is, was, or would ever be any doubt about the value of LTK, let us consider. We do not depend upon this system, this environment for our survival. We are not here to make these observations and say, turn when you see the two dead whales. We are not dependent upon anything out here for our daily sustenence. We can make things, like our food, to feed us. We can build and plan big gigantic fish farms on the high seas. We can....and do....think our western scientific methods will help save our big beautiful planet we call Earth.
Until Next Time.
George
PS..another interesting cultural difference we notice right off the bat. In western culture, when a question is asked, we often expect immediate answers, often thinking that the quicker the answer to the question, the "on top of it" we are or appear. Here in our traditional cultures of Alaska, its quite the opposite. We ask a question, and sometimes the answer comes a lot later. Its not what we expect. Perhaps the person formulating an answer is taking some time because, well, the answer is very thoughtful, not quick. There is no need to rush and show, "on top of itness." Simply, thoughtfulness.
As a kid growing up on St. George Island, one of the Pribilof Islands in the Bering Sea, one of the highlights was the occasional, very sporadic, "outings" my parents arranged with the United States Federal Government. Its interesting to me now that I think of this. Anyway, my Dad would walk ever so gently to the office of the then Island Manager, Dan Benson, who oversaw the US Governments operations for the entire commercial fur seal industry, we being a captive work force. I say ever so gently, probably all the while thinking about what he was going to say, what Mr. Benson, as we addressed and referred to him, was going to say and how my Dad would respond. I know this is probably what he did because sometimes I do the same thing. Anyway, he, my Dad, after making plans for a picnic, or "outing" on our small Island, would walk down to Mr. Benson's office and ask to borrow a truck. Not a pick up, or a van, or some other small vehicle, but a truck with a big dump on the back of it. Probably used to dump the blubber off the fur seal skins he used to blubber, a term referring to scraping the fat off the skin. As a kid, I did not know all of this, so I did not really appreciate what it took for Dad to do this. This Mr. Benson was the judge, jury and carry outer of the sentence for everyone and everything that happened on that small Island, back in the day. And sometimes, Dad would drive this big truck up to the house, all smiles and proud. This because his job as a carpenter during the off fur seal harvesting seasons, did not allow him to drive. So seeing him behind the wheel of a big truck, well, he thought he was cool. And to me, to us, he is. Very cool man.
Anyway, since St. George Island only had a total of 7 miles of road, we would load up our picnic stuff, Mom was a really good one, a good Mom, her name is Eva, and would all climb aboard the dump, still kinda reeking of seal fat, and off we would go. Dad, pressing on the gas peddle while Mom is telling him how to drive. And since the road was only wide enough for one way traffic, if by chance another truck would be coming our way, there were periodic turn offs, places where one truck could pull off the main road and allow the other truck to drive by. It was always, in my youthful mind, a wonder who would use the turn off first, cause, hey, rules of the road. Well, Dillingham was kinda a "turn-off" of sorts for us during this campaign. It is a large community, by Alaska standards, and an industrialized one at that. And the only resource produced and harvested is salmon, three or four species of salmon, but none the less, salmon. We were and are welcome in this fishing community. Boats stopped by and offered us fish and talked with us, smiles and waves. Welcome is heard shouted over the noise of the rushing river, where we were parked, and the loud noise of the boat's grinding engins. And, in the community, hello's and hi's are exchanged. We are welcome.
I wondered, however, how we could address environmental and ecosystem concerns in a community that is so prosperous, or seemingly so, until I remembered my Dad driving. For now, this moment, this outing, all is well. But knowing what I think I know about the overall health of the Bering Sea/Gulf of Alaska (this is a problem for know it alls) I thought, who is going to get to the turn off quicker; the people in the community or the industry which buys and processes the fish? My guess is, the industry. And that concerns me because, honestly, they do not live here. Anywhere along the one way dirt road, when something is coming the opposite direction, like climate change, price of fish on the world markets, or a steep decline in the overall harvestable salmon populations, Pebble mine development or oil and gas drilling in Bristol Bay, they can get off the road and go somewhere else. The Community and its people cannot. Unless of course we are able to inspire a need for good, thoughtful prepariations to the changes. This is where I think our Heritage Zones will offer that turn off for the people. Through good and thoughtful planning, the people might be able to get off the one way road to nowhere and buy time to develop resource and habitat protections. And in so doing, might be able to participate in their management, if such is possible. Dillingham is indeed a good turn off for our mission because it forced us, we on the campaign, to think and think differently about our mission's purpose.
So, my Dad, all smiles, driving down a one way dirt road on St. George Island, with his sweetheart yelling directions and instructions, smiled and smiled widely, because for him, he did not need a turn off in life, he was living on the main road, proud that the United States Government said, "sure Mr. Pletnikoff, take your family out on a picnic, an outing," on the back of a smelly oily dump truck, on this planet we call Earth.
Until Next Time.
George
Our oceans are facing pressures from all sides. In addition to commercial bottom trawling, pollution, and climate change, here, in southwestern Alaska, Bristol Bay and its residents are preparing to deal with another destructive threat – the proposed Pebble Mine. This mine would be located in the heart of the Bristol Bay watershed. As it is now proposed, it would have the largest dam in the world. Larger than the massive Hoover Dam. And to top it off, it would be an earthen dam, constructed from compacted soils, not concrete. And don't forget, Alaska is located along the 'ring of fire' – an earthquake prone region that has experienced major earthquake events within the past 50 years. This open pit mine, a sore on the landscape, would be so large it would be visible from space.
According to polls, regional opposition to this mine has topped 75% and seems to be growing. As we arrived in Bristol Bay this weekend virtually every fishing boat we passed had an anti-Pebble Mine flag. There are similar signs all over town in Dillingham, stickers on cars, and constant conversation about this proposed project. Not just a threat to the 'environment,' this mine has the potential to destroy some of the most important fish habitat in the world and pollute the clean water that other animals and humans in the area use. The Bristol Bay fishery supports local subsistence practices, guiding businesses, and local lodges. Some people support the mine and the jobs it will bring to the region and from one perspective, they really can't be blamed. The depressed economy of southwestern Alaska and the incredibly high cost of living has put some people, I believe, in a no-win situation. Short-term (Mines don't produce forever.) employment possibilities (How many workers will actually be Alaskans? We've seen this before...) and unknown environmental dangers, versus a healthy watershed and all that comes with it, but perhaps no regular source of income.
This project would be located on State of Alaska lands and the state coffers have much to gain. We all hope that the state will not only make sound, science-based decisions regarding the mine, but that it will also take into account the best interests of all of the people of Alaska – especially those who have the most to lose.
The company proposing this massive project, Northern Dynasty, is not exactly the environmental protector it purports to be. In fact, Northern Dynasty has even written in an annual report that it is unlikely they would or could be subject to U.S. legal proceedings for any environmental damages because they are not a U.S. based or run company. We have all heard the common refrain about how the United States, including Alaska, has some of the strictest environmental standards in the world to protect our fragile environment. That may be the case, though some would debate whether they are strong enough or if they even matter if their isn't proper and consistent enforcement. But really, one only has to look north to the Prudhoe Bay oil fields and the Trans Alaska Pipeline. You may not read about it in your local paper, or hear about it on the news, but there hundreds of oil spills there each year. The Fort Knox Gold Mine outside Fairbanks has just been give permission, by the State, to use cyanide leaching techniques. The Kensington Mine project, near Juneau, was given permission by the Federal government, to dump 210,000 gallons a day of their mine waste directly into a lake, a lake that the company would turn into a tailings holding area (this decision was reversed by the 9th Circuit Court). A proposed bridge across Knik Arm in Anchorage (one of the so-called “bridges to nowhere” ) may have serious negative impacts on the distinctive and already endangered local population of Beluga whales. The list goes on... It looks like neither the State nor Northern Dynasty can honestly say with any real degree of confidence that there won't be major ecosystem damaging impacts from the mine, and their track records aren't very encouraging either.
We all need to do something to make sure the State and the world knows what Alaskans want: long-term existence of a productive and vital system, not short-term profit for a few and the potential destruction of this watershed.
A smile covers my face when I think about the welcomes we had so far. In all the villages we visit we have a so called 'open boat'. We pick up the people from ashore and bring them on board to show them how we live. Because most of my work is on the bridge, I talk about the navigation equipment and the history of the ship (a Russian arctic fire fighting vessel). Especially children are so direct and honest that it makes me and the parents laugh. "How long does it take by the petrol station to fill the tank?" Sometimes I take a small group to the engine room and show them the two main engines. For them the mains are huge. I reckon their as big as two SUV. And double that. Back on the bridge I ask them to point me out the steering wheel and they can't find it. Because it's a tiny little wheel in the middle of the counsel. "Like my Play station at home!!!" The children scream. "Yes" I answer "only this one is for real." So: the bigger the ships, the smaller the wheels. Check it out yourself, see link at my personal.
Greetings from the Esperanza,
Akutan, the village we are at today, has about 75 year round residents. Many of the other communities we are visiting on this tour are also small. Some of them undoubtedly have less residents than you may have had students in your high school. The village is very remote and doesn't even have an airstrip because the terrain here is so steep. The only way to arrive at or leave Akutan is by boat or seaplane.
I'm sure you can imagine that even little changes have a large impact on such small communities. If five or ten people, or even less than that, lose their jobs doing small boat fishing or aren't able to obtain as much food as is necessary for their subsistence needs – it can be disastrous. Not just sad or unfortunate, but truly disastrous for families, and therefore for the community as a whole. It is sobering to think about and adds a sense of urgency to the work Greenpeace is trying to accomplish out here.
My shipmates tease me for always telling them that the next place we are visiting is beautiful, and so is the next, and the next... But it's true! The people are kind and the landscape is stunning. There are very few places in Alaska that have not had the power to awe me with their beauty. And Akutan is....well, beautiful! This village is tucked into a small bay on Akutan Island with green mountains rising up behind the group of small white houses at their feet. This is a harsh place – there are very few trees or bushes and there is an active volcano not far from the village. The island is primarily covered with grasses, sedges, and many flowering plants. The weather can change dramatically from one hour to the next, and the wind can blow and blow and blow. But this all adds to the beauty of the place and to the importance of helping these communities stay viable. There is something about the place, each place, that keeps people here. This is their home and it has been for generations. They'd like to keep it that way and so would I.
It is easy for most of us to go about our daily lives without thinking about small communities such as these along the Bering Sea and the Gulf of Alaska. This is to be expected; out of sight, out of mind, as the saying goes. But I think we all need to make ourselves aware of the difficulties that people in these communities are dealing with on a regular basis. Why? One important reason is because their fate is linked to ours, and everyone's fate is linked to the health of our environment. Most importantly, their lives, and their way of life, is just as important as everyone elses. I think of these small struggling communities kind of as the 'canaries in the coal mine'. We should all be taking notice of what is going on out here. Old Harbor, Sand Point, Akutan – all of these communities, and others in the region, are on the front lines of declining fisheries, climate change, and other global environmental problems.
So you might think: what can I do, as one person, in the face of these large challenges? In fact there are many things you can do, such as supporting Greenpeace. By doing so you support the community outreach that we are doing right now that we hope will lead to positive changes. You can also learn more about these communities, by searching online or at the library. Tell your family and friends what is happening out here. Knowledge is power, and with it you can make informed decisions about your consumer and lifestyle choices – decisions that impact us all.
-Julie
Setting course on a GP ship is different from a regular ship. As a navigation mate I try to get a head start, this because I've got to check the course line for rocks and other things a ship is not build for and calculate and program and re-check. But because the courses, campaigning and planning are three different things, sometimes my work is for the paper bin. A waist of time? Or waist of energy? Not in my point of view. I do my little thing for the bigger picture. Just like others on board sometimes work on something what doesn't work out. That is nothing special, that happens everywhere around the world on boats, offices, in heads of masterminds and one braincell organism. It is called evolution. Progress.
Flexibility and creativity are the keywords in that process. And sometimes I want to do something completely different: the laundry! All the way down in the ship we have two washing and drying machines, this week I signed up for 4 days. All by my self, surrounded by spinning machines and soapy air, I can think about something else than courses...
Kia Ora friends,
The Esperanza set sail from King Cove this afternoon, after spending an engaging couple of days and a night in what I can best describe as a place of stark contrasts. Once again, we sailed into a place of wondrous natural beauty as we've encountered in other stops along our journey, only to drop anchor in front of a sprawling fish factory complex. Peter Pan Seafoods harvests, processes, and markets fish and shellfish pulled from Alaska's waters. It cans and freezes cod, crab, halibut, salmon, pollock, and manufactures surimi for the US retail and foodservice industries. Peter Pan products also find their way to global markets in Europe, Asia, even Australia and New Zealand, sold under various brand names. Here we were on a tour of the plant that's been here since the dawn of the 20th century watching endless slaps of dead salmon being chopped, minced and diced, and stuffed into cans, loaded onto pallets destined for far-flung markets all over the planet. Seems the salmon don't stop migrating, even after they've been pulled from the ocean.
Peter Pan Seafoods is a subsidiary of the Japanese Nichiro Corporation, Japan's third largest sefood company and, historically, one of Japan's largest whaling companies. Nichiro, along with four other big Japanese seafood companies, direcltly supported the Japanese "scientific" whaling program in the Southern Ocean until recently. After deciding that a consumer backlash from anti-whaling seafood consumers around the world might put a dent in their corporate bottom line, the companies pulled a little jiggery pokery and offloaded their shares in the whaling operation to various other Japanese foundations, thereby absolving themselves of any direct links. Nichiro is now looking to a merger with another of Japan's seafood titans - Maruha Corporation in a move that some observers say will set up a megalopoly over the Bering Sea. A worry is that Maruha, once it swallows up the smaller Nichiro, might consolidate processing plants and/or ships through the Bering Sea off Alaska. That would be a big concern for fishermen and port towns highly dependent on the sea for livelihoods, including the fishers in most of the small villages we've visited so far.
So here we are, the crew of the Esperanza amidst all this natural splenour that surrounds the Bering Sea and I come to the stark realisation that the place that once belonged to the so-called "native people" of this sea -- the First People of Alaska -- is now just another ecosystem to plunder for profit by corporations located in some distant land with tentacles that touch every ocean and sea on Earth.
The fate of our oceans and all their biodiversity lies in the hands of corporate shareholders and boards whose sole purpose is to convert fish to cash with ever increasing, deadly efficiency. The fishers and people of coastal communities that border this vast sea have little or no say, trying just to scratch out a living; some simply just trying to subsist. The corporate factory trawlers and bottom trawlers rule the ecosystem. The local fishers from the communities arrive with their day's catch at the docks of Peter Pan or Trident and other multinational conglomerates running the show here, cap in hand, hoping they'll be paid enough by these lords of the sea to pay for their fuel costs and the crew. 70 cents a pound for salmon paid to the boats, but it has to be delivered to the dock boys!
The local communities in these parts have become serfs in a modern-day fuedal system.
So, what of the future of our children? I heard one native community elder of King Cove ask this morning in the meeting we had with tribal representatives. Greenpeace is here to listen to their concerns and see where common ground lies between us. So they're talking about those concerns and one old fella who's fished for 55 years, but now retired, is clearly perplexed. It just isn't like it used to be anymore, he complains. It's tough enough even just to catch enough salmon at times to feed the grandkids, let alone make a dollars-and-cents living. The world of corporatised control over our oceans and fishing lies light years from his experience.
The people here have a tradition that, when they're making big decisions with future implications, they ponder first on what effect their decisions could have on seven generations of children further down the line. Seven generations? Do you think corporate tycoons behind the proposed Maruha/Nichiro merger are taking into account intergenerational equity seven generations down the line?
So the next time you rip open a can of salmon, ready to taste that first succulent morsel, pause a moment to reflect on how it got to be right there in front of you. Think not just about the four or five bucks you shelled out for its purchase, but reflect for a moment, almost as if in prayer, as Alaska's first people do here, contemplating the true cost of that can of salmon on our kids seven generations into the future. Or do we still remember how to do that?
From the Esperanza on our way to our next stop at Akutan
Mike Hagler
Oceans Campaigner
Greenpeace New Zealand
I'm at my desk in Austin, Texas, enjoying the updates from the crew on board the Esperanza and getting ready to join the ship later this month. I was talking to a reporter about the Bering Sea today, and he mentioned that he was planning to speak to a representative of the factory trawlers tomorrow. What did I think the trawl lobbiest would tell him, and how different would it be from what I was saying? It's a funny question, as he's likely to end up feeling like there must be two Alaskas.
In the Alaska described by the factory trawlers, the ecosystem is healthy, and the economy is booming. There is no overfishing going on. The precautionary principle rules the day.
And then there is the Alaska that the crew is seeing with their own eyes and hearing from people in native communities. This Alaska looks a little different - not so far gone that it can't be saved, but far from healthy. The "economy" may well be booming, but many of the small-scale fishing communities scattered along Alaska's islands and coasts are really struggling. And overfishing seems to be a matter of definitions. The computer models may not describe what is going on as overfishing, but then they don't really account for the seabirds, sea lions, fur seals, and fish that are disappearing rapidly as there food is being turned into Mc Fish Filets and fish sticks.
Even some conservationists consider Alaska a model of good fisheries management, but the sad part is that this says more about how bad things are elsewhere than about how good they are in Alaska. There are some things that are going well, and there are things that policy makers in Alaska should be proud of. But we have a long way to go before anyone should start clapping themselves on the back and hyping Alaska fisheries management as a model.
For a more detailed rebuttal of the "Alaska Model," see this article in Alaska Business Monthly. It's not too late to save our oceans - and commercial fisheries along with them - but first we're going to have to be honest with ourselves about what's actually happening, and what it will take to turn things around.
John H
Now we have traveled to five tribal villages: Port Graham, Kodiak, Old Harbor, Chignik and Sand Point. Just about two hours ago, we arrived and dropped anchor in King Cove, the last village on the mainland of Alaska. From here, we head out to Akutan, the beginning of the Aleutian Islands. As you may have read from the others onboard who have posted blogs, the tour has been more than we expected. Celebrations. Observations on peoples ways of living and making that living. Discussions. Serious ones. Who, where, when and why. All seeming innocent questions, but taken very seriously by all involved.
As we village hop on the Gulf of Alaska side of the Alaska Peninsula, I listened and looked intently at the differences between our stops. Settings, harbors, mountains, channels between islands scattered along the coast and teams of wildlife. A large pod of whale here, some sea otter there, birds, vegetation, no stellar sea lion, and some sizes of villages. But that is not what I am interested in, although they capture ones attention and demand an audiance. We all look for how things in general are different, that seems to attract our attentions. I wanted to know what the similarities, what sameness, what are these five villages like with one another. And I am affraid I did not have to look very long. All are same in what drives their economies. Fish and more fish. Concern about the fish. Prices. Amounts of fish. Openings for when the fish are to be harvested. Clousures. When will the State of Alaska shut down a fishery for escapement? What are we to do? How can we subsist and create security for our families? Who is doing what and when and where? Questions and concerns all the same, between the five. The answers? Well, those can vary from place to place.
We meet with the Tribal leaders of each of these communities. They are intense. Serious. Straight forward and questioning. If we do not apply the concepts of the heritage zones, what are we to do? How can we institute such a program? Is it possible? When can we begin? And here is where I find the similarities. When can we begin.
We, I say repeatedly, began this concept well over 9,000 years ago. Unlike the mandates of the Alaska Native Claims Settlement Act which created artificial securities, we select lands of value, be they economic, traditional, spiritual or cultural lands, the US Congress allowed our people three years to decide which of these lands, and there is a bunch here in Alaska, we deemed important and worthy of our attention. What the US Congress failed to do, what the world essentially did not know or realize, nor what we did not understand at that time as Alaska's first peoples is that the land is simply a place to build shelter and rest upon. We understand the term land, as in we care for our land, to mean also water. We know, teach, and have known that the earth is one; land and water are the same and must be treated as such. Some Western thinkers and economists decided that there is a difference, tought that difference and imposed that difference as though we did not know. And we may have learned that difference too well. But, as the similarities develop as our tour progresses, we are regaining our heritage, our traditional understandings, our cultural fineness, reinstituting within what we have been tought well by wise people, our ancestors. They are not different. Land and water are the same and we have always known that. What happens to one, affects the other. How we treat one we must treat the other.
In our case, as Alaska's first peoples, the water is our bread. It is from where we get our nurturing, our energy, our life! It is said that my people understood that the water is the blood of Mother Earth. This is not new for almost any indegenious peoples throughout the world. Western man simply did not, and has not gotten that, and they dominate all aspects of life, down to what happpens in our bedrooms. Western man is misleading himself and his heritage, his future when he seperates land and water. He uses one, cuts it up and hopes it does not impact the other. And he has not learned. It is very sad.
The sameness between the first five, the starting five, I am sure will be the sameness for the following tribes. Water and land. No difference. And so we journey, meet, laugh, sob at times, and hope. For what we hope? That finally our knowledge and understandings of our planet we call Earth will finally get its due.
Until Next Time.
George
It is a strange experience to sail along the coast so close and make visit to the local communities. As I am more used on longer trips at sea or sailing with passengers.
Each day I prepare a 'voyage plan'. That's my job on board. Together with the pilot we set a course and talk about dangers we can encounter along the way, navigational wise. Than I set way points in the charts and program the computer and GPS. Because the traveling time is split up in different watches, every mate knows exactly what course to steer. The captain is also in the wheelhouse during narrow passages, just to make sure.
There has been some new crew on board and it really mixed well. Because we sail with all kind of nationalities and experience and background, the Espi is a real melting pot. And I love it.
O, I've got to go to work...
G'day. Mike again, your roving Greenpeace New Zealand Oceans campaiger from on board the Esperanza in Alaska.
After the Independence Day celebrations with the residents of Old Harbor on Kodiak Island, we've sailed for about 20 hours through some stunning scenery along the Gulf of Alaska coast. Along the way we passed one particular area that appeared to just be teeming with marine life including a couple of dozen or more humpbacks trailing out in a long procession for what seemed about a mile (2.5 kms). Everyone was on deck taking photos when skipper Pete Wilcox came out and reminded us that "the Japanese whalers are planning to kill about 150 of those down in the Southern Ocean come December"
What a come down. A while later we came across a small group of fin whales (or finback whales) one of the rorquals, a family that includes the humpback whales we'd seen earlier, blue whale, Bryde's whale, sei whale, and minke whale. Rorquals all have a dorsal fin and throat grooves that expand when the animal is feeding. The fin is second only to the blue whale in size and weight. Among the fastest of the great whales, it is capable of bursts of speed of up to 23 mph (37 km/hr) leading to its description as the "greyhound of the sea." Fin whales are baleen whales that feed mainly on small shrimp-like creatures called krill and schooling fish.
After the all night sail, we arrived in the fishing village of Chignik at about 7 am. Located on the Alaska Peninsula, about 450 miles southwest of Anchorage, Chignik consists of predominately Alaskan Native or part Native community members. A couple of fishing boats cruised by with some deckhands on board who made it abundantly clear that they were not too happy with our presence. But then, a couple of other boats of salmon fishermen pulled right up alongside and began chatting with the crew, talking about those damned draggers and how bad they are for the sea bed and the marine life. We talked with fishermen about the Greenpeace fisheries campaign, explaining away the myth, which corporate types in the fishing industry just love to propogate, 'Greenpeace is out to stop all fishing'! Nothing could be further from the truth. We just want to see the fishing become sustainable and provide good jobs for good people indefinitely. A lot of the people we've been talking to on our journey so far say that's what they want to.
The fisherfolk in Chignik were feeling a wee bit dissapointed today because the fish and game administrators had put a two day closure on the salmon purse seining to ensure that enough breeders get through to the rivers and spawn new salmon up in the headwaters. Makes sense and the fishermen didn't seem too fussed. How's the salmon running? I wanted to know. Not many out there this year, apparently. Fishing's not so good.
What was really bugging them, though, is the fact that they're only being paid 70 cents (US) a pound for the red salmon they're catching and, on the other hand, spending about $2.50 a gallon for grade two diesel fuel. Costs are up, prices are down. Hard to make a living. There was a time when a pound of salmon fetched well over $2.50 a pound.
But, why are prices so low? I wanted to know. "It's that darned farmed salmon" was the consensus opinion.
Farmed salmon, including Atlantic and Pacific varieties, is the basis of a two billion dollar a year global industry pumping out more than 2.6 million tons of the stuff in 2006. Norway is the the world's biggest producer, followed closely by chile at number two. Other big producers include the UK (especially Scotland), Canada, the USA, Australia, Ireland and various others, including Japan and New Zealand. If you've tried farmed and wild caught salmon, I'm sure you'll agree that wild caught salmon has it all over the farmed garbage (must be all the chemicals and antibiotics they pump into the farmed stuff).
Unfortunately, most aquaculture projects that produce high value species such as salmon or shrimp exert numerous and substantial pressures on the environment. Farmed carnivorous species (flesh eaters) such as salmon and shrimp currently require fish oil and fishmeal in their feed and these are derived from other wild caught fish. For example the total amount of wild fish used to produce one tonne of farmed salmon is between 2.7 and 3.5 tonnes. To give an idea of scale, between 1985 and 1995 the world's shrimp farmers used 36 million tonnes of wild fish to produce just 7.2 million tons of shrimp. In general, carnivorous species require 2.5 – 5 times as much fish as feed as is produced out the other end. What's wrong with this picture?
In many parts of the world, aquaculture developments, particularly for shrimp, have been developed at enormous cost to coastal communities. Resulting social problems include decreased food security and poverty, the displacement of communities and landlessness, pollution of drinking water and poor working conditions with detrimental impacts on health and education.
Excess food and untreated wastes enter the environment so elevating the nutrient levels and resulting in algal blooms and subsequent oxygen depletion causing habitat destruction and cascading negative ecological effects.
Diseases can spread from farmed fish or shellfish to wild populations, further depleting wild stocks. Chemicals from aquaculture feed, antibiotics and pesticides used for disease control enter the local environment and may also enter the food chain of end consumers.
Building fish or shellfish farms can damage surrounding habitats. The destruction of vast tracts of mangrove forests cut down to make way for shrimp farms is an obvious example.
The introduction of non-native or genetically engineered organisms into the wider marine environment may impact on local wild populations – escapes of farmed fish from sea cages are common.
In short, some forms of aquaculture, especially salmon and shrimp farming, are really bad for the environment and people.
The unsustainable practices associated with the farming of salmon and shrimp is not the way forward.
Instead, Greenpeace supports aquaculture that is sustainable. Sustainable aquaculture is the production of seafood that:
· does not result in negative environmental impacts in terms of discharges/effluents to the surrounding environment, require harmful habitat alterations, cause negative effects to local wildlife or cause a risk to local wild populations;
· cultivates species that do not require fish meal/oil or have fish oil/meal conversion ratios of less than one, or the feed originates from sustainable sources and/or is using alternative sources of omega 3 (algal derivates, grape seed oils etc);
· does not deplete local resources and is energy efficient;
· does not threaten human health; and,
· supports the long-term economic and social well-being of local communities.
It's a simple formula and, come to think of it, not unlike some of our ideas for sustainable fisheries.
Later,
Mike
The day began just about the same as anyother day so far. I woke up early and saw perhaps one of the most beautiful sunrises I have ever seen, and I have been blessed to see many. As soon as I saw that, I immediately took pictures, uploaded them to my computer and shared one with my Tai yox. It had to be done. And as I learn how to use this blog stuff more, I hope to share some of those pictures with you. In the mean time, I hope you can envision in your minds eye beauty, and here, beyond words. It reminded me of the passage in the Bible, the Gospel of St. John. "The Light came into the darkness, and the darkness understood it not." And thus our day began.
As we were coming ashore, anticipations of the day was the chatter aboard our little rib, our inflatable boat we use to travel between the ship and the villages. Some villages do not have a large enough dock, nor is the water deep enough to handle our ship. Although this dock in Old Harbor seems like it can handle our ship, caution is taken, and with good measure. And so we ride our rib. The crew and I yell to be heard over the noise of the engine, excited and full of anticipation. What are we going to see and do, afterall, today is a special day in our country. Today is Independence Day, the 4th of July. And we are in Old Harbor, Kodiak Alaska. Old Harbor by any standards is a small community of about 200 people. What could happen here in such a small out of the way place that could even rival a celebration in other larger more cosmopolitan communities. Little did we know.
Immediately upon arrival we headed straight to the Three Saints Orthodox Church. We were told the day before that the day would begin with prayer. Prayer for peace and prayer for the blessing of the small fleet of commercial salmon fishing vessels, preparing for the upcoming salmon season. As we were walking down the dusty street of our host village, I reflected upon something which brought much comfort and understanding about things in life for me. Someone in our group commented that it is good to take "time out" of our busy schedule to pray. I thought, yeah, that is good. Then my thoughts wandered. It seems we are as a society always concerned about time. Time for this, time for that. We are so accustomed to filling in time with activity, rushing here and there, hurrying. We are taking "time out" of our busy lives to pray. Hummm...to me its like, we are taking "time out" of our prayer lives to work. That to me seems like how we should approach our lives, daily and weekly, monthly and yearly. For prayer allows us to see clearly how well we live and work.As we celebrated and prayed in the Church, the Priest mentioned in his litany that the Lord also blesses the crew and our ship the Esperanza. And this is again where I found thankfulness, that yes, we are being cared for. People care about us, and here in Three Saints Orthodox Church on the 4th of July, in Old Harbor, the love blossomed! "For the crew of the Esperanza, we ask for safe journey, good works and a safe passage back home!" And the people responded in unison, "Lord, have mercy, Lord, have mercy, Lord, have mercy." And we stood in silent reflection with peace. We are not taking "time out" from our busy work schedule to pray, but rather, as we seek questions and hard to come by answers to the problems every village up to now are facing, as we listen and teach, answer questions and see, we are taking "time out" from our prayer to work. For that prayer for our journey follows us every moment, from now until.....
And we met with the current and former Chiefs of the Tribe. Where? On the door steps of the Three Saints Orthodox Church. We interviewed, listened and asked questions. We are engaged in the same mission, asking our leaders of our Country to listen, to pray with us, and to help protect us. Protect our food, our way of life, and share mutual respect. Please, do not allow anyone to hurt us any longer. Peace is, well, sorely needed. The dark clouds of pain have weighed heavily upon our villages for so long, sometimes it seems just a way of life. And you know, and I know, that is not true, nor must we accept it as normal. Whats normal is health, and good health, physical and spiritual, emotional and environmental. Thats normal. And we chase normal with thrist. We pray for peace, for the world, but maybe, more so for ourselves. To seek always to do good, practice good and teach good. Unless we combine efforts without egos, doing such work prayerfully, we may find that the dark cloud hovers oh so dangerously over our planet we call Earth. In peace, let us pray.....Until next time. George
I hope I will not invite a jinx on us, as since we have come on our tour, everyone from Homer to Port Graham and now in Kodiak, everyone has been so receptive and kind. We found this to be oh so true with the Tribes of Kodiak and Afognak Island. They opened not only their doors to us, but also their arms, and for that we are so grateful.
First, lets recap the visit to Port Graham. As I mentioned in my earlier blog, the people and I have a long history. And from the reception I received, we all received, it appears our relationship is going towards a more wonderful working relationship that only can get better and better as time goes on. Something very interesting happened while in Port Graham. Remember we have been talking about PEST (Post Environmental Stress Trauma). Well, while we were interviewing an elderly person there, a woman with a long history of working in the health field with her people, she mentioned some really stressful issues which were caused by the Exxon Valdez oil spill. She lamented that a generation or two of young people, as well as parents and others, missed out on customary and traditional teachings and sharings. Meaning, due to the disaster, there was no time to allow traditional transfer of information because of the environmental mess, and that this allowed communities to suffer. The suffering is on going to this day, and at levels we have yet to understand. While there, the community was having a workshop with a prominent psychologist discussing deeply buried and held oppressions from situations such as this. We talked and he commented that we may have finally put a name to an issue that is so devastaing in many ways to our people, and thus, PEST got its first trial run in the profession.
Then we arrived in Kodiak. I was a bit worried that I may have not prepared enough with their tribes, and that the welcome might not go too well. How mistaken I was. From the time I made my first phone call to the offices until we left Kodiak just this morning, the people have been so open and so interested. One elder of the tribal council commented to me, following an on camera interview we did with him. "George," he said. "Your idea about the heritage zones just might be what will enable our people to survive." Wow. I don't know if this will be the case, but we must do something, be creative and involved in our desires to find solutions to the things people all over Alaska, in coastal communities are facing. From one community to the next, the story seems to be the same. Big changes are happening, big problems are coming. Localized depletions of dependent resources are growing with nary an end in sight. And so, we are more than encouraged as we continue our tour. To the people of Kodiak, Port Graham and Homer, we thank you for your gifts of food and your openess. I hope to be returning again in the near future to bring you an update and a report of our findings.
And now we are on our way to Old Harbor. The thing that makes Old Harbor stand out in my mind so much is that without question, after we first sent the proposed resolution to the Tribes for consideration, they passed it and returned it to my office. How caring, I thought, for their people and environment. Because, I believe in our concept. It has a chance to bring good results to the villages.
Life on the vessel is now becoming a routine. Wake up at 6 AM and go to work. It is heartening to be working with an entire crew who seem, well, not just seem, but who feel so strongly about what we are doing. Everyday someone comments to me about how great this tour is and how good its goals are. I only hope that I am up to the challenge of sustaining our efforts to work with the people, encourage growth and protections on this planet we call Earth.
Until next time.
George
Kia Ora, Mike from Greenpeace New Zealand, a campaigner on board the Esperanza, here again.
We commenced sailing again this morning after a day long visit in Kodiak where we met with representatives of two tribes, Afognak and Kodiak, with an invitation for Greenpeace to return for a larger roundtable discussion in September. The people we met with responded enthusiastically to the idea of developing Marine Cultural Heritage Zones that Greenpeace is proposing. George Pletnikoff, our lead campaigner on this journey through the Gulf of Alaska, Aleutian Islands and the Bering Sea, has writtern about this proposal in earlier blogs that you can read below.
conomic malaise are everywhere around Kodiak these days. They're waiting for the return of the King -- red king crab, that is, not Elvis. Kodiak Island's red king crab fishery hit its peak in 1965, with a harvest of 94 million pounds of crab valued at about $12 million. However, these catches soon plummeted and the fishery closed in 1983, and has been closed now for more than a quarter of a century.
Abundant blue king crab, Tanner crab and shrimp populations also declined some years later. What you could definitely call the deadliest catch. Decades of fishing restrictions that followed have failed to increase crab populations to anything close to what they were in their heyday.Some authorities attribute the collapse to overharvesting, while others speculate that climate change might be the culprit -- an hypothesis that the fishing industry itself likes to believe. "It wasn't us, it's the climate". Maybe it was a bit of both; no one is certain. However, it does underscore the importance of taking a precautionary approach to the management of fisheries. If regulatory authorities set lower, much more cautious levels of allowable catch as a fishery develops, instead of sanctioning the 'gold rush' modus operandi, the chances of survival of any harvested wildlife population in the sea and its ability to withstand fluctuations in the natural environment are vastly enhanced. It's not a 'get rich quick' formula, but it's key ingredient in the recipe for sustainable fishing -- fishing that can continue to support communities' economic needs while carrying on for generation after generation after generation into the future.
Our Kodiak stop was preceeded the previous day by a visit to Port Graham, a small coastal village of about 300 people, where we met with Alutiiq tribal elders and other community members. We learned about the struggle the community has been engaged in for many years with the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency over permits it has issued over the years allowing the dumping of endless tonnes of dredge tailings from oil drilling operations in Cook Inlet. The dredge tailings contain mercury, cadmium and other highly toxic heavy metals that are distributed by the tidal flow through the area and find their way into the small bay that Port Graham sits in further along the Cook Inlet. Some of the substances that make up Earth's crust are elements, substances that cannot be naturally broken down into simpler substances. A few of these elements are poisonous even if present in a low concentration. These are known as heavy metals. Examples of heavy metals include mercury, cadmium, arsenic, chromium, thallium, and lead.
Heavy metals bioaccumulate through the marine food web that the residents of Port Graham are at the top of. Bioaccumulation of heavy metals is dangerous to human health, affecting the formation of blood cells. The build-up of heavy metals can cause malfunctions in the liver, kidneys, the circulatory system, and the movement of nerve signals. Some heavy metals may also play a role in the development of various cancers. The residents of Port Graham, justifiably, have serious concerns about the human health impacts of this continuous diet of toxins; indeed, one community activist I spoke to remarked that the community has been experiencing a sharp rise in the rate of cancer in the community.
The US EPA has done studies that show conclusively that heavy metals have bioaccumulated into the food web, but assures the residents of Port Graham that they are not at levels that are harmful to human health. What a load of rubbish! Scientists simply do not know at what level these toxins have damaging health effects, and certainly do not understand precisely how these metals accumulate and the effect of that, in the human body over time. So, the residents of Port Graham have joined in a lawsuit against the EPA, hoping to force it to withdraw the permits from the oil companies that allow them to dump this toxic rubbish into Cook Inlet. As the community activist I spoke to told me, "the EPA would never get away with this down in the lower 48, because people just wouldn't stand for it, but because it's happening to us, a remote community of native people, out of sight and mind, the EPA does get away with it."
This is but one example of the sorts of concerns held by the indigenous people of these coastal communities that this journey we are on aims to document. As we head away from Kodiak this morning, and pass a pod of humback whales surfacing and breeching along the port side of the Esperanza, we are all aware that we are heading into a vast marine wilderness -- a place where animal and man depend directly on the health and vitality of the sea -- a place where men and women who understand and have respect for that fact may endure, as the native peoples of Alaska have done for so many thousands of years.
Kia kaha, Mike
Hi, I'm Mike Hagler. Normally, I'm the oceans campaigner for Greenpeace in New Zealand. I’ve just joined the Esperanza for the first leg of Greenpeace’s two month long expedition visiting coastal communities along the Gulf of Alaska, Aleutian Islands and Bering Sea. I’ll be one of two campaigners on board. We’ll be meeting with the indigenous people in these communities to listen to their concerns about the threats they perceive to the environment in this remote region and the changes they’re experiencing in their lives as a result. Climate change, overfishing and destructive fishing practices, the threat of pollution from oil drilling, and proposals to develop a gigantic open-pit coal mine are just a few examples. All of them pose direct threats particularly to the marine environment upon which indigenous people depend for their food and livelihoods.
From our side, one of the ideas we’ll be exploring with communities we meet is a proposal to establish Marine Cultural Heritage Zones. Greenpeace is advocating this concept as a means of preserving and protecting coastal areas that have been of great cultural and spiritual significance to indigenous peoples of the region for thousands of years.
, where I live, the indigenous Maori people have developed two unique types of special areas established under law in recognition of the importance of the sea to Maori cultural identity and sustenance. These are called Mataitai and Taipure and their purpose is to protect and preserve marine areas of cultural and spiritual significance to Maori.
Mataitai reserves are created in areas of traditional importance to Maori for customary food gathering. Within them, tangata whenua (the people of the land) are authorised by the Minister of Fisheries to manage and control the non-commercial harvest of seafood through a local committee. A tangata tiaki/kaitiaki can recommend bylaws to manage customary food gathering in keeping with local sustainable management practices, and issue customary food authorisations. Mataitai reserves are permanent, though the bylaws can change over time. Once a mataitai reserve is established, commercial fishing is not allowed unless recommended by the tangata tiaki/kaitiaki. Maori and non-Maori may fish in mataitai reserves.
Taipure are local fisheries in coastal waters that recognise the special significance of the area to local iwi or hapu, either as a source of seafood, or for spiritual or cultural reasons. Taiapure give Maori greater say in the management of their traditionally important areas. A major difference between mataitai and taiapure is that taiapure allow commercial fishing. A taiapure proposal from a local community must go through a public consultation process before it is approved. Once set up, a committee nominated by the local Maori community advises the Minister of Fisheries on regulations to control all types of fishing within the local area.
On this great, but threatened, planet of ours, indigenous peoples are facing similar problems and concerns. Local and traditional knowledge must be recognized as an equally valid, scientific method of identifying and solving environmental problems. Thus, with my participation in the Bering Sea 2007 tour, we are beginning a relationship with our northern hemisphere brothers and sisters.
that's all for now, Mike
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