So our campaign on the Esperanza has come to an end and we're slowly making our way back towards Hobart, Tasmania. For two weeks, we've stayed on the tail of the Nisshin Maru, the Japanese whaling fleet's factory ship as they were running at full speed. During that time, there has been no whaling and in many respects this has been a resounding success for Greenpeace. This expedition has managed to prevent the Japanese from killing whales for longer than any other trip to the Southern Ocean before, but it is with mixed feelings that I write these lines. Their strategy was to lead us around in circles, half way up towards South Africa, then back down to the ice, then a bit East, then North, then West again until we ran out of fuel reserves and had to turn towards the nearest port. Our guess is that given the international scrutiny over their controversial whaling programme, the thing they wanted to avoid the most is the publication of pictures and video of what their 'lethal research' really looks like - and they have managed just that.
Thus this trip has not been at all what I or most other people on board have expected: we didn't see any whaling and didn't do any actions apart from one intermezzo when one of our inflatables drove between the Nisshin Maru and a supply ship. The aim was to prevent them from refuelling at sea and it did make for dramatic pictures - however, they did refuel in the end, offloaded the whale meat they had already processed and then carried on running. What has amazed me the most is the level of media coverage and public debate about whaling - both around the world as well as in Japan, where this campaign ultimately needs to be won to end the slaughter in the Southern Ocean for good.
I didn't get the pictures that I wanted to get, but it would feel odd to *want* to see whales being harpooned and thus I am glad that it turned out as it did. Instead, I had the amazing experience of being on an inflatable next to a whole school of Humpback whales feeding, I've seen spectacular icebergs, sunsets and other moments which will stay with me forever, and that is a good thing. Greenpeace has decided to publish my impressions of the Antarctic in an audio-visual slideshow which you can find here - some of my pictures have made it onto the covers and double-pages of major newspapers, magazines and websites. That in itself is gratifying, although I do wish that we'd had more time to follow the whalers, more time in the ice, more chances of observing whales, more icebergs to look at, just more of everything, really. I guess that the old photographer cliché of 'one more' is true in my case - what I did manage to get is just not enough, ever. For the short time that we were next to the Japanese ships, we had some fun dodging their water cannons, escaping out of the path of the hunter ships as they tried to run us over at high speed, and still managed to get the photos and video that we needed to publicise our cause. It's been an interesting encounter, but sadly the only real encounter with them.
But anyway - swiftly moving on - we are now heading northeast towards Hobart, Tasmania and are due to arrive next Sunday. We will see land for the first time this year, after about 45 days at sea, and for most of us almost 3 1/2 months after joining the ship in Korea. Now that seems such a long time ago, and the journey behind us has taken us from Korea to Taiwan, then back north to the southern coast of Japan, then through the Pacific down to New Zealand, from there along the Antarctic ice shelf, then half way up towards South Africa, then back into the ice and finally to Hobart on the southern tip of Australia. We have covered nearly 20,000 nautical miles, weathered two Typhoons and several storms, rolled and slammed with the waves, suffered in the tropical heat of the Equator and shivered from the cold of Antarctica. In short, it's been a long voyage, we are all tired and I am glad it's almost over.
31 January 2008
14 January 2008
Ibiza for Whales
On New Year's Day, we reached the Antarctic ice shelf and spent a few days skirting around the edges, venturing into the pack ice and sailing past wildlife in the form of penguins, seals, all kinds of Antarctic birds and of course whales. The beauty and tranquillity of the ice is mesmerising - being greeted on New Year's morning with the water surface as silvery and smooth as tin foil, things just kept getting better from then on. On occasion, we could spot the backs of Humpback whales feeding amongst bits of ice, the quiet only broken by the whales' occasional blows when they surfaced. Despite the cold and a leaden, heavy grey sky, it is a fabulous sight and in the back of my mind, I am still wondering if I have really arrived at the bottom of the globe.
A day later we launched an inflatable and went playing in the ice - shots of the Esperanza negotiating her way through the sculptures of weathered ice as well as pictures of spectacular icebergs were on the menu. We also tested our Hydrophone designed to pick up sounds of any whales which may have been nearby. On our way to a grand-looking iceberg in the distance, our driver Clive spotted something in the water so we cut our engine and started drifting. With the Esperanza being several miles away, the feeling of being truly small and insignificant intensified, and there they were: a group of Humpback whales swimming in our direction! They came over, curious about this strange thing floating on the surface, circling our boat several times before taking up directions towards the Esperanza! My first close encounter with whales had just happened - they were easily twice the size of our boat, their sheer mass and the sounds of their blows awe-inspiring, but at no point were we afraid or felt threatened. Although a grown Humpback can weigh as much as 40 tons, they are very gracious swimmers and positioned their surfacing precisely next to our boat under a dramatic sky. A strong, pungy fishy smell hung in the air for a while, generated by the whales' breath, but it was a small price to pay for such a great privilege.
Monday a week ago I can only describe as 'Magic Monday': I was woken early in the morning to the news that we'd come across a whole school of Humpbacks feeding in a quiet bay on the ice edge. The skies were grey, there were icebergs floating around and sightings of whales occurred in virtually every direction. We knew that the whales feed close to the ice edge, but what we encountered here was aptly described by a crewmember as an 'Ibiza for Whales'. So straight out of my pyjamas I jumped into a boatsuit and 20 minutes later we were on the water in our inflatable, heading for a group of whales we had spotted about a mile off the Esperanza. It was a quiet morning with calm weather and at least fifty whales feeding near the ice. We cut the engine and started drifting, and sure enough within a few minutes we were surrounded by Humpbacks. Our cameraman Gavin used the opportunity and jumped into the icy cold to take some video footage from underwater while I concentrated on where the whales would come up next for air.
Everything happened so quickly - first you see a few bubbles coming to the surface, then there is a bit of turbulence, followed by a mighty groan and hiss when the whale exhales - in a strange way, it's not dissimilar to Jurassic Park, except that this is Antarctica, and not Hollywood. If you are quick enough, you can observe the knobbly head and the two blowholes closing - not unlike a giant nose - before these huge, gracious creatures show their dorsal fins, then arch and dive, sometimes revealing their massive tail flukes. On one occasion, I managed to catch a Humpback breaching - such joyful behaviour they normally display when mating, but this particular whale must have been so happy about the amount of Krill he'd consumed that he jumped out of the water to crash back down sideways, creating a huge splash (and a phantastic picture in the process). With so many whales coming and going, Gavin diving into the water several times and us moving occasionally, it seemed like time stood still and we were witnessing nature in its pure form at its best. To be privileged and lucky enough to encounter this on that morning will stay in my mind for a very long time - it was only afterwards that I realised that we'd been out there for close to five hours, and that I'd shot more than a thousand frames. What I can show you through my pictures is just a small window on that world, but I encourage you to visit the Greenpeace weblog where you will find a short video of that day.
Wind forward: Two minutes past midnight on Saturday morning, the mates discovered a blip on the radar which appeared to be another ship. We stopped the engines and started drifting, thus appearing as a drifting iceberg on the radar ourselves. After several hours of tense moments which seemed to last forever, and careful decision-making on the bridge, we were sure that we'd discovered the Japanese whaling fleet. Several people stayed up during this all night thriller, watching the blips and blue trails on the radar screens until one of them turned around and started heading straight for our position! It turned out to be one of the three Yushin Maru catcher ships, donning a harpoon on the bow and the words 'Research' on its side as it emerged from the fog. Then things started moving very quickly - we decided to follow the biggest moving target on the radar, hoping that we were following the Nisshin Maru, the factory 'mothership' to which the catchers offload their dead whales for processing. She has roughly the same top speed as us, and after an all-night chase, the fog lifted in the morning hours and we could make out the ship's silhouette. Thankfully our Captain Frank, Neil the radio operator and others were right, we had found the Nisshin Maru and it was running at full speed away from us.
Now the chase is in its third day and we are still on her tail - we have left Antarctic waters, and every day that we chase the Nisshin Maru is another day the Japanese cannot hunt whales. So the outcome of this adventure on the high seas is in full swing and far from what we'd expected, and far from certain in outcome just yet. The seas are getting rougher and questions over what the Japanese may do next are mounting: Do they want to avoid footage of them whaling at all costs, including a premature end to their hunt and are they returning to Japan? Do they just run around for long enough until our fuel runs out before they go back to whaling? Are they going to refuel somewhere out of Antarctic waters? We don't know, there is a lot of head-scratching going on, and that is about all that I can tell you. Hang in there, and hopefully I'll have more news for you soon.
A day later we launched an inflatable and went playing in the ice - shots of the Esperanza negotiating her way through the sculptures of weathered ice as well as pictures of spectacular icebergs were on the menu. We also tested our Hydrophone designed to pick up sounds of any whales which may have been nearby. On our way to a grand-looking iceberg in the distance, our driver Clive spotted something in the water so we cut our engine and started drifting. With the Esperanza being several miles away, the feeling of being truly small and insignificant intensified, and there they were: a group of Humpback whales swimming in our direction! They came over, curious about this strange thing floating on the surface, circling our boat several times before taking up directions towards the Esperanza! My first close encounter with whales had just happened - they were easily twice the size of our boat, their sheer mass and the sounds of their blows awe-inspiring, but at no point were we afraid or felt threatened. Although a grown Humpback can weigh as much as 40 tons, they are very gracious swimmers and positioned their surfacing precisely next to our boat under a dramatic sky. A strong, pungy fishy smell hung in the air for a while, generated by the whales' breath, but it was a small price to pay for such a great privilege.
Monday a week ago I can only describe as 'Magic Monday': I was woken early in the morning to the news that we'd come across a whole school of Humpbacks feeding in a quiet bay on the ice edge. The skies were grey, there were icebergs floating around and sightings of whales occurred in virtually every direction. We knew that the whales feed close to the ice edge, but what we encountered here was aptly described by a crewmember as an 'Ibiza for Whales'. So straight out of my pyjamas I jumped into a boatsuit and 20 minutes later we were on the water in our inflatable, heading for a group of whales we had spotted about a mile off the Esperanza. It was a quiet morning with calm weather and at least fifty whales feeding near the ice. We cut the engine and started drifting, and sure enough within a few minutes we were surrounded by Humpbacks. Our cameraman Gavin used the opportunity and jumped into the icy cold to take some video footage from underwater while I concentrated on where the whales would come up next for air.
Everything happened so quickly - first you see a few bubbles coming to the surface, then there is a bit of turbulence, followed by a mighty groan and hiss when the whale exhales - in a strange way, it's not dissimilar to Jurassic Park, except that this is Antarctica, and not Hollywood. If you are quick enough, you can observe the knobbly head and the two blowholes closing - not unlike a giant nose - before these huge, gracious creatures show their dorsal fins, then arch and dive, sometimes revealing their massive tail flukes. On one occasion, I managed to catch a Humpback breaching - such joyful behaviour they normally display when mating, but this particular whale must have been so happy about the amount of Krill he'd consumed that he jumped out of the water to crash back down sideways, creating a huge splash (and a phantastic picture in the process). With so many whales coming and going, Gavin diving into the water several times and us moving occasionally, it seemed like time stood still and we were witnessing nature in its pure form at its best. To be privileged and lucky enough to encounter this on that morning will stay in my mind for a very long time - it was only afterwards that I realised that we'd been out there for close to five hours, and that I'd shot more than a thousand frames. What I can show you through my pictures is just a small window on that world, but I encourage you to visit the Greenpeace weblog where you will find a short video of that day.
Wind forward: Two minutes past midnight on Saturday morning, the mates discovered a blip on the radar which appeared to be another ship. We stopped the engines and started drifting, thus appearing as a drifting iceberg on the radar ourselves. After several hours of tense moments which seemed to last forever, and careful decision-making on the bridge, we were sure that we'd discovered the Japanese whaling fleet. Several people stayed up during this all night thriller, watching the blips and blue trails on the radar screens until one of them turned around and started heading straight for our position! It turned out to be one of the three Yushin Maru catcher ships, donning a harpoon on the bow and the words 'Research' on its side as it emerged from the fog. Then things started moving very quickly - we decided to follow the biggest moving target on the radar, hoping that we were following the Nisshin Maru, the factory 'mothership' to which the catchers offload their dead whales for processing. She has roughly the same top speed as us, and after an all-night chase, the fog lifted in the morning hours and we could make out the ship's silhouette. Thankfully our Captain Frank, Neil the radio operator and others were right, we had found the Nisshin Maru and it was running at full speed away from us.
Now the chase is in its third day and we are still on her tail - we have left Antarctic waters, and every day that we chase the Nisshin Maru is another day the Japanese cannot hunt whales. So the outcome of this adventure on the high seas is in full swing and far from what we'd expected, and far from certain in outcome just yet. The seas are getting rougher and questions over what the Japanese may do next are mounting: Do they want to avoid footage of them whaling at all costs, including a premature end to their hunt and are they returning to Japan? Do they just run around for long enough until our fuel runs out before they go back to whaling? Are they going to refuel somewhere out of Antarctic waters? We don't know, there is a lot of head-scratching going on, and that is about all that I can tell you. Hang in there, and hopefully I'll have more news for you soon.
1 January 2008
Welcome 2008 !!!
So it is New Years Day. 2008. Another year, another day, another symbolic chance to start afresh with good resolutions and the things one should or should not do, if there ever was any time to change things. Personally, I don't believe that grand dates symbolise opportunities for change - rather they symbolise our failings to stick to the idealised commitments made during drunk party nights. And being here it is no different - we are still on the Esperanza and we are still searching for the Japanese whalers. Yes, most of us are hungover from last night's party and we are still looking for the whalers and still determined to make their life as difficult as possible. What has changed for us is merely the date and time. And the mood is entirely what we make of it and it has been rather subdued - no great Christmas frenzy, and no great end of the year atmosphere at all.
However, there are a few changes. First off, we have reached the Antarctic ice shelf today, bright white pack-ice as far as the eye can travel, and a calm sea consisting of cakes of ice loosely held together by a thick, sticky soup of freezing water. We were greeted by a sleeping seal and a group of penguins who gawked at us incredulously. A few days ago, we must have looked very similar, bar the cameras when we saw our first icebergs - giant blocks of blueish ice in strange shapes floating in the ocean, one of them being a huge shelf over ten metres high and about 15 miles by 25 miles wide. It is strange to think that there is an iceberg floating past that has the dimensions of a mid-sized city like Hamburg or Manchester, and that before the season is over, it will have dissolved into nothing, melted into the ocean. Frank our captain said a wise thing about them - we are the only people who will ever see these icebergs in their current form. Should anyone ever see the same berg at a later date, it will have changed its appearance either by melting down, breaking up or simply turning upside down as the waves chip away at its icy body.
The pack-ice is making intense crunching sounds against the hull as the ship shudders and pushes its way forward, and I have several hundreds of pictures to go through from the last few days. Being the spoilt photographer that I am, I wish I could have packed my own personal geek to do all the post-production and backup tasks for me as the computer time is beginning to clash with the time I wish I had to spend on deck shooting. But this is wishful thinking and I am not being paid to idle and muse about things that aren't here, I am paid to document things that are. Me being the quality-queen that I am, I can't imagine letting someone else work on my images anyway, so I guess from now on I am in for long hours in the cold during 'daytime' for shooting pictures, and more long hours at 'night' for post-producing and publishing them. Watch this space for more pictures from the ice soon.
To you all - I wish you a good and effective hangover cure for the first day of the New Year - may it be a good one for all of us.
Take care and keep writing! Love, Jiri
However, there are a few changes. First off, we have reached the Antarctic ice shelf today, bright white pack-ice as far as the eye can travel, and a calm sea consisting of cakes of ice loosely held together by a thick, sticky soup of freezing water. We were greeted by a sleeping seal and a group of penguins who gawked at us incredulously. A few days ago, we must have looked very similar, bar the cameras when we saw our first icebergs - giant blocks of blueish ice in strange shapes floating in the ocean, one of them being a huge shelf over ten metres high and about 15 miles by 25 miles wide. It is strange to think that there is an iceberg floating past that has the dimensions of a mid-sized city like Hamburg or Manchester, and that before the season is over, it will have dissolved into nothing, melted into the ocean. Frank our captain said a wise thing about them - we are the only people who will ever see these icebergs in their current form. Should anyone ever see the same berg at a later date, it will have changed its appearance either by melting down, breaking up or simply turning upside down as the waves chip away at its icy body.
The pack-ice is making intense crunching sounds against the hull as the ship shudders and pushes its way forward, and I have several hundreds of pictures to go through from the last few days. Being the spoilt photographer that I am, I wish I could have packed my own personal geek to do all the post-production and backup tasks for me as the computer time is beginning to clash with the time I wish I had to spend on deck shooting. But this is wishful thinking and I am not being paid to idle and muse about things that aren't here, I am paid to document things that are. Me being the quality-queen that I am, I can't imagine letting someone else work on my images anyway, so I guess from now on I am in for long hours in the cold during 'daytime' for shooting pictures, and more long hours at 'night' for post-producing and publishing them. Watch this space for more pictures from the ice soon.
To you all - I wish you a good and effective hangover cure for the first day of the New Year - may it be a good one for all of us.
Take care and keep writing! Love, Jiri
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