We’re
in and out of internet range now so I’m
not sure when this will go up on the website.
As if to mark the occasion thick swirls
of fog have cut us off from the recent blue
crisp Arctic horizon.
The crew are subdued
but in good spirits albeit a little tired
after the rough Atlantic crossing, long
working days and the sudden lack of awe
inspiring scenery of Greenland’s coastline.
Sailing in towards the mountains around
Nuuk after being starved of land felt like
sailing into a new world, a different planet
which for those who hadn’t seen it could
only silently gaze in amazement bereft of
the ability to speak. The colours here are
incredible, the evening sun washes jagged
green mountains, distant glaciers, small
islands and the serene blue sea with golden
light. Birds swoop and effortlessly glide
by the ship mirrored in mercury like silver
water turning your head until they’re silhouetted
against the evening sun and a shimmer of
a million diamond sparkles.
I photographed a native
Inuit fisherman, in Nuuk, who has come out
to support the Greenpeace campaign here
in the Arctic. He reminded me of so many
people I met with my girlfriend while working
in Russia and China last year. He was speaking
Danish but with strong local dialect, I
understood a little of what he was saying
with my limited Swedish, well the odd word.
He was a calm and intelligent man stating
his concerns for his livelihood that would
be destroyed by the carelessness, greed
and profit hungry oil companies. His eyes
shining wisdom - very similar the to the
nomadic people we met in the Yamal Peninsula,
in North Russia. And just like Yasha, the
tribe leader we stayed with in Siberia –
he was in tune with his environment and
increasingly worried by the changes happening
to his landscape. In Yahsa’s case it was
the permafrost melting, the lake ecosystem
collapsing and their food source disappearing.
The fisherman was aware of the fine balance
of nature and how easily it can be disrupted
and tipped out of sync.
We arrived 120 miles
west of Disko Island on Sunday night and
within a few hours of arriving here a helicopter
appeared out of the fog and viewed us, turned
then disappeared back into the greyness.
Our presence here seems to be causing great
paranoia and fear. I don’t understand why
an oil company has the protection of the
navy, marine police, special forces, helicopters
and countless speedboats to protect an oil
rig from a peaceful Greenpeace ship while
the surrounding pristine wilderness and
the global climate gets none.
I’ve just returned from
a morning taking pictures of Cairn Energy’s
massive logistical operation to stop Icebergs
drifting towards the two drilling vessels.
Huge tugs linger by football pitch-sized
blue hunks of ice ready to lasso them and
drag them away. They even have ships firing
huge jets of water for hours onto icebergs
to make them melt and break up - a reflection
of the oil industry’s attitude to the Arctic.
I can’t help thinking
of all the people my girlfriend Kasja and
I encountered when working in the Ganges
Delta in India. Seeing homes that had been
destroyed by cyclones, washed into the sea,
women carrying concrete blocks and bolders
on their head building sea walls to protect
themselves – as they pointing out to sea
saying “that’s where my home was.”
If climate change continues
and the ice here continues to melt, the
4 million people who live in the Indian
part of the Sunderbans where we were welcomed
and greeted with hope will face the threat
of rising sea levels.
Climate Change is not
a secondary issue on this campaign. It’s
always in the forefront of our minds. We’re
here to bear witness to the oil industry’s
desperate search for the last drops of an
addictive substance society needs to kick.
We’re a long way from home but we hope we’re
doing something important by challenging
the oil industry and saying loud and clear
that we need to finally go beyond oil.
