1998
Ending my time with Greenpeace.
It is December, Christmas Eve. I was in the Bering Sea aboard Sirius, the newest acquisition to the Greenpeace fleet. On board, there was much thought for families and loved ones at home. I had said my goodbyes to Mum and Dad and dear Uncle Snowy, who wasn’t an uncle but the dearest of Dad’s friends. A mile to the stern was a Norwegian naval vessel that had shadowed us for two days, protecting the Norwegian whaling fleet.
At midnight, I woke in my bunk, Sirius being pushed around in a force eight gale. Steve was sleeping like a baby; I was sick before joining Skipper on the bridge for a mug of cocoa. “Merry Christmas, Harry,” he said, offering me his hand. " This is a tough introduction,” he said, smiling wryly beneath a scraggly straw beard.
Jon looks every inch an activist. “Merry Christmas, Jon,” I replied.
He tells me the forecast is for rapid improvement. The Bering Sea is a cold place and, on Christmas Day, quite inhospitable. In just a few days, I became aware and deeply touched by the love on the ship and a high regard for each other. Jon frequently contacted the Norwegian navy’s ship, which regularly requested our position.
By 4 a.m., the skies were clearing, and the whistling howl seemed to drift away. A herd of Minke was making slow progress. Jon suspects there is a…
