The Esperanza is currently at anchor just offshore from the town of Longyearbyen, in the Arctic islands of Svalbard, from where we’re about to depart on the next leg of the Arctic Under Pressure expedition.
There’s a sense of itchy anticipation and excitement on board; we’ll be heading to places that most people never go, and documenting things rarely seen both above and below the ocean surface.
We’ve have had to keep this eagerness in check for the last couple of days, as our remote-operated vehicle (ROV) has been held up due to a transport strike in Norway, and hasn’t yet arrived.
We’ll be using ROV, along with a “drop camera” to take a look at what dwells beneath the ocean floor north of Svalbard, including in areas that were once unreachable due to sea ice.
As the summer ice edge shifts north due to climate change, more of the Arctic Ocean is exposed. Once assumed to be devoid of life, the world below the sea ice it is an incredible font of biodiversity.
No one, including the scientific community, has yet had a real chance to study or understand these newly accessible marine habitats or the ocean floor below, yet they’re already under threat from the commercial fishing industry.
Vessels from Norway, Russia, Germany, the UK, France, Portugal and Iceland have realised that new waters are being exposed, and are sailing ever further north to reap the profits that can be gained from cod and haddock fishing.
We are going to be documenting and reporting on which countries have fishing vessels in these waters – all within the Svalbard Fisheries Protection zone, under Norwegian jurisdiction, and keeping a close eye on what they’re up to.
Our demand is simple, but achieving it won’t be easy – we want governments to come to together to declare a moratorium on all industrial activities, including destructive fishing practices within the Arctic Ocean that has been historically covered and protected year round by sea ice.
Unlike the Antarctic, the Arctic Ocean has never been protected by a treaty. We think that like our southern frozen continent, the Arctic Ocean should be a place free from industrial development, and instead designated as a place of peace and science. Does that sound unreasonable?
Before the Esperanza heads off into the wilderness, we’ve taken some new crew onboard, – Noriko from Japan, Jetkse from the Netherlands, Gavin from the UK, Elena from the Ukraine, Arne, our famous ice pilot from Denmark, Henning and Sven from Norway, and Audun, our Svalbard-based guide.
Some others have departed, gone south for the summer, including Janet and Martin, who wrote a couple of the earlier blogs; they were here for the ocean acidification work in Ny-Ålesund.
While the Esperanza spends June and early July exploring the oceans, the IFM-GEOMAR scientists remain in Ny-Ålesund with the mescosms, investigating the future acidification of our oceans.
We’ll be back to see them next those guys next month – if they haven’t been driven mad by the Arctic Terns in the meantime. The terns, having migrated all the way from the Antarctic – yes, they catch both summers – build their nests near the dog yard in Ny-Ålesund, which tends to help keep the local Arctic fox away.
Once the terns have laid their eggs, they become enthusiastic defenders, and will fly at the head of anyone who walks by. The trick, apparently, is to hold a stick above one’s head – and the terns attack the stick instead. As there are no trees in Svalbard, I’m intrigued as to how a stick can be procured.
Speaking of this Arctic fox, it lives under the Dutch research station at Ny-Ålesund, where it can be seen springing from and bouncing along the snow. By everybody but me, it seems.
I staked out the area several times, waiting my chance to see the fox, which is just starting to change from winter to summer coat. I had no luck, until the very early hours of Sunday morning, that is.
I was strolling towards the Esperanza, and for once I was not carrying my camera. I spotted something sitting on the small beach near the pier; it was the fox, staring intently at a pair of common eider ducks.
It turned, and trotted towards me, then sat on a rock about 5m away, studying me with mild interest. We spent around two minutes like that, before the fox evidently become bored, and trotted off along the beach in search of breakfast.
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