Reposting - from one year ago
Comments from Kevin Hester -
Comments from Kevin Hester -
"On
my recent NZ speaking tour with Guy McPherson discussing abrupt
climate change, I spoke about the changes I have seen over the last
25 years in the oceans, which I have observed on 16 ocean passages
around the Pacific and on one voyage from Gibraltar to Greece.
"I
have watched the amount of sea life and bird life fall away at a
precipitous level. There is a huge amount of scientific evidence to
confirm that we are now in the 6th great extinction and this report
from Ivan Macfadyen aboard the 'Funnel Web' confirms my observations.
P.S. Don't shoot the messenger.
"This
article is a year old and the situation now is vastly worse."
.
18 November, 2013
IT was the silence that
made this voyage different from all of those before it.
Not the absence of sound,
exactly.
The wind still whipped
the sails and whistled in the rigging. The waves still sloshed
against the fibreglass hull.
And there were plenty of
other noises: muffled thuds and bumps and scrapes as the boat knocked
against pieces of debris.
What was missing was the
cries of the seabirds which, on all previous similar voyages, had
surrounded the boat.
The birds were missing
because the fish were missing.
Exactly 10 years before,
when Newcastle yachtsman Ivan Macfadyen had sailed exactly the same
course from Melbourne to Osaka, all he'd had to do to catch a fish
from the ocean between Brisbane and Japan was throw out a baited
line.
"There was not one
of the 28 days on that portion of the trip when we didn't catch a
good-sized fish to cook up and eat with some rice," Macfadyen
recalled.
But this time, on that
whole long leg of sea journey, the total catch was two.
No fish. No birds. Hardly
a sign of life at all.
"In years gone by
I'd gotten used to all the birds and their noises," he said.
"They'd be following
the boat, sometimes resting on the mast before taking off again.
You'd see flocks of them wheeling over the surface of the sea in the
distance, feeding on pilchards."
But in March and April
this year, only silence and desolation surrounded his boat, Funnel
Web, as it sped across the surface of a haunted ocean.
North of the equator, up
above New Guinea, the ocean-racers saw a big fishing boat working a
reef in the distance.
"All day it was
there, trawling back and forth. It was a big ship, like a
mother-ship," he said.
And all night it worked
too, under bright floodlights. And in the morning Macfadyen was
awoken by his crewman calling out, urgently, that the ship had
launched a speedboat.
"Obviously I was
worried. We were unarmed and pirates are a real worry in those
waters. I thought, if these guys had weapons then we were in deep
trouble."
But they weren't pirates,
not in the conventional sense, at least. The speedboat came alongside
and the Melanesian men aboard offered gifts of fruit and jars of jam
and preserves.
"And they gave us
five big sugar-bags full of fish," he said.
"They were good, big
fish, of all kinds. Some were fresh, but others had obviously been in
the sun for a while.
"We told them there
was no way we could possibly use all those fish. There were just two
of us, with no real place to store or keep them. They just shrugged
and told us to tip them overboard. That's what they would have done
with them anyway, they said.
"They told us that
his was just a small fraction of one day's by-catch. That they were
only interested in tuna and to them, everything else was rubbish. It
was all killed, all dumped. They just trawled that reef day and night
and stripped it of every living thing."
Macfadyen felt sick to
his heart. That was one fishing boat among countless more working
unseen beyond the horizon, many of them doing exactly the same thing.
No wonder the sea was
dead. No wonder his baited lines caught nothing. There was nothing to
catch.
If that sounds
depressing, it only got worse.
The next leg of the long
voyage was from Osaka to San Francisco and for most of that trip the
desolation was tinged with nauseous horror and a degree of fear.
"After we left
Japan, it felt as if the ocean itself was dead," Macfadyen said.
"We hardly saw any
living things. We saw one whale, sort of rolling helplessly on the
surface with what looked like a big tumour on its head. It was pretty
sickening.
"I've done a lot of
miles on the ocean in my life and I'm used to seeing turtles,
dolphins, sharks and big flurries of feeding birds. But this time,
for 3000 nautical miles there was nothing alive to be seen."
In place of the missing
life was garbage in astounding volumes.
"Part of it was the
aftermath of the tsunami that hit Japan a couple of years ago. The
wave came in over the land, picked up an unbelievable load of stuff
and carried it out to sea. And it's still out there, everywhere you
look."
Ivan's brother, Glenn,
who boarded at Hawaii for the run into the United States, marvelled
at the "thousands on thousands" of yellow plastic buoys.
The huge tangles of synthetic rope, fishing lines and nets. Pieces of
polystyrene foam by the million. And slicks of oil and petrol,
everywhere.
Countless hundreds of
wooden power poles are out there, snapped off by the killer wave and
still trailing their wires in the middle of the sea.
"In years gone by,
when you were becalmed by lack of wind, you'd just start your engine
and motor on," Ivan said.
Not this time.
"In a lot of places
we couldn't start our motor for fear of entangling the propeller in
the mass of pieces of rope and cable. That's an unheard of situation,
out in the ocean.
"If we did decide to
motor we couldn't do it at night, only in the daytime with a lookout
on the bow, watching for rubbish.
"On the bow, in the
waters above Hawaii, you could see right down into the depths. I
could see that the debris isn't just on the surface, it's all the way
down. And it's all sizes, from a soft-drink bottle to pieces the size
of a big car or truck.
"We saw a factory
chimney sticking out of the water, with some kind of boiler thing
still attached below the surface. We saw a big container-type thing,
just rolling over and over on the waves.
"We were weaving
around these pieces of debris. It was like sailing through a garbage
tip.
"Below decks you
were constantly hearing things hitting against the hull, and you were
constantly afraid of hitting something really big. As it was, the
hull was scratched and dented all over the place from bits and pieces
we never saw."
Plastic was ubiquitous.
Bottles, bags and every kind of throwaway domestic item you can
imagine, from broken chairs to dustpans, toys and utensils.
And something else. The
boat's vivid yellow paint job, never faded by sun or sea in years
gone past, reacted with something in the water off Japan, losing its
sheen in a strange and unprecedented way.
BACK in Newcastle, Ivan
Macfadyen is still coming to terms with the shock and horror of the
voyage.
"The ocean is
broken," he said, shaking his head in stunned disbelief.
Recognising the problem
is vast, and that no organisations or governments appear to have a
particular interest in doing anything about it, Macfadyen is looking
for ideas.
He plans to lobby
government ministers, hoping they might help.
More immediately, he will
approach the organisers of Australia's major ocean races, trying to
enlist yachties into an international scheme that uses volunteer
yachtsmen to monitor debris and marine life.
Macfadyen signed up to
this scheme while he was in the US, responding to an approach by US
academics who asked yachties to fill in daily survey forms and
collect samples for radiation testing - a significant concern in the
wake of the tsunami and consequent nuclear power station failure in
Japan.
"I asked them why
don't we push for a fleet to go and clean up the mess," he said.
"But they said
they'd calculated that the environmental damage from burning the fuel
to do that job would be worse than just leaving the debris there."
So sorry Mighty Ocean
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