The MD and his sandwich

Now here's a trick question: How do you separate a very senior manager from his sandwich?

We were interviewing Graham Mackay, Group Managing Director of SABMiller, one of the world's largest brewers of beer. The scene is one I have seen many times before at business interviews: stale boardroom, flourescent lighting, journalists eager to sit as close as possible to the big man, dictaphones thoughtfully tucked to the sides, and then ... a big, ugly sandwich, majestically placed right in front of my portrait subject. As the interview was already progressing and the man was not to be interrupted, I cringed as he clearly was not making any attempt to devour his meal. Instead, that fat, ugly sandwich just sat there, blocking my view and preventing me from taking any straight-on pictures, unless I fancied green salad leaves and majo in front of the MD...

Well, I wouldn't mind, but I was sure that my client would, so by now you can probably see my dilemma: how to take a decent interview portrait without that omnipresent sandwich? Answer: work sideways. Obvious, really, but harder in practice as it involved leaning precariously over the attending journalists, crouching under the table and all sorts of other contortions, all in order to avoid my unhealthy obsession with that ugly sandwich. Yes, before anyone asks, I *do* hate sandwiches...

Anyway, towards the end of the interview, I simply could no longer keep quiet and interrupted our main man, asking him to move his meal, as he hadn't even touched it. To his amusement, he did, and I finally managed to get the last pictures I needed.
You can see the offending sandwich, and ways to avoid it here:

Three Peaks Challenge

Straight off a boat in Cornwall, onto a plane, hirecar and then hike up Ben Nevis, drive down to Wales, and within 24 hours, find yourself on top of Mount Snowdon. Two of Britain's highest mountains within 24 hours? Not your idea of a fun weekend? Well, mine neither, but (for my sins) I took the job, and so duly suffered the consequences. And I cheated. Twice.

In order to photograph the Three Peaks Challenge, I just *had* to cheat. First, there is no way that a guy of average fitness can run up and down three mountains laden with camera grear within 24 hours and drive the 500-odd miles between the peaks all by him- or herself. Even the fittest athletes attempting this physical endurance test have designated drivers that take them from mountain to mountain, allowing them to rest en route. This luxury was not part of the plan for me, so I skipped Scafell Pike in Cumbria and drove from the Scottish Highlands straight to Wales. And to my luck, I was ahead of the teams arriving from Scafell Pike, and then I cheated a second time: I took the Snowdon Mountain Railway to get myself as close to the summit as possible before the first teams arrived. Bliss! The cheat paid off: I was on top of Mount Snowdon, enjoying a spectacular panorama as the first runners appeared. We took a quick picture - snot and sweat included - before they turned around and ran back down the mountain.

A few more of my favourites from this mad weekend are here:

Ben Nevis:


Mount Snowdon:

Gone fishing...

Apologies for keeping the blog quiet for a while - after a short break I spent three days on the south-western tip of Cornwall, photographing handline fishermen. The south west handline fishermen work one of the few sustainable fisheries recognised and certified in the UK - their small coastal fishing has proved to be not harmful to fish stocks and is thus one of the few positive stories you can find today on humans living off their environment.

I managed to get a ride with handline fisherman Will Treneer on his open boat the Cornish Rose. At Will's young age of 19, he is a tough, experienced and enthusiastic Cornish fisherman who hopes for nothing more than to keep earning a living off the sea in the way that his father and generations before him have done. His home, Newlyn, is a small, quiet fishing town on the Cornish coast and fishermen are feeling the squeeze of rising fuel prices, depleted fish stocks and a nonsensical EU quota system that prevents them from landing certain fish caught as bycatch.

Despite all these worrisome issues, our trip was positive, as we were lucky on several fronts: the weather gods were on our side, and so were the fishermen: good access, great views, beautiful morning light and a rather long and cold day on a small boat all added to the flavour, and here's some of the pictures I've come back with...

Panoramas - finally

I have a strange feeling that history is about to repeat itself...

Actually, I *know* that history HAS repeated itself, sort of, in a personal kindof way...

OK - I shall no longer be mysterious and just get on with the topic of my post: Panoramic photos

I first got into photography after my father convinced me that it would be a good idea to carry a camera in Bangladesh, as arriving in that strange country would mean that I would see unfamiliar and strange things, a perfect opportunity to take pictures. I was initally reluctant, but eneded up packing an old Canon T70 with a manual lens and the rest is history.

This time John Novis, Head of Photography at Greenpeace International is to blame, as it was his suggestion that I take a Linhof Technorama 6x17 panoramic camera with me to the Southern Ocean. Initally I was sceptical as it's a large, fully manual bulky piece of kit, needs an external light meter, takes rollfilm and most importantly lives on a tripod if you want a straight horizon line. Now all these aspects made me cringe, as I knew I'd be working on a ship and inflatables with neither lab facilities nor any solid ground to put the camera onto. Moreover, a roll of 120 film is good for just 4 exposures, so pick your frame wisely, bracket and hope for the best.

Admittedly, I didn't use it much on the Esperanza: by the time the camera was set up, the picture opportunities were gone, and most of the time the ship rolled too much to get a steady frame anyway. But far from becoming a doorstop, then decided to drag this thing on my three-week trip across Australia where the Technorama finally came into its own. It was there, on dry land, with an abundance of time and solid ground (and rolls of film, I should add) that I truly learned to appreciate this camera. It was like - real photography. No, really, this thing made me feel like I'm taking photographs again, and not 'shots', or 'frames', or worse still, 'files'. Instead, the Technorama exposes film, needs winding on, cocking the shutter, a double-check on aperture, speed and focus settings and then it's all over in a fraction of a second. I loved it. And I love the perspective of the resultant pictures.

Rather than boring you with lots of detail on technique and settings, I'll simply attach a few of those panoramics which I have finally managed to scan and retouch. There is more to come, probably in its own section in the portfolio, so watch this space...

Scenes From the Tar Wars

This article on the MotherJones website has got to be the most exhaustive and accurate description of life at the Tar Sands in northern Alberta that I have ever seen. Apart from having met Dr. O'Connor and having heard and seen all those issues raised myself, it felt like the writer managed to express in words what I tried with pictures. Read the article here. Some of the pictures I took last year can be seen here.

Gotcha!

Picture the scene: a pitch black, moonless calm night off the coast of Sicily, a few miles of driftnet in the water visible on the radar, two Greenpeace inflatables pulling the damn thing back to the Arctic Sunrise, equipped with a net hauler and a crew keen to get it on board. Cue Sicilian fishermen: they realise what is happening and start hauling their net in from the other end. The scene is frenzied, both teams racing to get as much of the net on board as possible - and it has something comical.

When the fishermen's vessel gets close to the Sunrise, we cut the net and let them have the rest of it. That frees the Diomede II, the pirate fishing boat in question to pursue the inflatables through the dark night. The angry fishermen have provisionally covered the name of their boat and armed themselves with cans of tuna and baked beans, beer bottles and various other missiles which they proceed to throw at us, missing us narrowly on several occasions. A game of cat and mouse ensues, lasting into the early hours of the morning before we make it back onto the Sunrise.

The mood there is good: what the busy activists on board managed to secure is nearly two kilometres of illegal driftnet, a few dead Tuna and a small Sea Turtle which barely survived the whole escapade. We spend the best part of the first night stacking the net, cataloguing the catch and media on board prepping the pictures for the morning's news release.

On day 2, we follow the Diomede II into port near Taormina. Giardini Naxos is a picturesque spot underneath Mount Etna, with tourists and now also irate fishermen. The Italian coast guard, notified in the early morning hours finally shows up in the afternoon. Carabinieri police have arrived to question the Diomede crew, and by the late afternoon the slow workings of the local bureaucracy have found their way onto the Sunrise. With the coast guard boat nearby, Greenpeace is asked to hand the confiscated nets back to the fishermen for lack of alternative transport options. The stage is set for the farce: the same fishermen who pelleted us the night before are now standing on the deck of a smaller boat asking for their net to be given back to them. Upset ensues aboard the Sunrise, raised arms and voices, lots of swearing and shouting and seemingly helpless coast guard officials who neither want to be there, nor deal with the situation eventually find a solution. Under threat of arrest for non-cooperation, we are asked to haul the net back onto the fishermen's boat, but the coast guard is officially responsible for its safekeeping. It makes me laugh, in a sarcastic kindof way.

We follow the fishermen and coast guard boat back into port, but are not allowed to take pictures or video. We watch the Diomede crew unload the evidence and stacking it on the pier, all the while chatting to the coast guard officials and sending thinly veiled threats in our direction. Can you imagine anywhere else where the suspect would be allowed to handle the evidence of his crime while at the same time making threats against the accusers? I can, but it's not the sort of place you want to be, really.

In the Med

Yes people, we are in the Med. Just crossed the Messina Strait, a narrow navigable gap between the Italian mainland and Sicily. The weather is sunny and warm, the seas calm and having been called an 'utter bastard' for getting (and enjoying) this assignment by a friend and colleague is something of a compliment. No, really, it is.

The truth is - I love being here, and joining the Arctic Sunrise was like coming home. Although I've never lived on this ship before, or sailed with its crew, life on board seems strangely familiar. Ok, there are a few friends on board, and a lot of new people I haven't met, but the whole thing feels like it's off to a great start. Having lived in the Mediterranean as a child, I have a natural affinity for warm, sunny weather and a lot of blue water around.

Sailing past Mount Etna, Europe's largest active volcano, we subsequently also sailed past the volcano Stromboli and other volcanic islands nearby. The scene could not have been more clichee: sunset, warm light and a little bit of haze in the distance - perfect for those dramatic colours and dense long-lens shots. I thought I'd treat you to a few and report on the campaign a little later. Enjoy the show, hope you're jealous!

Palermo

Bella Italia, Sicily, Palermo, another port. I am back on a ship, this time the Arctic Sunrise. It's not that long ago since I've left the Esperanza, and admittedly, I've missed being at sea. So along comes the next Greenpeace commission, this time for one month in the Mediterranean sea. Our objective is to find and confiscate illegal driftnets used by fishermen who flout the international moratorium. But for now, I've just arrived in Palermo and had a walk through town. Thought I'd share some of those impressions, and more from the campaign later...

Harpic or Dettol?

Today we visited Bart Becht, CEO of Reckitt Benckiser, world leader in manufacturing those boring, everyday household products. Similar to their product advertisements, the interview was also in the no-frills, but quality category. The room we met in was a mix between a sterile lab and an art gallery displaying cleaning products. Weird, but somehow wonderful...

Meeting Mandelson

This was a rush assignment, and a simple brief: European Commissioner of Trade Peter Mandelson and his official car. The rest was down to his PR and busy schedule. It was quick - all of three minutes, during which I managed eight pictures. My personal preference goes for this one:

Hedge Funds - again!

Life in London is getting busy after being away for a long time - commissions keep coming - perhaps it's coincidence, perhaps it's just that time of year, perhaps it's just luck. But in any case, I'm glad it's busy - features, portraits and interviews soon merge into the 'normal' of working life. I would hate to call meeting Simon von Oppenheim a 'normal' occurrence, because none is. Every situation is different and has its own challenges. Here, we had 45 minutes for an interview - he's a pleasant, calm, slightly shy nice man who granted us time for an interview during which I took candid portraits. The setting was not ideal: a small office, not much light and nothing really striking except for a piece of artwork on the wall whilst I tried to come up with a quirky photo. One of the results is here, and it still makes me smile.

Karma Cab, Sir?

Karma Kars has got to be one of the top ten ideas in London - picture an old Indian Ambassador car, an interior decor influenced by too much LSD and a cabbie that goes with it. Meet Tobias Moss, founder of Karma Kars, London's self-proclaimed 'boutique' car service. It's funky and it's fun. And I liked the car (which is unusual for me), and its owner (which is less unusual - I generally like people). So there are a few pics from the assignment:

101 years and still going strong

Yes, this man is 101 years old, worked all his life, still does, goes to the pub and smokes - and is training to run the London marathon. No kidding, feisty Buster Martin is fast becoming a London legend with the media attention, his minder and the resulting PR - luckily he made time for me and allowed me to photograph him jogging across Westminster Bridge in preparation for the upcoming marathon. My favourite picture from our encounter is reproduced here.

Fotografie Magazine

Recently I received a copy of the Czech 'Fotografie' Magazine, with a 12-page spread of my work in it. It's essentially a profile-piece (in Czech) on what I do, and nice nevertheless...

Hong Kong Light Orchestra

I was passing through Hong Kong for one evening on my way back from Australia, and came just in time to watch the daily spectacle of the Symphony of Lights, which is the world's largest sound and light show the city puts on daily - presumably for tourists like me...

Touring Tasmania

So we are off - off the ship, the Esperanza, and ahead of us only the open road, a tank full of fuel, a bottle of Gin in the bag and a sketchy map of Tassie, Australia's southerly state across the Bass Strait. It is a strange sensation not to be confined to the same 70 metres of steel, to be able to walk or drive in a straight line for kilometres without having to turn around, to go faster than the 15 knots of top speed we were doing while chasing the whalers. Seeing countryside, taking in the smell of land, absorbing the green and beige tones of Tasmania are things I feel with a heightened state of awareness - my guess is because all we saw for the past two months was grey skies, water and ice. Lots of ice. So here go some of my impressions from Tasmania:

From Behind the Lens

Greenpeace International have compiled an audiovisual slideshow of some of my images of the Southern Ocean, which you can find here.

Just before I leave the ship, I thought it's good to post it.

Goinghometime

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.

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.

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

Destination Antarctica

We have left Auckland last Wednesday, and stopped once more in Bluff on the southern tip of New Zealand, to top up fuel, and now we are heading due south. The weather is getting decidedly colder and the seas rougher, but we knew that already. By New Year's Day, we should be in the Antarctic ice and in search mode for the Japanese whalers. Behind me are nearly two weeks in New Zealand - some time was spent travelling aimlessly through the north island admiring its beauty, and some time was spent agonising and fighting depression at the loss of our helicopter, Tweety. Without it having been repaired in time, our chances of finding the whalers are diminished, as are my possibilities for aerial coverage of the whaling actions and shots of icebergs and Antarctica in general. It is gutting to have lost about 50% of the potential pictures that I could have got before even reaching the scene, but it's a fact of life and I have to move on from that. Finding alternative angles and positions to shoot from is going to be my new hobby between now and the New Year - we have several ideas, but I shall not reveal any before we've tried them so stay tuned on this one...

beauty on my mind. Rather than to drone on about rough weather and heavy seas, I have poetic impressions of New Zealand'sKiwiland being divided into two islands and us having landed in Auckland, exploring the northern island was the obvious choice: Take a car from Jucy Rentals, buy map, buy guidebook, get beers, get cigarettes, turn the key and hit the road. That's pretty much how we left Auckland, blundering our way through some spectacular landscapes on the west coast and then heading south past Hamilton and into the South West around Waitomo. I think we originally decided to visit some caves with glow-worms, but along the way got distracted by spectacular waterfalls and Very Cold swim stops, fish & chip shops, bars with good Gin & Tonic and the odd breathtaking scenery ahead of us. We had far too little time to really get an idea of the vastness and ruggedness of lakes, parks, volcanoes and valleys that are scattered across the country - what we really got is a first impression of how spectacularly beautiful and unspoilt New Zealand still is. And we haven't even been on the south island, rumoured to be much more dramatic. I for one have decided to return here for at least a month, rent a motorbike and tear up the countryside in order to see as much as possible of it at some point in the future. To prove that I am not just blabbering, I have attached a selection of photos which I hope will make you green with envy ;-)

A propos pictures - I have used my time and the availability of broadband internet in Auckland to set up an online archive. Since several of you have been asking, from now on you can view up-to-date pictures from the expedition in the 'Oceans', 'Esperanza Aboard' and 'Esperanza Crew Portraits' folders accessible from the homepage at Digital Railroad. My aim is to be feeding fresh pictures into the archive whenever I have them, as we now have a reasonably fast and stable internet connection on board, a pure luxury most of the time, and essential when needed for the media work. So uploading pictures will not be a problem, the only limits being my own laziness and availability of things to shoot. So hopefully no problems on that front either, as I've learned to make proper coffee and within a week we will be in the ice.

Wish us luck as I feel that only now (well, after two months, actually), this trip is finally beginning to reveal its meaning. Thanks to relentless campaigning, protesting and pushing, diplomatic pressure and extensive news coverage, the Japanese government has agreed to abstain from killing 50 endangered Humpback whales, but they still have close to a thousand Minke and Fin whales on their menu. So good reasons for us to go down to the Southern Ocean and make their hunt as difficult as possible without endangering lives. It's been a long time coming, but now I feel that this voyage is getting serious and the ship's crew means business. Let's hope we all stay safe despite the harpoons and water cannons, and that we can stop the slaughter. Wish us luck.

Boys' Toys

Several people have asked me in recent weeks the inevitable kit-questions. Normally, I just say 'Canon' and leave it at that, preferring to see my cameras & lenses as tools of the trade rather than to marvel at the amount of buttons, custom functions, megapixels and variety of colour matrixes available.

BUT (there always is a but...) - this assignment is different, in the sense that it is ship-based and the destination is the Antarctic ice of the Southern Ocean. It means that what you've got is all that you will have, and no place to go if things break and need fixing or replacement.

So 'spares' was the magic word when I prepared for this trip, and spares is what I have a lot of: spare bodies, spare lenses, spare laptop, spare hard disks, spare chargers, spare batteries, spare cables, spare everything except for a spare pair of eyes or spectacles - those I didn't get done before leaving, and I do regret that now. Anyhow, before boring you any longer, here's my photographic kit list for those nerdy-minded correspondents among you - the computer stuff is just too boring to list, so I'll spare you (excuse the pun) the details:

Cameras:

1x EOS 1Ds II
2x EOS 1D II
1x EOS 5D
1x EOS 10D
1x PowerShot S70
1x Nikon D200 + underwater housing + 10 & 16mm fisheye lenses (Thanks Gavin!)
1x Linhof Technorama 617 S with Schneider 90/5.6 Super Angulon lens

Lenses:

1x EF 16-35/2.8 L
1x EF 17-35/2.8 L
1x EF 24-105/4.0 L IS
2x EF 70-200/2.8 L IS
1x EF 24/1.4 L
1x EF 35/1.4 L
1x EF 50/1.2 L
1x EF 50/1.4
1x EF 85/1.2 L
1x EF 85/1.8
1x EF 100/2.0
1x EF 135/2.0 L
1x EF 300/2.8 L IS
1x EF 500/4.0 L IS
1x EF 1.4x II Extender
1x EF 2.0x II Extender

When you have the whole lot in one place, you can't help thinking that it would do Mr Canon proud - what a good customer I've been, I just wish this stuff wasn't so expensive...

Given how much space this took to pack, I find it rather amusing that all of it fits into my toilet-sized cupboard workspace on the Esperanza, which you can see here:

Neptune can kiss my ass

Yes comrades, it has happened.

We have crossed the Equator line, without proper visas and permission, so those of us transgressing Pollywogs out on the open seas for the first time were summoned to Neptune's Court. The charges brought against me - apart from lacking the proper documentation - were stealing the souls of my fellow crewmates and being Czech. The punishment handed down by Neptune and his wife was a visit to the imaginary torture chamber, and being hosed down with seawater. After that, I duly received my certificate and am now officially a shellback named 'Happy Snapper' and I also have Neptune's consent to cross the Equator by sea in future. Result!

The whole episode was an afternoon of good-natured, theatrical fun considering that us 13 Pollywogs had given the shellbacks hell during the week before the hearing. We stole Neptune's costume, hosted our own lavish 'last supper' and left only the crumbs for the shellbacks to eat. Some clever mind opened a group on Facebook called 'Neptune kiss my ass', then staged a bogus vote on who from the crew should become Neptune, finally we all wore custom-made attire with the above slogan on our backs, and smeared ourselves with Nutella as warpaint in court. Given our conduct, I am still surprised that Mr & Mrs Neptune and his minions did not hand out more severe punishments as the laws of the seas are generally harsh. We had a good party afterwards, only a rotten hangover and a few dead braincells are the damage I sustained during my encounter with the god of the sea.

Despite the fun, the last few weeks have been quite rough. After announcing our presence off the south coast of Japan, we missed the Japanese whalers leaving port at night in stormy weather. We were all disappointed and gutted, as it meant that we would now spend the whole journey down south not on the tail of the Japanese, but on our own, wondering what course they took. To add insult to injury, a large Japan Coast Guard ship followed us for a week, no doubt relaying our position to make sure that we don't get anywhere near the whalers. So instead of us watching them, they ended up watching us - very smart, you have to give it to them, but worrying to what lengths the Japanese government is prepared to go to protect their controversial 'lethal research'. It is impossible to put into words how frustrating this has been, as for the time being it puts all hopes of a successful campaign on hold.

Next on the agenda was a Tropical storm that got upgraded to Typhoon strength by the weather stations. We were inside the Typhoon zone for the best part of a week, riding on 6 to 8-metre waves, the ship rolling and pitching a lot and making any decent sleep impossible. Add two 4-hour watches to the mix, and you had me metamorphosing into a perfect vegetable. Apart from those 8 hours during which I had to be awake and alert, it was pretty impossible to do anything that required concentration. On top of that, imagine the hot temperatures and high humidity in the tropics and you do not have a ship, but a sauna that's constantly moving. Pretty tiring, I can assure you... Most of the crew did not fare much better, but the upshot is that none of us was seasick, and that is good news, after all.

Now we are south of the Equator, and slowly making our way to Auckland, New Zealand for a refuelling and repair stop. We should be there by next weekend, hopefully. The clocks on board are moving forward every two days as we move through the timezones. With the odd engine stop for maintenance and a swim, I have taken the opportunity to learn using an underwater camera. It is great fun and quite difficult, but as a consequence I have become very popular with my fellow swimmers who all want a picture of themselves under water... I will attach a few to give you the general idea.

We have close to a week ahead of us at sea before we reach Auckland, but I actually can't say whether I look forward to that or not. I am making plans to rent a motorbike and go touring around the north island for a day or two, but I am not sure if I want to leave the ship for any amount of time now. Life on board has become pleasant as I am off watchkeeping duties and can now concentrate on what I came here to do: photography. Last night I relaxed lying on the heli deck with a few crewmates and some cold beers, watching the star-filled sky, lightning and dozens of little meteors shooting past and burning up in the atmosphere. It was a warm, calm night and perfect for falling asleep to the gentle roll of the ship while suspended in the safety-nets.

That's where I'll leave you, feeling guilty writing these lines and knowing that most of you are in the middle of a grey, cold and wet winter Sunday.

Plungepool fun

It's unbelievable what a little sunshine can do!

Ok, it was Sunday, and we were all pretty tired after riding a storm for the best part of a week. But the ingenuity of it all - it left me speechless and giggling with joy for the whole afternoon. Some clever mind found an old inflatable pool which got set up on the heli-deck. Connect an airhose for pressure, and a firehose for water, add some cool beers and jump in.

Fantastic!

Magnificent!!

Just what the doctor ordered!

More soon please!!

Pretty please