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April 21: Barbecuing on the High Seas
April 19:Beginners guide to nautical terms
April 12: The Garbologist and the art of garbology

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Find out a little about the personalities onboard the MV Greenpeace and send them a message.

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Greenpeace letters to Governments and recieved responses

UPDATE: A TRULY TERRIBLE TALE of EQUATORIAL BAPTISM 19 May, 2000

THE ARRESTS: At shortly before 10am on Friday, all those crew members who could not provide evidence that they had previously crossed the equator, were tricked by a band of suspicious looking characters, otherwise known as "shellbacks" (various other crew members who had crossed the equator and could prove it), to make their way to the fo'c'sle.

A host of devious means were employed by the shellbacks, to bring their evil plan to fruition. Colleen, one of the first victims, was asked by Hanno, the bosun, to fetch some paint from the paint store, which can be accessed via a hatch in the fo'c'sle floor - only to have the hatch firmly locked behind her. Electrician Dieter persuaded Babett and myself to help him test some lights that allegedly weren't working.

The prize for the most gullible, however, must surely go - amazingly not to myself - but to 2nd Engineer Youn Sang. He had just taken a shower and changed into some nice clean clothes after his watch in the engine room. (Bad move - the oldest, dirtiest clothes are an essential, since they're about to get much, much dirtier!) When someone started to make a ghastly racket on the Squeeze Box right outside his cabin. So Youn Sang came out to find out what the noise was all about, was somehow persuaded that there was a party in the paint store and so came to join us! IN THE NICK OF TIME… Once all the victims had been rounded up, our jail was extended to the fo'c'sle.

Not a moment too soon - it was getting pretty stuffy and crowded down there in the paint store, although some of our number were surprisingly reluctant to leave their recent prison…whether because of a certain dread of what was to come and/or the effect of paint fumes on them, they wouldn't say.

By this time, the shellbacks have revealed their true characters and have metamorphosed into a rowdy rabble of unruly pirates, poking scary- looking implements at us through the crack in the fo'c'sle door, through which they also unleash a tirade of evil expletives and tortuously out-of tune pirate shanties.

There can be no doubt that it's something truly wicked - no words can describe the fantastically foul stench that occasionally assails us through that small crack in the fo'c'sle door. And so we witness our fellow inmates dwindle in number, one by one - Babette - Hélène - Namhee - as we wonder with beating hearts, if the next pounding on the door heralds our demise.

Now all the women have been led away! I must be next and determine to at least make it a little more difficult for those shellbacks, perhaps even present some of my partners in crime with an opportunity to escape… They will have to come and get me! I hide right at the top of the fo'c'sle, as far away from the door as possible on the port side, in the dark with only some ropes and buoys for company. Oh and Phil's here too - on the starboard side. He's more interested in having a nap after his early morning watch from 4-8:00. 3 loud nerve-chilling bangs on the door! I was right - the next summons is indeed for me. But Phil and all other residual male inmates remain exceptionally laid back (could it have something to do with those paint fumes, I wonder?).

THE TRIAL My attempt to hide in the fo'c'sle and subsequently to make a run for it on the way to the trial not only failed, but does not bode well. And so I am led to meet my fate, the Prosecutor, King Neptune and his wife Tetes.

My shellback name: Anemone! Those shellbacks were extraordinarily canny in their choice of names for the newly initiated! For the names bear certain resemblance's with the personalities to whom they relate… See if you figure out what they are, by visiting the crew profiles! Here follow the charges of which the uninitiated were accused, preceded by their new shellback names:

THE CHARGES:
Lesley/Whitetip: Secretly slipping valium into the food.
Donald/Oyster: Breaking his foot to get out of work, being a non- swimming seaman. Babett/Putzerfish: Spilling drinks all over the ship and using the whole ship as a wardrobe.
Colleen/Trevally: Seducing the Helicopter mechanic with her mystical cooking.
Fred/Seahorse: Being mischievous and drawing pornographic cartoons of the crew. Jeremy/Manta: Taking candid photos of female crew members in the shower by drilling a hole in the dark room wall.
Phil/Ballyhoo (flying fish): Using the cook's freezer as a personal beer fridge. Aryen/Thresher: Leaving dangerous personal equipment lying on the heli deck which could damage the helicopter.
George/Parrotfish: Smiling and laughing all the time in large amounts.

THE SENTENCE: Sadly, now that I am a fully-fledged shellback, I am bound by an oath of silence as to the details of the proceedings to which I was subjected on this day. Suffice it to say that the baptism was truly disgusting, fantastically foul and unimaginably, unutterably, revoltingly, mind- bogglingly, stomach-retchingly stinky! So, if you want to find out more, I'm afraid that means crossing the equator for yourself! In such an event, ensuring that you are on a friendly ship, and on friendly terms with the rest of the crew (i.e. avoid personal grievances if at all possible), comes highly recommended. And once you have served your sentence, guard that Certificate of Equatorial Baptism like gold! For it is valuable evidence, to be presented as proof of your newly acquired shellback status, should you ever cross the equator again. Unless you have masochistic tendencies, this is surely an experience few would repeat of their own free will. For many and colourful are the tales of fellow shellback equatorial crossings and while some vary from much milder and more pleasant tales than the experiences of this day, many are also far, far fouler!