I’m in the high Arctic in the waters of Svalbard, north of Norway, at 78º North Latitude in early July. For a few days I’m a guest aboard Greenpeace’s ship Arctic Sunrise.
Bundled in clothes that I hope will keep me dry and maybe even warm, I’m at a doorway that opens straight to the frigid sea, waiting for the right moment to step down into a small boat that will take me up close to one of the huge Russian fishing ships that is plowing slowly along the horizon. One of our own Russian officers has been on the radio with them, informing them politely—but not asking permission—that we will be coming close to photograph their net as it is hauled up after hours of dragging along the seafloor. They’re not happy.