Reykjavík Grapevine - 08.11.2013, Blaðsíða 26
Aboard A Whaling Vessel
26The Reykjavík Grapevine Issue 17 — 2013
I boarded the ship two days later,
after some bad weather postponed the
hunt. It wasn’t the rain or haziness that
deterred the whalers, but the choppiness
of the wind-blown ocean that held them
back. The Eggertsson duo hunts whales
independently, so they don’t feel the
pressure of going out on a difficult day.
They hunt when they want to and sell
their meat to Gunnar Bergmann Jónsson,
head of the Minke Whaling Association
and owner of Hrefna HF, the leading dis-
tributor of minke whale meat in Iceland.
Before the engine started Guð-
mundur looked me straight in the eyes
with a very serious look on his face. “If
anything goes wrong when we shoot
the minke whale,” he said, “I am going
to tell you to turn off the camera. You
must do it. It only happens one out of
100 times, but it could happen.” I agreed,
nodding my head, while conjuring up
ways of capturing the moment things
“go wrong” without the whalers noticing.
Immediately switch the memory cards?
Set up my GoPro in a hidden location? I
was distressed enough by the thought
of witnessing the brutal act of things
going right, so the idea of a mishap really
put me on edge. “Things going wrong”
entails the explosive harpoon entering
the wrong area of the whale, leading to a
slow and miserable death.
Whales spotted!
As we slowly drifted out of the harbour,
the two men scrambled to prepare the
harpoon. They attached a rope to the end
of the red-tipped explosive metal rod and
ran it along the length of the boat. The
rope wrapped around a circular beam at
the end of the vessel, which acted as a
crane to drag the minke whale onto the
back platform once it had been shot. Af-
ter setting up the rope, Konráð ran inside
the cabin to grab something. I followed
him and sat in the corner, filming as he
rummaged through a box. After he had
found what he was looking for he walked
back toward his son who was still fiddling
with the deadly weapon at the front of
the ship. All of a sudden Konráð turned
on his heel, looked directly at me, and
lifted a red object in the air before saying,
“this is bomb” with a large, animated
smile on his face. Shivers ran up my
spine as the reality of the situation set in.
From an outside perspective the at-
mosphere would have seemed similar to
that of a regular fishing expedition. The
men drank cup after cup of steaming hot
coffee, occasionally looking down at the
radar monitor or grabbing their binocu-
lars to scan the glassy water. Other boats
in the small community knew them well
and waved cheerfully as we passed. The
whalers even received phone calls from
other fishermen in the fjord who reported
minke sightings.
About two hours into the voyage we
came across our first whales—a cow and
her calf—but to the Konráð’s dismay, they
were of the wrong species. Humpback
whales are protected by the govern-
ment. Konráð and his son have spoken to
media outlets about how it is in Iceland’s
best interest to resume the killing of this
species, which is currently protected by
the government.
After three months of whale watch-
ing all over Iceland, I found it ironic that
my closest encounter with whales was
aboard a whaling ship. The magnificent
mammals rose to the water’s surface
directly in front of me as if they were a
friend of mine coming to let me know
things would be ok. My initial reaction of
enthusiasm must have been off-putting
to the whalers as I momentarily forgot
where I was. I looked over to them in
awe as I was so accustomed to share my
excitement with fellow passengers on
whale watching tours. As if the beautiful
beings spurred them on, they cranked
the ship into high-gear and off we went,
leaving the ever-so-peaceful humpbacks
to roam their waters.
Unexpected chaos
Unexpected chaos exploded in an instant
when we saw a minke whale around
3:00 PM, seven hours into our journey.
Konráð shouted “HREFNA!” (‘minke’ in
Icelandic) to his son with eagerness as
he grabbed ear protection and headed
for the harpoon. I leapt to my feet and
got into position atop the second story of
the boat where I thought I had the best
position for capturing the kill on camera.
A siren rang loudly, warning others that
a powerful explosive would soon be
launched into the ocean. Guðmundur
stood next to me, driving the boat from
the second platform, changing directions
to keep the minke whale directly in front
of the boat. Konráð swung the harpoon
violently, changing directions as the min-
ke whale continually broke the surface of
the water. It seemed as if Konráð had at
least four clear opportunities to shoot the
whale, so I felt the need to ask Guðmun-
dur, “Is he going to shoot it?” Guðmun-
dur simply responded with, “You never
know when he is going to shoot.” After
about eight minutes of intense follow, the
whale had vanished. We slowed down to
almost a standstill and crept through the
empty fjord for about an hour before the
men gave up and continued onward.
As relieved as I was, it was confu-
sion that stood out as the dominant
feeling in my mind. I had never seen a
whale watching operator lose a minke
whale. Once they are spotted it is almost
always the driver who decides to leave
the area after viewing the whales for long
periods of time. How could someone who
had been doing this for 40 years lose a
minke whale that easily on a clear, glassy
day? Why didn’t he shoot it when he had
the chance?
Just a show?
As the clock turned to 5:00 PM, I realised
we were heading back to the harbour. I
was ecstatic that one more minke whale
would be roaming the North Atlantic, but
baffled by the behaviour of the minke
whalers. Were they putting on a show
for me? Was this whole day a charade
put on for the viewers of my film? While
interviewing the two men for my docu-
mentary about Icelandic whaling, they
repeatedly told me that they don’t have
anything to hide. I will never get a defini-
tive answer, but I believe their motivation
was to have me capture them on a hunt,
showing people that they are not afraid
to kill on camera, without actually having
to kill on camera.
As we pulled back into the harbour,
Guðmundur began ranting to me that my
country, The United States, is responsible
for killing more whales than Iceland. I
thanked the men for allowing me on
their ship and hopped off of the Halldór
Sigurdsson, bewildered by my day on a
whaling ship.
Words
Jonny Zwick
It was mid-afternoon when I received the email I had been waiting for all summer. Guð-
mundur Konráðsson, son of long time minke whaler, Konráð Eggertsson, informed me
that I was welcome to board their whaling vessel, the Halldór Sigurðsson, if I could make
it to Ísafjörður in time for the next hunt. I promptly rented a car and took off on a seven-
hour journey to Iceland’s famously beautiful Westfjords area, astonished that these men
had just granted me access to film the killing of a minke whale.
Laugavegur 54
Travel
Jonny Zwick
“If anything goes wrong
when we shoot the minke
whale. I am going to tell
you to turn off the camera.”