Like anti-whaling protesters, time to rise again against plastics pollution
THE weather over the past few days reminded me of winter mornings when, clad in Wellington boots, leggings, a heavy raincoat and even a sou’wester, I pedalled off to school, despite the driving rain.
Far better, though, was riding home (a modest dwelling in Mowbray) in the rain to a mug of hot Milo, dry clothes and a hearth fire. And spirits were indeed higher if it was Friday, emancipating me from school for the weekend.
Such winter conditions, however, bring serious hardship to many less fortunate folks, and cause discomfort to those on ships off the Cape.
When those north-westers sweep across Table Bay, and huge swells begin to run, they bring several challenges for the port authorities. In heavy swell conditions, pilots sometimes struggle to board inward vessels, strong wind can curtail container operations, while sailings, particularly of high-sided vessels, can be delayed.
Range action – the movement of ships alongside their berths caused by strong underwater eddies, engendered by the north-west swell outside the harbour – can cause ships’ mooring lines to part, with the potential to have ships go on “walkabout”, and bringing tugs hurrying to pin them against the quay.
Rain also stops some break-bulk cargo work involving weather-sensitive cargoes such as grain, palletised fruit or bagged cement.
A less obvious but important challenge for the port authorities lies in dealing with the detritus that, despite netting spanned across the outlet, washes into the harbour from the city via the underground canal beneath Adderley Street and that enters the Duncan Dock near H Berth. Now buried from view, that stream was the reason for the Dutch establishing their half-way house at the Cape.
Seeing a thick cloud of black smoke rising from the direction of the docks some years ago, I rushed to the harbour, believing a ship was on fire. I found, instead, that a road tanker had overturned at the large roundabout that was at the foot of the Heerengracht at that time.
The damaged vehicle had caught fire, sending burning fuel down the drains, into that underground stream that carried it into the harbour. Already a tug was attending the fire while another tug was moving a ship berthed near the outlet of the underground canal. Among the urban waste that washes into the harbour are plastic bottles, polystyrene take-away food boxes, and other non-degradable items.
Ships were thought to be the source of much of the marine litter, but a glance at the labels on items picked up along local beaches will show that few are from foreign factories, and evidence points to landbased sources for almost all of the plastics and other harmful waste that are found in the sea or along the shore.
Plastic strapping is often found around the bodies of marine creatures, frequently cutting into the animal as it grows; seabirds become ensnared in fishing lines, while the gallant local Sea Rescue folks are asked to assist in freeing whales or other creatures entangled in fishing nets.
Turtles, dolphins, sharks and other marine creatures can mistake shiny plastic objects for prey, while those huge gaping mouths of some species of whale take in masses of small fish, krill – and anything else in the water at the time.
All would have been shocked at the irrefutable evidence produced by Norwegian biologists who, while dissecting a dead whale, found masses of plastic items in its digestive tract. A display of similar items – spread out on the floor of a British laboratory after the dissection of another whale – reinforced the tragedy of plastic pollution of the seas that, when ingested, simply blocks the organs of marine creatures.
An autopsy on an orca, washed up on the coast near Cape Point some years ago, revealed that it had died after ingesting a wetsuit, probably lost overboard from a boat.
In terms of what goes into the sea from ships, the maritime industry has done much to clean up its act. Besides strict measures to counter oil pollution caused by the deliberate dumping of residue of cargoes and oily waste overboard, the dumping of garbage is also controlled via the same convention known as Marpol 73/78 and a number of subsequent amendments and additions, including a total ban on the discharge of plastics overboard. This ban includes synthetic fishing nets, ropes, and plastic rubbish bags.
Although adherence to the regulations is difficult to monitor, the vast majority of shipowners ensure that their vessels do comply with these regulations and with those that decree that ships should detail their waste disposal systems as well as record actual disposal, be it benign waste dumped at sea, or into skips placed on the wharf for disposal in port.
Until the mid-1960s, whaling fleets came to Cape Town to refuel and victual en route to their annual slaughter grounds in the Southern Ocean. After completing their grim task, they called again, carrying thousands of tons of whale products for the European market.
Operating from Durban and Saldanha Bay in the latter days of local whaling operations, whalers also took their toll on whales until the country banned the practice in the 1970s. Against a background of widespread protest against this grotesque industry, most countries agreed to an international moratorium in 1987, apart from whaling for subsistence purposes.
Often caught on camera, harpoon heads tore holes in these creatures on impact, engendering revulsion in many viewers, and those gory scenes were grist to the mill of the anti-whaling lobby.
But plastics adrift on the ocean and the subsequent prolonged death of whales and other creatures are less conspicuous, less stirring to the emotions, but more insidious than those deadly harpoons. Yet many have taken the anti-plastic campaign to heart.
Yacht crews on global or trans-Atlantic races, television documentaries showing mountains of plastic on beaches, and many other projects have drawn attention to the scourge of plastic pollution of the oceans and its effects on marine life.
Norway was once a leading whaling country, and Capetonians saw whale factory ships such as Thorshammer, Norhval, Kosmos V and others in port. Some of their fleet of catchers came with them from Sandefjord; others wintered in Cape Town, providing good revenue to engineering companies tasked to prepare them for the whaling season.
Carrying fuel for the fleets down south, Norwegian tankers put into Cape Town, and on their return voyage to Norway, they were down to their marks with whale oil. Now Norway is at the forefront of the anti-plastic drive and beach clean-ups.
The crescendo of protests that were the prelude to the abolition of whaling, that highlighted the evils of oil pollution, and that caused authorities to implement strict controls on dumping of all sorts of toxins in the sea, needs to rise again. This time its chorus should sound against the wanton disposal of plastics on land.
After all, it might get into the sea, or choke land animals.
Some years ago, in the context of describing whaling activities, I wrote, “These gentle creatures enrich our lives as we watch them – often close inshore. Haunting whale sounds fascinate researchers probing the mysteries of whale communication, and lend beauty to our aural experience.”
If we can save even a few of these magnificent creatures and other marine animals from a slow, agonising death by plastic, let’s do it.