Storms on the Horizon

Today's thunderstorms kept me from aiding in anyway whatsoever. I knew i wasn't the only one, so I tried to make the best of it. Caught up on the latest news and even found time to read at a nearby cafe for a few hours. I made new friends, drank free wine, and watched the rain drip from the numerous rusty awnings that span the neighborhood as tourists scurried and taxis honked. It was a nice break and for once my brain was not consumed with thoughts of oil, a dying ecosystem, and a lying corporation.

Of course that would change when the news came on after the Preakness finished. BP's latest attempt to plug the spill ran into problems. The newest brainstorm is to stick a smaller pipe into the larger busted pipe and attempt to siphon the majority of oil out. It didn't work out today, but all is not lost yet and they will try again tomorrow. Hopefully BP succeeds in their attempt at underwater intercourse and the blown pipe becomes the first member of the Mile Under Club. But today's failure doesn't bode well. And even if they do plug it, it has become crystal clear that this spill is far worse than anyone could have imagined.

This article from the New York Times should bring even violent criminals to the verge of tears, not just from the news concerning massive underwater oil plumes, but BP's response to scientists requesting physical access to test how much oil is actually dumping into the Gulf. http://www.nytimes.com/2010/05/16/us/16oil.html?hp What is going on is pure insanity.

It's quite clear now that BP has tried to downplay this from day 1, when in fact it should have been all hands on deck from the start. The crazy thing to me is that their "image" is already DONE. Why continue to lie? Their only real option to save face was to be honest about this from the start, ask for help, ask for forgiveness and make it a national priority. And failing that, be honest NOW!! But they continue to hide much of what they know as if it will just all go away and no one will notice. I guarantee in the next week we will find out just how much they hid from us.

Storms are in the forecast for tomorrow as well, so i will be packing my bags and heading back north. But the adventure is likely far from over. I received a call from US Fish and Wildlife concerning my experience with HAZMAT. Finally. The irony the call came as the world has learned that more oil is spilling than previously thought and that huge oil plumes have been spotted underwater has not been lost on me. As early as May 26 i could be deployed anywhere between Texas and Florida to work more directly in the clean-up efforts. But for now i will return home, rest and recharge.... after a few last drinks on Bourbon Street of course.

The Quarter Keeps Me Sane

It's not all depressing news, beach clearing, and personal frustration down here in The Crescent City. Evenings in the French Quarter have been pretty spectacular. While Bourbon Street has it's "charm" it's best enjoyed in the company drunk friends and lovers. I've taken a liking to the slightly out of the way bars and music venues that quietly dot the streets of St. Peter, Royal and Chartres.

I've accomplished several N'awlins "must-do's". Caught a mind-blowing jazz show at Preservation Hall (pictured above) on Wednesday night. I'm officially hooked on brass, and lots of it. I've also enjoyed a few sets at the Maison Bourbon Jazz Club. My first "official" Hurricane was enjoyed beside the famous flaming fountain at Pat O'Brien's. The bartender there told me that since BP began igniting oil in gulf, no one asks how the fountain works anymore. I've washed down a Muffuletta at Napoleon House with their special Pimm's Cup and enjoyed one of Angeli on Decatur's Focaccia sandwiches with the local favorite, Abita Amber. This morning's breakfast was Cafe Au Lait and Beignets at Cafe Du Monde, and despite the fact high winds blew powdered sugar all over me, it hit the spot.

But, i learned some sad news at the Crescent City Brewhouse this evening. Carl the oyster shucker mentioned, as he shucked a half dozen oysters for me, that while these were brought in this morning and are as fresh as one can find them, they may in fact be the last batch of Louisiana oysters for quite some time. With the news today that BP's spill might be 10 times worse than predicted, i don't doubt it. So i sat at the bar, commiserating with other patrons, watching Carl work his magic for perhaps the last time, and savored every last one.

Gulf Leak Meter

Speed Hump

If one picture could tell the story of my day, it would be this one. I had to pull over when I saw it and take a shot. I mean come on, does anyone not read the obvious reference to a quickie and see a boob. Really? And why is Louisiana the one state that doesn’t use the more common, and less suggestive “speed bump”? After a laugh, I realized how fitting the sign was to my day. It embodies poor communication and yet another slow down in my attempt to move forward without delay.

The morning began with a call to the volunteer coordinator for the Coalition to Restore Coastal Louisiana (CRCL), as directed by the folks at BP’s spill headquarters in Venice the day previous. After asking for the volunteer coordinator I was transferred to an assistant coordinator. I explained the situation to her, as I have done numerous times to others. She quickly regurgitated the same apologies for delay, gratitude for the work I have done and then informed me as to the “fact” they were not yet at the point of sending out the gaggle of volunteers to clean up the beaches as the oil is “not reaching those areas yet”. And then, as if to pour salt in the wound, she directed me to sign up online. Good Lord.

Rather than explode on the phone and berate the poor woman I kindly signed off. I will, however, vent at you, dear reader. First of all, if you are the CRCL, and you have hundreds, if not thousands of volunteers ready to clean up beaches in the advance of oils arrival, why in the hell aren’t you sending them out to do just that? Even if it’s to areas not threatened, people want to help! As damning as the spill is to the region, the CRCL just won the enviro-lottery and has every treehugging fool in the country trying to get down and help. SO USE US!! That is if you really are the “Coalition to Restore Coastal Louisiana”, and not the “Coalition Only Concerned About Oil and is Waiting Around Until Things Get Really Bad”. It’s just a no-brainer to me to get people out there who are willing, even if it’s filling trash bags with plastic bottles and Coke cans.

BP’s decision to only use qualified locals is also questionable. I’ve heard stories of people who worked on the Valdez clean up being turned away. At least I didn’t drive down from Anchorage. Conspiracy theories abound concerning their reasoning. One involves BP’s fear of too many people knowing and seeing too much. Another raises concern about the fuel dispersants used to soak up the oil and it’s possible effects on humans and ecosystem. If the dispersants do affect humans and/or the ecosystem negatively I guess it makes sense to be sure only a small percentage of people take note and take ill, and the smaller numbers make it easier for BP to make everyone harmed sign legal documents agreeing not to sue. Who knows at this point.

But I headed to the beach anyway. Just Southwest of Grand Isle on a stretch of sand highlighted in the NOAA’s recent 48 hour beached oil map. The smell in the air was not only that of the sea, but of oil. It was not nearly as pungent as the breeze in Venice, but close. I saw numerous washed up sea life, including this rather monstrous fish carcass (my camera died just after photographing the speed hump sign so I had to, unfortunately, resort to using my phone’s camera). This fish was obviously eaten, but was it before or after he came into contact with oil? I don’t have the tools to test for that, but I couldn’t help noticing the black sediment surrounding him. Its odor too.

I moved southwest along the shore for about an hour and then I saw it, just over a rocky outcropping. An oil slick surrounded by red oil booms, no more than a hundred yards away. It's greasy, evil shimmer unmistakable. Beyond it I could see clean up crews and heavy machinery fast at work on the beach. Take note CRCL, the oil is here. It was pretty awful to actually see in person what this whole disaster is all about. I doubled back just in time to see three pelicans fly overhead and land inside the slick. I looked west and saw a relief worker standing guard on the edge of the infected area. I approached and pointed it out the pelican’s flight pattern from a distance. He nodded his head. I just turned around and headed back East.

So after a few more hours of sweaty beach combing I arrived back at my car. It finally dawned on me that with the oils arrival and BP's refusal to let me help to the best of my abilities, I should consider another way to help out. After all, one guy isn't going to clear all the beaches of debris. I called the New Orleans branch of the United Way, who i had learned is in preparation to help the local fishermen during their time of need. I was told the director would call me back. We will see.

Haliburton Road

This morning, after more fruitless phone calls and emails, i decided to head south to Venice, LA, and politely barge into the headquarters of the BP clean up. I was fed up with the poor communication, upset at the fact that i learn more on CNN than i do reading regional papers and websites or by talking to locals, and to be honest, pissed off that i'm down here with more experience than most and being completely ignored.

Venice is the closest "town" to the Deepwater Horizon, and the first to reap the whirlwind of this massive human error. It is appropriately named, however. If you moved the French Quarter here, you would not be able to tell the difference between it and the Italian sister city. Aside, of course, from the larger proportion of intoxicated, obese Americans on display between Jackson Square and North Rampart St.

First stop was the the local Sheriff's command post. Despite a fairly intense grilling (by me, surprising i know) I learned nothing, other than to keep driving and look for "a marina over there". Marina was found. Along with a sight i'll not soon forget, Hazmat workers, covered in oil, resting in the shade of a stilted condo complex, exhausted, yet enjoying basic forms of camaraderie, all the while chugging water, sharing stories and slapping shoulders. "i want to go to there".

Alas it will not be so. The BP HQ was right across the street and i soon found myself explaining my experience and my situation to the head of BP beached oil clean-up (who also happened to be the smarmiest Cajun you can imagine). He explained that they were only training locals, and that despite my previous experience i should contact the CRCL, (which i have everyday for a week). BUT i got the name of the vol. coordinator in charge of pre-oil beaching preparation, and continued arguing until i got his number... so tomorrow a fruitFUL phone call will be place.

BTW, and no shit, the street just before the Venice Marina turn off.... Haliburton Road.

Grand Isle

Grand Isle is home to one of the nicest beaches I've ever seen. It stretches for miles and is at least 50 yards wide throughout even at high tide. The sand is heavy and the colorful two story stilt houses of the local fishermen dot the coastline. Unfortunately, the view of the gulf from shore is obstructed in every direction by offshore drilling platforms. And to think people in Massachusetts don't want windmills 20 miles offshore. Some of these platforms are no more than 7 to 10 miles away. I couldn't shake the feeling that this could have been Louisiana's Ft. Myers Beach, had the hotels arrived before the oil companies.

Anyway, i didn't come down here to lay on the beach. Grand Isle remains in NOAA's 72 hour potential beached oil zone, and the one thing i can do now is help clean the beaches in advance. So I spent Tuesday afternoon beach-combing for trash. And there was plenty of it. Bag after bag was filled. If oil doesn't reach the shores here, and I hope it doesn't, at least i've finally done something here besides get lost, make phone calls, fill out volunteer aps and drink on Bourbon Street.

But, there likely will be oil on these shores. I came across this beached oil boom within minutes of arriving. The currents and wind are not in Grand Isle's favor. And the growing presence of National Guard to the west was not a positive sign either. What bothered me most is that if the oil is as close as is has been spotted, there were no warning signs anywhere. No biohazard warnings, no beach closed signs, no "no fishing" signs. In fact i didn't even think i would even be allowed to see the beach let alone walk up and down it.

There seems to be a huge disconnect between the local population, the environmental groups, and the people in charge of disaster relief. BP is in charge of the operations in conjunction with US Fish and Wildlife. The Coalition to Restore Coastal Louisiana and the Tri-State Bird Rescue and Research appear to be the "go to" environmental groups. But i can see no evidence of organization or communication between anyone. And don't get me started on the Audubon Society, which is basically a club run out of an apartment. I have wildlife experience and Hazmat training, both of which all of these groups claim they need right now. But what they really need is my experience with volunteer coordination.

Sazerac

Yesterday was a long and frustrating day. For starters Mrs. Hawking and I fought early and often. It took me 2 hours to convince her that Baton Rouge was not North of Jackson, MS, but rather South and in Louisiana. When it became obvious that the Baton Rouge Audubon was unreachable I headed for the Orleans Audubon HQ. Mrs Hawking sent me into a condominium complex in Metairie, just NW of New Orleans. As it turns out however, she was right. Unfortunately the Audubon headquarters in Orleans is run out of an apartment. A few calls where made and i remain on more and more volunteer lists. I secured lodging a few blocks from the French Quarter and decided it was time to relax and seek out drinks, music and maybe some local knowledge or contacts on the relief efforts.

I was successful in all three regards. After meandering the French Quarter at sunset I settled into Bar Tonique and was quickly served the official drink of New Orleans, the Sazerac. Composed of Rye Whiskey, Peychaud's Bitters, Angostura Bitters, sugar, a twist of lemon, and a dash of Absinthe, I must say i have never had anything quite like it. The prep and mixing is a work of art and it became quickly apparent midway through mine, that no more than two of these should be consumed within a 24 hour period, lest one never find their way out of New Orleans.

Then I was off to Donna's Bar and Grill, located right on the border of the French District and Treme, for their traditional Monday night local musician Jazz Jam. The music was fantastic and I was surrounded by an incredible cast of characters. I felt very much like i had wandered into a bar in Mos Eisley. I began a conversation with the bartender that led to contact info for the head chef at the Ritz Carlton. He works with local fishermen on a daily basis and the bartender believes that my help could be greatly needed. So another option has presented itself.

I said my goodbyes to the fine people at Donna's promising to keep in touch, then full of drink, free bbq and new hope, walked back to the hotel using Bourbon Street, just to see what it's all about. I can say that even on a Monday night, Bourbon Street is everything you've ever heard it to be. An alcohol fueled playground for adults, wonderful madness, sex, drugs and jazz. I quickened my pace but promised to return.

This morning has been spent sending emails and making calls, trying to reach someone that will put me to serious work asap. I don't mind doing the little things, but i'm qualified for bigger. I head out shortly with the updated NOAA map and will begin clearing the beaches of litter in advance of oil's arrival.

Jackson

After a long day on the road I've reached Jackson, Mississippi, along with my new traveling companion, a Garmin GPS i have affectionately named Mrs. Hawking. We are getting along just fine and have yet to argue about directions. She even saved me when i inadvertently began heading towards the East Coast around 4 this afternoon. No serious run-ins with the law either, although i did want to steal a vintage cop car outside of Patty Ann's Restaurant.

Tomorrow the first stop is the Audubon Society in Baton Rouge. I'll pick up the necessary maps, field guides, and phone numbers to call should i happen upon a foul fowl. Then onto the coast where i'll catch my first glimpse of The Big Easy and The Big Greasy. For now, sleep.

Fail

BP's attempt to cover the main leak with a 100 ton box, in hopes of funneling the crude up and out safely, failed. They will keep trying, and possibly build an even bigger containment unit. But for now the geyser of oil still looks like this (scroll ahead to about 2:10) - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CH4I1a5vg3w&feature=player_embedded

So things aren't getting any better as of yet, and between 210,000 and 250,000 gallons a day are pouring out into the ocean.

My bags are packed and i'm heading south within the hour. Hope to get close to Jackson, MS today. Then to the coast by noon tomorrow!

Black Gold, Texas Tea

I received the green light yesterday from the Audubon Society in Baton Rouge to head on down and lend a hand. Today will be spent packing and preparing. I also think it's important to explain a few things about drilling and the recent catastrophe, because so far the media has not done a bang up job. So allow me to vent for a minute.

I don't think the American public has any idea how often oil spills happen, or how risky offshore drilling is. The talking heads blab about this spill only in comparison to the Exxon Valdez, as if they were the only two major spills we've had in the past three decades. What they ignore is that this is the fifth oil spill in and around New Orleans in the last 10 years. There are major oil spills every year around the globe. In fact last November an Australian rig exploded under oddly similar circumstances. A fractured pipe 8000 feet down burst sending millions of gallons spewing out. The fact that two, nearly new oil rigs have recently blown pipes, killing people and causing environmental catastrophe begs the question, why is this happening?

We have now learned that methane gas leaked up the pipe and exploded when ignited on the rig leading to the loss of human life and the ensuing spill. How the methane got into the pipe is still unknown. But, as the experts say, poor cementing and/or a broken pipe can leave enough room for gas to surge up the area between the cement and the pipe. And a tiny bubble of methane underground becomes an expanding, flammable cannon ball as pressure decreases on the way up to the surface.

Cementing typically provides a secure casing to the walls of oil wells (Oh, btw Haliburton was the cement contractor) and should have prevented, not possibly caused this. The gas also made it’s way past a string of safety measures that failed including the all important “blowout preventer” on the ocean floor. And the last resort “shear ram” (a set of steel blades intended to slash through a pipe at the top of a well and close off the flow of crude) failed, just like 50% of them do under testing

So that’s the explosion as we know it now. Oil is shooting out like a volcano from the ocean floor because multiple safety measures failed. There was one safety measure missing however, an “acoustic switch”. An acoustic switch is like a remote control for your tv. You can sit across the room (or sit on a boat near the rig) and push the off button. This in turn sends acoustic pulses to the blowout preventer causing it shut things off. Other countries require acoustic switches, but not the US. So BP didn’t have to pay the 500K for one. Instead they’ll be paying tens of billions for the clean up. This tragedy is really a microcosm of our sad dependency on oil, where greed and the failure to think about the future has come back to haunt us.

Jed Clampett would be so pissed right now.