Friday, June 11:

The team departed the hotel in New Orleans at 5:00 a.m. to travel to the Lakefront Airport, where we were to meet the helicopter and crew.  Prior to being able board the helicopter, all team members had to complete a thorough orientation in helicopter crash procedures, including what to do if the aircraft had to go down over open water.  Since we were there to see the situation closely, we would be flying with all doors open.  Therefore, a familiarity with safety procedures was critical.

Due to the extreme heat and heavy passenger load, we were told that the helicopter would have to land every 90 minutes or so, for refueling and to allow the engines to cool down for 45 minutes to an hour.  However, the most frustrating part of the day was the constantly changing access authorization for our flight.  While we had originally had been assured of full access to oil-impacted areas at relatively low altitude (500-1,000 feet), permission was mysteriously and inexplicably revoked at the last minute, just prior to our lift-off.  Our plans to fly over the spill area were blocked but by whom, or for what reason, we were never able to determine. 

Because of this very mysterious and confusing revocation of permission to fly over the oil spill itself, the entire day’s work was thrown into jeopardy. Since “Plan A” had to be abandoned, “Plan B” was quickly put in place.  Since we were unable to initially visit impacted areas, we decided to tour areas of potential impact to get an idea of just what was at stake.

By the time we finally took off about 9:30 a.m. the temperature was already well into the 90s, as was the humidity, providing a temperature index of 110 degrees.  With eleven people, including the assessment team, support staff, and flight crew, literally packed into the chopper, it was oppressively hot until we were able to take off.  When we finally left the airport, we headed southwest from the New Orleans area. 

The team was immediately struck by the fact that the area was a lacework of waterways and low, flat land.  It was often impossible to distinguish between land and water, or to tell where one stopped and the other began.  What at first appeared to be a plain or meadow of tall grass turned out to be a marsh, obviously impassable by normal means of either land or water transportation.  It was quickly apparent why the airboat was developed and embraced as the preferred means of travel in such areas.  This land was clearly one that kept its secrets well.

Prior to the trip, an Assistant Director of the US Fish and Wildlife Service pointed out to me that while Louisiana may have only 400 miles or so of coastline, that included more than 7,000 miles of shoreline, a comment I shared with the group.  We quickly understood exactly what he meant.  While the areas we initially visited had not yet been heavily impacted by the spill, one tropical storm could change that in a matter of hours.  Oiled beaches are graphic and annoying, but it was all too clear that an oiling of these marshes and wetlands would be impossible to clean up and would be an unimaginable disaster for wildlife. 

An additional point noted by the team was that it would be almost impossible to find oiled wildlife in such an environment.  Even venturing into the maze of waterways and bayous to look for them would be dangerous for anyone not entirely familiar with the area.  Getting lost would be a very real possibility.  With the temperature index of 110, work in such areas would present a real danger to potential wildlife rescuers.  We can only hope that efforts to prevent the oil from reaching these areas are successful.

Continued requests for access to  spill impacted areas throughout the day eventually resulted in permission to enter restricted airspace, but we were told that we would have to remain at altitudes above 3,000 feet, rendering the value of access worthless.  Eventually, our mission coordinator from HSUS called everyone she knew who had a say in the matter, and our team finally was told that the Temporary Flight Restrictions (TFR) would be lifted at 6:00 p.m. and we would be allowed fly-over access to the affected areas from 6:00 to 8:00 p.m. at elevations down to 500 feet, exactly what we had been waiting for.

So, we pressed on with our flights throughout the rest of the day, knowing that when 6:00 came, we would finally get to see what we had come to see.  In spite of the fact that it was Plan B, our tour of yet-to-be impacted areas helped us understand just what was at stake in Louisiana, just one of four states in the path of the spill.  It was a valuable experience.  We continued to explore Louisiana’s Gulf coast for most of the day.  Unfortunately, since we had left for the airport prior to the opening of the hotel’s restaurant, and since the helicopter did not have room for the box lunches the hotel had prepared for us, none of us had eaten anything all day.  During our fuel stops at tiny remote landing strips, we were occasionally able to find a soda or snack machines, but this was far from a luxury trip!  By the time we got back to Lakefront Airport at about 5:00, we were all starving!  Our day-old box lunches were devoured as if they were the finest fare New Orleans had to offer.  We were all excited at 6:00 p.m. approached, when we would get our first glimpse of what we had all actually come to see.

As the team waited anxiously, we saw 6:00 p.m. come and go with no order to re-board the chopper.  Something was going on, but we did not know what it was.  Finally, about 7:00 p.m., we got the bad news.  Our access to the oil impact zone had been denied—again—without explanation. 

We reluctantly loaded our gear back into our cars and headed back to the hotel, arriving at about 9:00 p.m.  By the time we cleaned up, had a quick dinner in the hotel dining room and got to bed, it was approaching 11:00…   

At dinner, we were informed that on Friday morning, we would have to leave the hotel at 3:00 a.m. for the three-hour car ride to the port from which we would be boarding a boat for a clandestine visit to oil-affected waters.  It was to be a very, very short night’s sleep.