It’s midday and Edward Kean, a Canadian fisherman who now scours the North Atlantic for icebergs that have broken off from Greenland’s glaciers, is positively beaming.
Using his trusty binoculars, the rotund, 60-year-old captain of the fishing boat Green Waters has spotted his next prize — it’s several dozen metres tall and floating just off the coast of Newfoundland.
“It’s a very fine piece of ice,” Mr. Kean proclaims.
Every morning at dawn, Mr. Kean sails out with three other crew members to hunt what has become his own personal white gold: icebergs.
For more than 20 years, he has hauled in the mighty ice giants and then sold the water for a handsome profit to local companies, which then bottle it, mix it into alcoholic products or use it to make cosmetics.
Business has soared in tandem with the warming of the planet, especially quick in the Arctic, meaning that more and more icebergs find their way south.
But it’s a tough gig. The days are long and the “harvest” isn’t easy.
Taylor Lindsorn axes ice off an iceberg in Bonavista Bay on June 30, 2019, in Newfoundland, Canada.
Arriving at the foot of the massive wall of floating ice in Bonavista Bay, which opens into the Atlantic, he shoulders a rifle and blasts away in the hopes that some of it will break off. But the ice does not split. “Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t,” said Mr. Kean.
As summer gets under way, time is of the essence in harvesting the icebergs. “They come here and they melt so fast,” noted the captain, adding that once they are floating off the coast of Newfoundland, it is a real race against the clock.
“In Newfoundland, it’s like a fallen leaf. They’re going to die in a couple of weeks and be gone back to nature anyway,” he said.
“So we’re not here hurting the environment, we’re not taking nothing away — we’re just utilising the purest water we can get.”
Two members of his crew set out on a motorboat, circling the iceberg, even brushing against it, to find blocks of ice that may be bobbing next to it.
Armed with a pole and net, they laboriously wrap up the precious fragments, each one weighing a tonne or two, and fasten them to a hook at the end of a crane on the fishing boat’s deck, which winches them aboard.
Mr. Kean then hacks the blocks up with an axe and puts the pieces into containers to melt over the coming days. In the high season, from May to July, the crew can gather 8,00,000 litres of water, which they then sell to local merchants for a dollar a litre. Those businesses in turn market the iceberg products as made from some of the purest water money can buy.
Dyna Pro, one of Kean’s clients, sells the water in glass bottles for $12 each. They are targeting a wealthy clientele and have hopes to expand their business abroad. “We’re probably a lot bigger today than we ever were with iceberg water shipping overseas — Europe, Singapore, Dubai,” said the company’s manager, Kerry Chaulk. “We just picked up clients from the Middle East with our glass bottles.”
