Fairhaven Chapter 7

Hokkaido

Read the previous chapter, “Defying Futility”, here

8.00 am, Tuesday, February 2, 2027
Hokkaido, Japan – Harbour dockside, Abashiri
Global average temperature: 1.6°C above pre-industrial levels

Kenji Fujimoto thought he understood what cold weather was, from snowy winters in Tokyo and an occasional New Year’s visit to relatives in Morioka. That was before Hokkaido. The plan he described to Ito-san with such enthusiasm in that underground Nonkiya bar never included the gnawing throb of sub-zero temperatures.

At the Abashiri dockside, he found with bone-aching clarity that a changing climate could freeze as well as boil. By the second half of November, the temperature had stayed below zero for three weeks. And on the morning of February 2, it plunged to negative 20, as a vast mass of freezing air edged ever closer from the North. 

It was a portent. The Okhotsk sea ice was arriving. 

Kenji donned his snow pants, a long overcoat, and a fur hat before pulling on his boots – a pair of mukluks given to him by a Russian who had spent time in Siberia and Alaska – and shoved his hands into giant mittens. Anticipating the frozen cheeks, he wished again that he could grow the great beards that the Russian workers did. In any case, he had stopped shaving weeks ago, giving him a disreputable appearance.

Despite everything, he could not contain his excitement. He had spent the past several months preparing at breakneck speed. They were well into winter, weeks behind schedule before they started.  But at last, today was the day.

Ito-san had arrived by helicopter the night before. Although his company, Rakki Holdings, was the principal funder, many other parties were present: observers, scientists, and curious locals. It all added to the overall sense of a performance, surrounded by the audience in a large, circular theatre. 

One group of visitors was a camera crew, with their director, a Rakki Holdings corporate communications manager. Kenji noticed a wisp of grey hair sneaking out of her fur-lined hood and mused that Ito-san was bringing more than one kind of innovation into his company; it would have been unheard of a few years ago to have employed an older woman for a role like this. But Ito-san was willing to pull talent into the organisation wherever it could be found. 

She bowed, her smile as warm as the conditions would allow, and introduced herself. ‘I am Hiroko Mizutani from the corporate communications department. Please, Fujimoto-san, explain the idea behind this project so that our valued investors can understand what you are trying to achieve.’ 

Kenji faced the camera, bowed, and began. ‘Welcome to our Abashiri project. The idea behind our project is simple. As we all know, the Arctic ice is melting. In order to help manage climate change, we need to manage the melting of the ice. We will do that by making more ice. And we will make ice by spraying large volumes of sea water into the freezing air.’

He paused, and Hiroko regarded him expectantly. ‘Please continue. I apologise, but not everyone understands how making more ice would be helpful, considering that temperatures are still rising.’

Kenji bowed again. ‘We are in Hokkaido because, for two months every year, there is a vast area of sea ice that comes down from the Sea of Okhotsk in Russia. It is arriving today. This ice melts away each year as the weather warms, which makes it ideal for our trial – no lasting harm can be done. We will make a few areas of thickened ice, marked with a harmless food dye, and compare them with the natural formed ice. This will allow us to calculate the longevity of the thickened ice, and to determine whether this method can be used in the Arctic. This is Phase One of the plan.’ Kenji did not mention all the problems they had with the food dye.

‘And what is Phase Two?’

‘During Phase Two, we will move our operations to Arctic waters. Throughout the winter, we will thicken as much ice as possible. We will monitor the new ice with satellites and drones.’

Kenji looked beyond the camera, at the new ice-breaking tug, the crew of experienced sailors, and the eclectic collection of equipment: water cannons, snow machines, and high-powered pumps. He could not believe that his staggering scheme was coming to fruition. Deep inside, in his personal self that nobody would ever see, he was convinced that the entire thing was a delightful, expensive game. Yet this was just the beginning.

He continued. ‘In Phase Three, we will increase the number of boats and deploy a series of new technologies to create thousands of cubic kilometres of thickened ice. We hope, or, I should say, we expect, that a larger and thicker build-up of ice will increase the albedo – the proportion of light and heat that is reflected back into the atmosphere – which will create a positive feedback loop.’

‘This is an ambitious plan. Will there be a return for our investors?’

‘As of now, the project is being funded by the Japanese government in the form of tax breaks amounting to more than 150 million yen. Later, however, we aim to include albedo credits as part of a carbon credit portfolio. At the early stage, it would make up no more than 10% of a carbon credit portfolio. After the project is established, albedo credits could be sold like other credits, but for a better price. Our colleague in the Rakki finance team is dedicated to this task. But, excuse me for my impoliteness, I would like to bring your attention to Phase Four. 

‘This is the boldest part of our plan. We aim to create, in the high Arctic, as much ice as there was at the end of the last ice age. This will be an enormous, man-made cooling block that can balance the centuries of man-made heating. Others have proposed schemes with a similar goal of planetary cooling. One of these is the atmospheric injection of particulates to mimic the temporary, global cooling effect that took place in 1991 when the Pinatubo volcano erupted. However, our huge reflective shield of ice will be less damaging than these other proposals. Yes, it will be vulnerable to melting as long as temperatures continue to rise. But it will buy time to get our global emissions under control. If we can make it through the next two decades, then there is still hope for a future beyond that time.’

Kenji gave a final bow and headed toward the operations team lead. Although he designed the entire project, he had little control over the actual events of launch day. Once all the vessels reached the sea ice, the chief meteorologist would give the go-ahead based on its position; the pump operations team would bring in the seawater and add the food dye, in multiple colours; the spraying team would direct the placement of the new ice; and the monitoring team would keep track of the process. 

He felt a growing sense of unease when he contemplated the next phases of the project. Here in Japan, with a small crew, and with the paternal support and encouragement of Ito-san, he managed to get things started. But he lacked the management experience for a project of this scale. When they moved to the next phase, to the Arctic itself, he would need to use English every day to communicate with international crews, he would need to know how to negotiate mega contracts, he would need … that was the problem: he didn’t know what he would need.

The boats launched, and within a short time they reached the sea ice.

At a word from the meteorologist, the pumps began their steady churn, and the spraying commenced. Hiroko was now directing her camera operator to take footage of the colourful spectacle. A gangling youth with bare wrists held a large boom microphone to catch the cheers of the crowd of watchers from their ice tour boats. The amount of the dye was minuscule in order to maintain the reflective properties of the ice. But it was as brilliant as a rainbow against the frozen background of dark waters, a pale grey sky, and shining white sea ice. The incredible cold meant that most of the water froze the moment it touched the existing sea ice. Layer upon layer built up. A short cry from the pump crew leader halted the process for several minutes while the team checked the electrical hose heaters. After a long discussion between the pump crew and the dyers, the spraying recommenced. The little crowd on the tour boats cheered once again. 

What am I attempting? Kenji thought. This is insane. 

After many rounds of spraying, the operations lead called time – they could deploy workers in such extreme conditions for no longer than two hours between heat breaks, lest the labour union baulk – and the little group of tour boats dispersed. Kenji, standing at the monitoring station, watching and listening to the real-time information feed, declared the launch day a success, although it would take many more days of work to complete the first phase. Ito-san was striding towards him, rubbing his mittens together, an enthusiastic grin on his face. 

A success! He did not know whether to express relief, joy, or terror.

3.00 pm, Wednesday, February 17, 2027
Hokkaido, Japan – Harbour dockside, Abashiri

> Hans, we have solved the dye problem!

It was a text message, but Hans could feel Kenji’s relief. It was the latest issue in an endless series of unpredictable challenges.

> How?

> We will use kyudo. That is Japanese traditional archery. We will fire arrows with stripes and radio markers into the target areas, and use the drones to take visual measurements before and after.

Hans searched for a laughing emoji. 

> Cool! Do you have an archer?

> Ito-san funds an archery program in Tokyo. They will find us archers. We’ll need hundreds of arrows, but I think bamboo poles will work.

Over the next six weeks, with the help of their old drift ice tour boat, long strips of fresh ice were built on top of the drift ice, travelling at different speeds. Although the weather paused operations for several days, the excitement carried them through the blizzards. To catch up, they worked through the long nights, and showed that the extra cold at night allowed higher water flows, quicker freezing and better results. 

The ice road crew worked as a separate team, in a small bay choked with ice. Ice ridges, blocks, lumps and holes made it almost impossible to get from the shore to the larger pieces they wanted to work on. 

Within a short time, the largest ice sheets in the bay increased their thickness by up to two metres – enough for a regular ice road.

The ice season would end faster than they thought possible. The question was how long the new ice would last.

Read Chapter 8 here