Minke on the Menu — The Past & Future of Whaling in Norway
When you ask most Canadians how they feel about whales, they’re likely to tell you they love them, rave about their favourite whale watching trip or rant about the sins of keeping cetaceans in captivity.
When I ask my 24-year-old Norwegian cousin how she feels about whales she says she likes them “seared.” That’s also the answer I get from the guide to the decommissioned whaling ship, “The Southern Actor,” which is the prize exhibit of The Hvalfangstmuseet, Europe’s only museum dedicated to whaling. “Heat for one minute on the barbecue,” says Stig Tore Lunde as he shows me around the deck of the whale catcher. “The whale meat we have today is very delicious.”
Sandefjord, a coastal community just over 100 kilometres from Oslo with a population of about 40,000, was once the hub of Norway’s whaling industry. Today, Sandefjord’s only major connection to whaling is through its history and its menu items. Although a report issued June 13th, 2016 by the Animal Welfare Institute, OceanCare and ProWildlife named Norway as the world’s most active whaling nation, their current take barely qualifies as by-catch by historical standards. What used to be a global industry employing more than 10,000 people is now more of a mom, pop and harpoon operation.
Canada banned commercial whaling in 1972 — where the last factory in Williamsport, Newfoundland “processed” only 1248 whales in their final five years in operation. Whaling on the west coast shut down in 1967 because demand for whale oil had dropped and there were no longer enough whales in local waters to keep the hunt commercially viable
Over the last two years Norwegian whalers (based far north of Sandefjord) have killed over 1300 minkes — more than Iceland and Japan combined. This year they upped their annual quota to 999.
The second smallest toothed whale — which made them unappealing back in the days when the hunts focused on turning big whales into oil — minkes currently aren’t on anyone’s endangered list. And unlike the Japanese, the Norwegians and Icelanders don’t claim they’re hunting for scientific research (which seems to consist of studying how long it takes to catch, slice and sell a whale) they proudly hunt whales for food. Because Norwegians apparently dream up ways to make animal rights advocates’ heads explode, whalers sell the meat as animal feed so fur-farmed minks can eat minkes.
But back in the day, Norwegians not only chased whales around the world to render them into oil, they invented and patented the high-tech harpoons and whaling ships that made it safe to hunt the biggest creatures on the planet. Back in the mid-1800s, shipping and whaling tycoon Svend Foyn came up with a cannon to shoot exploding harpoons.
He patented his grenade gun in 1870 and developed the first steam powered “whale catcher” ship to mount them on, which made it possible to hunt larger, faster whales. The whale catchers were partnered with floating factory ships where whales were flensed (stripped of their skin) and prepared for sale. “Until then you only had the traditional whaling with the spears and the hand-held harpoons,” says Lunde. “You were not able to catch the big fin whales or the blue whale.”
Blue Whales Blues
Thanks to Foyn, Norway became the world’s whaling superpower, chasing leviathans through oceans around the world with more than fifty land-based whaling stations located from the Antarctic to Africa and Alaska to Newfoundland.
The Southern Actor — a Norwegian-style whale catcher built in the 1950s in England — was based in Spain when it was initially decommissioned by Canadian eco-pirate Paul Watson. The Sea Shepherd sunk the boat in Vigo in 1980 when it was operating under the Spanish flag as the Ibsa Dos. “You can see all the ship is riveted except one place where you have welded connections with the sheets because of a bomb,” says Lunde, who considers this another fascinating part of the boat’s history. The boat was refloated and repaired, but didn’t catch whales much longer.
A retired Norwegian whaler spotted the abandoned ship in a Spanish scrapyard and decided to take it home to Sandefjord. The town’s former whalers volunteered over 70,000 hours to restore the whale catcher to operating condition as a memorial to the bygone era.
The Hvalfangstmuseet was originally launched in 1917 as a celebration of whaling and a showcase for the personal collection of Commander Christen Christensen donated by his son, Consul Lars Christensen. The goal, according to Dag Ingemar Børresen, the historian and author who runs The Hvalfangstmuseet, “was to put up a monument for the industry and also a museum that should be used for educating young people about whaling.”
Børresen led me through the quirky exhibit halls which include Christensen’s original collection of arctic wildlife preserved by diligent taxidermists, a roomful of reassembled skeletons featuring several types of whales and a display of whaling technology and history.
The historical display, which includes a mix of photos, models and dioramas, includes a look at the anti-whaling movement that mentions the early days of Greenpeace and features a photo of Paul Watson. No, he is not on a wanted sign — he’s shown in front of his ship, the Steve Irwin, next to a pair of photos of Sea Shepherd boats in action against Japanese whalers.
The writing on the panels (like the information at almost every Norsk tourist attraction) is written in Norwegian and English and informs visitors that, “A number of environmental organisations are engaged in campaigns against whaling and the whale has been a symbol in the fight for the environment. Some believe it is OK to catch whales as long as numbers remain high, while others believe that whales should not be killed under any circumstances because they are intelligent animals.”
Børresen, who prefers his whales in the ocean rather than on his barbecue (“why should we eat whale meat? There’s so many other things to eat”), is looking forward to upgrading the exhibits and increasing the focus on environmental issues. He has a passion for the blue whale and seems pained as he talks about whalers hunting what is believed to be the largest creature ever to live on earth long after they knew they were driving it to extinction.
But while North Americans have loved whales since their first aquarium visit — or the day they saw a Jacques Cousteau special, Flipper or Free Willy- Norwegians aren’t whale-huggers. Keiko, the whale who inspired and was featured in Free Willy, was released in Iceland. When he showed up in Norwegian waters, people were intrigued, but not enchanted. “I don’t know if anyone cared at all,” says Børresen, sounding and looking slightly bemused. “It was just a whale. I don’t think Norwegians have this sort of emotional connection with whales at all.”
Back on the boat I ask Lunde if whale meat is rare in Norway — not as in medium — and he points portside to indicate a fish market that has it on sale. Cuts of whale look like New York steaks, but black. Lunde says if I want to sample minke I should visit the restaurant on the pier, which looks like the standard issue fish and chips joint you can find on any pier in any North American waterfront town. Sure enough I have a choice between whale steak with seasonal vegetables, lingonberries, saffron onions and pepper sauce and a cured minke rocket salad with horseradish cream, parmesan and lingonberries.
I skip the Norwegian whale and stick to the French fries.
A version of this story was originally published in The Walrus in 2016.
