Another dawn start today (I’ve already had one in the past week – why can direct actions never start after elevenses?). Yesterday, the Greenpeace vessel Esperanza arrived in Dumai, a large port on the eastern coast of Sumatra, the second largest in Indonesia in terms of palm oil exports, and the latest port of call in our Forests For Climate shindig. This morning, we headed out from the Esperanza and began painting slogans on the hulls of three ships anchored in the port.

They’re loaded with palm oil from the plantations of Riau, just like the ones we’ve seen from the air and from the ground over the past few days, so being daubed with ‘Forest Crime’ and ‘Climate Crime’ in bright yellow paint is only appropriate.

The first stop on our tour of the port was the Gran Couva, a large tanker carrying 27,000 metric tonnes for palm oil giant Wilmar (the same company that owns the plantations John our photographer flew over on Saturday) and bound for Rotterdam in the Netherlands. The two painting teams got off to a great start, marking out the positions of the letters and getting stuck into ‘Crime’. Angry shouts from the Gran Couva’s crew did nothing to dissuade the painters, and neither did the hoses which were turned on them. Unfortunately, the water-based paint didn’t last so well and some of the letters began to run.

The team in the small inflatable headed to the stern to try their luck there, but were met by more hoses. The second team in Susie Q fared better and were able to complete the words ‘Forest Crime’ on the other side of the bow. Watching from a short distance in the media boat, I was impressed how easy the painters were making it look, despite the water hoses and the awkward task of writing with paint rollers fixed onto broom handles.

Mission completed, it was off to the next ship, the Smooth Sea operated by Musim Mas, another major palm oil producer. The crew of this Thai cargo vessel (destination: Yangon in China) were less quick to respond and the painters had no problem repeating the message in double-quick time. The Victory Prima (carrying palm oil for Sarana Tempa Perkasa) was just next door, and for variety the guys went for ‘Climate Crime’ instead. The crew on deck were even more relaxed, smiling and waving as we left, even thanking us for using water-based paint.

A message came through on the radio to go for a bonus ship, a barge loaded with meranti logs. It was a shift from the palm oil theme, but timber is an inevitable by-product of the deforestation happening here so it’s fair game. The crew of the attached tug were still waking up, but seemed happy to receive some of the campaign information leaflets we handed over.

There was no sign of any response from the authorities, and fired up by their success, the paint crews were eager to have another go at the Gran Couva. Well, it was on the way back to the Esperanza, but again they were too quick with the hosepipes and the paint didn’t have time to dry.

After a break, some boat cleaning and a spot of lunch (ah, so direct action can be at civilised times!), a team returned to the palm oil tanker but this time the action hinges on just one man, and he’s currently attached to the Gran Couva’s anchor chain.

A Greenpeace climber has made his way up the chain and positioned himself so they can’t lift the anchor. This means the ship can’t leave the port and this will cause considerable inconvenience to Wilmar, the company that owns the cargo of palm oil.

It’s exactly what we want because, although Wilmar is a member of the Roundtable on Sustainable Palm Oil, there’s nothing sustainable about the company’s practice of tearing up forests and peatlands to grow its oil palms.

Given how enthusiastic the Gran Couva’s crew were with the hosepipes earlier on, it was no surprise that he got a good drenching but the sustained barrage went on for 30 minutes.

Never the less, he’s still hanging on and that’s in no small part thanks to the incredible negotiation skills of our electrician Paul. He’d gone along to assist in the boats but it was his ability to speak Hindi which persuaded the Indian crew members manning the hoses to turn them off.

Meanwhile, we’ve heard from the harbour master who has us to stop our activities and the police have just arrived at the tanker to see what’s going on. We’ll see what comes of that, but for now the anchor chain is still occupied and the Gran Couva isn’t going anywhere.