by David Walker

Associated Press photographer Charlie Riedel’s up-close images of brown pelicans soaked in oil finally brought home the effects of the Gulf oil spill catastrophe last week. They showed scenes that photographers have had much difficulty documenting, not only because of the location of the spill, but because BP and government officials have worked to keep the spill’s consequences out of sight—and out of mind.

“It sort of shocked people into thinking this is real serious,” Riedel says of his widely published images. “The instances of wildlife being impacted and photographed were minimal [and as a result] this story, over a month and a half, became background noise. But this personalized it.”

The spill occurred 50 miles off shore, and oil has reached coastal areas slowly and haphazardly. Affected areas have been inaccessible by vehicle. By all accounts, that has made it difficult and expensive for photographers to cover the story. “You have to hire a boat to take you out. That can cost over $1,000 per day,” says Los Angeles Times photographer Carolyn Cole, who has been covering the story for her newspaper since April 29.

“Finding rides and finding people who know where to go is a challenge,” Riedel says. “It’s not like you have masses of oil washing over long stretches of shore.” Chasing the story across four states makes the story particularly difficult and expensive, he adds, recounting how he once—but only once--paid $600 per hour to rent a helicopter for several hours.

Photographers have been relying on government agencies, researchers and environmental advocacy organizations such as the Sierra Club and Greenpeace for information about affected areas, as well as for free boat rides to those locations. “Then when you’re out on a boat all day, it’s difficult to work the phones” to figure out where to go next, and find another ride, Riedel explains.

Another disadvantage to relying on those third parties for information and access, Cole says, is that “you are only able to cover what they are willing to show you.”

Access restrictions have only compounded the challenges for photographers. Aircraft must remain above 3,000 feet, not only at the offshore site of the spill, but over large swaths of the Gulf and the shorelines of nearby states. Although the official reason for that restriction is safety, it effectively blunts the impact of any aerial photography.

Beaches and marshes where the oil has washed ashore have also been closed. Cole says she had to bypass sheriff blockades to access beaches after oil began coming ashore. And she says that barrier islands off Louisiana and that are normally open to the public “were shut down soon after the spill to everyone, including journalists.”

Among those areas were Elmer’s Island and Port Fourchon, Louisiana. Journalists are able to visit only with local sheriff escorts, which are available infrequently and for short periods. “At Port Fourchon, journalists are allowed to view the operations for 20 minutes in the morning and 20 in the afternoon. Beyond that, the area is off limits,” Cole says.

During those brief press tours, officials for government agencies and BP have been making sure journalists learn as little as possible. Photographers interviewed for this story say they suspect that clean-up crews sweep the beaches before press tours to remove dead animals.

Cole reports, “On one official trip I took with the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, a dead pelican was placed in a bag minutes before a group of journalist arrived and enforcement officials refused to open the bag calling it criminal evidence.”

Photographers are also perplexed by the efforts to prevent them from documenting clean-up efforts. “If you go up to anyone in these crews, they won’t tell you anything. Ask their name, they wont tell you. Ask if they’ve found any tar balls, they won’t tell you,” Riedel says. “Whenever you try to talk to them, within a couple of minutes [a security guard] on an ATV will find you, and tell you to leave them alone for their protection.”

“The weird thing is that contractors for BP are so close-lipped and uncooperative that it’s hard to do anything. They’ve clearly been instructed not to say anything to the media,” says John Fitzhugh, a staff photographer for the Sun Herald of Biloxi, Mississippi. “I was [photographing a clean-up staging area] from public property and someone came out and said I couldn’t shoot pictures. They’re really paranoid.”

Getty staff photographer Win McNamee says, however, that he hasn’t had trouble covering the story. “Honestly, I haven’t found the restrictions too hard to get around.” Press passes from local parishes are available to journalists who show their credentials. “Show the pass and you’re allowed on the beaches,” he says. As for those areas that are closed except during escorted press tours, McNamee says, “I don’t think there’s anything they’re trying to hide. They just don’t want to devote too many resources to escorting press around.”

Riedel says his “work-around” for the restrictions on access has been the ride-alongs he has done with Louisiana Governor Bobby Jindal. With national political aspirations, Jindal has been visiting affected areas frequently to hold forth for the TV cameras.

“You shoot what the governor is doing, but ultimately it’s your ticket in” to the story, Riedel says.

It was during a ride-along last week with Jindal that Riedel encountered the oil-soaked pelicans. “It was on a barrier island off the Louisiana coast that was in the process of being rejuvenated,” Riedel says. “The governor put together the trip to look at several sites. It was me and a handful of TV reporters and cameramen. There were no other still photographers. On the surface, it looked like a mundane thing—basically bulldozers pushing sand around. When we landed, there was a significant amount of oil on the beach. The TV folks, as they do, clustered around the governor for a press conference. I looked up the the beach a few hundred feet, and there was an oiled pelican.”

Later on, Riedel was transmitting the images from a community center in Grand Terre Island, Louisiana, where various agencies and BP have set up field operations. “Someone walked over to a guy who works for BP and said, ‘There are some pictures you ought to look at.’” Riedel says. “He looked, shook his head and mumbled something, and walked away.”

McNamee shot similar images the following day. Tar balls are now washing up on beaches from Texas to Florida, and the visible effects on wildlife are mounting. The story that Mother Nature, government agencies, and BP have kept under wraps is finally coming into plain view.