Year: 2004

The weather early this morning was a miserable cold rain, so everyone slept late with somewhat lowered spirits. Mike decided pancakes were called for and cooked us up a great batch, and when the rain started slowing Ted and Shane headed off to do some skiing while I set out with the camera to finally take some pictures. By lunch time the rain had stopped completely, and later in the day the sun came out for the first time on the trip. I spent most of the afternoon sitting a few feet from a group of fur seals — we barked at each other but generally got along fairly well. Ted, Micky and Shane spent the day climbing the mountains and skiing down, and for just four runs traversed a total of more than 3500 feet of elevation change; they say it was well worthwhile. Tomorrow we’re leaving our dock at the whaling station and returning to Salisbury with the hope that the sun will continue.

Salisbury Plain is one of the places on South Georgia that I was most excited to return to, but the weather turned against us today. Due to the large waves we had to land about forty-five minutes from the king penguin colony, and during the hike to the colony the winds slowly started picking up. Fearing a repeat of January’s experience at St. Andrew’s Bay I was on guard, and when the wind began driving the rain horizontally I decided it would be safer to be nearer the boat. David and I ended up returning after only two hours ashore, although Ted and the others have been skiing in the backcountry for more than three hours now. What little time I did have at the colony was again impressive — there aren’t many places in the world that cause a suspense of disbelief, but first sight of this colony is one of them.

Having some spare time aboard allowed me to finally get a shower, and yet again I need to make an offering at whatever altar exists to the shower’s inventor — being clean after five days is as close to godhood as mortal life gets. The afternoon plan is to visit one of the wandering albatross colonies in the Bay of Isles, but the weather may have postponed that — we may yet be able to go, but with eighteen days here losing an afternoon luckily isn’t too terrible.

It’s far too late to still be awake, but we were out hiking until after nine o’clock and then spent a long time after dinner talking. The weather never really broke today so the afternoon activity was a late-day hike between two bays. Ted, Mike, Shane and I started off on the beach with elephant seals and gentoos, traveled up through frozen tussocks and into snow and rock, crossed over a high ridge shrouded in fog, and a few miles later came upon a small cemetary on a cliff before arriving at a whaling station that has been abandoned since the 1930’s. The hike was excellent — Ted got to do some snowboarding while the rest of us just sort of reveled in the solitude — and the whaling station is straight out of a Steven King movie, with a feeling of both familiarity and unfamiliarity in the wreckage that gives it a sense of mystery. The current plan is to stay here in the morning to explore further and do a bit of skiing before heading on in the afternoon, weather permitting.

After one full day on South Georgia the four days at sea are forgotten. The majority of the day was spent at Right Whale Bay with a few thousand king penguins, several hundred elephant seals, and assorted fur seals, giant petrels, skuas, and others. There was both life and death on the beach — elephant seals were being born while king penguin chicks were being attacked and killed by giant petrels. In the evening we made a short hike across a narrow portion of the island that ended with slides down the steep side of a mountain and to the zodiac waiting at the beach.

I don’t want to go overboard about how amazing this place and the wildlife here is (and both deserve any superlative you can think of) but while hiking it struck me that South Georgia is a tremendously lonely place, but not a place in which one feels alone. The island is a bit of rock at the bottom of the world, mostly covered in ice, freezing cold, and yet the sense of wonder here is that child-like sense of how incredible and full of potential life is. It’s a lonely place in that the solitude is as complete as it could possibly be, but at the same time it’s filled with peacefulness and possibility, rather than hopelessness. The world I’ve left, in which meetings and timelines seemed important, is a place where I’ve always felt very alone, while here on the bottom of the world there is only a sense of awe and amazement.

Last day in the open ocean, and not a moment too soon since everyone is going a bit stir crazy after being trapped on the boat for four days in the pitching ocean. The ocean crossing has had its good moments — standing on the bow with seals below and albatross above is a highlight, and we had our first icebergs today — but it’s a safe bet that everyone on board is ready to set foot on land. It turns out that I’m not unique in having avoided showering while being tossed on the waves, so it’s going to be a haggard and smelly crew that sets out across the South Georgia landscape early tomorrow morning.

Despite being advertised to last for twenty-four hours, I can say with certainty that meclazine provides seasickness relief for eighteen as I woke up feeling extraordinarily sick this morning. Spent most of the day in bed, although since taking another pill life hasn’t been so miserable. There isn’t a lot to see out here — the stars were beautiful last night and Jerome felt the wind was strong enough to allow us to travel without the engines for a bit, which was very peaceful, but it has otherwise been as good of a place as any to be confined to bed.

Day two of the crossing. The seas are still relatively calm, although the boat is listing as much as thirty degrees to starboard and twenty degrees to port in the waves. The wildlife seems to have mostly abandoned us, although we did have a pod of dolphins late last night, and occasionally an albatross will swing by to see what our story is. My limited computer skills were briefly called into service after someone spilled coffee on the boat’s laptop, but it’s otherwise been an uneventful day.

The Golden Fleece pulled out of Stanley Harbor at about 6:30 this morning, and since then we’ve been getting jostled by a six-to-ten foot swell that unfortunately is hitting us broadsides, but luckily no one is sick. We’ve had albatross, petrels and gulls all around us, and between naps everyone has been spending their time out on deck with the birds. Three more days until arrival on South Georgia.

The trip feels like it’s now underway, even though we haven’t yet left the harbor. The group Ted has put together is an impressive one, including Mike, who leads treks through the Brooks Range, Micky, who owns a climbing gym, Shane, who used to lead trips for Outward Bound, David, who was a passenger on the last Antarctica trip and myself. The crew consists of Jerome and two French women, the younger of whom has been living in Ushuaia for the past year and a half.

We spent the latter part of the afternoon in Stanley, and it felt like a town that I could someday settle down in. It’s got the character of a small New England fishing town, but with old-time British touches. The townsfolks (all 1800 of them) were quite friendly and willing to chat, giving the place a very cozy feel. This trip will be a lonely one at times, but there is no doubt it will be a good one.

It’s been a rather surreal day so far. Early this morning I woke to the sounds of the couple in the next room, who apparently were under the impression that they were being judged for effort. After leaving the hotel I flagged down what may not actually have been a taxi, and had absolutely no idea what the driver was saying as we drove to the airport. Once at the airport an array of televisions made it impossible to ignore an infomercial for the Jack La Lanne Power Juicer, and now that I’ve escaped Jack and am on the plane I’ve somehow been upgraded to first class for the flight to the tip of the continent and then on to the Falklands. Getting there is an important part of the journey, but after three days in transit it’s going to be really nice to spend some time on the bow of the Golden Fleece just watching the ocean roll by while the albatross follow along.

Four of the six South Georgia passengers arrived in Santiago early this morning, with everyone but myself having a ticket that allowed them to overnight in the capital. Lan Chile booked me on an 8:00 PM flight out of Santiago, which would have meant spending the day in the Santiago airport and sleeping on the floor of the Puerto Montt airport at night, but luckily I was able to switch to an 8:30 AM flight. After arriving in Puerto Montt it quickly became apparent that no one in this city speaks a single word of English, so my three-word Spanish vocabulary (“burrito”, “taco” and “cervesa”) was put to creative uses in order to get a taxi from the airport and then a room in a hotel. I’m not yet in full-on travel mode, but after flying over the jagged peaks of the Andes, running the airport’s taxi cab gauntlet, and getting a discounted room price despite barely knowing what the hotel owner was saying, it’s a fair assessment to say that the side of me that spent the past six months trapped in a cubicle is now fading quickly into memory.

The obligatory introspective start-of-travels entry follows. I’ll try and stick to interesting stories after this, although it may be a while before I can post anything since there will be no internet access until the end of October. I may not be able to immediately check or respond to emails, but please send them, and I promise I’ll write when I can.

Travels always start off differently, and this one seems to be starting off with a sense of who and what has been left behind — probably moreso than any other trip I’ve ever done, there were reasons to stay before leaving this time. Even so, South Georgia island is as close to a perfect place in nature as exists anymore in the world, and it affords the rare guarantee of simplifying life in a way that reveals what’s important. November 15 seems like a long way off, but hopefully when that date rolls around it will be possible to return to a life that is unchanged, but to do so as a somewhat different person.

Here’s the itinerary in full:

• 30 Sep to 02 Oct – Travel from OAK to the Falklands (via LAX, Santiago & Puerto Montt)
• 02 Oct to 06 Oct – Crossing from the Falklands to South Georgia aboard the Golden Fleece
• 07 Oct to 25 Oct – Explore South Georgia Island
• 26 Oct to 30 Oct – Crossing from South Georgia to the Falklands aboard the Golden Fleece
• 30 Oct to 13 Nov – In the Falklands
• 13 Nov to 15 Nov – Travel from the Falklands to OAK (via Santiago & LAX)