Author: ryan

A very late night — Tim & Paulene Carr, the caretakers of the Grytviken Museum, invited us in for drinks, and afterwards the British Antarctic Survey team asked us to come have drinks. All of the British folks we’ve met here have been really nice, really fun people who are passionate about being in South Georgia. Jerome seems to be a major attraction at each base; tonight the Brits managed to get him to fall into one of their practical jokes and he returned to the boat with a face covered in talcum powder, the result of some goofy party gadget they had at their bar.

The day’s main activity was meeting Ted and company in the morning near Fortuna Glacier in order to complete the Shackleton Crossing with them. Apparently they crossed the island in near record time, and since the final traverse to the Stromness Whaling Station didn’t require skis Christine and I tagged along. The backcountry of South Georgia is beautiful, and the weather was amazing — warm enough for a t-shirt, and the sky was a perfect blue. We later found out that the ozone hole is exceptionally bad today, so we also returned with harsh sunburns, but it was worthwhile for the views over the glaciers and of the icebergs off the shore. Tonight the sky is clear and the stars are shining as brightly as I’ve ever seen, although aside from the Southern Cross the constellations are all unfamiliar.

The forecast was for good weather today, so Jerome stayed up all night to navigate the boat to Possession Bay, thus allowing Ted and the group to start off on the Shackleton Crossing at dawn. Jerome is something else — once he had dropped them he didn’t sleep but instead went ashore with David and I to visit a king penguin colony, and then motored on to Fortuna Bay where he single-handedly hacked footholds in icy-snow up the side of a cliff with an axe so that he could get from the beach to an overview of the Fortuna Glacier. The man impresses me greatly.

After leaving Fortuna we motored through icebergs to our mooring at another abandoned whaling station in Leith Harbour. Unlike Prince Olav, this station was operational until the mid-60’s and seemed more like an industrial plant than a historical relic. I briefly looked around, but the massive machines and huge buildings made it all too clear how whaling was once a heartless, assembly-line process, and I returned to the boat early.

After six days here our time on South Georgia is one-third over, but that still leaves twelve days for exploring. I’ve fallen into the routine of time ashore with wildlife interspersed with boat trips, meals of mutton or some kind of stew, and late evenings talking or looking through the day’s photos. Memories of home are happy ones, but they are acquiring fuzzy edges that weren’t there two weeks ago; life is good right now.

Any misgivings I had about quitting my job, leaving friends, and coming to South Georgia are gone — today exceeded all expectations. The day started with a really nasty four hour trip from our anchor point to Elsehul that kept everyone in their bunks. However, once at Elsehul the day improved as dramatically as could have happened. We hiked briefly from the beach and up to the cliffs where grey headed albatross were nesting — these were simultaneously some of the most beautiful and tranquil animals I’ve ever seen, and their nesting spot high up on the edges of sheer cliffs was the perfect setting for them. I was sitting within a few feet of the birds, but they didn’t seem to be phased by my presence at all — one even flew in and landed within inches of me. My analytical brain isn’t capable of describing the peacefulness and beauty of the experience with words; the task requires a poet.

After leaving Elsehul we spent an hour motoring across the roughest seas we’ve yet faced in order to drop some things at the British research station on Bird Island. The island is closed to anyone but the research staff, but we were invited ashore to chat with the five-person staff and to hike out to see the birds. The Brits on this base were awesome — they had pictures on the walls that ranged from the group skinny-dipping in an iceflow on Midwinter day to one chap decked out in a tuxedo standing in the midst of a penguin colony. At one point we heard a loud banging on the roof, and looking to the Brits for guidance one simply said “Sheathbills. Station’s been here since 1982 and they still haven’t figured out it’s not edible.” It seemed an enviable existence.

When they took us out to see the birds it was completely amazing — the animals are totally habituated to humans, and I was within inches of numerous wandering albatross chicks. The chicks sit almost two feet high and have definite intelligence in their eyes, which was moving to experience up close. The petrels and skuas were also very tolerant of us, but it was the wanderers that were by far the most impressive, and definitely something I will remember.

Best day thus far. We dropped Ted and party off early near the Shackleton Gap so that they could get more ski practice, and then Jerome left David and I at Salisbury Plain. We went ashore in a near-whiteout, but the weather alternated between snow and sun all day, so it was both beautiful and exhilarating. The king penguin colony is smaller now than it was in January, I suppose due to many of the adults being out to sea, but the chicks (who have been here throughout winter) all stand shoulder to shoulder in giant groupings, making for some really cool patterns against the landscape.

After picking the rest of the group up Jerome returned to get David and I, and we then headed across the bay to search for wandering albatross. For the most part we saw only chicks, but they were well worth the visit. The wandering albatross chicks are born in fall and spend the winter here, so these chicks were nearly full-grown and were testing their wings whenever the wind came up. As a gust would hit them they would stretch out their three meter wings, flapping in the nest with their down shaking — it looked like a happy time for them. As we were returning to the beach a giant petrel, one of South Georgia’s more skittish birds, took an interest in me and ambled across the snow, finally settling down about two feet away. I sat with him a bit, and when I got up rather than running away he followed me further down the trail before visiting Shane and eventually Mike. All in all a lot of tremendously cool experiences.

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.