Ryan's Journal

One of the highlight days of the trip today. The morning was spent zodiac cruising in Cierva Cove, with leopard seals, gentoo penguins and a few crabeater seals on the ice. The best part of the cruising, however, was a mother and calf humpback that spent a couple of hours hanging around with us. They were occasionally bubble feeding and at one point we noticed a circle of bubbles surrounding our zodiac; Tim (the zodiac driver) told everyone to hold on as the whale came up about a foot off the stern, got slightly out of the water, and then quickly (and luckily) aborted its ascent. Totally awesome. More whale watching followed from the bow of the Polar Star for over an hour as we were leaving Cierva Cove.

Fog moved in during the afternoon, and what was intended to be a half hour nap ended up lasting nearly three hours, but as a result I was well rested when we arrived at Cuverville. Sadly the light wasn’t great for photography, although some of the scenery emerged briefly before we returned to the boat. Off to Palmer Station tomorrow morning, and with luck it will be clear for the trip south through the Lemaire Channel.

Doug woke everyone up this morning at 5:45 to announce that a group of humpback whales was lunge feeding around the ship. It took me a while to get out on deck, but once I finally did it took only a few minutes of watching whales lunging and fluking within spitting distance of the ship before I got my camera. As usual my photographic skills were only sufficient to capture some shadows on the water that might (with imagination) look like whales, but it was fun.

On a slightly different note, during conversations at the bar last night Carter was talking about mountain lions and said he had a problem with them “chasing the llama”. When I asked if that was a metaphor it was realized that, while he does actually own a llama, it should be a metaphor. It works for anything:

“What were you doing last night?”
“Oh man, I was up all night chasing the llama.”

“You feeling OK?”
“Dude, I’m chasing the llama”

“Man, you crack me up.”
“That’s ’cause I’m always chasing the llama.”

Another great but exhausting day. After the early wakeup call I joined the staff ashore to catch zodiacs in the waves at Baily Head. Luckily the swell wasn’t bad, and the job was relatively easy. After unloading boats and admiring the thousands and thousands of loafing penguins on the black sand beach the trail led through a gully dubbed the “penguin highway” on which thousands of penguins were walking, incoming on the right and outgoing on the left. The colony itself is set within a natural amphitheatre, and over a hundred thousand penguins filled every available bit of space, making for an incredible sight.

After visiting the colony, returning, and sending off the last zodiac, Ted led a hike across the island from Baily Head to Whaler’s Bay. The Bay sits in the interior of the island on the flooded caldera of the old volcano. It was an awesome hike, with only mild shenanigans from Rod, Hugh and Marlene. After finishing the hike the hot springs that seep from the sands at shore were the sight of the trip’s Antarctic swim, and about fifteen swimmers bathed in the hot (and cold) water while about fifty photographers captured the event. Being camera shy I figured it might be better to just jump off the gangway later in the trip, well away from any lenses. The most memorable moment during the swim was probably Craig’s rush out to cold water, quick disrobing (underwater), and then issues with getting his swim trunks back on in the cold water. Certain Seinfeld episodes came to mind during that particular moment.

The Cheesemans re-arranged the afternoon schedule to allow for a brief evening landing at Hannah Point, but despite the numerous humpback whales as we motored there I was dead to the world and took a nap. We arrived at Hannah Point under almost perfect skies, but by the time all of the zodiacs had been guided past Doug Cheeseman rock and onto shore clouds had arrived, and the elephant seals, penguins, petrels and other birds had to be viewed under cloudy skies and with cold winds blowing. I took a shift for forty-five minutes as giant petrel police, but Albert, Barbara, Clovis and Daryl weren’t huge attractions, so I had the time alone with the birds before returning to the ship.

In the bar last night Tim discovered that the only phrase that can’t be answered with “Man, you crack me up” is that phrase itself. Dubbed the preemptive strike, the joke has been used to death in only its second day of existence.

After the evening in the bar today’s wakeup call was at 5:30 for a landing on Paulet Island. Operation Cumberbun was put into effect, and not only do I now have photos in a tuxedo with penguins, but Rod found a mummified seal carcass. We laughed uncontrollably while taking photos, but it’s safe to say that the tuxedo will never be worn again. After a brief bit of snow the remainder of the day was spent in beautiful weather with the 150,000 pairs of adelie penguins, the weirdest of the penguins we see on this trip. Rod and I also made a hike to the top of the volcano in the center of the island, although my memory failed me and I managed to lead a group of passengers the wrong way onto a rather steep and mildly dangerous slope (doh!). We’re on to Baily Head tomorrow, which usually has rough surf and is the most difficult landing of the trip, so I’m off to bed in preparation for a 5:15 wakeup call.

Very late night in the bar last night, during which it was determined that the response “Man, you crack me up” is appropriate in any situation, and that Carter can’t describe anything age-related about his fiance without using either “almost” or “and a half” in the description. Good times. Doug got on the PA this morning at 6:15 to wake everyone up with the news that an emperor penguin was on the ice; they’re tough to find in these parts, and it was only the second time on a Cheeseman trip to the Peninsula that they’ve seen one. Marlene claimed it as her birthday present, although we’re still working on her request for a blue whale and a sperm whale.

The sea ice really closed in around the ship last night, forcing us to slow down and detour north. While there isn’t really a danger of becoming stuck and having to cannibalize each other for food (or something slightly less gruesome), it will delay the arrival at Paulet significantly, so more than likely the remainder of the day will be spent in transit, with a planned landing at Paulet tomorrow morning.

Our arrival in the South Orkneys was marked by huge numbers of giant icebergs. Doug was so excited that he accidentally sounded the wakeup call a half hour early at 5:30, but a number of people were already out on deck watching the scenery. The landing was at Shingle Cove, which is home to an adelie penguin colony as well as several nesting birds including skuas, pintado petrels, snow petrels, and the omnipresent Wilson’s Storm Petrel (aka “Wilson!”). Craig and I were drafted to help guide people across the rocky terrain to the snow petrel nest, and after a few hours of lying about how fragile the mosses were (“it can take some of these mosses almost a million years to recover from a single human footprint…”) I headed off to photograph a particularly stinky bunch of elephant seals (I tried to capture one sneezing, but elephant seal snot is elusive) and some of the numerous adelie penguins.

We made a lunchtime departure from Shingle Cove, but rather than finish lunch I headed out on deck and discovered a safari of animals on the pack ice. Before we had departed the South Orkneys we must have seen over two hundred seals — leopard, crabeater and Weddell — as well as thousands of adelie and chinstrap penguins on ice flows and hundreds of giant icebergs. We’re now motoring full speed towards Paulet Island in fog, with a planned landing tomorrow afternoon.

Quote of the day (from Rod’s slideshow last night): “For me, getting into a dry suit is like… trying to stuff a squirrel into a Pepsi bottle.”

Today has been the first real down day in a while, and after all of the activity of the recent days I pretty much just passed out. After waking up early to watch birds and whales (and there were tons of whales this morning) I started getting droopy before lunch, and crashed for three hours this afternoon. Luckily it’s been a slow afternoon for birds and whales, so after seeing around thirty fin whales this morning I’ve not missed much during the afternoon hours. In other news today was the day for a haircut; the dome was getting fuzzy, and that fact combined with all of the Grateful Dead being played around here was leading to rumors of my turning into a hippie. Shingle Cove in the South Orkney Islands tomorrow morning, then on to the Antarctic Peninsula the following evening.

It should be known that during the afternoon out on deck my attire in the 35 °F weather was a winter coat, a hat, gloves, jeans, and Teva sandals; while I’ve mostly adjusted to the colder climate, my feet remain in training. The seas are relatively calm as we’re heading to the South Orkneys with icebergs and seabirds on the waters. There were huge numbers of albatross, prions, and petrels following us as we left South Georgia, including one that sent the birders wild — the Kerguelens (pronounced “Kirk’s Whalen”) petrel, or some such. To me it looked like a dull brown gull-like thing, but Rod, Jim, Marlene, and the Cheesemans all yelled and screamed anytime one came near the boat; there may even have been high-fives. The first few times someone yelled “Kerguelens” I got excited, only to learn that instead of a whale the sighting was something small and in flight. The whales remain elusive, with only a couple of distant blows sighted tonight.

The good luck with weather ran out today, and we were greeted by icy, blowing snow upon arrival at the macaroni penguin colony at Cooper Bay. It was too nasty to take out a camera, so the macaronis remain the only penguins I’ve seen but don’t have any decent photos. There were two options at the landing: walk through fur seals on the beach to see macaronis hopping up to their colony, or climb a steep, slick slope up to the colony. I ended up helping folks along the slippery rocks on the beach, and at one point the path led past a brown waterfall raining down from the colony — use your imagination to guess why the water was brown. Dubbed “Guano Falls”, the wind was whipping the water around, making for the single most disgusting hike I’ve ever done. On the way back I stood fairly far out from the cliffs, telling people that I’d help them through deeper water, or they could walk by the cliffs “but I really recommend that you keep your mouth tightly shut if you do so”.

The winds blasted us out several hours early, so we’re making a departure to Drygalski Fjord and on to the South Orkney islands. I’m currently up on the bridge, partly to watch the wildlife on the seas outside, and partly because everyone’s gear is drying in the lower decks, and I fear that as clothes dry the full effect of Guano Falls may soon be wafting through the air.

The weather thus far on the trip has been ridiculously good — there has been some rain, but most days have been like today where we’ve had periods of perfect weather with tiny bits of rain and clouds worked in. This morning I probably could have gotten away with short sleeves, although it was chilly and a bit rainy when the last zodiac returned to the boat at 6:30.

The landing for the day was Gold Harbour, which is a beach with 25,000 pairs of king penguins surrounded by hanging glaciers and craggy mountains. Shortly after helping the last person out of their zodiac, Rod, Marlene, Hugh, Carter and I took off up a gully, over a mossy area, and then up loose scree to just below the summit of one of the surrounding mountains. While not quite the Meatball that I was at the trip’s beginning I’m still not in great shape, so the heart was pumping pretty good by the time we reached the top of this hike. The view from the top of lakes, mountains, glaciers, and coastal cliffs was incredible, and the conversation in the clean air was great. I came down shortly after everyone else had descended and met Rod and Marlene on a cliff edge to look for light-mantled sooty albatross. The birds are probably the most graceful looking albatross, and after a few minutes of watching birds fly by one called out from a hidden nest about twenty feet away, so several hours thereafter was spent taking photos and enjoying being around the birds. The bird in the nest would occasionally fly off, always returning with a female who would check out the nesting area, do an albatross dance, and then head out to sea again to check other options; a rough denial for my friend, but he accepted it well.

After quite a bit of photography I again made the long slog up the mountain to retrieve my sunglasses, which in a moment of genius I had accidentally left just below the summit. The boat’s hotel manager, Natasha, was up there having climbed the rough route in rubber boots, and of course my ego demanded that I explain that the reason I was sucking air so badly was that it was my second trip of the day. A smarter man might have realized that this explanation would force me to admit to having been dumb enough to leave my glasses behind, but I am not such a man. Fur seals and penguins greeted us when we returned down to the beach, as did a skua who was investigating the pile of gear left by passengers. He was fearless, and in order to get him to quit pulling away boots and pecking at bags I literally had to push him back several feet. Tomorrow is the last day in South Georgia, and while everyone (yours truly definitely included) needs a rest, it’s a shame to see the time here end.

The full days and late night last night caught up with me today, and a part of me was actually hoping that bad weather might delay our landing at St. Andrews by a few hours so that I could rest. Luckily that didn’t happen, and for almost eleven hours I roamed around with 350,000 king penguins and a handful of fur seals, elephant seals, skuas, petrels, sheathbills and even reindeer. The weather went from sunny to rainy and back every five minutes, and I actually fell asleep onshore twice, but it was still a great day. The penguin chicks are as curious as always, and it was pretty much guaranteed that whenever I would stop there would be at least one running up to me to nibble on my glove or to follow me around. In addition, while the vast piles of elephant seals are now gone, there were a few groups of the giant beasties lying around, and you can’t help but love a four thousand pound sausage-shaped critter with giant cow eyes that stinks, belches, and ripples blubber when it moves. Time has flown by, and sadly tomorrow will be our second-to-last day on this incredible island.

It’s very late so I’ll have to write more later, but today’s landings were at Fortuna Bay in the morning and at the abandoned Grytviken whaling station in the afternoon. The afternoon landing was followed by a barbecue and an evening in the bar, the highlights of which included an amazing sunset, discussions about unisex (“you haven’t had that?”), Rod’s triumphant return to Antarctic sporting glory, and Hugh’s tales of thirty days rafting in the Grand Canyon with a soundtrack provided by the unending melodies of the Grateful Dead.

To add variety to our return visit to Salisbury Plain, Mother Nature sent several leopard seals in to harass king penguins and then hang out on the beach. For those not familiar with the species, imagine a huge seal with a head and teeth out of Jurassic Park, and you’ve pretty much got it. They’re a really unusual sight for these parts, and the photographers in the group burned many pixels. Aside from time with the leopard seals my wanderings this morning took me all over the actual plain, past tons of penguins and fur seals. I’m liking the fur seals more and more, and have gotten comfortable enough with their charges that I’ll stand my ground, allowing the seal to stop a foot or so away and then whimper as it sniffs me. Whether or not it’s smart to trust a wild animal to be bluffing when it charges, snarling and teeth bared, is a question that will probably only be answered when I either visit or avoid a trip to the ship’s doctor.

My time spent helping with landings paid off today during the afternoon visit to Prion Island. Restrictions in place to protect wandering albatross limit the number of people that can be on the island at once, but I was able to go ashore with the rest of the staff and help flag paths up the island to the nests and also to spend the entire five hours ashore. Although I ended up running up and down the trail five or six times helping passengers negotiate the mud and terrain, there was still plenty of albatross time. Very worthwhile despite the rain, as a day spent with wandering albatross is a fairly spectacular way to pass the time.

A ridiculously great first day on South Georgia. Overcast but dry weather greeted us when we dropped anchor just after eight, and I was on the first boat ashore at Right Whale Bay. Marlene Planck and I were given two bamboo poles and assigned the task of creating a safe path through the literally thousands of fur seals that were barking, growling, and charging at us from all directions. It was mostly bluster on their part, so the job proved to be hugely enjoyable as we walked along the beach and up to the penguin colony with seals rushing at us from all directions. I later ended up heading off on my own to sit amongst the seals, with the animals either ignoring me or coming up to give me a sniff.

Shortly thereafter we sailed to Salisbury Plain, home to 250,000 king penguins. I got completely slammed by a wave that filled my waders while assisting with landings, and after later hiking back to an out-of-the-way spot to wring out my socks and empty my boots looked up to see Rod Planck leading a photo workshop of ten people around the bend; there may be some embarrassing photos at the end of this trip. Following the workshop fun I decided to roam around the king penguin colony. Since I’ve got a lot of pictures of king penguins, and since the conditions weren’t great for photos, most of my time ashore was spent playing with the young penguins. Furry brown young king penguins were wandering up to me throughout the day, and almost anything I held out to them (tripod, mitten, sleeve, finger) they would grab onto. It seemed that the more I played with the penguins the more it attracted a group, and at times there were as many as fifteen of the critters following me around.

Another day at sea, and while there weren’t gobs of birds and such to see, a southern bottle-nosed whale made the afternoon interesting. Having a bit of time alone on deck with the iPod pumping out tunes was also a nice change – I recommend Van Morrison for calm weather on the open ocean, although Kid Rock and Eminem worked surprisingly well. Our first contact with the outside world thus far was word from Doug that Texas beat USC for the national championship, and given the number of Californians aboard the amount of cheering was surprising, especially that coming from yours truly (gotta root for the team that Ohio State nearly beat, y’know).