Tag: Antarctica

Our last day at South Georgia, and it was a another good one. Winds kept us out of Cooper Bay early in the morning, so we instead took the boat into Drygalski Fjord, and Arnie cruised to within probably ten feet of the glacier at the head of the fjord. Forgetting any concerns about the glacier calving while we were sitting there, it was pretty neat to be that close. We then returned to Cooper Bay and enjoyed the remainder of the day among a colony of macaroni penguins. It took me over two hours to take my first picture, but after realizing that the essence of a macaroni is being grumpy, hopping on rocks, and having a wild yellow feather crest the photographs came fast and furious. Also of note is that while we were onshore an elephant seal wedged itself into some rocks, and since the staff felt it may have been trying to hide from us a rescue was undertaken, and after almost an hour the seal was freed.

Now we’re underway for Antarctica via the South Orkney Islands, and the seas have kicked up to insure that we enjoy the ride. The winds are sustained at about fifty miles an hour, gusting up to seventy, so we’re rocking and rolling as water breaks over the bow. I was out taking photographs from the bridge (deck seven) and got drenched by spray on a couple of occasions. Most of the passengers seem to have disappeared, so I’m guessing a good number of folks won’t be making it to dinner tonight.

Completely exhausted, but it was a great day. We had the option to skip breakfast and go ashore at 5:30 this morning, so obviously I jumped at the opportunity, along with about fifteen other people. Got a few photos of the king penguins and elephant seals in the morning light, then took off for a hike up to the face of the glacier. On the return trip the terns attacked (apparently they were nesting nearby) and after escaping their onslaught I ended up emerging on the wrong side of the penguin colony. The long trek around the far side of the colony was done through swampy filth that the elephant seals seemed to love wallowing in, but several gentoo colonies along the way made the detour worthwhile.

After a brief lunch and a ten minute power nap I returned to land and took off up the side of one of the mountains that circle the harbor. The terns were again ferocious, but after a long climb over razor-sharp shale the view of the glacier-covered inland mountains and surrounding iceberg-filled ocean was incredible. The descent was a bit hairy, but in the end there were only a few scrapes and bruises to show for it. The ship’s captain (Arnie — great guy) had earlier been climbing the same mountain and required twelve stitches on his return.

Due to the unseasonably warm weather today (I was in a t-shirt all afternoon) the elephant seals were suffering a bit and had to take measures to stay cool. The sight of them all lined up along the river with their heads submerged was a bit comical, but by evening they had moved into the ocean and the sea was so thick with the beasts that you probably could have walked off shore without getting your feet wet. Tomorrow there’s a 5:30 wakeup planned, so the South Georgia marathon continues.

After getting blown out of St. Andrew’s Bay we steamed for the more protected Gold Harbor. A steady stream of icebergs marked our path to a steep-walled harbor with giant icefalls tumbling down into it. We went ashore despite strong winds, and were immediately greeted by a massive pile of elephant seals and numerous king penguins, gentoo penguins, skuas, fur seals, and sundry other critters. While the harbor didn’t offer the abundance of wildlife that other landings have provided, it made up for it with quality. I took tons of photos, had skuas pecking at my boots and resting in the sand six inches from me, sat encircled by king and gentoo penguins, and was often eye-to-eye with elephant seals at distances of only a few feet. We’re anchored here overnight, and I’ll be getting up early for a 5:30 return trip in the morning.

Today’s visit to St. Andrew’s Bay was supposed to be an all day affair, but near-hurricane force winds forced us to retreat in a hurry. I’m no meteorologist, but the katabatic winds were described to me as being caused by a large, still air mass cooling over the inland glaciers and then rushing out through the valleys. We had a small storm front this morning that apparently was sufficient to trap air inland, and as soon as the storm front moved out we went from no wind to eighty mile an hour gusts in less than an hour. After being recalled the last zodiac battled the waves and arrived back at the boat to find the majority of the passengers photographing or videotaping our ordeal. It honestly wasn’t that bad of a ride considering the weather, so being captured on film by nearly a hundred folks is a bit of an embarrassment.

Prior to blowing us away St. Andrew’s Bay was a neat spot. We had sun early in the morning, and I’ve hopefully got some good photos of the hundreds of elephant seals and 300,000 king penguins that were there. The number of penguins was overwhelming — they completely covered the landscape, filling practically every available nook and cranny. A herd of scrawny reindeer was also roaming about, and one of the many skuas decided to attack me for a while, so despite the early departure it was a pretty great experience.

This morning’s trip to Fortuna Bay had less wildlife than in other spots on the island, but the few hundred fur seals, elephant seals, king penguins, and gentoo penguins that were there provided ample opportunity for photos. The gentoos were nesting on a high cliff overlooking several glaciers, and due to the remote location I was one of the few that visited the colony. After sitting amongst them for about an hour I realized that the penguins had moved in around me and were as close as a foot away.

In the afternoon we moved on to the old Grytviken whaling station, currently in operation as a British base. It was a bit sad to see even such a small sign of civilization here, but I immediately hiked up to the hills and the base was soon out of sight. Antarctic terns can now be added to the list of animals that have attacked me on this trip — the little buggers let me walk deep into where they were nesting, and then attacked in force, driving me back down out of the hills.

Also, a few observations thus far:

• Fur seals are very grumpy, possibly because they sneeze so much.
• Elephant seals also sneeze frequently, but are considerably more laid back.
• When photographing penguins the importance of watching where you sit or kneel cannot be stressed enough. The stench of my hiking pants is beyond description.

The day’s last stop was at Albatross Island, a spot that is specially protected due to the declining numbers of the wandering albatrosses that nest there. We again landed and ran the fur seal gauntlet, and then hung out amongst amazing hues of green moss on the higher portions of the island. Toward the end of the day, when most everyone had returned to ship, Ted led a group to the highest part of the island where the albatrosses were soaring on their giant wings and also doing their courtship displays. This entire visit to South Georgia is a nearly spiritual experience — I can’t help but feel that I’m seeing life the way it was supposed to be seen.

Animals that have attacked me in the Antarctic:

• Skua – Several attacks, all unsuccessful. One attack did result in a quick dive to the ground on New Island.
• Caracaras – Over thirty attacks, one successful. Dove to the ground on multiple occasions, cracked across the skull on a high-speed dive during the lone successful attack.
• Fur seal – Multiple growls and half-hearted attacks, one serious charge, thwarted with the cunning use of a tripod.

This trip is perfect material for one of those Fox reality TV specials.

Words are going to fail completely in trying to describe this morning’s experience, but here goes anyways: imagine rugged mountain peaks with glaciers flowing from the valleys out onto a seaside plain. A few tiny streams traverse the terrain, and small, tussock-covered hills are also scattered about. Now add to this scene 250,000 king penguins, around a thousand fur seals, and assorted elephant seals, skuas, giant petrels, and other birds. It was tremendous — birds literally as far as the eye could see, most of which were brilliantly colored king penguins that stood almost three feet high. The birds weren’t oblivious to our presence, but by moving slowly they were willing to accept our being there. Part of the magic for me came from trying to move around in a calm enough manner that I could pass within a foot or so of a bird without evoking a reaction.

At the start of the day we didn’t know if the winds would prevent us from landing, but after waiting an hour things had calmed dramatically. Snow was still flying in the air, but even that cleared up and by mid-morning we had sun and warm temperatures. I roamed far and wide, at one point finding myself up on a hill with Rod and Matt and a sea of penguins spread out below. I got so distracted that I left my camera bag and backpack on the hill, and now owe Rod a bottle of scotch for retrieving it. I didn’t think South Georgia could live up to what others had described, but if today is an indication it will far exceed my highest expectations.

The word “awesome” didn’t quite seem adequate as I was trying to describe how I felt while sitting next to Ted as we drove away from Prion Island and its hundreds of fur seals, gentoo penguins, king penguins, macaroni penguins, wandering albatrosses, skuas, and all of the other critters that lived there. In the background the mountains and glaciers of cloud-shrouded South Georgia Island, as well as the giant blue icebergs patrolling the waters, only added to the scene.

The day started with seals and giant icebergs covering the water — some of the ‘bergs were the size of small islands, dwarfing the boat and soaring many stories into the air. All sorts of weird shapes greeted us — some ‘bergs were giant squares, while others were broken up into towers and pyramids meshed together into fantastic designs. Our mid-morning arrival at South Georgia was immediately followed by a zodiac ride, and the thousands of fur seals, albatrosses and penguins that filled the bay, as well as some “ice skating” sheathbills, made sure that it was a memorable welcome.

For a day that was already going well, the visit to Prion Island was above and beyond all expectations. We jumped ashore amidst hundreds of fur seals, and literally had to traverse a tunnel of seals as we moved inland. The animals are territorial on land, and seals of all sizes were charging us, only to be turned away when we pointed sticks at them. I’m going to fail miserably in describing the animals, but they have short fur, big dark eyes that bulge from their heads, and heads and necks that look as if they belong on an animal that is twice the size. They also call out constantly, and the noise is a cross between a turkey’s call and a puppy’s yelp. The seemingly awkward appearance and demeanor of the seals was endearing, and in spite of their often threatening behavior it was impossible not to like them. At the higher elevations of the island we came across wandering albatrosses, whose population has crashed in recent years. With the controls that are in place to protect the giant birds we were lucky to have permission to see them soaring in over the hills and doing their courting displays. Given the wind and occasional snow I’m not sure that the photos will come out, but memories of the seals or of three sets of eleven foot wings swooshing past just overhead won’t soon fade.

Lunch ended about an hour ago, and shortly after returning to deck Rod let out a tremendous shout. I assumed he had spotted another rare seabird (the man loves his birding) but following his wildly pointing finger revealed a minke whale about a hundred feet away barreling toward the boat. Skimming about a foot beneath the surface the whale was matching our speed, and once within about fifty feet of the boat he began slowly cruising toward the bow, giving a full, clear view of his head and eye each time that he surfaced. Hoping the whale might be planning to ride our bow wave I started running down the decks, but the whale traveled up to our bow wake, hesitated a moment, and then accelerated away and out of sight. It was completely awesome — Rod is probably still up on deck giving high fives.

The other sightings today included the usual cast of seabirds and four hourglass dolphins (at about 6:30 this morning) that played in the wake off of the stern for three or four minutes. Hanging out with the birders I’ve learned most of the common birds through osmosis, and can now identify five species of albatross, several different prions and petrels, and assorted others. In addition to the whale, today’s other big event was that Ted and Linda (ship’s nurse) convinced me that saving money is overrated, so I’ve signed on with Ted for an eight person, one month sailing trip to South Georgia that he’s planning for next October. The practical side of me says that I’m crazy, but the adventurer in me says that a trip like that comes along once in a decade if you’re lucky, and that opportunity doesn’t knock twice.

We’re halfway to South Georgia, making about fifteen knots through surprisingly calm seas. I finally abandoned my spot on the bow, partly due to the cold wind and partly due to the fact that the bird watchers all hang out in front of the bridge on the top deck, and having ten pairs of eyes makes spotting the whales a lot easier. We saw several whales today, but none very close up. The birds have mostly disappeared, although we did get several albatrosses following the ship, along with a few other less-impressive species that nevertheless sent the birders into a tizzy.

During the passage I’ve had more time to talk to people, and the staff continues to impress — Rod Planck is a professional photographer who looks like a cross between Grizzly Adams and Lance Armstrong and will talk your ear off on anything from bird watching to eating his own road kill. His wife Marlene can finish most of his sentences for him and rolls her eyes knowingly at each of his jokes. Tim Davis is another photographer who I like a lot, probably due to the fact that he’s extraordinarily funny, friendly and knowledgeable. I’ve been trying to persuade Carter Cox to let me drive a zodiac, and while he’s still unconvinced about the idea he does agree that if Tim can do it, anyone can. Last of all, Doug Cheeseman is a barrel of energy, Ted Cheeseman is less boisterous but still energetic enough to have me ready to sign up for a future sailing trip, and Gail Cheeseman at first seems to be the calm center of that family until she shows up wearing a penguin hat or a captain’s uniform. We’re still sailing tomorrow, so more bird watching and hanging out with the staff to come.

Today rocked. I’m writing this while sitting (a bit precariously) on the bow as we depart Steeple Jason Island on our way across the Southern Atlantic to South Georgia Island. The weather was threatening early this morning, but it cleared up dramatically and we had an amazing, sunny day in which to visit the more than one hundred thousand black-browed albatrosses that inhabit Steeple Jason Island. The birds roost on the rocks above the shore, and after a hike of slightly over one mile we were able to sit in the grasses at the edge of their colony only a few feet away from the birds. There can’t be many more relaxing activities than sitting a few feet from an albatross colony that stretches across the landscape as the hours roll by.

The day began with the zodiac ride to the island, and I was the first one off the boat and on my way to the colony. I arrived at the colony well before everyone else, and not knowing exactly where to go I wandered down into the tussock grass at the wrong spot and soon ended up amongst tussocks taller than me. The easiest way to get around in these high grasses was to hop from the top of the tussocks, but on the occasions where I misjudged the firmness of the landing I would literally disappear and have to claw my way back up the six foot tall grasses. Later, after I had escaped from the tussocks, a caracaras took a fancy to my blue hat and attacked me for nearly a half hour, forcing me to dive to the ground with each of his passes. At one point I thought he had flown off, but moments later I was nearly knocked senseless when he slammed his talons into my head on a full-speed dive. While some of the other caracaras attacked me, none were so vicious, and one of the birds simply decided it would be easier to walk with me as I climbed down a hill, which he did for several hundred feet of elevation change.

Excellent photography weather for most of the day today, so hopefully the photos will come out well. We spent the morning on Westpoint Island, which had a great rockhopper and black-browed albatross colony, and then spent the afternoon roaming with the magellanic penguins, gentoo penguins, and tons of other birds on Carcass Island. At Westpoint the albatrosses on their nests were the most stoic sight imaginable, until they got up and began bumbling their way around. Luckily there was enough wind that they usually could just stand up and take off, and more than once I looked up from my spot in the tussocks to see one of the giant birds passing only a couple of feet over my head.

In just two days the Falklands have quickly become a place that I would love to some day live in. The landscape is beautiful, and there are thousands and thousands of birds everywhere, many of which are relatively unafraid of having people around. As an example, the gentoo penguins walk nearly a half mile to get from the sea to their colony and will turn and run (if you can call their goofy waddle “running”) any time they see a person along their trail. However, once inside of their rookery (which is simply an unprotected dirt circle) they become oblivious to everything around them, allowing a person to stand only a few feet away without the penguin even noticing their presence.

Crappy weather, awesome day. I was the first one out of the zodiac this morning and quickly on my way to the New Island rockhopper penguin colony. These little buggers were awesome as they bounced across the rocks with their punk rocker hairdos waving, or wandered up to us to investigate the new arrivals. They somehow never got hurt despite the fact that they fell frequently — I watched one penguin drop off of a six foot cliff, taking out several of his fellows along the way, after which all of them simply shook their heads and started hopping back up. The other amusing thing about these guys was that they would always travel in groups, so I often found myself rounding a bend in the trail only to see five or six little heads all in a line and bobbing toward me. They’d wait for me to step aside, and then continue to bounce their way along.

The weather eventually got too nasty for photography, so after a few more hours I bid the rockhoppers adieu and left to explore other parts of the island. I spent a half hour crouched under a rock overhang with two caracaras birds (they’re like hawks), both of whom sat about ten feet away. A magellanic penguin played with me for a bit, coming over to investigate any time I did anything stupid (which was often since the rocks were slippery). I then walked a few miles across the island to see a gentoo penguin colony. Along the way the magellanic penguins were hanging out in their burrows in the grasses, causing me to constantly do double-takes — when you’re used to seeing gophers and rabbits in the fields, seeing penguins in the grass is most definitely an odd sight. The gentoo colony was also interesting, with a few hundred penguins hanging out in a big circle in the middle of an open field and making the usual penguin ruckus.

I kind of rushed through the walk back from the gentoo colony, barely making it in time to catch the last zodiac. In the hurry I forgot to zip up my waterproof jacket or buckle my gaiters, and the brilliance of this move was confirmed when I entered the zodiac with water sloshing in my boots and exited with my top completely soaked from the waves that had been breaking over the bow. After changing into dry clothes everyone celebrated New Year’s (on central European time) with champagne and a shrimp dinner. Tomorrow we’re visiting another island in the Falklands, and with luck the weather will be as agreeable as the surroundings.

The boat is still steaming away on the passage from Ushuaia to the Falklands. Temperatures have been in the 40’s, skies have been mostly clear, and surprisingly the ocean has been really calm. However, despite the flat water the boat has been rocking a bit, as it seems icebreakers have flat hulls and aren’t exactly the most stable boats on the water. It took a while for me to figure out how to walk across the decks without being battered into the walls, but I think I’ve got my sea legs now and by mid-afternoon I was sitting balanced on the bow with one leg draped over the side.

The wildlife sightings for the day included thousands of seabirds — the black browed albatrosses were at first the largest, with wingspans of seven feet, but as the day wore on we began seeing a few royal and wandering albatrosses, each with wingspans in the ten to twelve foot range. Watching them skim the water, swooping and soaring but almost never flapping their wings, is an awesome sight. A few penguins, a whale, tons of other birds, and three dolphins (who popped up for all of about a half second) rounded out the animal life for today. I left the bow once to attend a photography lecture by Rod Planck, an amazing nature photographer, although sadly once the lights went down the lack of caffeine caught up with me and I dozed off a couple of times. Now I’m off to bed sunburned but happy, and with a full day in the Falklands to look forward to tomorrow.