Our trip to the Antarctic Peninsula allowed us to experience a true wilderness, largely untouched by humans. Being a guest in the land of the penguins and sailing the waters with whales was truly a fantastic experience.
"Good morning, good morning!", announced a soft voice from the ship's bridge. It was the daily wake up call made by our expedition leader "Lucho". It was early, and I was tired, so I ignored the call. But a sudden jolt on the bed was hard to ignore. Once again, like every other morning, Bruce jumped a few inches high in the air, cursing. I'm not sure why he could never get used to the wake-up calls - they always happened at 6 AM and he knew it.
Why was I tired, you ask?
We had set sail from Ushuaia two days ago and our first destination was the Antarctic circle, a decision that resulted in much fanfare on the ship. Going that far south was not always easy, or possible. It did mean a few more days of sailing through the open waters of the notorious Drake Passage, though. I figured the stories were exaggerated, and besides, we had taken seasickness pills.
The first morning we woke up and felt just fine, but as we walked around in our cabin at the bow of the ship things started going wrong. I felt a bit lightheaded, like I was swimming, and eventually became outright dizzy. The walls began to shift and move before my eyes and the air got increasingly stuffy. Bruce put his head in the toilet. Staying in our cabin would have only made things worse - we needed some fresh air.
We got dressed quickly, grabbed our camera gear, and wobbled our way up the stairs to the upper decks. Many other passengers looked pale and quiet too. Maybe the Drake Passage's reputation was not exaggerated after all. We spent the rest of the day staring at the horizon to settle our stomachs, taking pictures of the birds trailing the stern and watching the sun set across the bow.
Maybe the Drake Passage's reputation was not exaggerated after all. We spent the rest of the day staring at the horizon to settle our stomachs, taking pictures of the birds trailing the stern and watching the sun set across the bow.
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I continued to lay in bed. I had completely ignored everything Lucho had been saying until the words "mountains" and "icebergs" fell on my ears. Did I hear that right? I jumped up and craned my neck to look through the porthole in our cabin. I could see small icebergs floating in the water as the ship sailed past them. I quickly dressed, grabbed my camera gear, and ran up to the deck - other passengers had already beat me to it. There it was, the majestic white continent!
There it was, the majestic white continent!
I spent most of the day on the deck as the ship continued its journey south to the Antarctic circle. The wind was stronger than any other place I can remember, except that this wind was much, much colder. My eyes started watering from the cold. I wiped them only to realize some of my tears had frozen to my face. I could have gone back inside, but that didn't even seem like an option to me at that point - I was much too excited and awestruck. Mountains and glaciers towered around me, stuck in an eerie frozen silence that defined the white continent.
I was eager to set foot on land to explore the strange wilderness up close. We were promised an expedition the next day. "How many layers should we wear?", a fellow passenger asked, to which Lucho replied, "All of them!" Being out on the snow without the proper gear seemed like a great way to have a terrible day.
The ship was expected to cross the Antarctic circle at 2 AM that night. While I could have celebrated becoming "bipolar", I decided to turn in and get some much-needed rest for 'Day 3'.
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"Good morning, good morning"... and Bruce was in the air again. Was he doing it on purpose?
Today for the first time I would set foot on the white continent. The groups had been assigned, and it was my turn to land. I ran one last check for all the gear I would be bringing: wet pants, snowshoes, three shirt layers, gloves, fur hat, scarf, hiking poles, camera gear, snow jacket, sunglasses, backpack, knee pads, key card, life vest. OK, I was ready. I made my way down to the mudroom and got my shoes disinfected.
Because Antarctica is such an exotic place, much of the life we saw there was unlike any other in the world. Being keen to protect it means having to go through a lot of sterilization and inspections. Even a tiny spore from a mainland plant could cause havoc if it took root in Antarctica. We would end up sterilizing before and after each outing.
Once on the zodiac, we navigated our way through some icebergs and arrived at the landing site. I followed the "sit and slide, roll over and hop out" process taught by Lucho for a smooth landing. I took a few steps on land when something small and black stumbled across my path. I looked up and saw that it was not alone. After all, I was on the Pourquoi Pas Islands, south of the Antarctic circle, where Adele penguins breed and colonize.
One after another, penguins passed by as they made their way to the colony to feed their chicks or back to the water to fish. I dropped my pack, pulled out my camera and started taking pictures. I had never before been so close to any wild animal. I could make out the details in their plumage, almost feel the stiffness of their beaks, and see the intelligence in their eyes. Some of them approached me to check out my pack and camera, then promptly went back to wagging around as they do once they were satisfied that there were no fish to be had that way.
I took a few steps on land when something small and black stumbled across my path.
Half an hour later I was still at the beach. I looked around to see how far Bruce had gone. I could see him running around with his camera, all geared up like me. It made me realize how ridiculous I must look to others. Better that then an uncomfortable day in such a beautiful place, I told myself.
I ran one last check for all the gear I would be bringing: wet pants, snowshoes, three shirt layers, gloves, fur hat, scarf, camera gear, snow jacket, sunglasses, backpack, knee pads, key card. OK, I was ready.
I had two and a half hours left to hike up to the penguin colonies and a nearby glacier. That should be enough, I thought. I made my way further inland towards their colonies. There were tens of colonies spread throughout the island and each colony had hundreds of penguins. The entire island was covered with them, and they certainly let everyone know where they were. Young hungry chicks in a thick brown fur coat were chasing adults for food. Returning parents were calling their chicks to locate them. What sounded like a cacophony to my ears was actually an orchestra the colony was well equipped to decipher. The naturalists told us that penguins could make out the calls of their family to find them again, even among the thousands of penguins on the island.
But what stood out most was the smell. It was a little bit fishy, a little bit gooey, and a great deal poopy. It permeated every corner of the island leaving no doubt as to which way the colonies were. Dusting myself off after crouching for some intimate shots meant wiping off a little bit of the unspeakable.
What sounded like a cacophony to my ears was actually an orchestra the colony was well equipped to decipher.
I could have spent the entire day watching and capturing them but the clock was ticking. The expedition naturalist had told me that there was a glacier about half a mile past the penguin colonies. I wasn't going to leave the island without seeing it but I was also sad to leave the penguins behind.
I had seen glaciers on the mountains from a distance on the ship earlier. The thick layer of ice was actually multiple glaciers fused together. I was excited to see them up close but I wasn't quite sure what to expect and how close I could get - the closer the better of course! I hustled through the hike to maximize my time at the glacier. Most of the trek consisted of scrambling over loose rocks at a steep incline, not something that is terribly easy when you're carrying so much load, and I began to sweat near the top. I was almost there but time was running short. After a deep breath I pushed myself up the hill again.
I couldn't believe that I was standing under a glacier. The colors in it were fascinating. I walked through several small streams of meltwater to get up close. I could see into the crevasses and hear the water dripping as the ice slowly melted away. I could feel the smooth edges of ice formed by rubbing against the mountain for centuries. There is nothing quite like the natural processes to make you feel tiny and young!
I was excited to see it up close but I wasn't quite sure what to expect and how close I could get - the closer the better of course!
It was time for dinner. The zodiac crew threatened us with no dessert if we didn't follow the boarding protocols. We laughed and did as they asked.
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"Good morning, good morning." You might think Bruce would have gotten used to it by now. If so, you would be wrong.
We were as far south in Marguerite Bay as any tourist ship would venture. I could see the ocean filled with ice sheets and they were getting denser and thicker. It was time to head north before we got into any trouble. There would be one last hurdle to cross before we reached clearer water - The Gullet - a narrow channel of water filled with densely packed ice sheets. I ran to the bow to secure a front-row seat.
From the bow, with the rest of the ship behind me, it seemed like I was completely surrounded by mountains and glaciers. The elusive snow petrel fluttered around in front of the ship, much too quickly to get a good picture. Every now and then an annoyed seal dove under the water or a penguin looked up confusedly at the ship passing by. The serene beauty and that terrible silence persisted, only broken up by the occasional grinding of ice against the hull.
The sun set and we rushed to the stern to get a good view. A thick fog usually covered most of the sky in the mornings and evenings, but things were different this time. The sky cleared up behind the mountains in the distance and we caught the last rays of light hitting the tallest peaks on the antarctic peninsula. We had just made our way past through those peaks as we navigated the Gullet. But looking back we could hardly make out the path we took, as the mountains coalesced together. I put down my camera but our photography instructor urged us to stay behind a bit longer - there was about to be a show.
It was as if the sky and ice had caught on fire.
Once the sun disappeared behind the mountains everything changed. It was as if the sky and the ice had caught on fire. Through some trick of physics, reds, violets, and oranges danced around everywhere we looked. We stared in silence for a long time before I snapped out of it. It was 11:30 PM and it had been a long day.
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Once Bruce was done cursing and picking himself off the floor the next morning, we prepared for an exciting expedition. This time we would kayak near some of the biggest icebergs in Antarctica and visit more penguin colonies.
The day started wet and gray, but I was still in one of the most beautiful parts of the world. Booth Island was full of stranded icebergs that would ultimately melt away from waves and tidal erosion. I marveled at the stunning blue hue of the icebergs indicating a glacial origin; it added a spark of color to the dull sky.
Booth Island was full of stranded icebergs that would ultimately melt away from waves and tidal erosion.
We boarded our kayak and paddled out into a relatively narrow bay. At the end was a colossal glacier that occasionally calved into the bay itself. The rest of the bay was littered with small chunks of ice - eroded pieces of the glacier. Moving through the bay meant riding through, and occasionally over, these chunks. One wrong move and we could tumble into the freezing Antarctic waters. I frantically called out directions over my shoulder for Bruce to hear, trying to keep us from hitting the larger chunks.
Bruce suddenly stopped and whispered to look left. There was splashing, but I couldn't see what it was at first. It looked like fish, clearing the water surface only briefly before splashing back in. As it came closer, it became clear that it was a penguin. A flash of red on its beak let me quickly identify it as a Gentoo penguin. We aimed our kayak towards it and started paddling hard to get closer but it was a fruitless exercise. The little critter outpaced us and eventually disappeared from our sight. I was amazed at how quickly it was able to move through the water given how clumsy they appear on land.
I was amazed at how quickly it was able to move through the water given how clumsy they appear on land.
A few hours had quickly flown by and it was time to trade our kayaks for zodiacs to visit the penguin colonies on the nearby Berthalot and Goudier Island.
The Berthalot Island was still largely ice-covered, so we were in for a wet and slippery rock landing followed by a snow hike to the colonies. As I slowly slid from one rock to another, a penguin climbed past me nonchalantly. These critters were not only great swimmers, but they were also great climbers.
As I slowly slid from one rock to another, a penguin climbed past me nonchalantly.
After a few meters of climbing I hit snow. I looked for a trail to follow and all I could see were miles of penguin trails the naturalists called 'penguin highways'. As I looked up I saw these highways leading to penguin colonies hundreds of meters high on the mountain. Little specs of black teetered about on the ledges. What looked like a daunting hike to me was a piece of cake and everyday business for them. I just kept falling more and more in love with this little yet amazing species, making it harder and harder for me to leave them behind.
It was time to visit the Goudier Island. Being north of Bertalot Island and at lower altitude meant warmer temperatures and no snow. This was my last chance to get knee-deep in penguin goop and be surrounded by the little critters. I guess I still had not had enough of them.
This time we were able to see some great penguin interactions up close. While we tried to keep our distance to avoid disturbing them, they often made their way to us. I sat and watched a mother feeding its chicks. If you just went by their behavior, you'd think that penguin chicks never get enough to eat.
Bruce jolted off when a skua, a large predatory bird the size of an adult penguin, landed right in the middle of the colony just ahead of us. He wanted a closeup of the interaction. When I caught up, I saw the skua testing the penguins' defenses, probably looking for a chick to steal off for dinner. The penguins were not having it. I had never heard such a racket in my life.
I saw the skua testing the penguins' defenses, probably looking for a chick to steal off for dinner.
As soon as the skua had given up I caught a penguin sneaking past one of the distraught mothers, take a pebble from her nest, and waddle around to offer it humbly to his own mate at a different nest. She didn't seem overly impressed, so he waddled off again to take yet another pebble from the same place. This time he got caught, but because the victim needed to hold her ground to prevent the nearby skuas from swooping in, she couldn't do much about it. This went on for ten minutes, with Bruce letting out ever more exasperated insults at the perpetrator with each stolen pebble. It seems the colonists stick together only enough to deal with the larger threats.
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Bruce had finally confronted Lucho about the morning announcement. I noticed a slight change in the way Lucho spoke this time, trying so hard to be as gentle as possible. Of course it didn't matter - to Bruce, there must be something about a human voice waking him up that is unsettling. I was tired, but couldn't help a smile as he mumbled obscenities on his way to the bathroom.
Our last day in Antarctica consisted of chasing water mammals in the Lemaire channel.
I had no idea how an animal with no arms or legs could manage the dexterity to pull off what these animals were doing in the water.
You can guess where a humpback will surface when it's bubble-netting. Just seconds before a breach you will see a ring form on the surface. I rested my camera arm a minute until I saw the ring, then steadied the lens on it. Having seen the humpback come out a few times already, I was ready when it happened. Up close, you could see the barnacles growing on its skin. I wondered what it would be like to have something growing on you that you could not scratch off. Come to think of it, I had no idea how an animal with no arms or legs could manage the dexterity to pull off what these animals were doing in the water. My anthropocentric bias shows!
Just seconds before a breach you will see a ring form on the surface.
After taking a breath it dove once more. I scanned the horizon hoping to catch another glimpse of it. I was not done admiring its elegance. I took some time to look around at the scene surrounding the ship. Though it was still a little cloudy, a breeze was pushing most of that to the east. The conditions for whale watching were becoming perfect!
My patience was eventually rewarded when I saw a waterspout in the distance. It was a mother and her calf, and the calf wanted to say hi. Our captain made some course adjustments to ensure we would get close, then stopped the engines and had us float around near the whales.
The calf gave us a wave with his tail and disappeared once more under the dark frigid waters.
He practiced a few of his best moves on us, including a tail slap and rolling over on his back. The show lasted over fifteen minutes, and nearly the entire ship was hanging off the side rail to watch. The mother stood watch nearby, giving us a clear view of her features. They are so streamlined and calm!
Finally, the calf gave us a wave with his tail and disappeared once more under the dark frigid waters. I took a deep breath and smiled, imagining it swimming alongside its mother through the channel.
Another sea mammal stopped by to see us, though these were much faster and harder to track. Dorsal fins popped up around the ship and disappeared silently. If I had thought the humpbacks were streamlined, then these were missiles.
Killer whales (Orcas) come in several flavors, we were told, and these were some of the smaller species. The research crew aboard the ship quickly mobilized to collect as many samples as they could. The researchers had shared with us their technique the prior day, but watching the drone take off to capture aerial images with the Orcas closely surrounding them was thrilling and nerve-wracking at the same time. The Orcas could easily topple a puny zodiac if they tried.
I hoped for a seal hunt so we could catch the Orcas in action, but had to settle for seeing the pods against the antarctic backdrop. The sun set once again, and yet again we refused to leave the bow.
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Our time in Antarctica was over, but we had one more chance to enjoy the views of Tierra del Fuego and Cape Horn on our way home. Cape Horn is a rugged wilderness only broken up by the presence of a lighthouse or two. Whales of all kinds navigate its waters, and albatross are plentiful to say the least.
An announcement over the intercom pulled us away from the serene green beauty and had us running for the bow - the lookouts had spotted dolphins.
It took us a minute or two to realize where they were. To see them from the bow, we needed to lean over the front of the boat - a somewhat precarious position. My jaw dropped. These things were keeping up with the ship, playfully leaping into the air just in front of the bowsprit.
An announcement over the intercom pulled us away from the serene green beauty and had us running for the bow - the lookouts had spotted dolphins.
They gradually peeled off and went their own way, but it gave us all something to smile about. We needed it - leaving Antarctica was one of the hardest things I've had to do. One day, we will be back!
