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Published: December 31st 2008
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Tuesday 23rd
Currently cruising back to South America, via Drake Passage, I thought I would use this time to look back only a couple of days, starting with this one, the 23rd. And it is definitely going to be good that I write things down now, as even just a few days between writing and I’ve forgotten the specific days of the past; the details may have been lost completely were it not for a few notes I jotted down on my Grand Hyatt paper and for the pics my uncle took which I could use to refresh my memory.
The day began with a cruise through the lemaire channel, a one mile wide, seven mile long channel first discovered by a 1873 German expedition commanded by Dallman, but ultimately traversed by Gerlache, whose other notable adventures I have discussed earlier, and named for a fellow Belgian explorer of the Congo, Lemaire.
Our stop for the day was at Petermann Island (not from the Seinfeld persuasion). Snow was streaming down from the low clouds and covered up our tracks as we explored the island on our own. Nothing particularly ‘new’ to see, but it doesn’t get tiring watching penguins in their natural state. It was especially fun to watch a few of them toboggan down a fairly steep hill, gaining speed as fast as they are used to underwater.
There was also a number of leopard seal spottings. Many people looked on as the seal was attempting to grab lunch for the day; which would be fresh penguin ‘tang. The cheering sections quickly divided into the penguin section, the leopard seal section, and the I-wana-see-nature-but-I-still-like-penguin (aka the PC section) section. I didn’t see the leopard seal come up again, although our underwater videographer confirmed he was down there somewhere. But there was some tension as a group of penguins waited for the right moment to leave their iceberg for home. One penguin missed his chance, and so he began to nervously pace back and forth on the ice until finally two other penguins joined him for the suicidal mission home. As all three penguins jumped into the water, we held our breath waiting to see if they would come up safely on the other side. The expedition leader told us that if they didn’t make it, we would know, since the leopard seal likes to put on a show before eventually turning the penguin inside out (literally, I saw one brushed on shore in a Silence of the Lamb-style cleanliness which the seal seemed to have turned into an artform. I ultimately didn’t get to see this in action.
My dad headed back to the zodiacs while my uncle and me wandered around a bit. Like little kids, we stomped through the snow and occaisionally threw well-developed snow balls at each other, made snow angels, and ran down the mountain through untracked snow (as far as we could, which came to about 7 steps each before we fell over). The views from the other side of the hill was nice, and it was especially refreshing to be there without others to enjoy the view.
Adelie penguins crossed from one rock to the next, walking only a few feet from us but also a bit skiddish about the reason we decided to be there in the first place. Certainly, this was not the only time I have been asked the question, “Why are you going to Antarctica?” The penguins may have been wondering this because they grew up looking at these stunning views and had thus become accustomed, but the people back home asked whether the trip coincided with our lobotomy operations. Those same people don’t even know that the Drake passage is a necessary burden to cruising to the Antarctic, and still they are bothered. To them I answer, “you just have to be here to know what you are missing.” And those people will never go to Antarctica, and that’s how I like it!
As my uncle and me returned to the zodiacs, one final bit of business was necessary. In order to assure we left the island as we found it, I received approval to obliterate a six foot tall snow penguin that was erected by some of the ships’ guests. There was something liberating about closelining the giant penguin, as its symbolism was close to that of pulling down the statute of Saddam or the breaking of the Berlin Wall; if you will. After a few body blows and one NFL-style tackle, the giant snow penguin subsided into the snow, to never be found again.
In the afternoon, the boat made its way through ‘pancake ice,’ which consisted of a large field of round, low lying icebergs. Although it was cool to see a few seals, including another leopard seal laying on the ice, the most exciting part was when I went onto the bridge to look at the map of our route. Where we were, the map said “Uncharted Area.” So we had made our way between some islands were no country or surveyor had yet bothered to chart depths. I wonder how many spots like this are left, and whether it’s possible to name a couple of them.
Eventually, we turned around and made way for our last expedition to land, the British-claimed island of Port Lockeroy. That evening, while brightness still illuminated our way, I sat in the bridge watching our captain methodically call ahead to port Lockeroy and say hello to a boat that was anchored in the bay.
I decided to join my uncle for a nightcap in the lounge. Convo was really nice, not sure how much it was influenced by vodka, and seemed to be just the right soup to claim the day a complete success.
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