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Published: December 31st 2008
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Wednesday 24th
I was waken by the cusomtary wake-up call from the expedition leader. “Good morning. Today is blah blah blah, spectacular lighting, good morning.” You could tell the wake-up call was rehearsed, as Lenny had been giving relatively the same call for over 20 years. But you could also tell that he really loves his job, and that he was meant to be just where he was. Lenny seems to be the kind of guy one might first feel sorry for. He has a dorky enthusiasm for natural lighting and whales that comes across whenever he speaks, which is quite often. But at the same time, there is no reason to think he envies anyone. He is a seal rolling in penguin guano.
The water is almost glass. Out the windows, the red British shacks await our tourist dollars. A schooner we saw from a few nights before was also docked nearby. As this port is the most visited sight in the area, it was not surprising to feel slightly less excited about boldly going anywhere. But, since it was our last stop on land, I decided to make the most of it.
After a brief zodiac ride, we made like tourists and ran past the penguin rookeries to the gift shop and museum. Just as any gift shop, the items were overpriced and not exactly what one would hope to find after journeying through Antarctica. The real magic of the island was in its history. The site was originally set up as a way for the Brits to monitor German shipping movement; known as operation Tabarin, from a famed Parisian night club. The station was also previously a big whaling spot, and our underwater videographer came back to the ship with film from below. That film showed a vast whale cemetery, with bones covered in the ocean floor. Most harrowing was the sight of an unexploded harpoon that dun into the vertebrate of the whale, probably killing him instantaneously, even without the detonation to its back. The videographer made a nice point; at least these bones are a reminder for the killings, but now people make their way to Antarctica to see the live whales. And wow, did we get to see whales later in the day!
In the Dallmann Bay, while 98% of the passengers were going through disembarkation procedures, I decided to stay atop and soak in the snow-curtained mountains and deep blue waters. As I was enjoying my peace and quiet, one of the crew, Ryan, told me that Orcas were spotted off the front of the ship. So I walked to the front.
My dad came from behind and tossed me my binos, while he waited for just the right moment to fire his Nikon (I guess a Canon would have been better prose) at the Orcas. I pulled my sunglasses up and stuck the binos to my face. “There they are, straight ahead. They seem to be coming right for us. There’s at least three…no wait! I see four, five, six, seven! Over there, more!”
Sure enough, the orcas were coming straight at the boat. Within only a few seconds, they were so close my binoculars would be pointless. Huffing and spouting, the whales stay high on the water and then glided directly under the boat. Everyone shifted from starboard to port, trying to get their best picture to send to National Geographic. Of course, most were forgetting that we already had two photographers, contracted by National Geographic, who would be taking the best shots.
I made sure to follow them, and told my dad he should probably do the same. But the whales stayed so close for so long, it was no longer about real estate, it was about talent. Everyone was firing away. The clicking was especially pronounced because the two pros had set up everyones camera for bracketing. This meant that for each push of the shutter button, the camera would take three pics in succession, all at different light balances.
Photographers like my uncle, who held down the shutter button and rode the multi-shot feature, had probably racked up 100 shots in less than 30 seconds. I did my best to resist the urge of shooting them, I just wanted to enjoy being in the company of such a massive group of whales.
Of the group, the papa whale and the babies stood out the most. The papa always followed behind the group, and was unmistakable because of his huge dorsal fin. The babies tended to lag behind, but only because they were having fun spy hopping and riding waves up to the bow of our boat.
It was too tempting. I grabbed my dad’s camera and shot about 20 pics before giving it back to him with blessings of the perfect picture.
A little over an hour later, the captain faced the ship back on its course and everyone went to the lounge to finish off the disembarkation briefing. I stayed outside by myself, just as I had intended before the whale sighting, and grabbed an eyeful of the Ice. The wind subsided, the sun pulsed rays onto the sea. I took a seat on a bench and cleared my head. The journey was coming to an end, as far as seeing the Ice was concerned. With the drake passage ahead of us, some tension filled the ship. But the captain reassured us of an easy crossing, since our ‘sea legs’ were on.
Once we hit open waters, about the same time as our kwanzaa buffet dinner, people started thinking aloud, “I thought we weren’t going to arrive at the passage until after dinner.” Din din ended early so the crew could celebrate too. As I noticed I didn’t have a chance to tie up the laces on my sea legs, I decided to pop a pill and crash early.
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