Reflecting

"We should have the sense to leave just one place alone."

(Sir Peter Scott, Founder of the WWF and son of Robert Falcon Scott)

I’m not sure I can find the words to even begin to sum up my adventure to the bottom of the world.  Adjectives like amazing, wonderful, incredible, gobsmackingly awesome – no, they don’t describe  it at all.   The pictures that were snapped (over 2000 of them), some of which have been posted here on my blog, tell only a tiny part of the story.  There’s so much they don’t, and can’t, convey:  the vastness of the landscape, the sounds, the silence, the smells, the skin pinching disbelief of actually being there, the being moved to tears on so many occasions . 

Antarctica is unquestionably a very special place. The seventh continent, with a land mass twice the size of Australia. A cold desert, with no permanent human residents. It is stunningly beautiful in its starkness, its remoteness, its scale, its uniqueness. The light is different. The landscape is different. The wildlife (which appears to be mostly unperturbed by the anorak wearing, camera toting visitors) is different. And you quickly come to appreciate how unpredictable weather conditions, the snow, the ice, can present a real threat to life and limb.  

But what also stands out is its fragility and there were times I found myself questioning  what we were doing there. That misty, early morning landing on a rock strewn beach, walking with others amongst King penguins and elephant seals, had me saying to the mister 'There's something not quite right about this'. 

Because of its remoteness and the expense of getting there, it's unlikely Antarctica will attract vast numbers of tourists though footfall has been increasing year on year. Travel is  controlled, we were assured. There are rules about which ship and how many people can go where and when and for how long. There are specific disinfection and decontamination procedures before and after stepping onto whichever part of the Antarctic (and which I'd have to say our ship followed meticulously). Travellers are usually accompanied by various experts who emphasise the requirement for responsible and respectful behaviour. 

It's unclear how this is all being managed and monitored, though, and I can't help thinking it's probably inevitable that our impact as casual visitors will be more than just leaving lines of footprints in the snow.  Already struggling with the challenges of climate change, some would argue that tourists are the last thing Antarctica needs.

All I know is I was so very very lucky to experience something I could never have imagined.  Antarctica, once inhaled, really does get in the blood, it really does cause a shift in one's equilibrium.  If I could turn the clock back, I would.  Just to be able to live those three wonderful weeks once more.  Just to have the chance to see Alan one more time.

************************

In other news, someone else returned from his holiday doing a fair impression of a skeleton, probably a result of the combination of twice daily long runs through the forest and along the beach and missing his people.  Settled at home, and after consuming his own body weight in mature Cheddar,  he's back on form .

 

To the bottom of the world and back (part 9)

“All the world loves a penguin. I think it is because in many respects they are like

ourselves, and in some respects what we should like to be. Had we but half

their physical courage none could stand against us . . . Their little bodies are so full

of curiosity that they have no room for fear. They like mountaineering and

joy-riding on ice-floes; they even like to drill.”

 

Apsley Cherry-Garrard, 'The Worst Journey in the World',1921

 
The last day before beginning the journey back to Argentina via Drake Passage, that notoriously unpredictable body of water between the southern tip of South America at Cape Horn and the South Shetland Islands. 
 
Early morning. The Lemaire Channel and a zodiac tour of the icebergs off Pleneau Island.  Later, a landing on Petermann Island, with its Gentoo residents, the southernmost colony, many of which were busy feeding their babies.  A glimpse of a darker side of nature as several adult birds repeatedly attacked one of the smaller chicks, pushing it off the rocky outcrop.  Unable to intervene, we watched as the poor creature  slowly clawed its way back up the rock, only to experience the same aggressive behaviour.

 A hike in deep snow up to a small colony of Adelie penguins, resplendent in their glossy tuxedos and with their distinctive white rimmed eyes.  A cairn and large cross commemorating three members of the British Antarctic Survey who perished in 1982 as they attempted to cross the sea ice from Faraday station to Petermann.  More penguins surrounding an Argentine emergency hut, a remnant from the 1950s.

 And, of course, a champagne toast. 

 

To the Antarctic.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

To the bottom of the world and back (part 8)

Day 17.  The Antarctic continent. The southernmost, coldest, windiest, driest, highest and most remote.  Waking very early to snow, peaks, icebergs, reflections, stillness. 

After a quick breakfast, a landing at Neko Harbour and opportunities for Gentoo penguin and Weddell seal watching on the rock strewn beach.  Taking time to put the camera down and just absorb, just relish the strange light, the silence.  Then a hike up through deep snow to reach a vantage point overlooking Neko Glacier.

Snowfall (and the other kind of fall whilst moving out of the way of a determined Leopard seal) in the afternoon as the zodiac negotiated a tricky landing at Danko Island.  Mingling with yet more Gentoos and a glimpse of a baby or two.

Later, the chance to get up close to icebergs and an ice whale.  Much much later, the real thing as the ship, making steady progress through the night, was escorted by a pod of Humpbacks.  So big.  So magestic.  So very difficult to photograph.

 

To the bottom of the world and back (part 7)

'It's just that there are some things women don't do.  They don't become Pope or President or go down to the Antarctic'.

Harry Darlington, chief pilot on Finn Ronne's 1946-8 Antarctic Research Expedition

 

So. Onward towards Antarctica, the highlight of the trip.  Waking up to glorious weather and a very different landscape.  Sailing past icebergs larger than the ship, crawling with ants which turned into penguins when viewed through a lens.  

Just off the Antarctic peninusula is Deception Island, an active volcano.  Another early morning landing by zodiac at Telefon Bay and a welcome committee of a perky Chinstrap penguin or five and a basking fur seal.  Then a tricky hike up a steep hill of volcanic ash to view one of the craters. 

In the afternoon, a landing on a cobbled beach at Half Moon Island.  Once the haunt of sealers, now home to a colony of Chinstraps high up on a rocky outcrop, a lonesome Gentoo and the Argentine summer research station Camara with its giveaway national flag on the roof.

Next stop:  the Antarctic continent.