POLARIS
Antarctica
2008
Antarctic Classic Expedition
Antarctic Peninsula Expedition, February 27- March 7, 2008
With G.A.P Adventures aboard M/V Polaris
Text by Christopher Gilbert
Edited (made legible) by Heidi Krajewsky
February 27: Ushuaia, Tierra del Fuego, Argentina; Beagle Channel
Noon Position: 54˚49’S/68˚18’W
Temperature: 10˚ C
Beaufort Force: 1
Conditions: Sunny with scattered clouds, breezy
“Channel about 1 ½ miles wide, hills on both sides above 2000’ high…scenery very
retired – many glaciers, uninhabited, beryl blue, most beautiful, contrasted with snow.”
Charles Darwin – description of the Beagle Channel
There are few times in life when you feel really lucky to be in the right place at the right
time… but maybe, just maybe, this is one of those times. The ship’s company - only 64
passengers, 10 expedition staff, and 36 crew - would be steaming to the White Continent
for what would surely be one of the greatest expeditions in the history of humankind…
possibly.
Maybe I’m a little biased, but if you ask me, our ship – Polaris –
looked the most adventurous of the select marine tonnage alongside
the Ushuaia pier. There’s something strangely alluring about a ship
with Russian Cyrillic emblazoned on the bow – ПОЛАРИС. She’s a
serious ship with the highest ice-class rating, 1-A, below an icebreaker. Double-hulled with steel plating 18mm thick, strong
reinforcing stanchions every 30cm along her 70m length, and more
Zodiacs than you can shake a paddle at, we’d shortly be getting
down to business and heading for the Drake Passage.
Passengers enjoyed refreshments in the bar, checked in at reception, settled into their
cabins, and explored the ship. Speaking of which…
Starboard or steerboard, is a composite of two Anglo Saxon words. Steer meaning helm
or rudder, and board meaning side. In early ships the rudder was slung from the right
hand side (looking forward) of the ship, as it was more convenient for the helmsman to
steer with his right hand. Eventually, starboard came to designate the right hand of the
ship. As the rudder was on the right side of the ship, it was natural to go alongside the
pier (or port) for cargo loading with the left side, which was always clear. Hence, the left
hand side of the ship came to be known as port.
At 17:15 our Expedition Leader, Stephen Anstee, introduced the expedition staff and
gave us a brief overview of the ship and safety procedures. Passenger Information &
Services Technician (PIST) Rich Heller discussed life onboard and the intricate workings
of our cabins, the restaurant and the bar.
At 1830 Polaris slipped her mooring lines and turned slowly eastward into the Beagle
Channel. All were on deck, surveying our departure from the bridge-wings and stern,
enjoying the last view we would have of Ushuaia – of civilisation - for the next ten days.
Ushuaia, or “bay that penetrates to the west” in the indigenous
Yaghan tongue, is a flourishing duty-free port with a fishing
industry famous for its southern king crab (centolla). The rugged
spine of the Andes stretches the entire length of the South
American continent, coming right down to meet the sea here in
Patagonia. With a rapidly growing population of 55,000,
Ushuaia is one of the most southerly cities in the world, and also
the most popular jump-off point for travel to Antarctica.
Shortly after departure, the general alarm sounded for a
mandatory lifeboat and safety drill. Passengers donned their
carrot-orange life jackets and serious faces while mustering at
their respective lifeboats. Attendance was taken, safety details given, and then, back to
exploring the ship.
Before dinner we gathered again in the bar to be formally introduced to the captain,
Vasily Kozlovskiy and his officers (most of whom are named Alexander), everyone
raising glasses of bubbly in a toast to the ship, the trip, and safe passage. We then sat
down to the first of many fine meals prepared by Executive Chef Esteban Vercen as the
Polaris sailed down the Beagle Channel. The channel was named for Captain Robert
Fitzroy’s ship, whose second voyage here brought along a solitary paying passenger - a
young man who would revolutionize the way we view the world - Charles Darwin.
Although darkening after dinner, it was still a beautiful evening to be out on deck, as
Argentina slipped by off our port side, Chile off our starboard.
Most of us turned in early, but a few gathered for a nightcap, or wandered out to take in
the fresh evening air. Around midnight, Polaris left the comforts of Tierra del Fuego’s
protective shores, and headed out into the open sea. Would we find Neptune in a
benevolent mood this journey?…
February 28: The Drake Passage
Noon Position: 56˚59’S/64˚07’W
Temperature: 10˚ C
Beaufort Force: 3
Conditions: Sunny
“The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew, the furrow followed free; we were the first
that ever burst into that silent sea.”
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Thankfully, Neptune would treat us kindly today. This would prove to be one of the best
crossings the Polaris has yet encountered on the Drake this season. Meal-time attendance
was commendable, and all of us expedition travellers were optimistic that conditions
would remain the same. The sun shone brightly and those out on deck came inside only
when notified that one of our lectures was to begin.
The lecture series kicked-off with Heidi Krajewsky’s “Seabirds of the Southern Ocean”.
She discussed the albatrosses and petrels we hope to encounter on our Drake journey
south, and we were amazed to learn how far these birds actually fly and how the smallest
petrels can survive these oft turbulent seas. We gained a newfound appreciation for the
different birds soaring around the Polaris. Shannon Fowler followed with our first lecture
on marine mammals. “Balls of Blubber” described the various types of baleen
(mysticetes) and toothed (odontocetes) whales. She focused on some of the basic biology
and identifying characteristics, and touched a little on the research that has been
conducted on these majestic beasts.
After lunch, Barbara Jones treated us
to an absorbing beginner’s guide to ice
in her lecture “Beauty and the Beast”.
Her descriptions of different ice
formations,
classifications
and
characteristics were peppered with her
own experiences drawn from 16
seasons in Antarctica. A fitting morsel
to whet our appetite for the days to
come…
Christopher Gilbert rounded out the day’s lectures with “In Search of Antarktos” (or,
Antarctic History 101). He relayed the plights and accomplishments of the Antarctic
pioneers, from Captain Cook and the early sealers to Wilkes and Ross, to de Gerlache
and Bruce.
Later in the afternoon we had our first marine mammal sighting. Two hourglass dolphins
sped up to the ship’s wake and rode there for a while. We hoped that they would swim
closer, but they eventually pulled away, disappearing into the Drake’s swells.
Polaris steamed southward, closing the distance to the Antarctic convergence; the sea
temperature steadily dropping. The Antarctic Convergence delineates where warmer
waters from the north collide with the colder, denser, and less saline waters from the
south. As the colder, denser water sinks beneath the warmer the upwelling brings
nutrients to the surface. Found between 40ºS and 60ºS, the Convergence is marked by a
sudden drop in water temperature. This is the biological limit of the Antarctic ecosystem
and though there is often an increase in wildlife, there is no visible change in the seas.
Enormous amounts of krill lurk below the surface south of the Convergence, providing an
abundant food supply for birds and marine mammals. The sole minus (versus the many
pluses) to not experiencing high winds in the Drake is that you encounter fewer sea birds.
However, as the day wore on, the Polaris was joined by several black-browed and one
wandering albatross, as well as a variety of petrels (Wilson’s and Black-bellied Storm
and Southern Giant) – avian company, at last!
The evening’s entertainment was one of the brilliant Blue Planet films, Frozen Oceans.
The all-time master of narration, David Attenborough, introduced us to life in the Polar
seas.
February 29(!): The Drake Passage
Noon Position: 60˚49’S/58˚55’W
Temperature: 5˚ C
Beaufort Force: 5
Conditions: Sunny, with periods of fog and haze
“I now belong to a higher cult of mortals, for I have seen the albatross.”
Robert Cushman Murphy
Happy Leap Year everyone! This year I’ll have my extra day in Antarctica, thanks very
much…
Our second day in the Drake was calmer than the first, or was it that we were finally
getting our sea legs beneath us? The faces appearing at breakfast looked well rested, and
many confessed to enjoying the gentle roll of the ship during the night. The Drake
Passage opened geologically about 22 to 30 million years ago, and connects the Atlantic
with the Pacific Oceans south of Tierra del Fuego. To the south, the South Shetland
Islands bound this 800-900 km wide waterway. The Drake played an important part in
the trade of the 19th and early 20th centuries before the opening of the Panama Canal in
1914.
Sir Francis Drake
The passage has an average depth of 3400 m (11,000 feet),
with deeper regions of up to 4800 m (15,600 feet) near the
northern and southern boundaries. The winds through the
Drake Passage are predominantly from the west and are most
intense in the northern half. Cyclones (atmospheric lowpressure systems with winds that blow clockwise in the
Southern Hemisphere) formed in the Pacific Ocean traverse
the passage towards the Atlantic and are squeezed through this
relatively narrow passage between Tierra del Fuego and
Antarctic Peninsula.
Our Expedition Leader, Stephen, greeted us at 0730 with his ‘good-morning, goodmorning’ greeting. You may dislike when he disturbs your slumber, but you’ll miss his
Aussie-Canuck lilt and cheeky morning demeanour once you’re back in Ushuaia. Okay,
maybe not.
Once again there was a full programme of learning. Christopher began the lecture circuit
with “Nordenskjöld and a Penguin Egg”. The talk concerned two separate but equally
amazing accounts of Antarctic exploration – the ‘Winter Journey’ (1911) from Scott’s
Terra Nova expedition, and the bizarre escapades of Nordenskjöld’s Swedish Antarctic
Expedition (1901-04). These stories gave every passenger a good understanding of the
true grit (and unwavering tenacity) of the Deep South pioneers. How many people in the
audience were left wondering what it might feel like for one’s teeth to shatter with
cold…to eat seal steak, then penguin stew day-in day-out for nine months straight? We
might hear a little more about the Swedish expedition on our own voyage as we sail into
the waters and along the coasts discovered by those men.
Next up, Stephen provided an IAATO (International Association of Antarctic Tour
Operators) and Zodiac briefing. He discussed operational procedures, tourism guidelines,
and appropriate behaviour around wildlife (no, you can’t take a penguin home). Chris
Dolder, Polaris model extraordinaire, posed with our sharp new lifejackets, in this
season’s must-have colour, red.
Many spent the late morning on deck scanning the waves for whales – the bridge had
reported seeing blows briefly during the morning. Eagle-eyes spotted several whales this
morning, including a pair of blowing fin whales that were quite close to the ship just
before lunch. Also at mid-day, the bright sky turned hazy, but when this cleared, a bevy
of albatross had appeared, soaring about the ship for the afternoon – none more beautiful
than the wandering albatross. This brief encounter with fog is usually our indicator of the
Antarctic Convergence; we have arrived in the Antarctic Ecosystem!
After lunch folks descended upon the lecture room for Heidi’s talk “Brushtail Penguins”
where she provided an intelligent and informative insight into the plentiful penguins we
hope to see during our trip, including gentoos, Adélies, and chinstraps. She discussed the
identifying characteristics, as well as some of the basic biology of these birds. Using
convincing underwater images, she argued that although they do not fly through the air,
penguins have developed a commendable capacity to fly through the water.
Most of us had got our sea legs by this afternoon and the swells had calmed a fair
amount. For those of you who were unaware…the Beaufort Wind and Sea Scale was
devised in 1805 by Commander Francis Beaufort RN for the purpose of setting standards
at sea. He had no means of measuring wind speeds, so the original scale was based
entirely on how winds of different strengths affected sailing ships and disturbed the sea’s
surface. The scale has been modified and developed over the past two centuries, but is
still the global naval standard.
Our lecture series continued with Shannon’s “The Feather Footed”, a lecture on the
pinnipeds (true seals and fur seals) that we should be encountering during our expedition.
The name pinniped means feather (or fin) footed and refers to a seal’s long fore and rear
flippers. Shannon discussed basic biology and identifying characteristics, as well as
some of the recent research that scientists have been undertaking on Antarctic pinnipeds.
Following Shannon we all strolled up to reception to meet with Rich and set up our
shipboard accounts (I thought only the tea and biscuits were mandatory). Around this
time, history was made by Hulda Shannon – spotter of our first iceberg. Well done
Hulda! But ice wasn’t the only sight to be seen – around the ship there were porpoising
chinstrap penguins, a solitary fur seal, and hourglass dolphins, this time off of our bow.
We also got our first sight of whales up close, as two massive fin whales passed us at a
graceful, unhurried pace.
To cap off our informative talks for the day, Chris Dolder spoke about, well…ice caps.
Ok, so it was really about the Ross Ice Shelf, but hopefully you appreciate the literary
effort. His lecture “Cold Enough to Freeze the Balls off an Englishman” related his
experience of living in an Antarctic field camp, run by the New Zealand Antarctic
programme. Chris gave us a true ‘insider’s perspective’ on what living on the ice entails –
from project goals to logistics to bodily functions, we are all glad to be here, visiting this
magical place aboard a warm, dry ship. And yes, they did freeze off.
At 1830 Heidi made an announcement from the bridge: “Land Ho!” The South Shetland
Islands hove into view on the horizon. Brilliant – we had survived the Drake Passage and
were getting our first glimpse of this, the most isolated land on the planet.
Throughout the course of the
late afternoon and early
evening, the Polaris was
surrounded by a soaring flock
of cape (pintado) petrels.
These beautiful birds flew
very near to the ship and our
lenses – first great photo-ops!
We made our way into
dinner, where we continued
to watch the petrels fly past
our windows. There was no
entertainment scheduled for this evening, and for good reason - the entertainment was out
on deck. Wildlife, icebergs, and…Antarctica!
March 1: Antarctic Sound
Noon Position: 63˚25’S/56˚46’W
Temperature: 0˚ C
Beaufort Force: 9, gusting to over 60 knots
Conditions: overcast, fog, snow, hail, fire and brimstone
“The ice was here, the ice was there
The ice was all around
It cracked and growled, and roared and howled,
Like noises in a swound.”
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Today was not so much of a wildlife day - let’s say more of a wild life day. The high
winds had slowed our ship during the night, and as the morning progressed the winds
increased. And when one sails into the Weddell Sea, along with those strong winds and
currents come all forms of ice – brash, tabular, growlers, and the like. Ice in any shape or
form is hazardous when it is hurling towards one’s hull, and the captain and his officers
were wise to take extra precaution for our safety this morning. We had intended and
hoped for a landing at Devil Island, but by mid-morning it was clear we would have to
abort the attempt due to safety.
From the early morning until well after breakfast we pushed our way into the Weddell
Sea. But with gale force winds gusting to over 60 knots, we eventually had to change our
plan, and we set sail for Brown Bluff
– a beautiful place at the tip of the
Antarctic Peninsula (yes, on the
continent proper). It was a bona fide
experience out on deck this morning,
watching, feeling, and listening to
what Nature was heaving at us. We
sailed past massive beautiful blue and
white tabular icebergs coming deep
from the Weddell Sea, perhaps from
the shrinking Larsen Ice Shelf or even
further south. The ice, plus the raging
seas, set the mood for tale of polar privation and survival, and we joined Christopher for
an impromptu lecture “The Silent Men Who Do Things”. His talk retold the tale of
Shackleton and his men on the Endurance, the loss of their ship to the Weddell ice, their
further plight, Elephant Island, South Georgia, and the rescue. Yup, that about sums it up!
Although many of us were familiar with the story, hearing about this epic adventure
never tires, and we could appreciate their plight even more as we sat through the gale in
Antarctic Sound!
During the afternoon Stephen was back looking for
alternatives. It was becoming clear that we were not
going to be able to land at Brown Bluff today, or
anywhere else. We were getting telexes from other
ships that were getting blown out of their landings far to
the south down the western side of the peninsula. Our
only option was to be patient and see what the weather
would bring over the coming hours. So how to amuse
ourselves…
While we were out on deck (well okay, most of us on the bridge or within the shelter
offered by the bridge wings) Heidi got out the anemometer – anewhaa? Yes, the funny
little device that resembles ice cream scoops stuck to a dial actually measures wind
speed. It can measure winds up to 60+ knots. Well, while we held onto Heidi’s ankles
(no, seriously) she held onto the anemometer, and the reading was off the dial! Our proud
ship was being pummelled by ferocious winds clocking over 60 knots (110+ km). There
would be no landing today. Out on deck there would be no standing. Nonetheless, the
light and cloud and blue sky on the horizon as we sailed past Joinville Island (named by
d’Urville in 1838) was a wonderful sight. We could only imagine what it must have been
like for the explorers who first ventured here in wooden sail boats.
For a little respite from the gales this afternoon we joined our Argentine doctor, Daniel,
and our Russian boatswain, Konstantin, in the lounge as
they took turns playing the guitar and serenading us
with international folk music. Two very different styles
and voices, each so pleasing to our ears – a really nice
treat for all. Later we
joined Chris Dolder in
the lecture hall where
he
related
his
experience of hiking
across South Georgia from King Haakon Bay to
Stromness. Chris and a small team had walked in the
footsteps of Shackleton, Crean and Worsley, the first
humans to ever cross the island after their harrowing
sail from Elephant Island in 1916. Great photographs accompanied Chris’ fascinating
talk.
After dinner Stephen recapped the day’s events (i.e. the weather and our multiple
attempts at finding a landing) and then discussed the plans for tomorrow. It appeared that
the winds would die somewhat, and we would try our luck at tiny Gourdin Island. If
successful, we would return to the Antarctic Sound and see if could land at Brown Bluff.
Fingers crossed.
The evening closed with a screening of Christopher Gilbert’s documentary film ‘Hell
Frozen Over’. This account of Douglas Mawson’s solo survival
trek during the Australasian Antarctic Expedition of 1911 – 1914
remains one of the most harrowing tales of Polar exploration. A
credit to Mawson that after the death of his comrades Belgrave
Ninnis and Xavier Mertz, he firstly survived and secondly
returned twice more to Antarctica. After the screening, Gilbo
answered questions and explained a little more about Vitamin A
poisoning and the fate of the men.
The Polaris headed out into the Bransfield Strait. The safest way to sail through dense
fog, in waters that are peppered with massive chunks of ice, is to be out in the open sea.
With high open seas we once again experienced the swell beneath our hull, but for most
of us, our sea legs were getting stronger.
March 2: Gourdin Island; Brown Bluff (Antarctic Peninsula)
Noon Position: 63˚32’S/56˚55’W
Temperature: 0˚ C
Beaufort Force: 3
Conditions: overcast, fog, snow, and rain, but no fire and brimstone today!
“An Antarctic expedition is the worst way to have the best time of your life.”
Apsley Cherry-Garrard
Early this morning the weather was still unkind, however, the wind had died enough for
us to attempt a landing on Gourdin Island. The Zodiac ride in was magical. Our first ‘upclose’ experience in Antarctica and we were escorted into the landing site by fur seals
and porpoising penguins. We sped past a couple of massive blue icebergs, through a
narrow rocky channel, and then pulled up to the beach. Stephen was there to greet us for
our first footsteps in Antarctica, as were the fur seals and penguins on the shore. Also
scattered around the shore were Weddell seals hauled out for a rest. During the landing
more Weddells would haul out, and we watched as their great bulks impossibly undulated
over the rocky shoreline.
We were in for a real treat this morning, something
one doesn’t often see on these voyages. We had all
three species of brushtail penguins here – gentoo,
chinstrap, and Adélie. It’s funny, we think of
penguins as looking rather alike, but when you
encounter the different species side by side, you
can see how different they really are – in shape,
size, and marking. This was our introduction to the
Snowy Sheathbill as well, the only non-sea bird in
the Antarctic. Heidi thinks they look like a cross between a chicken and a pigeon (I
concur), but whatever your impression, you can see what expert scavengers they are. We
were able to forget the weather – the sleet, snow, and rain – this morning. Look at the
chicks! We spread out across the site, some with viewfinders stuck to our eyes, others
just sitting and enjoying – many oscillating between the two. Gourdin is not an oft visited
place and this fact, and the chicks were eager to check us out, approaching us, full of
curiosity, and now and again taking a peck at our rain pants. Brilliant! Not to be outdone,
a couple of leopard seals swam along the beach. Looking for young prey, they brought
our seal species count to three as well – a pretty remarkable first landing, indeed.
But from the landing, we had to get back to the ship. With rough seas, re-boarding was a
bit of a struggle. However, with two stalwart Russian seamen at the gangway, all
passengers managed well, and after a touch of spray and excitement, we were able to
relax and warm our toes.
Once the staff had returned we convened for a recap – Heidi added more information
about the odd Snowy Sheathbill and brushtail penguins and answered queries from
inquiring minds. Stephen followed, briefing us on our potential afternoon landing at
Brown Bluff (if at first you don’t succeed…). Just before lunch the captain offered us to
venture out onto the foredeck – brilliant timing, as a minke whale was spotted swimming
near the ship.
We steamed back into Antarctic Sound for another attempt at Brown Bluff. This time we
would nail it. Not only this, but we’d have a ‘double excursion’ – a landing followed by a
Zodiac cruise.
Brown Bluff is a flat-topped ancient englacial
volcano, i.e. it was formed beneath the ice.
Difficult to age, it is thought to have formed
roughly 1 million years ago. Its rock face rises
to an impressive 745 m. Many of the large
boulders on the beach were composed of
volcanic ash in which lava lumps and basaltic
rocks had been embedded during the eruption.
It is a staff favourite for many reasons. The
setting is spectacular, the massive dark brown
cliffs rising from a rocky beach that is strewn with beautiful chunks of blue and white and
crystal clear ice. On the beach a plethora of wildlife awaits – gentoo and Adélie penguins
roam about among the lolling (and grumpy) fur seals. Here we could once again just sit
and wait for the young penguins to approach us. That is, if we weren’t too distracted by
the amusing feeding chases. Parents and chicks were racing across the rocks, the former
likely training their young, the latter in pursuit of a hot meal of, well, regurgitated krill.
The falling and squawking and pandemonium kept us all amused during our visit.
Most of us joined in the hike, led by Chris Dolder, up the ridge for a view of the offshore
bergs and to overlook the expansive glacier. Our time at Brown Bluff seemed so short.
So much fantastic wildlife and scenery makes you lose sight of the time. Oh, and by the
way, Brown Bluff is on the Antarctic Peninsula proper – a proper continental landing for
all, a seventh for some.
We took 45 minutes on board to warm up a little and gobble down some nutritional
snacks before setting out on our first Zodiac cruise. Brown Bluff is one of the greatest
places to cruise around incredible ice - massive, all shades of blue and incredible shapes.
Near the glacial front
leopard seals were hauled
out on ice floes or
swimming around our
boats, in search of a
penguin
lunch.
These
serpentine-looking beasts
are masterful, stealthy
hunters.
Being so close to a glacier in such a small vessel gave an impression of just how huge the
ice – shelves, glaciers, bergs – is in Antarctica. Looking back towards the Polaris, we
were amused at how small our ship seemed in comparison to the surrounding icebergs.
We turned from the glacier to push our way through the dense brash ice, taking time to
turn off our engines and just sit and listen to the crackle, pop, and sizzle of the ice
bobbing and heaving in the sea. We then sailed a circuitous route back to the ship,
floating among some enormous blue ice. The light this afternoon was perfect, glimmering
but not too harsh. Oftentimes, the best photographs are those taken while in the Zodiacs.
We returned just in time for dinner, and Stephen followed with a briefing for tomorrow’s
landings. Shannon then spoke in more detail about the three seal species we’d seen today.
A monster day for all, with three excursions, and we were all ready for bed. But then it
was announced what would take place tonight - the greatest competition since the last ice
age, since the days of the woolly mammoth and the Bering ice bridge…you guessed it (or
not…) “What’s My Antarctic Bluff?” Created by our very own Chris Dolder, this mind
bender pitted the gullible against the dire…who would win? In the end, after many
donglers and with a tossel of panache, the “Newlyweds” (Christina and Woody) team
won without an outrageous score of 5 out of 7 correct answers. A real lurker of a team,
they managed to bog chisel their way to the ultimate trophy…a bottle of wine or
champagne from Juan. Well done! It was only just gone 2200, but a lengthy day in the
weather and ice with a sensory overload of wildlife, and many of us slithered off to bed to
dream ephemeral dreams, for we would begin again a few hours hence…
March 3: South Shetlands; Penguin Island, Turret Point, Ferraz Station
Noon Position: 62˚06’S/57˚54’W
Temperature: 0˚ C
Beaufort Force: 4
Conditions: sunshine, few clouds
“All men dream but not equally.”
T. E. Lawrence
During the night the ship sailed back across the Bransfield Strait to the South Shetland
Islands. This large archipelago was once
part of the Antarctic Peninsula. Through a
series of extensional faults, they began to
separate ca. 1 million years ago from the
peninsula. Because of all this plate
tectonic activity, volcanoes and evidence
of volcanic activity abound.
It was a 0600 wake-up call from Stephen
this morning – an early start for an
excursion-packed day. After a quick
breakfast we were off the ship, speeding over to Penguin Island, a beautiful small extinct
volcano with a dark red hue due to the iron-rich soils. Penguin Island is dwarfed by the
much larger King George Island to the north, a place we would hope to visit later this
morning.
Not far from our landing site was a young silvery
Weddell seal hauled out on the beach, occasionally
raising its head to snatch a peak at the passers-by. All
along the beach itself were generations of giant petrels,
the older looking over the younger for some of their
first attempts at flight. Many of the young stood on the
rocks and stretched and flapped their wings, eager to
take to the air, but perhaps not yet proficient enough to
do so. A number settled for having a bath in the sea. Remarkably, most of these giant
petrels were northern, and not the southern species we’re accustomed to seeing down
here. The two, which look very similar, can be distinguished by the colouring at the end
of their bills (the northern red, the southern green). Up from the beach there was a
solitary white fuzzy southern giant petrel chick still sitting on the nest, likely the last
chick of the year. The beach was also littered with young fur seals, which coughed and
barked at us as we walked by, offended by our very presence. These beasts are so
graceful in the water, but on land, often have the appearance of cantankerous canines.
The beach itself was wonderful to walk along. Not only because of the seals and
occasional penguin, but strewn over the variegated stones were thousands of bones. Some
of these were fur seal and penguin, but most were whale bones. The whalers who first
hunted in these waters flensed off the blubber for oil, and then dumped the carcasses on
the beach or in the sea. In 1910 the British decreed that the entire body of the whale be
utilised, and thus whaling stations started to spring up on various islands in Antarctica
(see tomorrow). Most if not all of the bones we find on these beaches are the result of
human plunder, not natural causes. In the southern ocean whaling era, ca. 1904-1965, it is
estimated that we extinguished 96% of the southern whale populations…another sad
blemish on human interaction with nature.
At the far end of the beach we encountered more chinstrap and gentoo penguins, Weddell
seals, and our first southern elephant seals, perhaps five of them hauled out on the stony
spit. But before you could say
anemometer, it was time for the
hike. Stephen led us up Deacon
Peak (190m) for some incredible
vistas from around the rim of the
caldera, especially of King George
Island and the surrounding
glaciated area. The light shone
through the grey cloud cover,
highlighting each of the areas it
chose to pass over. We counted about six different shades of ocean, framed by the rusty
red soil beneath our feet and the shimmering glaciers of King George – stunning! The
light was so perfect that even Captain Kozlovskiy, our boatswain Konstantin, and several
officers joined us on the hike. Our eyes were glued to the scenery, but we also took note
to look down near our feet. Here we encountered fabulous silvery-green lichens and, on
the way back to the beach, Antarctic pearlwort (one of only two flowering plants in
Antarctica).
Just like yesterday, we would only take a short breather back on the ship before heading
off again. Many were frantically writing final postcards while the staff scouted out a
possible landing beach across the bay at Turret Point, King George Island, as the winds
were picking up again and the regular landing beach was too rough for operations. A
small rocky beach was chosen, and by 1145 we were zooming over to Turret Pont. It was
still not so easy getting from the boats to the shore due to the shallow rocky nature of the
site and the surf, and some of us experienced a true ‘wet landing’.
Here we were in for a real seal treat. There were two large
elephant seals dozing on the rocks, as well as a Weddell
and many, many fur seals. Heidi and Shannon discovered
that one of the fur pups was in fact a sub-Antarctic fur
seal, rare to see so far south. We noted how orange its fur
was, as well as the different markings on its face. Our first
up-close encounter with elephant seals was a real treat.
The massive males (with the big elephantine schnozzles)
are away at open sea feeding during this period until they
are ready for next breeding season, October. Incredibly,
the two huge elephants here were merely young males.
Heidi and Barbara were also keeping us engaged down by the elephants, but on a much
smaller scale. Ironically, right near the largest creatures
were the smallest. In the tide pools we found an
abundance of miniature marine life - sea cucumbers, a sea
star, anemones, snails, and amphipods. Who knew?
Getting off the beach was not as easy as our arrival. With
increased surf, we had to ‘rear load’, and we were a little
perplexed as we approached the Zodiacs from the wrong
end. We managed to stay dry for the most part on our return to the Polaris.
After a late lunch, we steamed over to Admiralty Bay on King George Island. This would
be our sole visit to an Antarctic scientific base, Brasilian Comandante Ferraz Station,
encircled by a stunning array of glaciers. We were invited in to the main base house by
the friendly base staff (the only Antarctic base with a Latin groove pulsing in the
background) and following this, we were taken on a guided tour of the base itself. Ferraz,
in operation since 1986, is on the site of the earlier British Base G, built in the 1940s
during Operation Tabarin. In fact, most of the burials in the cemetery we visited were for
British FIDS (Falkland Islands Dependencies Survey) men who died during the 1940s-
50s while working at the base. One man, who was lost at sea, is said to haunt the base to
this day.
Ferraz is not a frequently visited base, and we learned that we were only the sixth ship to
visit this year. No wonder they were so
friendly! Most of the 27 personnel are
here for a month or so, but a core
group of 10 remain for the entire
winter. They obtain their fresh water
from a small lake behind the base, but
last winter was so harsh that it froze
solid, and the staff went three months
without washing (ouch!).
Once again the wind was raging, and in this small bay, surrounded by glaciers, they are
frequently buffeted by katabatic winds. Two days ago, when we were in the Antarctic
Sound trying to land, they experienced 180km/hr (97 knots) winds here! Our windy walk
took us to the meteorological houses and the aforementioned cemetery before we wound
our way down to the beach to look at the whale bone skeleton the base staff has
assembled (from various species). The enormous skulls lying about were surely from
blue or fin whales, the largest mammals to ever inhabit the planet.
The base staff had been invited to come aboard
for dinner, but the winds were too high,
potentially increasing while they were with us on
the Polaris. And so we departed our new friends
and settled in for a hot dinner. After dinner we
had another recap to address tomorrow’s
landings. Stephen gave us an overview of the
plans, and Gilbo introduced us to the history of
Deception Island (sealers, whalers, aviators, and
Operation Tabarin). But then the moment we were all waiting for…the announcement
that Shannon was the new Swim Team Captain! Shannon implored us all to take the
plunge tomorrow and beat the record set last trip (39 swimmers). When asked if they
were interested in swimming, most passengers raised their hands. Hmmm, we’ll see how
things pan out at water’s edge tomorrow. Overnight the Polaris was nestled in the lee of
the South Shetlands. Some chose to slumber early, while others, doing their best to
extend the day, remained in the bar into the wee hours.
March 4: South Shetlands; Deception Island; Drake Passage
Noon Position: 62˚59’S/60˚34’W
Temperature: 3˚ C
Beaufort Force: 8, gusting to over 45 knots
Conditions: sunshine!
“No person who has not spent a period of his life in those ‘stark and sullen solitudes that
sentinel the Pole’ will understand fully what trees and flowers, sun-flecked turf and
running streams mean to the soul of a man.”
Sir Ernest Shackleton (quoting Robert Service)
Polaris’ sleep deprivation experiments continued with another early morning bing-bong.
The reason? An optional (though strongly encouraged) sunrise vigil on the foredeck as
we slipped through Neptune’s Bellows. This narrow opening in the wall of the caldera
was created when a small portion collapsed; the sea subsequently flooded the volcanic
crater of Deception Island and Port Foster came into being. The winds were howling once
again, and we understood why Deception was a sought after safe anchorage for the early
sealers and whalers of the Southern Ocean. However, on days such as this one, there was
little protection anywhere from the gales.
There are several notions for the origin of Deception Island’s name, which has been in
use since 1821. The most probable is that the early sealers who sighted it missed the
opening at Neptune’s Bellows and so were unaware that the island was a flooded caldera
(and protected harbour); hence they were ‘deceived’. At the entrance, the rusted remains
of the Southern Hunter, wrecked on New Year’s Eve 1956-57, presented a cautionary
tale of the necessity for careful navigation through the narrow Bellows.
Deception Island is a
landing overflowing with
history and spectacular
views, but occasionally
you see some wildlife
here. Today we were
greeted by a number of
fur seals on the beach and
a solitary gentoo penguin basking in the sun (if one can bask in 40 knot winds). A
brilliant sun was shining for us and with clear skies, many of us made our way up to
Neptune’s Window for the wonderful view. This we enjoyed, but we were to experience
an even more incredible sight – six humpback whales, one of which was continuously
breaching (seven times!). What a setting…what a sublime sight.
We also took time to walk among the historical remains that litter the beach. At the far
end lies the decaying ruins of the British Antarctic Survey (BAS) aircraft hangar and
Biscoe House – the old British Base ‘B’ established by Operation Tabarin (during World
War II) and destroyed by a mud/ice slide from a nearby fumarole eruption in 1970.
Rusting boilers and whale processing paraphernalia were piled on the beach near the
huge empty oil silos, decaying hulks lurching at odd angles in the scoria beach. Further
to the south three submerged water boats and the remains of the whalers’ oil barrels (now
just a jumble of staves) offered many superb photo opportunities. Norwegian Hektor
Whaling Station operated here from 1911-1932. However, the Chileans claim that they
were licensing whaling here as early as 1906 with the Magallanes Whaling Company
headed by a retired Norwegian whaler living in Punta Arenas. As mentioned above, the
early whaling, before the British government imposed restrictions, was extremely
wasteful, most of the whale being left to rot after the easily-removed blubber was flensed.
At one time there were an estimated 6,000 whale carcasses (skrotts) floating in Port
Foster. The island these days seems so peaceful compared to that time of slaughter. It is
pleasing to see Nature finally reclaiming these beaches.
The very beach we were walking along also has an important aviation history. On
December 20, 1928 the Australian Sir George Hubert Wilkins took off from Whaler’s
Bay on the first major Antarctic flight (about 20 minutes). His next flight in early 1929
flew some 2100 km along the Peninsula. The runway was shaped from the volcanic
gravel and ash next to the whaling station. BAS continued to use Deception as a base for
flying operations up through the 1960s. Past the BAS hangar, many of us chose to join
Chris Dolder up on the far peak for additional terrific views, far back into the interior of
Port Foster. But as some ascended, word came over the radio from the bridge that the
winds were continuing to build – we would have to expedite our landing (and leaving).
Speaking of aviation, Antarctic Swim Team Captain Shannon and her polar posse were
flying into the frigid waters at 1100 in the world’s first attempt at trashing the previous
record of 39 swimmers. By then the waters were whipped up into a frenzy. Shannon led
her charges in for the plunge (get your head wet!). While the wind raged, some took a
few moments to reconsider their decision – it had sounded like fun last night at recap. A
great number chose to run in and dunk, resurfacing to gasp a lungful and scream and
shriek. Through the howls of pain came hoots of laughter and derision from the crowd.
At the end of the day, it would be the second most impressive swim meet of the season an amazing 34 passengers taking the plunge (not bad for 40 knot winds!).
While the shocking hilarity ensued, the
staff was doing their best to navigate the
Zodiacs through the surf and catch them
on the beach, as the wind was now
gusting up to 45 knots. Moderately dry
and re-clothed, we scrambled for the
boats to whisk us back to the ship:
warmth, sauna, tea, and blankets…sorry,
wrong picture. The short ride back to the
ship was a test of our mettle – towering
sheets of frigid salty water soaked us to
the skin. Hey, that swim wasn’t so cold
after all.
Eventually we managed to warm up, and after a hot lunch, some of us joined Gilbo for
his lecture “Hell Served for Breakfast”, the story of the Ross Sea Party. We heard about
the men of the Aurora and the depot-laying party. One of the most dramatic Heroic Era
expeditions, we were astonished by the men’s determination and grit, enduring incredible
hardship without proper supplies and yet still fulfilling their duty – the only British
expedition during the Heroic Era to achieve its primary objective. The trials and toils of
the Ross Sea Party have been overshadowed for decades by Shackleton’s exploits on the
opposite side of the continent. Finally, their story seems to be attracting more interest.
At recap, Shannon discussed humpback whales and what all that breaching might have
been about, and Gilbo talked about the first Polar flights – those lifting off from
Deception Island, as well as Roald Amundsen’s Arctic flights. Heidi followed with her
evocative spool of string, giving us an idea as to the wing span of many of the birds
we’ve seen on our voyage. From the dainty storm petrels to the massive wandering
albatross, we were able to get a better perspective on the size of these avian wonders.
Stephen capped off recap reminding us that our journey is far from over – sea birds,
marine mammals, and plenty more lectures.
Shortly after dinner the Polaris started to roll – we were back in the Drake. Some turned
in after a string of exhausting and action-packed days, while others chose to stay up a
little longer, chatting well into the evening.
March 5: The Drake Passage
Noon Position: 59˚18’S/64˚03’W
Temperature: 5˚ C
Beaufort Force: 5
Conditions: overcast and foggy with sunny spells
“The continent has become a symbol of our time. The test of man’s willingness to pull
back from the destruction of the Antarctic wilderness is the test also of his willingness to
avert destruction globally. If he cannot succeed in Antarctica he has little chance of
success elsewhere.”
Edwin Mickleburgh
Thankfully, this Drake crossing was even calmer than our southerly one, and almost all
on board recorded a decent night’s slumber. It was time for the Drake Lecture Series to
begin anew, and guest lecturer Colin Mead opened the morning with his “Composition of
Photography – Landscape & Wildlife”, sharing his photographic experiences and tips of
the trade with us. At the same time, some chose to watch “March of the Penguins” (an
excellent French film with brilliant footage), shown in the forward lounge.
Next up was Shannon Fowler (Dr. Mammals) with her “Hot Bodies in Cold Climes”.
Her overview of marine mammals focused on the adaptations that cetaceans and
pinnipeds have employed throughout evolution to make the transition to return to a life at
sea. Some of the statistics are awe inspiring: southern elephant seals can dive up to depths
of 1,500 m, hold their breath for up to two hours, and lower their heart rate to a single
beat per minute; humpback’s pectoral flippers can reach up to 5m long!
The lack of wind on this calm crossing meant that there few seabirds to be seen from the
ship, even as we crossed the foggy Antarctic Convergence this morning. And so
following lunch the focus of Heidi’s lecture “Benthic Invertebrates”, was not the skies
above Polaris, but what lives deep below her keel. This lecture was a real treat, especially
having encountered some of these creatures at Turret Point. Life beneath the waves is
often the Antarctic’s most lively, and with such highly oxygenated and nutrient rich
waters, the marine invertebrate community can frequently exhibit gigantism.
Afternoon tea n’ nice munchies were not mandatory today, but a good idea, nonetheless.
To close out the day’s lectures, Stephen, Chris and Gilbo chaired a talk/forum on the
Antarctic Treaty and tourism in the deep cold south. Gilbo began by introducing the
Antarctic Treaty System and the broader issues of governance for Antarctica, from the
initial land claims to the articles of the Antarctic Treaty, ratified in 1961 by 12 signatory
nations. In reality, the Antarctic Treaty is a diplomatic handshake and its enforcement is
complex – relying upon diplomatic pressure rather than an overarching law or enforcing
body. Chris followed with an overview of Antarctic tourism – how it all started, and how
it began to flourish with the arrival of the Arctic fleet of ice-class ships from a
disintegrating U.S.S.R. in the early 1990s.
Tourism remains an unregulated activity in
Antarctica and is a subject of much debate
amongst national governments at the Antarctic
Treaty Consultative Meetings. Stephen and the
two C’s answered and discussed many of our
questions and concerns in the forum that
followed. There were great questions and great
interest – thanks to all for the input and concern.
Following our penultimate dinner, “Cape Horn”
was screened. The film was originally shot in
1929 by an amateur photographer aboard the
four-masted barque Peking as she sailed around
the Horn. What the film lacks in professional
cinematography, it gains in sheer breath-taking bravery of the sailor who shot it all –
from the heady heights of the main mast to the intimidating and stormy conditions.
Would our own approach to the infamous Horn compare?...surely this thought crossed
many a mind as we lay down for a reasonable night’s sleep.
March 6: The Drake Passage; Cape Horn; Beagle Channel; Ushuaia
Noon Position: 55˚28’S/66˚25’W
Temperature: 15˚ C
Beaufort Force: 3
Conditions: mixture of sun and cloud
“I am the albatross that waits for you at the end of the earth. I am the forgotten soul of
the dead sailors who crossed Cape Horn from all the seas of the world. But they did not
die in the furious waves. Today they fly in my wings to eternity in the last trough of the
Antarctic wind.”
Sara Vial poem inscribed on the albatross sculpture at Cape Horn
This morning – the Horn! With such a calm
Drake, the speed of our crossing meant that
this was the first time this season the
Polaris was able to approach Cape Horn,
the most storied and treacherous (and
southernmost) cape in the world. Vial’s
poem was an appropriate preface for the
day, and Heidi read it aloud on deck once
we reached our closest point to the Horn.
Everyone was out on deck – many of us
posing for portrait shots with the Cape as
backdrop. It is often so fogy and rainy here that the Horn is obscured from view, but
today we were blessed with clear visibility.
With the Horn receding into the distance, Heidi gave her impassioned talk “Save the
Albatross”, wherein she related the sad fate of thousands of albatross and petrels at the
hands of fishermen and their longline hooks. On a positive note, she spoke of the ongoing
efforts to save these beautiful birds from extinction (and the success stories of the South
Georgia and Falkland Islands fisheries – zero mortalities last year), and informed us as to
how we can participate in their salvation...it all begins in the bar before dinner.
Later in the morning Shannon delivered her lecture “Intimate Behaviour”. Yes, the
thought has crossed all of our minds…Shannon revealed the sexual side of marine
mammals, from the size of male whale appendages to the outrageous sexual dimorphism
exhibited by the southern elephant seals. Yikes! Umm, several questions followed. And
that is correct…two and a half tonnes.
After lunch we got down to business. Chris explained how on
earth we were going to get our passports back, as well as the
logistics of setting foot back in Ushuaia. And hey, what better
way to follow this than having an intimate one-on-one with
Rich to settle our accounts. Before we gained our Argentine
pilot to navigate up the Beagle Channel we were escorted by a
couple of Peale’s Dolphins as they jumped clear of the water
in our wake! Fun, yeah, but then we had a dozen dusky
dolphins riding our bow for a good half hour – what an escort
to Ushuaia!
We gathered in the bar for our final recap with Stephen and company – a summary of our
trip and the staff’s expedition highlights. Afterwards we returned to the albatross theme,
as auctioneer extraordinaire Gilbo endeavoured to raise funds for the Save the Albatross
Fund. Thank you all for your magnanimous contributions, and may you cherish your
mementos from this special voyage forever. Mark, you made more of an impact with the
staff than you realise. Thank you.
The ship’s company taken as the Polaris steamed up the Beagle Channel towards our
final destination of Ushuaia – Argentina’s southernmost city.
As if out of no-where – somebody saw something off the bow…
March 7: Ushuaia
Noon Position: 54˚49’S/68˚18’W
Estimated Temperature: 10˚ C (hey, my deadline was midnight…)
Wild Guess Beaufort Force: 3
Potential Conditions: windy with a mix of sun and cloud
“What? Back so soon?”
Mark Smith
This morning we disembarked the Polaris for the final time. We had successfully
finished a journey to one of the most spectacular and compelling places on earth and had
done so in good company and aboard a fine, seasoned vessel. We had made new friends,
taken a lot of photos, filled journals with impressions, and created memories to last a
lifetime.
Thank you for travelling with G.A.P Adventures. We hope to see you again some day
soon, north or south, or somewhere in between.
The expedition team (from left to right), Rich, Stephen, Barbara, Heidi, Shannon, Chris
& Gilbo.
M/S Polaris Officers
Captain Vasily Kozlovskiy (Master)
Alexander Baruev (Chief Officer)
Sergey Romanenko (Passenger Mate)
Nikolay Shibaev (Second Officer)
Mikhail Tkachenko (Third Officer)
Sasha Talanov (Radio Officer)
Alexander Kokovin (Chief Officer)
M/S Polaris Hotel & Restaurant Staff
Esteban Vercen (Executive Chef)
Larissa Tarasenko (Head Waitress & Stewardess)
M/S Polaris Expedition Staff
Steven Anstee (Expedition Leader)
Chris Dolder (Assistant Expedition Leader)
Shannon ‘Schnazz’ Fowler (Marine Mammal Biologist)
Christopher Gilbert (Historian)
Heidi Krajewsky (Ornithologist)
Barbara Jones (Glaciologist)
Rich Heller (Passenger Services Director)
Daniel Cayuso (Doctor)
Helpful websites
www.savethealbatross.net (Save the Albatross)
www.ats.aq (Antarctic Treaty System)
www.iaato.org (International Association of Antarctic Tourism Operators)
www.oceanites.org (Antarctic nonprofit)
www.seafoodwatch.org (Monterey Bay Aquarium Seafood Watch)
www.davidsuzuki.org/oceans/ (State of the Catch)
www.sassi.co.za (South African Sustainable Seafood Initiative)
www.msc.org (Marine Stewardship Council; UK)
The Quitter
By Robert W. Service
When you’re lost in the Wild, and you’re scared as a child,
And Death looks you bang in the eye,
And you’re sore as a boil, it’s according to Hoyle
To cock your revolver and…die.
But the Code of a Man says: “Fight all you can,”
And self-dissolution is barred.
In hunger and woe, oh, it’s easy to blow…
It’s the hell-served-for-breakfast that’s hard.
“You’re sick of the game!” Well, now, that’s a shame.
You’re young and you’re brave and you’re bright.
“You’ve had a raw deal!” I know – but don’t squeal,
Buck up, do your damnedest, and fight.
It’s the plugging away that will win you the day,
So don’t be a piker, old pard!
Just draw on your grit; it’s so easy to quit:
It’s the keeping-your-chin-up that’s hard.
It’s easy to cry that you’re beaten – and die;
It’s easy to crawfish and crawl;
But to fight and to fight when hope’s out of sight
Why, that’s the best game of them all!
And though you come out of each grueling bout,
All broken and beaten and scarred,
Just have one more try – it’s dead easy to die,
It’s the keeping-on-living that’s hard.
Introductory Bibliography for Antarctic and Sub-Antarctic History
Antarctic and Sub-Antarctic Discoveries:
Gurney, Alan. 2000. The Race to the White Continent.
Rosove, Michael H. 2000. Let Heroes Speak. Antarctic Explorers 1772-1922.
Shackleton:
Alexander, Caroline. 1998. The Endurance.
Bickel, Lennard. 1982. Shackleton’s Forgotten Argonauts.
Huntford, Roland. 1985. Shackleton.
Riffenburgh, Beau. 2004. Nimrod.
Tyler-Lewis, Kelly. 2006. The Lost Men.
Scott & Amundsen:
Cherry-Garrard, Apsley. 1922. The Worst Journey in the World.
Huntford, Roland. 1979. The Last Place on Earth (originally published as ‘Scott and
Amundsen).
Mawson:
Bickel, Lennard. 1994. Mawson’s Will.
Mawson, Douglas. 1915. The Home of the Blizzard (2 vols.).