On the voyage south across the Drake toward the Antarctic peninsula, the sighting of the first iceberg was a momentous event, marking our arrival to a world that people only suspected or imagined a little over a hundred or so years ago.
In the two previous images, the first gentoo is just waddling around. Perhaps to go to the beach for lunch. The second image shows one of the funnier traits of the gentoo. Kleptomania. They’re compulsive thieves. This one has just stolen a small pebble from a neighboring bird’s rock nest (they will not nest on snow), and is taking it back to the family nest. Pebbles and small rocks are penguin lucre. Cash. Moolah. And on rocky Barrientos, it’s easier to steal a rock than go find one. All the good rocks have already been found, anyway.
The image below seems to represent a typical penguin nesting area here on the peninsula. It consists of a rocky nest, with one of the parent penguins (they take turns), and one or two chicks. They are strategically placed, with great care, to allow 1) toddling room between nests, plus 2) enough room – maybe 1cm – to avoid getting pecked by the neighbors as you toddle through, and 3) room to lift your cute little brushy tail… and squirt to your heart’s content.
A penguin has an outer coat of very tiny, but thick, oily feathers, that cover a down layer beneath. Keeps it dry and warm. Sometimes, a bit too warm when the temperature rises and hovers around -2C gasp, pant… They react by dilating their vessels in their wings to rid them of excess heat.
These gentoos, having no nesting area on the beach (too close to predation) begin the hike up a snowy hill in the quest for nesting areas, leaving behind a prodigious pink penguin poo path that marks their progress. POO.
The skua gull is Chief-in-Charge of Antarctic clean-up.
The Snowy Sheathbills are the only bird species in Antarctica that doesn’t have webbed feet. They roost well up the cliff-sides out of harm’s way… and oddly enough, usually on one foot. Well adapted to the Antarctic, they eat anything. Eggs, chicks, fish, dead stuff, yes..penguin poo, krill, and even algae. Mmmm good.
All these thoughts of food were making me really hungry. Lucky for me it was time to leave Aitcho and head for the ship. And supper. Ohhhh, I’m hoping that the chef will regurgitate something really tasty. And kind of soupy. And warm. Mmmmmm.
…and and gave us a brief tour of the iceberg that Sea Spirit had dropped anchor near…
Even prettier up close and personal…
This was a free floating berg. The water, at -1C is generally warmer than the air above, thus the berg slowly melts from below. The ice gradually becomes lighter and floats higher in the water, producing the “age lines” seen above.
This evening, at the bar, I’m in a quiet, pensive mood. I finally determined that I’m in a state of visual overload, unable to process all that I’ve seen. One more sip, and off to dinner with those rowdy-assed Aussies.
]]>
Sailing South through Beagle Channel we left Tierra del Fuego bound for the Antarctic Peninsula. We saw wandering albatrosses, and many, many gulls, cape petrels and giant petrels.
Would we discover the “Drake Lake” or the “Drake Shake” off the bow of our boat? Sometimes the stickmen (“they say” – y’all quote them too) say the the Passage can be as smooth as a bab.. as smooth as glass. Our official forecast from the bridge, was for “some movement of the boat… please secure your cabins…” We cleared Beagle into open water around midnight. It was not going to be the “Lake”.
While the glassware in the bar and bath were thankfully snugged in their places, everything else was obeying one of Newton’s more important laws, and seeking it’s lowest possible point. Thank goodness that the lid to the head was shut. Winnie and I would have surely lost our Rx meds, toothpaste, and brushes to the Neptune of the commode bowl. Okay. Maybe not exactly lose them.. they float?.. but you get the picture. What woke us from our sound sleep… were drawers in the chest opening. And closing. And opening. And closing. Doors slamming. Things falling off of our tabletops. Things falling off the tabletops in the next cabins. Colourful language from the Brits, Aussies, and Kiwis. Colorful language from we Americans. There are wonderful nuances there that make me yearn for a trip to New Zealand to pick up their accent and learn a new way to curse.
What we had ahead of us for the next 100+ nautical miles were 40Kt winds from the WSW,
The seas were quartering a bit from starboard, so the boat not only pitched… it rolled. The expression “One hand for the boat at all times” was becoming more and more apparent with each pitch and roll. And having a shower? Think of yourself standing with one foot on top of a basket ball in a moving vehicle while trying to soap/rinse/repeat/wipe hands on pants.
On the plus side, though…Yum. Breakfast is going to be wide open in the morning.
 
After we re-secured our stuff, we slept wonderfully, rocked to sleep… down, left, up, right, down, left, up, right… by Drake.
“Some of us are over the seasick stage and no longer want to die.” Hartford after 10 days on the ‘Nimrod’ with Shackleton in 1907.
Tomorrow morning, after breakfast with plenty of elbow room… a bio-security briefing, followed by a zodiac briefing. I think that we’re going to be going ashore on the South Shetland Islands by afternoon!
]]>Early in the morning on New Year’s Eve 2011, we happily left Buenos Aires, flying South on Aerolinas Argentinas to the “southernmost city in the world”. Ushuaia. Capitol of Tierra del Fuego, South America. As we boarded the B737, Winnie presented the lead flight attendant with her card, identifying her as a Delta Airlines captain, and then we proceeded to our seats. About 2 South American minutes later a very nice (and very young) Captain came back, apologized that first class was full, but assured us that next time we met, he’d again try to upgrade us.
Two and a half hours passes a Lot faster when you’re excited and anticipating the commencement of your next big adventure. The aircraft descended VFR between the mountains of the southern end of the Andes, lower, and lower… until
we completely ran out of land. WELCOME TO FIN DEL MUNDO came over the p.a. system in 4 languages.
Ushuaia, Argentina
There’s very little business in Ushuaia that isn’t related to tourism. It’s a good looking little town that reminded me of many of the small towns in Southeastern AK.
Lupines are the native flower, and grow wildly anywhere they can find a few inches of dirt.
We endured an endless briefing at our hotel about our impending morning expedition. They were mentioning some stuff that we’d need to know on board over the next two weeks. I think that Winnie was listening. Or something. I just wanted to get down to the docks and check things out for tomorrow’s sailing. I wanted to be first in line!
Yea! A “Welcome to Ushuaia Port” sign with “Puerto Y Puerta a la Antartida” on it. We’re getting warm! And it seemed to be less than a meter from the “U R Here” (Ushuaia) arrow, across the Drake Passage to the Antarctic Peninsula. Heck, we’ll be there in no time. What could Possibly go wrong?
Okay, Winnie, we go this way tomorrow. I got a grip on things. I am in control. (Oh wait, that’s been said before, I think.. so.. well, uh, nevermind. I never liked that sumbitch anyways.)