Drake Lake Passage

We have been in the Drake since late last night. We are making good time and there is enough wind for an enthusiastic escort of various albatross, petrels and fulmars.  Particularly remarkable are the many light-mantled sooty albatross and the pintado petrel. They follow us throughout the day, sometimes drifting close at eye level, curious or hungry, maybe both.

A day at sea; I think about yesterday and some of the days before.

Port Lockroy

After yesterday’s excitement at Palmer Station, our last landing of the expedition this morning would seem tame. But again the views are stunning in every direction. 

Port Lockroy is only a few miles away but was built in a different era by a different country. World War II was a time of claiming ground all over the world. In response to perceived German threats in Antarctica, the British began building bases along the peninsula (which the British claimed). Base “A” would later be called Port Lockroy. 

It is now a gift shop and post office which supports the British Antarctica Heritage Trust, which is either removing or has refurbished some of the other structures previously built along the Antarctic Peninsula.

One of the charismatic fauna that resides here is the snowy sheathbill. While penguins of different detail all receive the lion’s share of the press in Antarctica, something has to clean up after them. That is the sheathbill’s job. How they are able to maintain the pristine look to their white feathers while consuming the most fowl substances found is unknown. They nest here at Port Lockroy and rely on the penguins for most of their food. They are fearless and curious, good adaptations for making their living. They are not a seabird, not having webbed feet, but somehow make their way across the Drake Passage during the summer season to keep the penguin colonies in neat order even while the slovenly penguins are doing their best job at mucking the place.

Orne Harbour, Dorian Bay & Palmer Station, Antarctic Peninsula

Our extraordinary journey to Antarctica continues. This morning we woke up to a magnificent view of Orne Harbour, comprised of tall mountain peaks, glaciers flowing seaward, fresh white snow, and glittering reflections in the waters of the Gerlache Strait. Blue-eyed shags were seen flying across our bow.

After breakfast we made our approach to our first landing, half the guests decided to go Zodiac cruising, and the rest made the 245-foot hike up the steep and snowy hill to Spigot Peak. On the occasionally steep metamorphic rock, we saw several hundred pairs of chinstrap penguins sitting on their nests partially obscured by snow, as well as the occasional south polar and hybrid skuas. From the peak we had the chance for amazing panoramic photos of the Errera Channel, barely a cloud in sight. Also we had great views of the ship nestled in amongst the brash ice while the small Zodiacs motored through.

After lunch we sailed through the Neumayer Channel heading for our afternoon landing at Damoy Point in Dorian Bay, located in a cove on the northwest side of Wiencke Island, in the Palmer Archipelago. It was discovered by the 1903-5 French Antarctic Expedition, under Jean-Baptiste Charcot.

Located here is the famous Historic Site and Monument No 84, otherwise known as Damoy Hut, which served flights to and from British Rothera Base on Adelaide Island. Today it is now listed as a Historic Site and Monument and is maintained by the United Kingdom Antarctic Heritage Trust.

The fast ice quickly built up and our expedition leader, Lisa Kelley wisely decided that the ice was too thick for a landing and our first kayak outing. Instead, we spent the afternoon enjoying the scenic views and looking for Weddell seals and killer whales.

We could hear the ice scraping along the side of the ship as we zigzagged in between small icebergs, heading for Palmer Research Station. Arriving late afternoon we launched a “rescue mission” picking up five residents who had been waiting for weeks for a ride back to Ushuaia, Argentina. We all watched from the bow as personnel and equipment were ferried to the ship by kayak and Zodiac.

After dinner we had a magnificent cruise through the Lemaire Channel, the yellow late evening sun glowing from the tall mountain peaks. It was another very special day on the Antarctic Peninsula, one that the guests would remember forever.

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Cierva Cove

This morning’s wake-up call came early, with a large gathering of approximately 40 type A Antarctic killer whales scattered across the pack ice of Gerlache Strait. John Durban and Holly Fernbach, the onboard killer whale biologists, were presented with their first good opportunity to deploy tracking instruments since our journey began.

As National Geographic Explorer stood by, excited guests were given a small glimpse into Antarctic killer whale research as they watched the team deploy two tags capable of tracking location and collected two blubber biopsy samples for genetics. It was a very successful day for the research team and a very rewarding experience for all those who had the privilege to witness the event.


In calm seas and sunny weather the ship continued on its course along the west coast of Graham Land, Antarctica to Cierva Cove and the Argentine base Primavera.

Cierva Cove was dominated by the massive tidewater glaciers that were pouring off the mountains into the ocean and icebergs that were the result of the calving of these glaciers.

The massive ice forms towered above us, glowing green and blue in the sunlight. Basking on the pack ice in between these massive giants we found Weddell seals sunning themselves and our first close-up sighting of a basking leopard seal!

This large reptilian pinniped was stretched out in the sun on a small floe, paying no mind to the surrounding Zodiacs. The prowess of this predator was plainly evident by the sinewy build and incredibly large jaws. It was a very humbling moment to be in the presence of one of Antarctica’s top predators.





As the Zodiacs glided around the icebergs, what to our surprise hove into view but an inflatable flying the "hot chocolate" flag.  Nothing would do but a cuppa warm chocolate braced with Bailey's or brandy!  These Lindblad folks think of everything!  

 

Explorer navigated slowly out of Cierva Cove in the presence of elephant seals and humpback whales.  

And, the day ended with a small group of Antarctic minke whales porpoising off the stern of the ship. 

To cap off a wonderful day, Marcia and I were invited to a small private dinner with a few other travelers in the Chart Room on the bow, hosted by two of the National Geographic photographers, Cotton Coulson and SiseBrimberg. It was a delightful conversation because we not only talked about photography and travel but discovered we have some friends in common.

Duse Bay and Devil Island

As Karen Copeland wrote, "Ice and wind define this place called Antarctica and yet it bursts with life."

 

Parked in the ice adjacent to Beak Island, Duse Bay.

 

Adélie penguin, Devil Island.

Random flakes of snow flew from the ragged edges of steel gray clouds. Rapidly they lost their lacy arms, becoming pellets, firm and round, accumulating on decks and painting the patterned flanks of Beak Island.  Ice crystals defined the ripples on the charcoal sea and aggregated rapidly into disks and polygons.

Effortlessly the ship pushed her way into the solid apron of ice that stretched away from the Tabarin Peninsula to the adjacent islands of Duse Bay. Fractures split the edges into blocks and fissures on our port. But the starboard held, thick, solid and rigid. We spilled from the cargo doors and played upon the ice, promenading round the orange cone periphery of our plaza or tugging upon the mooring line.

Mid-morning tea was a rather substantial hot dog to warm chilly fingers and re-energize for further strolls that carried us out until those on the edges appeared no bigger than tiny specks of red or blue. Gusts of wind snatched snow from the smooth icy surface and tossed it in swirling clouds, momentarily obscuring our trusty vessel. Like children reluctant to leave their play, much encouragement was needed to re-board and continue on our way.

Nearby Devil Island was cradled in the arms of protective Vega. Its pointed peaks rose like horns on either end. Icebergs and bergy-bits guarded its shoreline, stranded by the tide initially but rapidly released as the sea returned again. Upon the island’s lower slopes patterns of white undulated like the edging on a quilt. Within this pale fabric, polka dots of black seemed to line up in perfect regularity.
On closer inspection, each speck revealed itself to be an incubating Adélie penguin. Their fusiform shapes were separated by only a peck length or less. The path home to one’s nest thus was treacherous. Neighbors bit unmercifully, a painful event for the commuter but entertainment for us. We stood and stared at the routine of the daily lives of these bipedal birds of the south while the winds nipped our fingers and toes. Yet in spite of the cold, once again encouragement was needed to get us to fly back to our nests.

Brown Bluff, Weddell Sea

Each day on the east side of the Antarctic Peninsula seems to begin early. Today was no exception as a 2:30 a.m. wake-up call summoned us to our first emperor penguin sighting of the trip. Nestled into the folds of a moderately-sized iceberg, this twilight encounter with our planet’s largest penguin triggered what became a day to top.

By 3:00 a.m. we had already seen the icon of the Antarctic, been kissed by early morning light reflected off of a tabular iceberg and beheld the Antarctic Peninsula proper for the first time on this voyage.

By 10:30 a.m. everyone willing and able took their first steps onto the NE extremity of the peninsula and cavorted with the Antarctic’s other ice-loving biped, the Adelie penguin. This took place at a site called Brown Bluff, known for its nesting snow petrels, kelp gulls, Adelie and gentoo penguins and the stunning backdrop of solidified ash deposits that give the location its reddish-brown hue and subsequent moniker.

After a morning with penguins and blue-bird skies, our rudder steered us south, deeper into the Weddell Sea than this naturalist has ever been. Past pods of small type “B” killer whales cruising the pack ice edge, around cathedrals of glacial ice and along the eastern shores of Seymour and then Snow Hill Island, taking us to within a mere eight miles of the northernmost emperor penguin colony this planet supports.

At that southernmost milepost we encountered the northern extremity of the Weddell Sea pack ice. A continuous skin of frozen water stretched south of us as far as the eye would allow, peppered with black, waddling dots. As we neared the ice edge, a group of seven emperor penguins surfaced onto the white expanse before making their seemingly sorrowful, slumped march away from us. Sure to turn around again in the days to come, these and the other emperors we could see on the horizon are preparing for their summer at sea, having just endured the long dark Antarctic winter, and celebrating the abundance of the approaching summer feast.

We couldn’t help but share their excitement for all that summer brings to the Antarctic as our day was full of life and new horizons as well. 

South Shetland Islands

Steve Maclean said "One of the pleasures of being a naturalist in Antarctica is sharing with guests their first experience with the wildlife and the scenic grandeur of the White Continent. Today was such a moment."

After a very benign crossing of the infamous Drake Passage, we neared our first Antarctic landfall in the South Shetland Islands, north of the Antarctic Peninsula. We were not the only travelers coming to Antarctica from warmer climes. Humpback and the occasional fin whales were blowing their spouts into the morning wind as they approached their summer feeding in the productive Antarctic waters.

Soon, icebergs came into view, caught on the shallow shelf of the South Shetland Islands. Then, behind the icebergs and towering above them, came our first sighting of snow- and ice-covered peaks. Our course took us between Greenwich and Roberts islands, through English Strait. Here a young humpback whale put on a most incredible show by throwing its entire body from the water, again and again, in a series of breaches. We can't be sure just why the whales choose to leave their ocean domain, if only briefly, but that takes nothing from our joy of witnessing the behavior.

Half Moon Island, a small chunk of land tucked into a bay of Livingston Island, was the site of our first landing in Antarctica. After the crossing from Ushuaia, many were ready to brave wind and soft snow for a leg-stretching walk, which offered a breath-taking view over the snowy landscape (or maybe it was the walk itself that took our breath). Whether by foot or our fleet of Zodiac landing craft, we all ended at a chinstrap penguin colony. We mimicked the penguins in climbing resolutely up the snowy slope. The nesting penguins were gathered in exposed rocky areas where each pair places its two eggs on a platform of stones (many of them stolen from the nest of their neighbor), pecking distance apart. Now, the eggs have been laid.

The birds are in the early part of their 32-day incubation, and an unusual calm reigns over the colony. The calm is broken when one member of a pair returns from its feeding at sea to take over the chore of incubation. There is a noisy greeting at the nest ("Yes - I am, in fact, your mate, and I am back to do my duty") and the incubating bird rises to be quickly replaced on the eggs by the returning partner. If the process goes too slowly, they risk the quick attack of a marauding skua or kelp gull and an egg is lost. It will not be replaced.

Farther along, many of us chose to sit quietly and watch the parade of penguins, down the hill, up the hill. The parade will intensify as the eggs hatch and there are hungry chicks to be fed. Now, there is less urgency to the trek. I know not how many penguin photographs were taken; a lot.

Finally, at the end of our trail over Half Moon Island, we came upon three Weddell seals lounging on the snow. These large seals overwinter deep in the Antarctic, using breathing holes that they maintain through the seasonal sea ice. They have already completed their breeding for the year. The new pups, born on the sea ice, are on their own. The seals have earned their lounging.