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.

The Feared Drake Passage

All travelers to Antarctica have heard and been terrified by stories of the Drake Passage. This body of water between the southern tip of South America and the Antarctic Peninsula is known for the intense storms that race through the passage. Today the weather gods were kind to us and we sailed south in relatively calm conditions.

After breakfast, we gathered in the lounge to meet the expedition team and learn more about the alliance between Lindblad Expeditions and National Geographic. The first presentation of the trip, by our photo team, taught us all about getting to know our cameras.

Later in the day Steve MacLean gave an excellent talk where we learned all about the wind, currents and the productivity of the Southern Ocean. This was followed by some time out on the sun deck learning about the various seabirds swirling around the ship.

The last presentation of the day was the very important briefing about landing in the Antarctic. We also had an overview of what we hope to see and experience on our exciting expedition. After dinner, the seas were calm and the day ended with a stunning sunset. All and all it was a wonderful first full day on board National Geographic Explorer.

In Buenos Aires, Argentina for Thanksgiving Day

Thanksgiving in the United States brings families together to celebrate and gather in each other’s presence. It is often accompanied by at least one large meal of turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes and gravy and topped off with pumpkin pie for dessert. Often, a good football game or two is part of the day. While the traditional meals and activities may vary, for most it is a day of reflection and catching up with family and friends who may have not seen each other for years.

We however arrived this morning in Buenos Aires, where there is no mention of Thanksgiving or turkey.  The ever efficient National Geographic/Lindblad staff met us in the BA international  airport, put us on a bunch of buses, and led us on a tour of the city and into the Cesear Park Hotel.  It's a glistening and quite upscale facility in an excellent position on Posadas in Recoleta. It is across the street from the upscale Patio Bullrich shopping center and is surrounded by lots of excellent restaurants and shops. A light lunch is served on the mezzanine floor and there's a briefing before we set off on a quick city tour.  In the late afternoon there's a cocktail party and then we're released to go find our dinner.

Some opted for sandwiches in the hotel bar, but we headed off down the street to an empanadas place that Marcia had identified earlier.  We had locro, a stew made with pumpkin, maize, beans and different combinations of meat cuts, bacon and chorizo. A pitcher of the local red wine was perfect.

Somehow, I never missed the turkey feast.

Thanksgiving Day in Ushuaia

Our day began in the luxury and comfort of the Cesar Park Hotel with an early breakfast for the Lindblad/National Geographic group.  It was an ambitious breakfast buffet, including omelets prepared to your order.  I think, however, our entire group of punctual, purposeful Americans coming down to eat at such an early hour seemed to overwhelm the Argentine staff.

I had to admire the organizers' ability to get four or more large coaches into downtown Buenos Aires' narrow streets and even under the hotel's porte-cochère, not to mention the ease with which they got all 148 of us onto the coaches in good time for our trip across town to the domestic airport.   

Miami and the South Beach Excursion

We are here in Miami with the whole day to kill, so what to do?  Maybe a trip over to the much discussed South Beach area?  A quick search on the iPhone shows it's not so far -- about 17 miles -- and not so impossible to get to with a taxi.  The concierge shows us a hop-on-hop-off bus tour that looks like a good way to do it, so we buy it from him.  Well, part of it.  He charges $15 per person and then we'll pay more at the tour office in South Beach.

Our guides on the tour bus seem inordinately fascinated by the rich and famous people who live or lived in Miami.  There are several islands out in the bay that seem to be enclaves of such people.  Our bus drives out the MacArthur Causeway across Biscayne Bay, and we're introduced to Palm Island and Star Island and their residents.

But the real treat is South Beach, or SoBe as the natives put it. This was one of the first areas of Miami to be developed for tourism and snowbirds.  But after a roaring beginning in the 1910's and 1920's, it became by the 1980's a haven for criminals, Cubans and little old ladies. Before the days of Miami Vice, South Beach was considered a very poor area with a very high rate of crime.  Then the beautiful people moved in.  Fortunately that also rescued the  art deco, streamline moderne, and nautical moderne architecture for which South Beach is famed.

After the South Beach tour, we thought we might save time and distance by taking the city tour bus back in the direction of our hotel.  Bad idea!  We got caught up in pre-holiday traffic jams that seemed to never end, and our bus crept along.  There were no taxis in sight.  We needed to return to our hotel, pack our bags, and get to the airport in good time to catch our evening flight to Buenos Aires.