“Antarctica: The Ultimate Adventure” Part 3 The Animals

As spring liberates the sunshine, throwing off the last icicles of winter the team come out of their bracing slumber, full of mischief, zest and zeal. Fun loving characters dressed in tuxedos waltzed around, giants tiptoed through their favourite swimming holes, winged acrobats ducked and weaved along side capacious roly-poly rogues crammed with attitude. All squawked and twanged embracing the advent of the summer solstice. Intrinsically linked to their local landmark, the continent of Antarctica.

Welcome back. For those who have just joined us, this is the 3rd instalment of the “The Ultimate Adventure”, a 29 day semi circumnavigation of the Antarctic aboard the icebreaker Kapitan Khlebnikov. Part 1 was the Journey, Part 2 the Landscape and now Part 3 the Animals that inhabit this scintillating macrocosm. Seeing them is like visiting pen pals who you feel you know but have never met.

Traversing the Drake Passage sea birds swirling in the skies above the white caps, they farewelled the KK as she set off south. Antarctic Petrels toyed with the waves gliding over the peaks of the wind lashed depths, playing with the frothy edges.

Gentoo Penguins lodged in Neko Harbour, a refuge also inhabited by a gaggle of migratory Skuas, Snowy Sheathbills and Kelp Gulls who all come for the penguin eggs. Skuas are known as the “Buccaneers of the South”, villains. Beach gives way to gentle slopes ramped up to the surrounding mountains. On the upside one can discern organic red streaks, penguin guano montaged as “Penguin Highways” leading to the rookeries. The harbour covers a large area and yet the penguins prefer to tread the historical corridors to and from the sea. Traffic is non-stop, waddling, slipping, sliding and tobogganing along. Comings and goings are comical; the only things missing are the traffic lights and walk beeps to regulate the ebbs and flows across the snowy textile.

Intrepid travellers are instructed to keep a minimum distance from the animals, but if you sit quietly, curiosity triumphs and soon you are immersed in penguins. Our presence did not alarm or distress the penguins; they stopped, looked and listened; some fascinated, others impartial.

Gentoos have a brood pouch (bare small patch of skin on their lower abdomen) with which they warm and protect their egg. Nests are built of small rectangular shaped stones with the nursing parent sitting on top. There are gulls and other birds, predators patrolling the plains opportunistically waiting for a minute of forgetfulness to steal the eggs. Parents must be diligent.

Rocks; the building cornerstone are at a premium. It is a battlefield out there with much skulduggery and competition for the highly prized objects; robbery is the motive and rocks are the treasure. When a conquering knight returns victorious with a rock there is a shrill “Well done!” While the victor celebrates and his back is turned, guess what? Another interloper takes advantage and steals a foundation from the victor’s stash. The tussle is ceaseless and goes on all day resulting in lots of vocalizing, squabbling and shifting of rocks. Someone suggested painting the rocks, then watching the pageant; amusing!

A resident Weddell Seal asleep just up from the landing beach at Peterman Island caused quite a stir. Snoring, he looked to be dreaming. Charming, with a grey soft brown mottled coat and long whiskers, flippers across his chest like a child in slumber. Clickety click from dozens of cameras stirred him ..….. a big open-mouthed exclamation and an expression “Oh, it is only you”, and he returned to his dreams of endless fish and beautiful females. Gentoo and Adelie penguins rested, mated, socialized, thieved and incubated along side him indifferent to the landlubbers and the seal. These creatures have never been hunted; consequently they do not fear man.

A colony of Imperial shags nests alongside an Adelie rookery at Jungla Point their blue markings identify the breeding season is here. Unlike the Adelie’s rock courtship, shags board close together, attentively grooming each other, more stay at home folk. They also were not disturbed by the penguins’ activities and squabbles.

While garaged in the fast ice at Marguerite Bay a sole Emperor Penguin appeared out of the icy wild blue yonder. What a handsome fellow, at one metre tall Emperors are the tallest and heaviest of the penguins living up to 40 years. Emperors winter over to breed in the Antarctic and are actually sea birds that have lost the ability to fly. They have a coat of jet-black fur; a chest of pure white with a collar of incandescent yellow markings, flippers, a short tufted tail and 2 large webbed feet. Perfect!! Upright and plainly curious this is a sociable visit reminiscent of the movie “Happy Feet”. Waddling close to inspect the KK, he paused to speculate our origins. Quick as a flash the gangplank was down and photographers captured the performance. A new slant on Antarctic tourism; rather than a few people watching a lot of penguins…a twist… one penguin watching a lot of people.

30 minutes later as quickly as he had come, the Emperor is gone. Best of all though, he returned later in the afternoon to everyone’s delight. He personalized this visit acquainting himself and strolled right up to my roommate. Po Lin said “he looked straight at me” preening and strutting his stuff; she is smitten. Generally wildlife watching is a patient pastime, with long solitary hours rewarded by brief glimpses of animals. These interludes become memories that stay with you long after the moment.

Garaged near the Dry Valleys we encountered the enchantment of the Antarctic. Just the spot for a wonderland; gaping ocean interfaced on two sides by mountains and icebergs with a stage of sweeping ice flats and a basin routed to the Dry Valleys. First a placid watercourse then a splash, a small disturbance in the aqua and a Minke Whale emerged, a member of the Baleen Family. He is titanic, grey black with a heavyset bulk and a small dorsel fin. Cruising the channel, his blow signalled the unhurried rhythm of his movements, softly and smoothly over and under the water, echoing an ancient and primal ritual.

A multi layered vista fringed by blue and white, first the Minke cruised the gaping ocean then Emperors amused themselves with catch and tag from the shore to the inner limits of the bay. All afternoon they were in and out of the water. Are you familiar with the sound and exuberance of a champagne cork popping? There is the rush as the bubbles effervesce and fizz out of the bottle; that is exactly how Emperor Penguins squirt out of the water. Travelling at up to 20 kilometres per hour in short bursts they belly flop onto the hard ice then apply the brakes. Next second they are upright, making room for other arrivals. Only once did I see a mishap when an Emperor overshot its arrival point, back pedalled trying to stop the forward locomotion, succeeded, then out of sync finished up with an ungainly vertical mount to a walking position, oops! Typically they are elegant giving the impression of gliding rather than waddling.

Lining up like models behind the curtain of a catwalk “you first, no you” all jostling for position, until everyone is wet. Looking down, the Emperors could be seen propelling through the water, a telltale bubble trail lingering in their aftermath.

While Emperors occupy the inner blue fringing the shoreline, Adelies occupy the ice flats; they are small in stature and monochrome in colour. One is reminded of the Cat from “Alice in Wonderland” who is late for a very important date, after chatting he headed off in completely the opposite direction from whence he came. Whereas Emperors are tall and graceful, Adelie’s are short and nervous, watching the interactions between the species a monologue for a screenplay may go like this:
∑ Setting: water’s edge Antarctica Solitary Emperor Penguin standing regally on the ice ledge quietly enjoying the peace and sunshine
∑ Approached by a Nervous fidgety Adelie who splutters a dialogue HelloOOOO, helloOOOO prattling “can I be your friend”, vocalized in a desperate sounding hurried high pitched whine
∑ Emperor condescendingly looks down his nose at the bothersome Adelie and simply but firmly enunciates “NO”
∑ Disappointed the Adelie meekly mooches off
∑ Adelie sees another solitary Emperor and starts the same jumpy discourse hoping for better luck this time

Apsley Cherry-Garrard said about penguins “They are extraordinarily like children, these little people of the Antarctic world; either like children, or like old men, full of their own importance and late for dinner, in their black tail coats and white shirt fronts and rather portly withal”, what a amusing way to represent these engaging creatures.

Perfect postcard picture; a tableau of penguins and Minke Whales, the pattern of life is different for each of the inhabitants:
∑ Minkes cruising slowly and luxuriously
∑ Emperors elegantly aqua-playing for the sheer pleasure of it
∑ Adele’s all hurrying somewhere, it didn’t seem to matter where; infact it is decidedly random, here there and everywhere, waving their flippers up down, left to right always at a frantic beat. Like a younger brother, a pest, but you love him

The bay pulsed, brimful with pastiche energy, a glorious convergence leaving one energised about life and living. Antarctic animals are fantastic and like no others. One felt intoxicated being privy to the antics and behaviours. This is not just a show for the tourist but a daily event that moulds the cycles of life. There is a biodiversity that is staggering in its richness in the Antarctic.

Passing the Ice shelf of the Ross Sea we head towards the Bay of Whales. Hoping to recapture the excitement of previous encounters, scanning the horizon from dawn to dusk. Rewarded with a pod of 12 Killer Whales or Orcas. Known as “Wolves of the Sea” due to their hunting in packs, Orcas are from the oceanic dolphin family they are gregarious; foraging, travelling, resting and socializing as a group.

On board polar experienced staff share their amazing stories and folklore about the wildlife. Tony the marine biologist spoke of his time on Macquarie Island. To illustrate a yarn Tony showed a photograph of a huge bull seal, head first in the entrance to his tent completely blocking exit or entry. It looked hilarious; can you imagine telling your boss why you where late for work? “It was like this etc etc”, imagine the response deprecating in disbelief “SURE”.

Campbell Island one of the sub-Antarctic groups, is home to a Hooker Seal colony. At the zodiac landing place a huge male sunned himself; feigning sleep he was watchful through half closed eyes. His features included nasty looking big dentures. Weighing in at 500 kilograms and having the reputation of being rather ill tempered with the ability to move with great haste and purpose, we had been cautioned to give him a wide birth.

On route to the Albatross nests in the hills, one of the party lagged behind and was nearly ambushed by another cranky Hooker bull seal. It was practically guns at high noon. Jonathan wanted the vegetation to swallow him up; the seal had large yellow fangs and a troublesome mind-set. In the end, each went their separate ways, one buoyed by supremacy, the other unharmed but shaken.

Albatross have a wingspan of three meters; shoulders the same height as an adult Labrador but with a shorter round body on large legs. Biologist Robert Cushman Murphy said, “ I now belong to a higher cult of mortals for I have seen the Albatross”. Early sailors believed to shoot an albatross would bring bad luck. Today Albatross have more to fear from long line fishing boats, but this is being addressed by mindful work practices. To see these birds in flight is akin to “touching the wild”; being able to feel the pulse of the wind. Yet on land they are awkward and generally nest on the wind side to assist takeoff. Albatross generally mate for life, reinforcing the bond with tender preening and elaborate ritualised courtships.

On Enderby Island the first influx of seals were gathering harems on the sandy shore. Bulls were marking their territory and securing the most females. Arriving three weeks too early to see the masses and the associate bedlam that insures. We did however witness teenagers honing their fighting skills and a mature bull jealously guarding his ladies. Interactions loaded with recital, pontificating and vocalizing, signalled dominance or attempted dominance; all acted out with the intent to scare the novice. Great lumbering beasts heaved their blubbered forequarters at the opposition connecting with a thud, accompanied by grunts and groans supplemented by open tusked mouths, vivid displays of aggression. The ladies looked on amused. A combination of power, unpredictable and unknown animal logic reinforced the wisdom of distance and the prudence of a long 300 m lens. Bones at the landing point being picked over by Skuas were the result of a scuffle between 2 males fighting over a female. The bones were those of the female crushed by the bullyboys.

As we headed north to New Zealand, seabirds welcomed us back to the more temperate weather; two Wandering Albatrosses remained aloft and separate from us mere mortals, enjoying the swells and air currents of the huge seas. Groups of Petrels showed off to their peers. Like friends farewelling friends we said adieu to the animals of the Antarctic, silently expressing gratitude for the unique opportunity to visit and comprehend their world, if only briefly.

Living up to dreams and expectations “The Ultimate Adventure” reinforces the wonder and pleasure of travel. The expedition with its profound experiences remains etched on one’s mind:
∑ KK’s uniqueness and experienced crew, a highlight
∑ Helicopter jaunts, breathtakingly ostentatious
∑ Zodiacs, adventure on rubber so to speak… what a thrill
∑ The assorted landscapes….. braggart, unforgettable and awe-inspiring……fabulous, frigid and fragile..…. completely overwhelming and defying portrayal
∑ Last but by no means least the animals; delightful, cute, aggressive, and endearing; they bewitched you. Their curiosity, their interactions, their individuality… all wooed the adventurer, we each had a favourite

Amid thunderous ovations the final curtain call brings to a close the opening night of a new Broadway production. A hit, the audience are on their feet shouting more, more, more, more; this mantra imitates the feeling when leaving the phenomenon known as the Antarctic.

I realise this extraordinary adventure is not for everyone, but I trust you have enjoyed being involved even by osmosis. It has been my joy to share and to include you, albeit in a small way.

Author: Jan Thompson
e-mail: jan@pcandjt.com
Web Site: www.pcandjt.com

“Antarctica: The Ultimate Adventure” Part 2 The Landscape

Rather than watch the Discovery channel, a semi-circumnavigation of the Antarctic is a journey of discovery. Part 2 of the Ultimate Adventure presents a festival of landscapes and experiences from a real life adventure.

This voyage of discovery set sail from the port of Ushuaia then journeyed across the Drake Passage to the sub-Antarctic, southwest to the Ross Sea and McMurdo Sound into the heart of the Antarctic then north to the sub-Antarctic Islands of New Zealand.

Broadcasting adventure, we sailed by icebreaker. Originally designed to clear the seaways around the coast of Siberia and capable of operating in temperatures down to minus 50 degrees, Kapitan Khlebnikov is engineered to crush ice 3 meters thick. Her blueprint allows freedom of manoeuvre venturing into seldom seen and visited areas; she is the only ship operating in the Antarctic with this flexibility. For 29 days she is home.

Ushuaia is the most southern city in the world, departure point for the Polar Regions. Rainbow dappled houses patchwork the shoreline, snow dusted foothills heave from the sea, mountains spire towards the clouds; air chilled, clean and fresh drizzles from the heavens.

The geological and meteorology features of the Antarctic are not unique; ice, snow, water, sea, mountains, rocks, air, wind, sky. What defines the Antarctic is the amalgamation of these elements, the compass points they saturate and the limitless horizons they occupy. There are no familiar constraints, no town plans, no fences to restrict or define space, no states or territorities, it is a shock to see so much emptiness; the landscapes classify the areas and divisions of the Antarctic.

Neko Harbour is the first polar landing on the continent of Antarctica; the minute is supercharged, eagerness and exhilaration abound. Zodiacs motor through the watery serpentine. Nimbly gazing around snow is everywhere; sprinkled onto entire mountainsides, bedrock exposed only where the load is too much and the lion's share has fallen into the deep navy water. Glaciers, crevasses and faults are ubiquitous, ice blue they twinkle in the sunshine. Ice shifting “Antarctic thunder” avalanches break the silences, the reverberation resonates, surges ripple across the water. Countless shades of blue water, ice and sky overtake your psyche; one feels’ pint size in this magnificent picturesque opulence.

Port Lockroy initially a British Station known, as Base A is now a museum administered by the UK Antarctic Heritage Trust. Bransfield House has been restored and houses the museum, shop and post office. Three BAS staff live at Port Lockroy in the summer to maintain the historic site and play postman. Across the way at Jungla Point, the beach is littered with bleached whalebones revealing a tale of woe and slaughter. It is hard to imagine anything gruesome happening here. Perfect weather, no clouds, no breeze; we wander without parkas or gloves, like a summer’s day. Almost transparent visibility through the water is 20 metres. Just before the algal bloom you can see into the centre of the earth. The bloom is a month away; then the water becomes a murky pale brown.

On Peterman’s Island 3 scientists are doing field research. Due to the gorgeous weather they had gone to visit a neighbour for what is probably a much-appreciated shower. Their tenancy is 3 small yellow tents and a mess cum laboratory tent. Nearby a large cross on a small raised mound is a memorial to 3 compatriots who lost their lives on a field trip, a reminder never to take this environment for granted. You must be self-reliant as help is not around the corner.

To park overnight at Marguerite Bay in Crystal Sound the KK is garaged in the fast ice (ice attached to land). The ship is driven into the ice and wedged perpendicular to the sea; the ocean floor is far too deep for the anchor chain.

In the midst of exclamations and awe our zippy helicopter flew across the fast ice, past tabular icebergs to Stonington Island where a glacier ran along one entire wall of the valley. Jagged edges, icy facade and fastidious detail ascend from the whiteout base of the valley. Juxtaposition, colossal and haunting, the diffused light show charmed your senses; pastel blue frescoes with watercolour pink brushstrokes like cotton candy feathered the upper vestiges of the glacier. Sitting awestruck on a frozen ledge probing left to right, every glance awarded new details, new shapes and colour deviations.

The glacier is mesmerising, elysian; virtual reality inside a glossy travel photograph. A superb souvenir; nature is bewitching. John Muir said “to dine with a glacier on a sunny day is a glorious thing and makes feasts of meat and wine ridiculous. Glaciers eat hills and drink sunbeams”.

Leaving the glacier with the sun shimmering and the ice sparkling, rich golden tinted light captured the last rays until midnight. This landscape is a perpetual installation.

You begin to understand the logistics of this expedition, the icebreaker, helicopters and zodiacs; the Antarctic is a wilderness. The scene from the bridge is a spectacle of geography stretching to the end of the world - we are at the end of the world. Several seals and penguins inhabit the shifting ice in the middle of nowhere; the Ross Sea is 450 kilometres to the SW and the nearest land is 250 kilometres to the west. What are these animals doing out here?

Ross Ice Shelf looms ahead, at 800 kilometres long, 30 meters above water and 200 below, reaching 500 kilometres into the Ross Sea, covering an area larger than France it is HUGE. Travelling along its length will be a two day journey if the ice is kind. For an intimate encounter we sailed to within 100 meters of the immense vertical cliffs; white walls straight up channelled by the elements, like plant roots, hundreds of fractured veins allow light to enter the dense spaces. Ice edges reflect the ocean and sky pigmentations while the uplift is reminiscent of a 50’s crew cut hairstyle.

Helicopters fire up for a flight to the Ross Shelf, group two board now. Near the landing site the advance team arranged champagne in the ice, perfect!!!! glasses poured. Instructions suggested if you follow the red marker flags to the edge of the shelf there is a treat. While Tony was reconnoitring a crevasse opened. “Line up, line up” like the age old circus chant, word passed quickly around “for your viewing, an ice crevasse encounter, hurry…. hurry…. closing soon ”. The gap is half a meter wide exuding adventure. Viewed from a prone position roped to a safety line, inching over the edge it went down forever, a labyrinth of shades pale icy blue graduating to rich deep icy sapphire blue. From the minute I got off the helicopter to the edge of the shelf, stumbling knee high in the fresh snow, I giggled to myself. “Travel Utopia”, what delicious fun. It also underscored how insignificant we “Mortals” are. We look like dust particles in this vast icescape.

Wake up at 0630 is not good news. 23 kilometres from McMurdo Sound but the wind is 34 knots and the helicopters are rated at 17 knots. Plan B, we helicopter into the desolate arid Dry Valleys.

One of the most extreme ecosystems in the world, the Dry Valleys are virtually free from ice and snow all year around. The inhospitable bronzed terrain has been stripped raw by the devilish katabatic winds that race across the basins. Life forms are limited to lichens and algae as evaporation exceeds precipitation. Curiously there are 3 petrified seals in the valley, lost, 50 miles from the ocean. An unearthly karma dominates the area. NASA utilised the region as a simulator for the surface of Mars.

Mount Erebus is in the near distance, an active volcano currently at rest. Small wisps of vapour rise and nestle on top, melting into the breeze, which leisurely stirs them. In the clear sky the wreckage of the DC10 tourist flight NZ flight 901, which crashed in 1979 is visible.

Transfer to Shackleton’s Hut at Cape Royds is by helicopter. Built in 1907 for his Nimrod Expedition that included an attempt to reach the South Pole. It is a short distance to Scott’s hut at Cape Evans established in 1911. Though the legendary explorers have passed on both huts are linked not only through inspirational feats of exploration and scientific achievement but endurance and tragedy. Restoration work is saving these priceless monuments.

At Cape Royds one of the hut restorers a young muscular smiling New Zealander enjoyed the summer temperatures in a T-shirt, chitchatting about the work being undertaken. On parting he said “Thank You for dropping by”. Not quite the reply I was expecting. Only 2,000 tourists a year visit this region and not all are able to visit the hut.

The NZ authorities insist that a member of the Antarctic Historical Trust travels with each group to ensure the huts integrity is maintained and strictly controlled, Great Job!! At Shackleton’s hut, only 40 people are allowed on the site and 7 people are permitted to be in the hut at any one time.

Shackleton’s hut is a blanched prefabricated dwelling, 15 men originally slept in it. The interior is dim with a rustic ambience; they say, “there are friendly ghosts there”. You cannot smell the smoke nor feel the fires’ warmth; but you can envisage an era filled with dreams; explorations part planned, part executed. Human touches, tins of food, clothing still hung and arranged for the next wear, bunks ready for sleeping; all enshrined. Hopes and goals imbedded in the walls, linger in the air. It would have been perfect to have a quiet minute alone, but not to be, the queue is waiting.

Scott’s Hut at Cape Evans is also being restored with 85 tons of ice being dug out to gain access. In the hut and nearby stables sadness lingers; the table is set, waiting for the explorers to return. From the hilltop you can see the valley Scott travelled up on his ill-fated expedition to be the first to reach the South Pole, 800 kilometres away.

Beyond the huts there is genuine isolation; a one kilometre wide gaping featureless diorama bordered by mountains and glaciers, the vastness is confronting. Random blotches of russet gravel splattered near the huts are the only tonal variation in the endless white on white panorama.

Early summer and the sea is only 5 kilometres away. In high summer the ice melts and the whole valley is liquid; in winter it is 500 kilometres across fast ice to open water. Entertain the feelings of seclusion, waving your supply ship goodbye conscious a frigid nocturnal season is ahead of you.

Overwhelming silence is deafening, so quiet to be audible. Antarctica is its own timekeeper; things are done at its tempo not yours. The assemblage of restored huts, the stillness, the scale is jaw-dropping. I gaze to the horizon, seeking nothing but to be part of this place. Tranquillity is broken by the thump of the helicopter; my icebreaker awaits.

Fridtjof Nansen philosophised: “Most people might be oppressed by such surroundings with its silence and inhuman expanses. But he who seeks peace and quiet in nature, undisturbed by human activity.... will find here what he seeks…even though, beset by ice, one is a plaything of the forces of nature”.

Evening and dinner comes, the sun is continually present, there is no night it merely brushes the horizon and rises again. After dinner, there was gluhwein on the forward deck, everyone rugged up, a farewell to the Antarctic. Cheers, laughter and faraway looks to a world that has delighted, amazed and absorbed us for weeks. We have 2 more stops to make but they are in the sub-Antarctic and are not the same. The sea birds soaring and diving around us herald our return to the northern latitudes.

On Campbell Island, views down the valley to the sea offered splashes of blue among the flinty coloured tufted swaying meadows, sprinkled with sunbeam yellow flashes hedged by green textures. You must be watchful of the path as there are soft boggy patches to ensnare the careless. The only misadventure I suffered was a minor fall into the bog; a loss of dignity, a brush down of my trousers and I was on my way.

Back in the southern seas, the ocean’s rock and roll has returned with a vengeance. Everyone moves with one hand on the rail trying to find the ships rhythm. Getting about has the appearance of an inebriated swagger with the body listing from side to side; an awkward jig.

How quickly we have left the Antarctic. White and blue iceberg blocks that sparkled in the sunlight are replaced with hills hosting grass and foliage. The sea’s blackness is replaced by soft royal blue fringed with white caps; this transition occurred within 2 days of travelling north. Daylight has given back the night, light now rules the cycles of life.

Enderby Island is a wildlife paradise, 5 kilometres long by 3 kilometres wide landing is at a small research station, backed by a tangled rata forest. Overcast and 11°C does not feel warm; wind gusting and waves frothing, its important to dress warmly.

The Rata Forest is tranquil and sheltered with a maze of snow gum coloured tree trunks through which you must pick a path, all the while the wind is howling through the upper branches. Walking through the forest and the protected lower reaches, we were serenaded by a sweet melody; their movements secretive, the birds were small and fast.

Out of the forest and up the hill into gale force winds roaring in from the ocean, unchecked by hindrances. The weather is miserable, the sky is overcast and rain is visible in the distance and still the wind gusts.

Leaving the Sub-Antarctic Islands we head towards home and family, the adventure over but the memories will last forever.

I trust you have enjoyed Part 2 of the Ultimate Adventure and found the landscapes marvellous. Part 3 will introduce the wildlife of the Antarctic to thrill and delight You.

Author: Jan Thompson
e-mail: jan@pcandjt.com
Web Site: www.pcandjt.com

“Antarctica: The Ultimate Adventure” Part 1 The Journey

“Stchastlyvogo plavaanya” is Russian for “Let the adventure begin”, but I am getting ahead of myself.

“Will you humour me.......gently lift your right foot off the ground …….now your left …….continue to raise and lower your feet one at a time ….…add a small sideway sway …….lastly close your eyes …….give yourself over to the movement and relax!!

I would like you to join me on a semi circumnavigation cruise to the Antarctic from Ushiaia Argentina to Christchurch New Zealand via the Ross Sea.

Open your eyes now …….imagine you are on the high seas experiencing the pitch and roll of an icebreaker.”

Having left the Beagle Channel in Ushuaia, in the province of Tierra del Fuego, Patagonia and sailing in the Drake Passage, you are experiencing what is known as the “Drake Shake”. This passage has a reputation of the roughest seas on the planet. Gargantuan seas; ships can roll up to 48 degrees although today it is only around 30 degrees. Our mission is to travel 900 kilometres across the Drake Passage to the Sub-Antarctic. Sailors whisper when travelling in this part of the world “expect the worst and hope for the best”.

You are travelling in a Kapitan Sorokin class Russian icebreaker operated by Quark Expeditions. The Kapitan Khlebnikov or KK as she is affectionately known has a length of 120 meters with a cruising speed of 16 knots powered by 6 engines, a smooth hull with double-thickness armour-plated skin of 45 mm at the ice line, no stabilizers and an operating range of 10,500 nautical miles (20,000 km) for the mechanical minded. Her rhythm pitches sideways versus forward and back like conventional ships. The higher you are the more pronounced the roll. She rocks and bucks in wild seas but crunches her way through the pack-ice below the Antarctic Circle like a knife through butter.

KK is not a pretty vessel, but is unique; the ice is her element. KK is the only passenger vessel of her class in the Antarctic capable of making the ice-hindered journey. Her power, grunt and design allow her to explore and access places no other ship can in the Antarctic continent. In 14 years the KK has only made this semi circumnavigation 5 times. A superstructure 5 stories high looks like a boxed set of drawers that contains hospital, dining rooms, bar, shop, library, lecture room, lift and comfortable ensuited cabins complete with port holes that open. She is equipped with 2 helicopters and 8 zodiacs.

As well as the sailors onboard the Expedition team is led by Shane Evoy who looks like a buccaneering pirate minus the talking parrot and wooden leg; he is a veteran of 70 expeditions. A team of lecturers includes a Geologist, a Historian Geographer, a Marine Biologist, an Ornithologist, a Naturalist, an Artist in Residence, a Photographer and a Doctor. Their achievements are to be envied, their knowledge formidable; a biography complete with a Polar Medal and membership to the Arctic and Antarctic Clubs. We are privileged; we shall see more of the Antarctic than most scientists and explorers can ever hope to.

You are probably wondering what is going on! Do you celebrate birthdays? I do; generally with lots of festivities over a number of days and particularly if it is a significant one. I deemed turning X0 cause for celebration. With that settled, what form would these celebrations take? A cruise to the Antarctic was my choice but not a short hop to the sub-Antarctic. Rather than buy a stamp I wanted the whole postcard experience and decided a 29-day cruise was the way to go.

Antarctica has long held a fascination for me. One of the last wilderness frontiers; isolated, a desert, space beyond imagination, a location that defies limits, teeming with wildlife and heroic legends of history and hardships. Books, photographs or any publication catches my imagination, like an open door inviting and enticing you in. It seemed so easy to phone: “do you have any vacancies, you do, excellent!!”

There were feelings of anxiety, quiet fear, wonder, trepidation and yippee yahoo as I placed my hand on the gangplank rail and stepped up and forward onto the KK. My grin got bigger and broader; this was my long held dream come true.

How to share such an adventure? With so many characteristics and highlights it is difficult; I decided on 3 instalments. Part 1 the journey, part 2 the landscape and part 3 the animals, so please be patient if your favourite is last.

Cape Horn has been left behind and there she blows; my first iceberg.

In Wild Ice, Mark Jones writes, “Antarctica is a separate world. One can feel its presence in the approaches, sailing south from more temperate climes. Standing on deck, one may follow the reeling albatross; feel the drop in temperature, the bite of the wind, and the motion of the waves. Yet it is the presence of ice, from the first occasional fragments, escalating in shape, form and frequency, and finally dominating all else, that brings assurances of arrival in Antarctica”. It is the coldest, windiest place on Earth.

Snow and ice becomes an everyday scene. As KK moves forward the bow wave announces our progress. The choice to view the passing parade is yours, forward or aft decks or the bridge. Surrounded by cold polar ambiance of minus temperatures or warm and snug surrounded by large glass windows and ships instruments. Do you want to be where the action is? To see the comical surprised expressions of a crabeater seal woken with a start from slumber by the deep rumble of the motor or shock as its ice bed is being crushed as the KK ploughs forward. Or do you want to see the big wide 270-degree view of a white shaded endless snowscape sprinkled with spectral icebergs and pressure ridges?

Killer Whales surfaced porpoising like dolphins or is it cruising with intent, their dark fins leaving barely a ripple; gorgeous, streamlined and dangerous looking. They formed an escort as we glided into the Lemaire Channel nicknamed “Kodak Gap” due to its photographic beauty. It is hard to reconcile how wild the weather can be when you voyage under a boundless blue sky across a mirrored liquorice channel peppered with small pieces of ice confetti edged by Persil white cliffs; breathtaking may be an understatement. It was all cameras on deck.

Latitude 66∞ 33’ 39”S, we have just crossed the Antarctic Circle to the pop of champagne corks, cheers, toasts and tears. Captain James Cook crossed it in 1773. Outside blue tinted icebergs as big as cities silently pass, penguins vanish into the crystal waters, sea birds soar overhead on the shifting horizon.

The pack-ice is now encroaching. Ice sheets coloured with a range of shaded cool tones like a colour chart. KK breaks through the ice, not by ploughing into it, but by riding up onto the surface and crushing it with its massive weight. From the bridge you can see and feel the shudder then the surge; we only had to retreat a couple of times and the next assault is confident and decisive. The ice is meters thick verified from the jagged edges that end in the water. We head forward into an unbroken sheet of ice that stretches as far as the eye can see. As the ship powers on a small crack appears, 4 of the 6 engines are rumbling, the power is audible. The rupture becomes a hairline crack, a trickle, a creek then a river in volume. Football field sized sheets double over each other, no longer smooth and unbroken. In the wake the ice’s appearance is altered to an uneven corrugation, pulverised into submission.

Zodiacs, inflatable boats are being launched. 8 to a boat, down a seriously steep ladder with two big burly Russian sailors assisting with a hand to upper hand grip, one step onto the side of the pitching zodiac then one step onto the floor, choose a side and hold onto the rope. It is mandatory to wash your boots in disinfectant before and after leaving the ship to reduce the risk of contaminating this continent with non-native species, emphasizing the vulnerability of Antarctica. Ropes cast off, the motor is gunned and course selected. The rubber boats seem as eager as the occupants to get there. Shimming across the liquid plain, thump thump thump; no one looks behind.

Safety is paramount and reinforced often. There are life raft, zodiac and helicopter drills. Protocols like coloured disks, which must be turned when leaving and returning to the KK, a visual reminder of who is out adventuring. The scout team carry emergency equipment to provide shelter and food for several days if needed. Life jackets are checked on leaving the ship. On landing the jacket is taken and given back when returning, another check that everyone is accounted for.

Would you like to be the 801st person ever to land on the remote Peter the 1st Island? Named for Piotr I a Czar of Russia, what a stark cheerless environment. Cocoa dark rock with patches of gulag toned snow and huge glaciers reaching into the sea challenged the zodiacs. Thick deposits of ice delineate the ridges, stopping abruptly at the vertical edge where the downside has plunged into the sea. There is an unearthly quiet with ghostly mist hovering on the lower edges graduating to thick pea soup on the ridges; truly a creepy place with a sinister feel.

The basalt cliffs are alive with Adele and Chinstrap penguins standing guard over their young, ever watchful of the sea and the weather. Timed to the wave sequence, beaching on the ice littered pebbled shore was awkward. The weather is turning nasty, limiting our time onshore. The last 3 zodiacs to return could not find a lead, a path through the pack ice. The ice had been clustering all afternoon assisted by currents and swells, the island’s mischief at work. Over and over again each zodiac tried to manoeuvre around the bergy bits (pieces of floating glacier ice up to 20 metres across, commonly derived from the disintegration of an iceberg). Tension swelled, drama unfolded, even the KK had to pull up anchor to steer clear of an iceberg. Concerned tones and anxious communications between the Captain and the zodiac drivers; instructions were issued and acted on. Finally everyone was safely on board. Weather conditions in the Antarctic can be savage, unpredictably changeable and can deteriorate rapidly.

At dinner I sat next to Betty who was in one of the zodiacs. Betty was excited and animated exclaiming they had a fantastic time stuck in the ice, declaring it was great fun viewing an iceberg up close and personal. Adding there was a lone penguin minding his own business when they cruised past; he was most bemused. The tourists were delighted and I expect this will be a highlight of their trip.

There were 89 passengers on board, full at 108; 18 Aussies the rest from USA, South Africa, Holland, Switzerland, Canada, Iceland, Spain, Brazil and Britain. Wild life photographers, nature lovers, people who want to mark another destination off the list and the enquiring. Computer makers, designers, film director, nuclear physicist, funeral director, retired folk, politician, Canadian Mounted Police, CEO’s, surgeons, environmentalist and activists. Some friendly; others reserved.

Listening to a lecture on “Shackleton and the Antarctic” illustrated what hardships the early explorers experienced, imagine sailing 800 kilometres in a boat 6 meters long in the Drake Passage for a month. Sure made our expedition a walk in the park with sandwiches provided.

Every day brought rapture and awe. Travelling south the night disappeared quickly, promising extra hours for animal spotting. You have to pinch yourself, but when you look out the porthole it is right there; audible, visible just an arms length away.

Along the Phantom Coast travelling was difficult, we travelled only 70 kilometres in one day; progress was hampered by pack-ice and pancake ice surrounded by grease ice like a loose fitting outer jumper with holes. Weaving and winding among the ice sculptures was like meandering through a garden filled with art, except we are in the gallery space called Antarctica. What an exhibition. With pack-ice all goes calm.

A helicopter ride to break the onboard routine was exhilarating, soaring above the KK witnessing it crushing and relentlessly breaking through the ice. We buzzed the ship from every direction. The ice was thicker with immense breakaways; the ship’s heaving motion fracturing the ice was far more dramatic from our mobile crows nest.

Not only is the scenery fabulous, the food on board the KK is gourmet complete with pastry chef. A printed 3 course dinner menu was published daily. My personal favourite was High Tea which consisted of 3 choices of cakes, slices and homemade biscuits. One day there was a choice of 4 different ice-creams with all the associated add-ons: nuts, sprinkles, coconut, wafers, wafers with chocolate centres and a choice of toppings; talk about children in a lolly shop!! Adults debating the merits of sprinkles versus nuts, accompanied by the sounds of metal on metal as the last spoons are greedily moved around the dish.

Without the icebreaker’s design and power, progress would be impossible; we are living in the Antarctic. Have climbed the stairs all day from the 3rd deck for a swim and sauna, 4 for meals, 5 for library and art classes, 7 for lectures and movies, living on the 8th deck, the radio man is on the 9th and the bridge is on the 10th. Then you think I might go to the forward deck and lookout for penguins and seals, so it begins again, down to the 3rd floor and forward, oops!! I should have the other lens. Get rugged up, go on zodiac and helicopter excursions; get changed and comfortable, so it goes. No complaints this is great fun.

Life on board is casual and informal, you can do a little or lots; lectures, classes, reading, nature spotting. One day when garaged in the ice a few brave or foolish souls joined the Antarctic swimming club. Membership is free; all you need is a swimming costume, and you jump into the freezing frigid brine. All are now full members. The gangplank was lowered; we provided the crowd, the Russian sailors the safety lines and Quark the anti-freeze (Vodka).

Another festivity was our arrival to the Ross Ice Shelf, hot chocolate with rum on the forward deck, what merriment!! We milled around like a garden party with our cups and idle chatter. In lieu of hats there was an interesting assortment of woolly beanies, fur Russian style bonnets, penguin patterned Ushuaia knitted pull ons, even a very English bird watching hat; all nodding greetings to fellow adventures.

Like all good holidays, regrettably they end. Leaving the Ross Sea, our last destination in the Antarctic is Cape Adare with its rookery of 250,000 nesting Adelie penguin. A penguin colony is like a fun fair carpark; hectic with lots of waddling noisy tuxedo jaywalkers whiffing of fishy wet bird.

Gazing towards the sea the location is magnificent, a perfect summer’s day. I scanned the horizon trying to memorise the scenery in my mind’s eye to take home and revisit regularly. We exited through an arbour of icebergs, each parting as if tell us it was now time to leave this ethereal phenomenon.

Heading north on the homeward journey, 1,200 kilometres to Campbell Island, with 500 kilometres through ice. Growlers and brash ice vie for space on the gentle undulations of the ocean swells. Rice white colour they bulge and glide on top of a dark olive black fathomless liquid called the ocean like a slow waltz, intimate and connected.

Fridtjof Nansen – “Strange there is always sadness on departure. It is as if I cannot after all bear to leave this bleak waste of ice, glaciers, cold and toil”.

I too felt sad leaving the Antarctic, what an odyssey. The imagery will remain with me forever; isolated beauty, vast starkness, the profound silence and its animals, entertaining, proud and majestic.

Out of the pack ice and into open water, the night is coming back. The Southern Ocean encircles Antarctica and contains the point on Earth that is farthest from any land (2,575 km). It is one of the most tempestuous waters in the world with dramatic winds, waves and ocean currents. Below the Roaring 40’s come the Filthy 50’s, the Screaming 60’s then the Serene 70’s.

Antarctica defies adjectives. I trust you too have enjoyed the journey and will look forward to the next instalment.

Author: Jan Thompson
E-mail: jan@pcandjt.com
Website: www.pcandjt.com