Tag Archives: Antartica

Is that a tuxedo you’re wearing?

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The story continues…..

Deception Island is an introduction to the ice, and on subsequent landings further south things, get icier. And snowier. The expedition team always go ashore first and set up safe walking tracks, away from crevasses, loose banks or other dangers, marking the route with flags. We’re also to keep five metres away from the wildlife, and are grateful for the restriction when we see how far a penguin can shoot its shit. Colonies of shit splattered penguins can be seen from space, and, I kid you not, there are scientific papers about penguin poop.

It’s fascinating to watch them swimming, presumably out to go fishing. You see a broad ripple in the water, then a battalion of black torpedoes skittering across the surface before an imperceptible message, and, as one, they all dive and disappear.

Getting off the zodiacs onto land is easy enough and the crew are always there to make sure everyone is safe and doesn’t take an unscheduled swim. The snow is heavy going and using a couple of walking poles helps.  This is what we’re here for.  Kilometres of snow and ice, towering mountains, thousands of penguins. Here, as long as I keep distance from people as well as penguins, it’s possible to ‘hear’ the silence, if only the penguins would stop shouting at each other.

If you are hoping for photos of polar bears, you’ll be disappointed. Wrong end of the world. The Antarctic is a frozen land surrounded by sea, populated by seals and penguins. It also holds about 70% of the world’s fresh water. Up north, the Arctic is a frozen sea surrounded by land and therefore has lots of land mammals, such as polar bears and arctic foxes. The seals are different species, and there’s no penguins, but they do have puffins, which are really just as charming.

I am no David Attenborough, but the experts on board are many and various, so we learn a lot. Most of which we’ll forget. Enthusiastic and passionate about their specialist subjects their delivery ranges from funny and engaging – such as Magnus, an historian who has also worked in kids TV, so you get the picture – to detailed and sleep inducing – I’m looking at the geologist here. Universally, the crew from Captain to cleaner are fantastic.

The expedition crew schedule a final zodiac trip late on our last Antarctic evening. The schedule would have us depart the next day after another stop, but the Captain wants to head back across Drake Passage ahead of some foul weather that’s forecast, and we’re all in favour of that. It is snowing softly as we cruise past a lazy Weddell seal oblivious to the penguin foreplay around him. Up high, a colony of Chinstrap penguins range along the ridge, looking like an Apache war party in a B grade western. It could not be a more perfect goodbye.


So what was Antarctica like?

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It is commonly said that if you can describe Antartica you haven’t been there. I say, bullshit. I can describe it, but I can’t help you feel it, and none of us can really grasp it. A trip to the coldest, driest, windiest place on Earth offers the perfect blend of adventure and discomfort. You know you are alive. 

Someone, possibly the Captain of our fabulous Fridtjof Nansen Arctic class exploration ship, has been very, very good, and the reward is perfect conditions for the 48 hour transit of the notoriously difficult Drake Passage from Cape Horn to the Antarctic Peninsula. So good, we can land and go ashore at Cape Horn, but more on that later. 

In the meantime we all swan about congratulating each other on the flat seas and almost zero wind, as if we had something to do with it. We hear the crew, stunned and disbelieving, muttering it’s never like this, and in five years I’ve never had conditions in the Drake this calm.  The Cassandras among us foresee doom ahead. 

There are three landings at different places on the ice and several other forays around the icebergs and shoreline in the zodiacs.  I LOVE going out in the zodiacs.  Obviously it’s cold, freezing point or thereabouts. So start with a thermal layer, then another medium weight merino top, a puffer jacket, wind and waterproof top layer with waterproof over trousers, good socks under rubber boots (provided), and add gloves, neck warmer, and hat as required. Hello Michelin wo/man.  Oh, and sunglasses – it’s bright down here. We soon become expert at climbing in and out of the zodiacs with kilos of clothes on, a skill that will be useless anywhere else.

The expedition crew allocate everyone to a group, and so landings and zodiac cruises are called to the boarding deck by name.  There are restrictions on how many people are allowed on land at one time, so the crew work is very well organised, and smoothly efficient.  Our group is the Gentoo penguins – which must be better than being elephant seals.

Cruising through chunks of ice and massive icebergs is beautiful. The water is so clear it’s possible to see the bergs extend below the water line. The colours are vibrant: white ice, with a bright teal below. Several times when we’re out on the zodiacs it’s snowing, so there’s a powdery layer of fresh snow cresting the ice, giving a subtly different shade and texture of white.  

At times there’s a slash of intense blue in densely packed ice where air bubbles are squeezed out. We also see this in the glaciers carving their way down, creating future valleys. The compacted ice absorbs longer wavelengths of colours, allowing shorter wavelengths, like green and blue, to reflect the light. Science eh?

We approach massive icebergs, keeping a respectful distance as they can roll or break without notice. It’s difficult to estimate the height of a huge berg when you’re sitting in a little boat, but the largest one we approach is roughly 10 stories high. Half way back to base, I look from the iceberg to our exploration ship, and the berg dwarfs the ship. 

It is very serene, especially when you ask the zodiac skipper to shut down the engine and just sit. The icebergs crackle at times, they’re always melting both underwater and above, so it feels like they’re alive. In the same way glaciers calve, hunks of iceberg fall into the water. But without man made noise it seems silent – at least until some muppet can’t resist the urge to say how quiet it is. 

Our first landing is on Deception Island, the caldera of an active volcano – yes, I too wonder at this wisdom of this.  Visions of Whakari White Island are fresh in the New Zealanders’ minds.  However those visions are pushed aside by the excitement of landing on the ice.  There’s a welcoming committee of a couple of penguins, but they are mainly there to laugh at those who take up the challenge of a polar plunge. Yes, some fools disrobe and tempt hypothermia by briefly, very briefly, immersing themselves in the literally freezing water. My baby brother was one such fool, leaving his lovely wife wondering why she ever married him. We did warn her. 

Subsequent landings involve a lot more penguins, but you’ll have to wait for the next instalment- this is getting a bit long.

Bet you’re not so jealous now

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Fourteen beautiful, in fact unbelievable, calm cruising days and we are heading back to Ushuaia, the southernmost town/port in Argentina. Currently we’re out of the protected waters of the Antartic peninsula and into a heaving swell with 80 kph winds, we sleepily waken to an urgent announcement from the Captain: “Code Bravo, Code Bravo, all crew to stations”. 

The internet crashes as passengers start googling. What the hell is Code Bravo? It can’t be good. Rather slightly more serious than a code brown at the local swimming pool. Code Bravo is to alert the crew to a FIRE or serious hazardous incident – without alarming the passengers. Hello! Have you heard of the internet?

Before total panic sets in, the Captain is back: all crew stand down except those directly involved. In this case where there’s smoke there’s no fire, but it’s still serious. 

Long story short: we have over 700 kms to cross Drake passage (which is far from the millpond we had on the way to Antartica) and our starboard engine is out. Kaput. Dead. Off its perch. There’s been an electrical short in the propulsion system and a split hose means there’s coolant all through the unit. This is not getting fixed any time soon. 

An engineer from the manufacturer will fly down from Norway to Ushuaia. The on board engineers do the diagnostics. But none of that helps us now, wallowing in the churning seas. Heads will roll somewhere, as just prior to our trip the ship had its first five year full refit in Panama. This is three weeks when everything is checked and replaced as necessary. 

So, the adventure many people wish for begins. One engine, 6-8 metres swells smashing the ship and 70-80 mph winds. Our speed is reduced to 9 knots because a) one engine, and b) sea conditions. 

I fully understand if your envy of our trip is now schadenfreude.

So the contingency plans begin. Initially the word is we will be 24 hours late into Ushuaia. An update a day later, as the weather improves and we can go a little faster, puts our arrival at about 12 hours late. 

This still has implications for the charter flights booked to take the 300 odd passengers to Buenos Aires, many with connecting flights to home or other parts of the world. Charter aircraft have other bookings, Buenos Aires has tight landing slots, the wharf at Ushuaia is very busy, and, as we miss our booked slot, negotiations commence. Oh, and we can’t unload the luggage as only Argentinian stevedores can do that, so they must be found and booked. What an excellent union they must have.

On the bright side, while we’ll be a day late to Buenos Aires, we get an extra night on board and can drink more Aperol Sours. And go ashore and experience the thrills of Ushuaia. 

In my last blog I said we had a rare chance to land at Cape Horn. We did, so major bragging rights. However the upload capabilities on the ship mean some of you have problems with the photos. So I’ll post another blog with photos when we, finally, get back on term firma. I may kiss the ground.