Our guests aboard National Geographic Endeavour were exploring Genovesa Island when our naturalist noticed a pregnant sea lion about to give birth. They waited a few minutes and saw the baby sea lions first few minutes of life.
The Antarctic Peninsula separates the warm maritime climate of the Bellingshausen Sea to the west and the cold, dry continental climate of the Weddell Sea to the east. Thus far, we have been traveling and working along the western edge, but this morning, we crossed the tip and passed into a different world. For one, there is a notable nip to the air and a jacket is requisite for even a quick foray to the ship deck. Second, our idea of icebergs now takes on a whole new meaning, as enormous tabular icebergs now dominate the landscape. These floating fortresses often dwarf our ship and come in beautiful, strange shapes, sculpted by the interplay of water and air.
Our first stop, Brown Bluff, on the northeastern tip of the Antarctic Peninsula, is a penguin paradise. Slick rounded stones and a gentle grade allow the penguins easy access to the ocean and their abundant food supply. As we pull up to the shore, beautiful blue-white icebergs rock gently in the relatively calm, shallow waters of the bay. Gentoo penguins surround us as we walk down the beach. These gentle, docile creatures waddle to and fro, enjoying the fading moments of the Antarctic summer. The penguins here are in various stages of molting, pushing out their down feathers in preparation for the long, cold, Antarctic winter ahead. For the first time in the history of the Extreme Ice Survey, we will be installing a camera, not to photograph a calving face of a glacier, but to photograph another face, or to be precise, many, many faces. These cameras will watch a large Adélie penguin colony, or at least we hope it will. For now, we must be happy with a few stragglers and an odorous landscape of guano and rocks.
The Adélies, who are now out at sea, will return around September, filling this landscape with thousands of nesting pairs. Adélie penguins are feeling the impacts of the warming climate acutely. Increased temperatures, coupled with decreased sea ice and increased snowfall are acting in concert to drive these penguins further south along the peninsula. Over the next few years, these cameras will capture so much: the land, the sea, the wildlife, the ice as well as the coming and going of seasons, the colony as it grows and shrinks then grows again. No doubt there will be many other surprises that will reveal themselves with time, but until then, we must wait. This marks the sixth and seventh cameras deployed since leaving Ushuaia, and from our standpoint, one of the more aesthetically pleasing installation sites.
The cameras at Brown Bluff come on the heels of another successful camera installation at Cierva Cove. The jaw-dropping beauty of Cierva is hard to translate into words. Here, skua birds, numbering in the hundreds soar overhead, sometimes diving and swooping close when we cross some unseen boundary around their nests. We respect their claim and find alternate routes to get to our final destination, which is a rock outcropping overlooking the glacier and the sea. From our perch high on the cliffs overlooking the calving face of the Cierva Cove glacier, these cameras will record time and movement of this dramatic scene; in the process creating a visual preservation of what this glacier is now, and what it will transform into in the future.
The weather on the peninsula has been forgiving to us and it’s hard to believe we made it through the last few days without a dark sky or stiff breeze. Tonight we turn our attention further north to South Georgia Island, again faced with the potentially volatile waters of the southern ocean. The Captain says it’s looking a bit gusty.
Visit EarthVisionTrust.org to discover how the images gathered by the Extreme Ice Survey network of time-lapse cameras clearly demonstrate the effects of Climate Change.
Photos Courtesy of Extreme Ice Survey ©Earth Vision Trust
by Dan McGrath, Resident Scientist, Earth Vision Trust.
The faint glow of the soon to be rising sun welcomes our arrival as we nose into Andvord Bay on the western Antarctic Peninsula. We passed unscathed through the Drake Passage thanks to calm conditions and quickly motored south to 64˚ 50’. Here, the glaciers literally fall off the mountains around us, with cascading icefalls and crumbling seracs lining the mirror calm waters of the un-charted inner Neko Harbor. Adélie penguins playfully wander around on a small iceberg near the ship and in the distance, ripples emanate from the minke whale that just surfaced. The Captain wakes us from our near-dream state to notify us that the Zodiac is being lowered on the starboard side and it’s time to load our equipment.
As we pull ashore, the sun peeks out from behind the spine of the peninsula, with golden rays bathing the highest peaks down to the ice-choked bays. Gentoo penguin chicks encased in their fluffy down jackets chase their sleek ocean worthy parents around, hoping for another krill meal. We know we only have a few hours to deploy our first two cameras, but it’s hard to pull ourselves away from this shoreline and the nearly overwhelming sensory overload it presents. When we finally manage to, we steadily trudge up the snow slope with heavily laden packs, the batteries seemingly gaining weight by the step. Odd shaped aluminum towers, tripod arms, and camera housings awkwardly protrude from our loads. We reach the first crest and in the distance, silhouetted against the glacier’s calving front is a narrow rock rib. The team agrees that this is our spot and starts a rising track to reach this point. The main structure is quickly bolted into place; taut guy wires quickly follow, ensuring that our cameras survive the brutal wind and snow that will soon punish them. Next up are the solar panels and batteries, quickly followed by the two camera housings. James intuitively arranges the housings, aligning the Nikon D3200’s point of view to match our envisioned expectations. The crackle of the VHF radio brings a reminder that the ship will be pulling anchor in 45 minutes and well, we better be there! With a final push of the “Test” button, Matt waits for the reassuring “Click” of the shutter before snapping the cases closed. We snap a few final photos of the installation, quickly repack our tools and scamper down the slippery slope towards the landing. We board the Zodiac and push through the thick brash ice towards the National Geographic Explorer with barely a few minutes to spare.
Back on board, we frantically charge our drill and camera batteries, while simultaneously scarfing down lunch. In what seems like ten minutes, Lisa, the Expedition Leader, announces that we’ll be dropping anchor in Orne Harbor shortly, where we hope to install an additional camera this afternoon. We repack our bags and rush down to the loading hatch, where the Zodiac already awaits us. We pile the gear high and head to shore. The local welcoming committee, a rather gregarious group of fur seals, momentarily squabbles about our presence before resuming their afternoon nap. Up the hill we go again, with the late afternoon sun pouring down on us. We reach a rocky ridge 500 feet above the bay, where we turn left up a steep ridgeline. The glacier pours down the valley in the near distance, full of deep blue shades, sharp cracks, and wonderful shapes. This site is a bit trickier—an exposed perch precipitously hanging over what feels to be the ocean. Matt and I establish an anchor and quickly get to work. The wall mount goes up, the guy wires go out, the solar panels get bolted on; our patient eyes quickly begin to take shape. Matt runs through the final checks again and before long, we’re latching the case closed.
Walking down to the boat, with the sun just starting to dip low in the sky, it’s hard to believe that the alarm at 4:30 a.m. was actually earlier today—it truly feels like it could have been a week ago. The past 14 hours have been incredible; a day filled with alpenglow light, breaching whales, warm mid-day sun, curious penguins, and cascading glaciers—all capped by three cameras now capturing a visual record of the world around them. There’s no time to rest though, tomorrow is another opportunity and we’re currently organizing our equipment and charging our batteries for two more installations. Fingers crossed that the good weather continues!
Photos Courtesy of Extreme Ice Survey ©Earth Vision Trust
By The Extreme Ice Survey, aboard National Geographic Explorer
Before you can install time-lapse cameras in Antarctica, you have to get there, which is no small task coming from our home base of Boulder, CO. Getting to the small port town of Ushuaia, Argentina (the southern-most town in the world), you must take three flights stretched out over two sleep-deprived days. Then there is the luggage which is basically a heaping pile of overstuffed duffle bags bursting at the zippers with fragile cameras and timers, as well as, heavy climbing equipment and warm clothes. We ruminate constantly about delayed flights and lost baggage–forever an expedition’s beginning hurdle.
Driving down the cruise ship-lined wharf in Ushuaia, we are met by the friendly Lindblad Expeditions crew, collect our coveted and complete bags, and walk aboard the National Geographic Explorer–our home for the next 21 days. The Explorer, as it’s commonly referred to, stretches over 300 feet long and dons the familiar golden rectangle signifying Lindblad Expeditions alliance with National Geographic. She is an impressive ship, meticulously maintained, and at a glance appears to be the most seaworthy vessel at the dock. Lindblad Expeditions has been generous enough to support our ambitious goal to deploy 12 time-lapse cameras all along the Antarctic Peninsula and on South Georgia Island.
The Antarctic Peninsula is one of the fastest warming regions of our planet. The ongoing changes here are a likely precursor to future changes that may occur throughout the continent if warming continues as predicted. Over the next three weeks we will use the Explorer as home base and install our time-lapse cameras as conditions allow. The goal is to let the cameras take a photo every hour for at least the next five years, and in the process, amass a visual record of these dramatic changes on the Peninsula. Zodiacs will transport us from the ship to our landings, we will have a short 3-hour window to hike to our site, deploy the cameras, and return to the ship. Conditions on the ground can range from sunny and 30˚F to biting cold, with gusty winds and sideways snow or sleet. We hold high hopes for the former, but come prepared for the latter. Either way, by sunburnt noses, frost nipped fingers, or soaked feet, we will have our first Nikon D3200 time-lapse camera installed within the next 36-48 hours.
The sun is now setting behind the mountains of Tierra del Fuego National Park, and the ship is moving smoothly through the benign waters of the Beagle Channel en route for the Drake Passage, 580 nautical miles of open water that separates us from Antarctica and home to some of the most unpredictable and rough seas in the world. Our crates of time-lapse equipment, which we had last seen back at a University of Colorado shipping yard this past November, are patiently waiting for us on the back deck of the Explorer. This could be our last chance to take advantage of calm seas and mild temperatures to pre-assemble as much equipment as possible, so we are building camera mounts, preparing our battery cases and wiring solar panels, all to quicken our deployments on the other side of the Drake. We’ll fasten our crates down tight tonight–who knows what the sea will bring tomorrow.
The highlands of Santa Cruz stretch into passing weather systems, the clouds sticking around the island peaks and dropping enough rain for farming. While the islands are still largely unpopulated, there are a handful of famers on Santa Cruz. We have had a long relationship with one of those farmers, he and his family choosing to produce shade-grown coffee and sugarcane products. We invited him aboard our ship National Geographic Endeavour to explore more of the islands where he’s grown up.
When spring arrives on the Sub-Antarctic Island of South Georgia, the southern elephant seals aren’t getting any more milk from their moms, so they look to whoever’s there for a handout. (Don’t worry, we didn’t give them any.) If you’re interested in exploring South Georgia, join us here in March this year—these seal pups will be all grown up!
National Geographic Orion’s inaugural expedition is quickly approaching—and just last week we made arrangements for a new expedition experience. Guests aboard Cultures of the South Pacific: New Zealand to the Solomons, the first segment of our two-part inaugural expedition, will see the ancient tradition of land-diving, which is still practiced on remote Pentecost Island in Vanuatu. This rite of passage and agricultural fertility ritual is an amazing spectacle to witness, and the islanders will begin their season with a special presentation for our guests. See young men leap headfirst from a high platform with nothing but vines tied to their ankles to arrest their fall, just as their ancestors have done for centuries. There still a few cabins available on both expeditions in our inaugural series: Cultures of the South Pacific: New Zealand to the Solomons (Mar. 19, 2014), where we’ll see land-diving; and on Historic Isles and Undersea Wonders: The Solomons to the Great Barrier Reef (Mar. 30, 2014) where the focus is on exploring the incredible reefs and undersea life.
The leopard seal is the Antarctic’s apex predator, a creature that has no reason to fear anything in its environment, so they’ll often show curiosity towards humans and try to determine just what these strange interlopers are doing in their domain.
This week as our guests explored South Georgia Island, a rare opportunity presented itself. A weather window opened that could allow us to land at South Orkney Island, a place we haven’t visited in three years. While on a routine dive, our undersea specialist Justin Hofman saw a leopard seal. He sent this video from the ship. (And this is only a few weeks after he was approached by a southern right whale while diving off Patagonia.)
Yesterday’s dawn found our guests aboard National Geographic Explorer landing at St. Andrew’s Bay on South Georgia Island. Our Director of Expedition Photography Ralph Lee Hopkins sent back this shot of a welcoming committee of king penguins greeting our guests. Right now, Explorer is landing at South Orkney Island, an impromptu stop taking advantage of conditions. If South Georgia Island is on your list, we’ll be returning March 2014—and there are still cabins available.