Lemaire Channel
There are times when words fail you, when the soul hits a glorious chord which empties your mind of everything but the scene before your eyes. This is just such a time, in the Lemaire Channel, Antarctica.
After a week in which we have seen one spectacle trumped by another, today has beaten them all. We are in a clear window between two deep lows sweeping the southern ocean, which leaves the Antarctic Peninsula in a wonderful calm. Last night we were up late on deck watching two Humpback Whales herding krill like two seasoned sheepdogs. Working in tandem, one played outrider while the other dove to panic the shoal to the surface. For a moment the sea was stippled grey as the krill hit the surface, only to erupt seconds later, engulfed from below by the black maw of the surfacing whale.
This morning we paused alongside Cuverville Island and threaded our way through icebergs to reach a penguin beach, where gentoos careered through the shallows chasing fizzing shrimps. This afternoon we cruised in Zodiacs under the cliffs of Paradise Bay, the rippled rocks splashed yellow with lichens and streaked blue with malachite.
And now…. the glorious final chord: the Lemaire Channel at sunset, a flooded V-shaped canyon whose deep black waters are covered with sea-ice pancakes like white lily-pads. Either side huge spires of rock soar upwards like the towers of a giant chateau, their tops crowned with a cap of snow and a breath of lilac cloud. Mountains created by fire and chiseled by ice, a magic kingdom frozen in time.
There are times when words fail you, when the soul hits a glorious chord which empties your mind of everything but the scene before your eyes. This is just such a time, in the Lemaire Channel, Antarctica.
After a week in which we have seen one spectacle trumped by another, today has beaten them all. We are in a clear window between two deep lows sweeping the southern ocean, which leaves the Antarctic Peninsula in a wonderful calm. Last night we were up late on deck watching two Humpback Whales herding krill like two seasoned sheepdogs. Working in tandem, one played outrider while the other dove to panic the shoal to the surface. For a moment the sea was stippled grey as the krill hit the surface, only to erupt seconds later, engulfed from below by the black maw of the surfacing whale.
This morning we paused alongside Cuverville Island and threaded our way through icebergs to reach a penguin beach, where gentoos careered through the shallows chasing fizzing shrimps. This afternoon we cruised in Zodiacs under the cliffs of Paradise Bay, the rippled rocks splashed yellow with lichens and streaked blue with malachite.
And now…. the glorious final chord: the Lemaire Channel at sunset, a flooded V-shaped canyon whose deep black waters are covered with sea-ice pancakes like white lily-pads. Either side huge spires of rock soar upwards like the towers of a giant chateau, their tops crowned with a cap of snow and a breath of lilac cloud. Mountains created by fire and chiseled by ice, a magic kingdom frozen in time.
