Gordon Island
All travelers know the value of serendipity. Perhaps you miss your train but in the station afterwards strike up a conversation which leads to an enduring friendship; or sudden hunger pangs in an unfamiliar part of a strange city force you to try a dingy little restaurant which turns out to have wonderful food and an owner who sings opera while he cooks. On our final day along the shores of the great white continent serendipity forced our hand and then rewarded us richly for our flexibility.
Around the tip of the Antarctic Peninsula enormous tabular icebergs blocked the entrance to Antarctic Sound. Our planned destinations lay beyond, in waters now inaccessible to us, what could we do? Putting their heads together, our captain and expedition leader rapidly hatched an alternate plan; not far away lay Gordon Island, a rocky little bit of land just off the northernmost point of the Antarctic continent. Though seldom visited it was known from a decades-old survey to have a few hundred penguins, maybe it would be worth a look.
Picking his way among the great mesas of ice, the captain brought us in to the eastern shore of the island and we set out in the Zodiacs to have a look. Immediately it became clear that the surveys were indeed quite of date. Tens of thousands of Adelie Penguins carpeted the low hills and crowded the icy shores. Smaller groups of Chinstraps and Gentoos stood here and there among the masses of their cousins and a few Weddell seals lounged on snow banks near the landing. A short hike to the top of the hills gave a breathtaking view over the masses of ice surrounding the island and the mountains of the Antarctic Peninsula beyond. All morning long we wandered from one beautiful scene to another and many of us, guests and staff alike, agreed that it was the best landing of the trip, made all the better by the pleasure of its unexpected discovery.
Not one to miss this kind of opportunity, I went out for a bit of submarine discovery, lowering our ROV into the unknown depths among the grounded icebergs. At 300 feet I found a magically beautiful world. So clear was the water at this time of the Antarctic spring that a beautiful blue light, like the heart of an aquamarine, penetrated to the gravel sea floor, a realm normally locked in eternal night. Everywhere there was life. Sea stars, crinoids and sea cucumbers carpeted the bottom, reaching up with eager arms for the rain of organic detritus which would soon begin as the spring advanced. Juvenile fish hid within dense colonies of fern-like bryozoans and an unfamiliar hydroid, as delicate and beautiful as a dandelion, stood above a patch of bright orange sponges. Flying the ROV along ridges of gravel bulldozed up by passing icebergs, I was simply astounded. It was one of the richest and most beautiful undersea environments I have ever encountered, in the Antarctic or anywhere else. The ooohs and aaahs resounding in the lounge when I later shared what I had recorded confirmed my opinion.
A little known island with penguins galore, stunning Antarctic scenery, clear seas full of unfamiliar species and considerable scientific interest, all elements of an unplanned but near perfect day. Once again the trials of travel had led us to the special joys of serendipity.
All travelers know the value of serendipity. Perhaps you miss your train but in the station afterwards strike up a conversation which leads to an enduring friendship; or sudden hunger pangs in an unfamiliar part of a strange city force you to try a dingy little restaurant which turns out to have wonderful food and an owner who sings opera while he cooks. On our final day along the shores of the great white continent serendipity forced our hand and then rewarded us richly for our flexibility.
Around the tip of the Antarctic Peninsula enormous tabular icebergs blocked the entrance to Antarctic Sound. Our planned destinations lay beyond, in waters now inaccessible to us, what could we do? Putting their heads together, our captain and expedition leader rapidly hatched an alternate plan; not far away lay Gordon Island, a rocky little bit of land just off the northernmost point of the Antarctic continent. Though seldom visited it was known from a decades-old survey to have a few hundred penguins, maybe it would be worth a look.
Picking his way among the great mesas of ice, the captain brought us in to the eastern shore of the island and we set out in the Zodiacs to have a look. Immediately it became clear that the surveys were indeed quite of date. Tens of thousands of Adelie Penguins carpeted the low hills and crowded the icy shores. Smaller groups of Chinstraps and Gentoos stood here and there among the masses of their cousins and a few Weddell seals lounged on snow banks near the landing. A short hike to the top of the hills gave a breathtaking view over the masses of ice surrounding the island and the mountains of the Antarctic Peninsula beyond. All morning long we wandered from one beautiful scene to another and many of us, guests and staff alike, agreed that it was the best landing of the trip, made all the better by the pleasure of its unexpected discovery.
Not one to miss this kind of opportunity, I went out for a bit of submarine discovery, lowering our ROV into the unknown depths among the grounded icebergs. At 300 feet I found a magically beautiful world. So clear was the water at this time of the Antarctic spring that a beautiful blue light, like the heart of an aquamarine, penetrated to the gravel sea floor, a realm normally locked in eternal night. Everywhere there was life. Sea stars, crinoids and sea cucumbers carpeted the bottom, reaching up with eager arms for the rain of organic detritus which would soon begin as the spring advanced. Juvenile fish hid within dense colonies of fern-like bryozoans and an unfamiliar hydroid, as delicate and beautiful as a dandelion, stood above a patch of bright orange sponges. Flying the ROV along ridges of gravel bulldozed up by passing icebergs, I was simply astounded. It was one of the richest and most beautiful undersea environments I have ever encountered, in the Antarctic or anywhere else. The ooohs and aaahs resounding in the lounge when I later shared what I had recorded confirmed my opinion.
A little known island with penguins galore, stunning Antarctic scenery, clear seas full of unfamiliar species and considerable scientific interest, all elements of an unplanned but near perfect day. Once again the trials of travel had led us to the special joys of serendipity.
