Antarctic Sound
Morning unfolded behind a gauzy curtain of moisture suspended in the air. Massive shapes and forms loomed all around, just beyond the definition of our vision. Nearby the sapphire water was littered with ice floes that had once been interlocked together like a giant puzzle which we could no longer reconstruct. As the veil disintegrated a massive wall of ice took form directly in our passage, its edges sharp and perfect. Tabular bergs surrounded us. On the bridge the Captain and helmsman worked as one. Words were the neurotransmitters carrying the command from the eyes and mind of the Captain to the hands placed upon the wheel as we threaded our way through the ice. The navigator carefully plotted our course.
Land appeared among the ice here at the northwest tip of the Trinity Peninsula. The tide was high as our Zodiacs deposited us on the icy rim of tiny Gourdin Island. We were but few in number compared to the inhabitants already there. All three species of Pygoscelis penguins paraded by in their busy routine of life. Adelies predominated but enclaves of chinstraps and gentoos could also be found. From shoreline to ridgeline every plot of land that could be developed as a nest site had been and the murmur of a busy community drifted through the air. Chunky ovoid forms nestled in cups of stones, their eggs protected and warm. Attentive mates still brought gifts of new pebbles stolen stealthfully from an unsuspecting neighbor. Crowds of tuxedo clad birds collected at the shoreline like commuters waiting for a bus. Red-coated photographers waited patiently on the periphery, lenses poised ready to capture the exodus. Bodies pressed forward, hesitated and then all turned as one to rush to another “track.” Finally the right moment appeared to arrive and a cascading wave of life plunged to the water below. Fortunately we learned from their technique. One by one our line moved ahead and we exited via a sliding descent into helping arms in a Zodiac below. Apparently the penguins here are tolerant not only of other penquin types but of larger bipedal species as well for one promptly cut in line and leaped. Its reaction could only be interpreted as shock as it discovered itself not in its comfortable watery world but in a hard-bottomed boat!
Buffeted by wind we stood mesmerized all afternoon as the ship cruised through the Antarctic Sound and back again. Charcoal clouds drifted behind glimmering bergs and light danced at the edges of shadows. Katabatic winds snatched at the snow on mountain tops, roaring downslope polishing the hillsides into slick icy mirrors. It continued racing downward to encounter the sea where it whirled lifting the whitecaps skyward in tornado-like columns. And the show continues on late into the night as the ship gently rocks. Some of us sleep and others are still on deck, cameras pointed at the indescribable world we find ourselves in.
Morning unfolded behind a gauzy curtain of moisture suspended in the air. Massive shapes and forms loomed all around, just beyond the definition of our vision. Nearby the sapphire water was littered with ice floes that had once been interlocked together like a giant puzzle which we could no longer reconstruct. As the veil disintegrated a massive wall of ice took form directly in our passage, its edges sharp and perfect. Tabular bergs surrounded us. On the bridge the Captain and helmsman worked as one. Words were the neurotransmitters carrying the command from the eyes and mind of the Captain to the hands placed upon the wheel as we threaded our way through the ice. The navigator carefully plotted our course.
Land appeared among the ice here at the northwest tip of the Trinity Peninsula. The tide was high as our Zodiacs deposited us on the icy rim of tiny Gourdin Island. We were but few in number compared to the inhabitants already there. All three species of Pygoscelis penguins paraded by in their busy routine of life. Adelies predominated but enclaves of chinstraps and gentoos could also be found. From shoreline to ridgeline every plot of land that could be developed as a nest site had been and the murmur of a busy community drifted through the air. Chunky ovoid forms nestled in cups of stones, their eggs protected and warm. Attentive mates still brought gifts of new pebbles stolen stealthfully from an unsuspecting neighbor. Crowds of tuxedo clad birds collected at the shoreline like commuters waiting for a bus. Red-coated photographers waited patiently on the periphery, lenses poised ready to capture the exodus. Bodies pressed forward, hesitated and then all turned as one to rush to another “track.” Finally the right moment appeared to arrive and a cascading wave of life plunged to the water below. Fortunately we learned from their technique. One by one our line moved ahead and we exited via a sliding descent into helping arms in a Zodiac below. Apparently the penguins here are tolerant not only of other penquin types but of larger bipedal species as well for one promptly cut in line and leaped. Its reaction could only be interpreted as shock as it discovered itself not in its comfortable watery world but in a hard-bottomed boat!
Buffeted by wind we stood mesmerized all afternoon as the ship cruised through the Antarctic Sound and back again. Charcoal clouds drifted behind glimmering bergs and light danced at the edges of shadows. Katabatic winds snatched at the snow on mountain tops, roaring downslope polishing the hillsides into slick icy mirrors. It continued racing downward to encounter the sea where it whirled lifting the whitecaps skyward in tornado-like columns. And the show continues on late into the night as the ship gently rocks. Some of us sleep and others are still on deck, cameras pointed at the indescribable world we find ourselves in.
