Antarctica, Northwest Peninsula
We awoke very early (0530 hours) to a pronouncement echoing through the speakers of each stateroom and passageway. “Miracles do happen,” the excited voice said. A glimpse outside made believers of each and everyone. The sun was shining brilliantly and the sky was that shade of blue that can be found only where the air is clean and crisp. Crowds gathered on all the observation decks as we cruised the shore of Brabant Island. Glaciers cascaded from valleys embraced by sculpted peaks. Ice scours the rocks, leaving jagged remnants like claws stretching to the heavens. From the heights ridges of snow extended downward, their edges sharped by shadows in the early light. But the harshness of the scene was modified and softened by sinuous swerving lines. Pillow-like piles of new fallen snow crowned each spire. The brittle glacial ice fractured into curving crevasses as it moved downslope and calved conchoidally at the edges. Lenticular clouds condensed above the mountains and when grasped by the wind fragmented into cottony puffs. As we absorbed the beauty of narrow Pampa Passage, the decision was made to “repeat the trip” in the sunshine.
So it was across the Gerlache Strait we went again dipping into narrow Errera Strait by Cuverville Island. In places the navy water had a rippled nap like old and comfortable corduroy, the ridges broken and worn. Where breezes were held at bay the water’s surface was a sapphire mirror pulling the terrestrial scenes onto its surface. Within this transparency the turquoise roots of bergs created lighted stages for graceful torpedo-like bodies of penguin crowds. Photographers spun in place and dashed from port to starboard, bow to bridge wishing they could be everywhere at once. The orange huts of Gabriel Gonzalez Videla station marked the entrance to Paradise Bay. We had been here yesterday in a dimensionless world, our vision limited by silent snow. Today we gave the bay a shape and form and all agreed it is indeed divine. Clouds began to blot away the blue as the ship inched closer and closer to an arching berg where gentoo penguins popped from the sea onto its inviting lip.
There was time for a tiny nap as the ship once again navigated the width of the Gerlache Strait and into Peltier Channel. Every corner seemed to be impeded by solid ice. Glacial faces bore blue scars where recent calvings stripped away the skin. Wiencke Island was the destination for our last landing in the land of ice and snow. It was time for more photography. Weathered granite boulders were our stepping stones to shore. One moved. Perfectly camouflaged a Weddell seal posed among noisy gentoo covered mounds. Moments were snatched for individual reflection and to say our own goodbyes to this magical land where time and space blend with majesty and silence. And now we point our bow to the north and look to the Drake.
