South of Cape Horn
The first day of a trip is often spent learning ship routine, becoming acquainted with your shipmates, having life boat muster and settling in after a long flight. Our first day began with Cape Horn sinking into the northern horizon with calm seas and mild breezes. Little did we know, as we steamed south toward Antarctica with wandering albatrosses in our wake, the excitement that lay ahead.
Robert Cushman Murphy traveled these waters aboard the brig, Daisy, on a trip that would make him the first Curator of Birds at the Museum of Natural History. When he spotted his first albatross he was to open a letter from his mentor about when he had seen his first albatross. Subsequently, when Robert Cushman Murphy wrote Logbook for Grace and recalled seeing his first albatross, he said, “I now belong to a higher cult of mortals, for I have seen the albatross.” Today, we joined that cult as wandering albatrosses crisscrossed our wake and took our breath away with their soaring abilities. We would have been no less impressed if each of us had suddenly taken wing.
But it was not the flight of the bird with the longest wingspan that captured the day. It was fliers of a different sort that filled the ship with excitement.
About two o’clock, with guests relaxing in the sun on the aft deck, the cry of “whale” went up. Some raced to the bridge to ask for a change in course and suddenly a placid afternoon became electric. With course change underway, cries went out, ‘there’, beyond the wake,’ ‘blows.’ It was the normal excitement that most whale spotting creates but this was just the beginning.
As we altered course, our expedition leader, Matt Drennan, and Undersea Specialist, Dennis Cornejo, decided that the seas were calm enough to put down a Zodiac with the underwater camera. While we all watched the pilot whales, the Zodiac closed slowly on the whales. Everyone crowded the rails, often shifting from starboard to port as the whales changed direction. Excitement was running high.
Suddenly, the cry went up from the crow’s nest that a whale was among the pilot whales and then a shout that dolphins were there too. For more than an hour we watched as whales and dolphins went about their activities while providing us with an extraordinary experience. And then as if planned, a minke whale appeared in the pilot whales’ midst and splashed energetically. Finally, it headed for the ship, rolled to show its white belly, then breached in front of the ship showing its yellowish belly covered with diatoms. By this time we were headed north and we decided to once again try to go south as the adrenaline levels headed back toward normal.
At the Captain’s reception, the video from the underwater camera was showed in the lounge. Without commentary, the film spoke volumes. Full of speed and grace, the images of hourglass dolphins and pilot whales filled our imaginations and transported us back to the excitement on the foredeck. The film ended as someone quipped, “And this was just day one.”
The first day of a trip is often spent learning ship routine, becoming acquainted with your shipmates, having life boat muster and settling in after a long flight. Our first day began with Cape Horn sinking into the northern horizon with calm seas and mild breezes. Little did we know, as we steamed south toward Antarctica with wandering albatrosses in our wake, the excitement that lay ahead.
Robert Cushman Murphy traveled these waters aboard the brig, Daisy, on a trip that would make him the first Curator of Birds at the Museum of Natural History. When he spotted his first albatross he was to open a letter from his mentor about when he had seen his first albatross. Subsequently, when Robert Cushman Murphy wrote Logbook for Grace and recalled seeing his first albatross, he said, “I now belong to a higher cult of mortals, for I have seen the albatross.” Today, we joined that cult as wandering albatrosses crisscrossed our wake and took our breath away with their soaring abilities. We would have been no less impressed if each of us had suddenly taken wing.
But it was not the flight of the bird with the longest wingspan that captured the day. It was fliers of a different sort that filled the ship with excitement.
About two o’clock, with guests relaxing in the sun on the aft deck, the cry of “whale” went up. Some raced to the bridge to ask for a change in course and suddenly a placid afternoon became electric. With course change underway, cries went out, ‘there’, beyond the wake,’ ‘blows.’ It was the normal excitement that most whale spotting creates but this was just the beginning.
As we altered course, our expedition leader, Matt Drennan, and Undersea Specialist, Dennis Cornejo, decided that the seas were calm enough to put down a Zodiac with the underwater camera. While we all watched the pilot whales, the Zodiac closed slowly on the whales. Everyone crowded the rails, often shifting from starboard to port as the whales changed direction. Excitement was running high.
Suddenly, the cry went up from the crow’s nest that a whale was among the pilot whales and then a shout that dolphins were there too. For more than an hour we watched as whales and dolphins went about their activities while providing us with an extraordinary experience. And then as if planned, a minke whale appeared in the pilot whales’ midst and splashed energetically. Finally, it headed for the ship, rolled to show its white belly, then breached in front of the ship showing its yellowish belly covered with diatoms. By this time we were headed north and we decided to once again try to go south as the adrenaline levels headed back toward normal.
At the Captain’s reception, the video from the underwater camera was showed in the lounge. Without commentary, the film spoke volumes. Full of speed and grace, the images of hourglass dolphins and pilot whales filled our imaginations and transported us back to the excitement on the foredeck. The film ended as someone quipped, “And this was just day one.”
