Port Lockroy
Gazing through the dining room windows this morning, we set our eyes on Port Lockroy, a small outpost on the west side of Wiencke Island maintained by the British Antarctic Heritage Trust since 1996 when they performed a remarkable restoration on their former meteorological station. The French explorer Jean-Baptiste Charcot discovered Port Lockroy, along with many of the Western Islands of the peninsula, on February 19th 1904 and named it for the French politician, Edouard Lockroy, who had garnered government support for his expedition. In the almost 99 years prior to our visit today, this usually calm and protected harbor has been a hub of various activities and forays into Antarctic research.
Until 1931, whalers used Lockroy as a mooring station as evidenced by the huge, rusty chains still fastened off the point and the numerous whale skeletons scattered along the shores of Jougla Point and Goudier Island. Abandoned for that purpose when the huge factory ships gained prominence in the whaling industry, the Argentines, desperate for a stake in the perceived wealth of resources Antarctica had to offer, made a brief claim before being usurped by the British in 1944. Base A, as it was known, operated as a meteorological station with a year round staff of four to nine people from 1944 to 1962. After and perhaps because of the aforementioned restoration in 1996, Port Lockroy is now one of the most visited destinations on the peninsula. They come for the history, the warm hospitality of the two-person British operations staff, and the breathtaking panoramas, but it seems to this observer that the only chance to gain an Antarctic postmark also leaves quite an impression with our guests.
The calm seas and winds offered an opportunity for us to rally around “carpe diem” on this our last day on the peninsula. The expedition staff laid out a bevy of possible activities, and the conditions, along with excellent ship maneuvering by Captain Skog and his crew, allowed time to enjoy it all. I think most were especially thankful for a final opportunity to kayak in the calm glacial waters. From my view atop the crow’s nest, or perhaps “skua’s nest” in these surroundings, I noticed many of those on the water were not franticly paddling from one spot to the next or eagerly snapping photos of each example of the rich fauna and geography. Instead I saw paddle strokes held in pause and cameras hung loosely around the necks of persons who were perhaps reflectively basking in the glory of our surroundings and thankful to live in a time when common man can experience uncommon adventure. Shaun Powell, Naturalist
Gazing through the dining room windows this morning, we set our eyes on Port Lockroy, a small outpost on the west side of Wiencke Island maintained by the British Antarctic Heritage Trust since 1996 when they performed a remarkable restoration on their former meteorological station. The French explorer Jean-Baptiste Charcot discovered Port Lockroy, along with many of the Western Islands of the peninsula, on February 19th 1904 and named it for the French politician, Edouard Lockroy, who had garnered government support for his expedition. In the almost 99 years prior to our visit today, this usually calm and protected harbor has been a hub of various activities and forays into Antarctic research.
Until 1931, whalers used Lockroy as a mooring station as evidenced by the huge, rusty chains still fastened off the point and the numerous whale skeletons scattered along the shores of Jougla Point and Goudier Island. Abandoned for that purpose when the huge factory ships gained prominence in the whaling industry, the Argentines, desperate for a stake in the perceived wealth of resources Antarctica had to offer, made a brief claim before being usurped by the British in 1944. Base A, as it was known, operated as a meteorological station with a year round staff of four to nine people from 1944 to 1962. After and perhaps because of the aforementioned restoration in 1996, Port Lockroy is now one of the most visited destinations on the peninsula. They come for the history, the warm hospitality of the two-person British operations staff, and the breathtaking panoramas, but it seems to this observer that the only chance to gain an Antarctic postmark also leaves quite an impression with our guests.
The calm seas and winds offered an opportunity for us to rally around “carpe diem” on this our last day on the peninsula. The expedition staff laid out a bevy of possible activities, and the conditions, along with excellent ship maneuvering by Captain Skog and his crew, allowed time to enjoy it all. I think most were especially thankful for a final opportunity to kayak in the calm glacial waters. From my view atop the crow’s nest, or perhaps “skua’s nest” in these surroundings, I noticed many of those on the water were not franticly paddling from one spot to the next or eagerly snapping photos of each example of the rich fauna and geography. Instead I saw paddle strokes held in pause and cameras hung loosely around the necks of persons who were perhaps reflectively basking in the glory of our surroundings and thankful to live in a time when common man can experience uncommon adventure. Shaun Powell, Naturalist
