South Shetland Islands
In early morning the world looked black and white. Not empty outlines of space like a sketch in pen and ink but more akin to a finely printed photograph, ebony blacks and pearly whites all glimmering with an internal radiance. The ocean was finely polished jet with not a breath of wind to create an imperfection on its surface. The western sky was charcoal gray. Against this backdrop tiny snowflakes drifted gently from the upper decks, each individual crystalline form rotating in its descent, hexagonal arms slinging sparkling light towards our eyes. They fell throughout the day, recruiting cousins from clouds on high, never more than a few at a time, but always with us. On shore the newly arrived sat delicately on granular snow barely missed by the crushing pad of penguin toes.
Color popped into this monochromatic world. Blue ice flowed to the sea from smooth and rounded icefields capping Greenwich Island. Embraced by the raised beaches of an arching terminal moraine, golden yellow kayaks bearing scarlet figures explored the bergy-bit infested waters of Yankee Harbor. Beneath their bows penguins flew, black and white torpedoes streaking through the water. Higher on the beaches other redcoats strolled between colonies of gentle gentoos. These mellow birds were busily engaged in reassuring partners of fitness and fidelity. Frequent favors of stones helped raise the nesting platform, protecting not-yet-hatched progeny from brown and muddy grounds. At times it seemed that the treasure was too plentiful and there was danger that a patiently incubating mate would be completely buried by the rocky gifts.
Snowflakes created patterns on our fleece jackets as we excitedly watched a mother and calf humpback whale feeding in the shallows between Greenwich and Robert Islands. To the north lay the sharp and jagged rocky cluster of islets known as Aitcho. Docked nearby giant aquamarine tabular bergs with cambered portals transported moisture from yesteryear and ice shelves far away. On shore the gentoos murmured and chinstraps yelled, each from their respective colonies. Step by step, booted feet trod in single file, creating a human pathway through the drifted snow from one end of the island to the other. A fairy land awaited us far from our landing site. Ramparts wound their way to a turreted tower where a kelp gull ruled his realm. Below pintados uttered their staccato calls and gentoos marched round and round. Weddell seals rubbed their spotted pelts against the frigid frost and elephant seals piled in steaming mounds on beds of stranded kelp. Nearby a green and raised plateau surrounded by rocky pillars was densely populated by nesting giant petrels. Terns creaked a warning not to stray too near and children squealed on slippery slopes with gleeful tobogganless slides.
The day draws to an end. The snowflakes no longer fall except in tired dreamy heads in gently rocking beds.
In early morning the world looked black and white. Not empty outlines of space like a sketch in pen and ink but more akin to a finely printed photograph, ebony blacks and pearly whites all glimmering with an internal radiance. The ocean was finely polished jet with not a breath of wind to create an imperfection on its surface. The western sky was charcoal gray. Against this backdrop tiny snowflakes drifted gently from the upper decks, each individual crystalline form rotating in its descent, hexagonal arms slinging sparkling light towards our eyes. They fell throughout the day, recruiting cousins from clouds on high, never more than a few at a time, but always with us. On shore the newly arrived sat delicately on granular snow barely missed by the crushing pad of penguin toes.
Color popped into this monochromatic world. Blue ice flowed to the sea from smooth and rounded icefields capping Greenwich Island. Embraced by the raised beaches of an arching terminal moraine, golden yellow kayaks bearing scarlet figures explored the bergy-bit infested waters of Yankee Harbor. Beneath their bows penguins flew, black and white torpedoes streaking through the water. Higher on the beaches other redcoats strolled between colonies of gentle gentoos. These mellow birds were busily engaged in reassuring partners of fitness and fidelity. Frequent favors of stones helped raise the nesting platform, protecting not-yet-hatched progeny from brown and muddy grounds. At times it seemed that the treasure was too plentiful and there was danger that a patiently incubating mate would be completely buried by the rocky gifts.
Snowflakes created patterns on our fleece jackets as we excitedly watched a mother and calf humpback whale feeding in the shallows between Greenwich and Robert Islands. To the north lay the sharp and jagged rocky cluster of islets known as Aitcho. Docked nearby giant aquamarine tabular bergs with cambered portals transported moisture from yesteryear and ice shelves far away. On shore the gentoos murmured and chinstraps yelled, each from their respective colonies. Step by step, booted feet trod in single file, creating a human pathway through the drifted snow from one end of the island to the other. A fairy land awaited us far from our landing site. Ramparts wound their way to a turreted tower where a kelp gull ruled his realm. Below pintados uttered their staccato calls and gentoos marched round and round. Weddell seals rubbed their spotted pelts against the frigid frost and elephant seals piled in steaming mounds on beds of stranded kelp. Nearby a green and raised plateau surrounded by rocky pillars was densely populated by nesting giant petrels. Terns creaked a warning not to stray too near and children squealed on slippery slopes with gleeful tobogganless slides.
The day draws to an end. The snowflakes no longer fall except in tired dreamy heads in gently rocking beds.
