Drake Passage
The Drake Passage, where the wild waters of the southern ocean are caught between Tierra del Fuego and the Antarctic Peninsula, is surely one of the most awe-inspiring open sea crossings anywhere in the world. Driven by the winds of the furious fifties and lashed by the storms that eternally circle the white continent, the seas here can be fearsome indeed.
But after a few crossings, one soon learns that the Drake has many moods. In fact, although rough weather is always a possibility, the norm is quite moderate and most experienced hands have seen more glassy calms than raging storms. Among the mariners I know, the Drake is well respected but the North Atlantic has a far more fearsome reputation.
Today the waters we are cruising could be the Drake Lake; only occasional breezes riffle the mirrored surface and a long low swell gently lifts our bow just enough to remind us that we are, in fact, at sea. Far from being an ordeal, a crossing like this one is the perfect denouement to our weeks of exploration in the southern seas, a time to reflect, to affirm the memories that will soon be our most cherished souvenirs, to relax and let it all soak in.
Seabirds glide by wishing for wind, and occasionally we pass groups of whales and dolphins that make these waters home. More and more, however, our thoughts turn to days recently past, to brilliant sunshine in Elsehul Bay, to streaming storm clouds over the glaciers of Elephant Island, to an Emperor Penguin greeting us like an emissary at the Antarctic Circle, and to a carnelian anemone, like a Christmas poinsettia in the sea, a flower on the silent graves of the great whales whose bones lie scattered across the bottom nearby. The Antarctic has given us many gifts, and now we begin to treasure them.
The Drake Passage, where the wild waters of the southern ocean are caught between Tierra del Fuego and the Antarctic Peninsula, is surely one of the most awe-inspiring open sea crossings anywhere in the world. Driven by the winds of the furious fifties and lashed by the storms that eternally circle the white continent, the seas here can be fearsome indeed.
But after a few crossings, one soon learns that the Drake has many moods. In fact, although rough weather is always a possibility, the norm is quite moderate and most experienced hands have seen more glassy calms than raging storms. Among the mariners I know, the Drake is well respected but the North Atlantic has a far more fearsome reputation.
Today the waters we are cruising could be the Drake Lake; only occasional breezes riffle the mirrored surface and a long low swell gently lifts our bow just enough to remind us that we are, in fact, at sea. Far from being an ordeal, a crossing like this one is the perfect denouement to our weeks of exploration in the southern seas, a time to reflect, to affirm the memories that will soon be our most cherished souvenirs, to relax and let it all soak in.
Seabirds glide by wishing for wind, and occasionally we pass groups of whales and dolphins that make these waters home. More and more, however, our thoughts turn to days recently past, to brilliant sunshine in Elsehul Bay, to streaming storm clouds over the glaciers of Elephant Island, to an Emperor Penguin greeting us like an emissary at the Antarctic Circle, and to a carnelian anemone, like a Christmas poinsettia in the sea, a flower on the silent graves of the great whales whose bones lie scattered across the bottom nearby. The Antarctic has given us many gifts, and now we begin to treasure them.
