Prospect Point, Antarctic Peninsula
South, ever south, our course was set and still is yet. The goal, just to see how far we can get before time and duty turn us back. We’ve embarked upon this journey for reasons that are quite our own. But commonalities might include a wish to stand upon this continent, the last to be found by mankind. Or we all might express a desire to dip into the realm below the Antarctic Circle, the latitude where once a year the sun only skims the horizon and does not disappear. This afternoon we did the former and it is quite likely that the latter will occur tonight before all heads find rest upon their pillows.
A pale gray sky sat upon the horizon as we approached the northern end of the Lemaire Channel early this morning. Rounded, mounded domes, turreted castles and flat floating islets of blue were all that broke the margin between sea and fog. Occasional crevassed cascades of compacted ice flashed through the diaphanous haze tracing paths down apparent mountain sides. How is it that gray denotes a somber scene? Is it not really just a shade of white? And white is bright, reflected light. Another shade of white, that tinged a turquoise green, held us mesmerized. Two giants of the deep, humpback whales awaited us as the Channel broadened out. Their exhalations echoed from the canyon walls and their breath condensed into moisture laden clouds. Long pectoral flippers held perpendicularly seemed like wings suspending them just beneath the surface of a sea so clear their body shapes were no longer mysterious. It was these white wings that glowed so green we felt hypnotized and oblivious of the rain.
Penola Strait gave way to Grandidier Channel as our minds raced back more than a hundred years guided by our shipboard historian. We flirted with whales both mentally and in reality as diminutive Minkes danced across our bow and other species across the viewing screen.
The ice thickened and we were into the pack. Adelie penguins skied up icebergs and crabeater seals milled on the floes. Where the Fish Islands dot the waterway offering their rocky tops as penguin nesting spots, a point of the peninsula juts out between two glacier faces. Prospect Point seems an unlikely place to live unless you are a kelp gull or a skua but it was here we found a house complete with curtains on the windows. The pantry was still well stocked, although the utensils were somewhat rusty . Mukluks stood in a locker and boots were placed to dry on a shelf in the kitchen. A rather leaky roof meant that this would never happen. Outside Nansen sledges waited for the dogs to be hitched in front and the driver to leap to the runners with the command to proceed forward. Sacks of coal bust from their canvas wrappings spilling across zenolith dotted basement rock. Base J of the British Antarctic Survey was well constructed, built for a life of purpose but it saw only two years of occupancy before it was abandoned in 1959. Today we came to pay our respects and say goodbye as it is slated for removal a few short months from now. And then only photographs will remain to tell of its existence.
South, ever south, our course was set and still is yet. The goal, just to see how far we can get before time and duty turn us back. We’ve embarked upon this journey for reasons that are quite our own. But commonalities might include a wish to stand upon this continent, the last to be found by mankind. Or we all might express a desire to dip into the realm below the Antarctic Circle, the latitude where once a year the sun only skims the horizon and does not disappear. This afternoon we did the former and it is quite likely that the latter will occur tonight before all heads find rest upon their pillows.
A pale gray sky sat upon the horizon as we approached the northern end of the Lemaire Channel early this morning. Rounded, mounded domes, turreted castles and flat floating islets of blue were all that broke the margin between sea and fog. Occasional crevassed cascades of compacted ice flashed through the diaphanous haze tracing paths down apparent mountain sides. How is it that gray denotes a somber scene? Is it not really just a shade of white? And white is bright, reflected light. Another shade of white, that tinged a turquoise green, held us mesmerized. Two giants of the deep, humpback whales awaited us as the Channel broadened out. Their exhalations echoed from the canyon walls and their breath condensed into moisture laden clouds. Long pectoral flippers held perpendicularly seemed like wings suspending them just beneath the surface of a sea so clear their body shapes were no longer mysterious. It was these white wings that glowed so green we felt hypnotized and oblivious of the rain.
Penola Strait gave way to Grandidier Channel as our minds raced back more than a hundred years guided by our shipboard historian. We flirted with whales both mentally and in reality as diminutive Minkes danced across our bow and other species across the viewing screen.
The ice thickened and we were into the pack. Adelie penguins skied up icebergs and crabeater seals milled on the floes. Where the Fish Islands dot the waterway offering their rocky tops as penguin nesting spots, a point of the peninsula juts out between two glacier faces. Prospect Point seems an unlikely place to live unless you are a kelp gull or a skua but it was here we found a house complete with curtains on the windows. The pantry was still well stocked, although the utensils were somewhat rusty . Mukluks stood in a locker and boots were placed to dry on a shelf in the kitchen. A rather leaky roof meant that this would never happen. Outside Nansen sledges waited for the dogs to be hitched in front and the driver to leap to the runners with the command to proceed forward. Sacks of coal bust from their canvas wrappings spilling across zenolith dotted basement rock. Base J of the British Antarctic Survey was well constructed, built for a life of purpose but it saw only two years of occupancy before it was abandoned in 1959. Today we came to pay our respects and say goodbye as it is slated for removal a few short months from now. And then only photographs will remain to tell of its existence.
