Crossing the Tropic of Capricorn
Signs of change: rubber boots have been replaced by sandals, long johns by short pants, parkas by t-shirts. The winter gear is now stowed away beneath our bunks. The productive green water of the Southern Ocean, replete with phytoplankton, has been replaced by water of a deep cobalt blue, indicating a lack of nutrients and therefore of planktonic life. The water beneath our ship is over 4,000 meters or 13,000 feet deep and there are no upwelling currents to bring nutrients up from the abyss. Looking down into the depths is like gazing into infinity. The hordes of seabirds that once followed the Endeavour, delighting us as they soared across our wake, are no more. Albatrosses have been replaced by occasional tropicbirds; these, too, are a cause for delight and we look forward to more of them as we pass farther into the Tropics. Flying fish coast over the ocean swells where prions and petrels used to glide. The Westerly Winds, ever circling the globe in the Southern Ocean, are behind us now, replaced by the Trade Winds blowing from Africa to the east of us. The brilliant whites and greens and blues of the Antarctic ice are likewise gone. They were replaced, yesterday evening, by a brief but unmistakable green flash atop the orange orb of the setting sun, and, this morning, by a brilliant, horizon-to-horizon rainbow that became double at its limits. (And we all know that that is lucky!) We asked the Officer of the Watch if he would steer the ship away from the rainbow to give us a more distant view, so we could get it all in the field of the camera. He rolled his eyes and muttered something about “Naturalists …”, and so we continued on our way to St Helena.
Signs of change: rubber boots have been replaced by sandals, long johns by short pants, parkas by t-shirts. The winter gear is now stowed away beneath our bunks. The productive green water of the Southern Ocean, replete with phytoplankton, has been replaced by water of a deep cobalt blue, indicating a lack of nutrients and therefore of planktonic life. The water beneath our ship is over 4,000 meters or 13,000 feet deep and there are no upwelling currents to bring nutrients up from the abyss. Looking down into the depths is like gazing into infinity. The hordes of seabirds that once followed the Endeavour, delighting us as they soared across our wake, are no more. Albatrosses have been replaced by occasional tropicbirds; these, too, are a cause for delight and we look forward to more of them as we pass farther into the Tropics. Flying fish coast over the ocean swells where prions and petrels used to glide. The Westerly Winds, ever circling the globe in the Southern Ocean, are behind us now, replaced by the Trade Winds blowing from Africa to the east of us. The brilliant whites and greens and blues of the Antarctic ice are likewise gone. They were replaced, yesterday evening, by a brief but unmistakable green flash atop the orange orb of the setting sun, and, this morning, by a brilliant, horizon-to-horizon rainbow that became double at its limits. (And we all know that that is lucky!) We asked the Officer of the Watch if he would steer the ship away from the rainbow to give us a more distant view, so we could get it all in the field of the camera. He rolled his eyes and muttered something about “Naturalists …”, and so we continued on our way to St Helena.
