At Sea
Our long trek through the Atlantic Ocean, island hopping along the Scotia Arc and then up the remote landfalls of the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, has been a journey of a kind seldom undertaken since the advent of long-distance jet travel. In these early years of the 21st Century, global travel is near instantaneous (though I grant that it may not feel that way when one is half-way through a 12 hour flight in coach!). Effectively, though, we no longer experience any transition as we move around our planet. We board our aircraft in San Francisco or Miami or Newark, the doors close, we nap and watch the movie or read a novel for a few hours, then the doors open and we’re in London or Cape Town or Singapore. Presto, chango! You’re in Asia!
On this voyage, by contrast, we have had the luxury of watching the world shift around us as we have made a journey of a truly planetary scale. From the southern tip of the Andes in South America, we crossed the wind-swept seas to the Falkland Islands and then swung south to South Georgia, an outpost of the Antarctic. Along the way we felt the thermometer slowly drop and the wind pick up as we made our way into the Furious Fifties. We knew we were in the Antarctic long before we saw our first icebergs and King Penguins. Turning northward now, we traversed one great climatic zone after another, the West Wind Drift, the Horse Latitudes, the Southeast Tradewinds, the Doldrums, the Northeast Trades, we have watched them all appear, felt them on our faces, dressed for them, and then seen them fall into our wake, mile by slow mile.
Equally, we have come to know the communities of plants and animals along our way, the southern forests, the tussock grass and albatross, the unique island endemics, and the west-African deserts, which can only be guessed at by those looking down from thirty thousand feet. Observing the changes above and below the sea, we have watched a remarkable transition, from the kelp forests and penguins of temperate South America to the gold-flowered trees and spectacular nudibranchs of tropical Africa, by way of the rare birds and unique fish of some of the most remote islands in the world.
Of course, arcing across the globe in a matter of hours is a great convenience, one I would never wish to give up, but once in a while it is a real privilege to slow down, look around, and find that the journey is the destination.
Our long trek through the Atlantic Ocean, island hopping along the Scotia Arc and then up the remote landfalls of the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, has been a journey of a kind seldom undertaken since the advent of long-distance jet travel. In these early years of the 21st Century, global travel is near instantaneous (though I grant that it may not feel that way when one is half-way through a 12 hour flight in coach!). Effectively, though, we no longer experience any transition as we move around our planet. We board our aircraft in San Francisco or Miami or Newark, the doors close, we nap and watch the movie or read a novel for a few hours, then the doors open and we’re in London or Cape Town or Singapore. Presto, chango! You’re in Asia!
On this voyage, by contrast, we have had the luxury of watching the world shift around us as we have made a journey of a truly planetary scale. From the southern tip of the Andes in South America, we crossed the wind-swept seas to the Falkland Islands and then swung south to South Georgia, an outpost of the Antarctic. Along the way we felt the thermometer slowly drop and the wind pick up as we made our way into the Furious Fifties. We knew we were in the Antarctic long before we saw our first icebergs and King Penguins. Turning northward now, we traversed one great climatic zone after another, the West Wind Drift, the Horse Latitudes, the Southeast Tradewinds, the Doldrums, the Northeast Trades, we have watched them all appear, felt them on our faces, dressed for them, and then seen them fall into our wake, mile by slow mile.
Equally, we have come to know the communities of plants and animals along our way, the southern forests, the tussock grass and albatross, the unique island endemics, and the west-African deserts, which can only be guessed at by those looking down from thirty thousand feet. Observing the changes above and below the sea, we have watched a remarkable transition, from the kelp forests and penguins of temperate South America to the gold-flowered trees and spectacular nudibranchs of tropical Africa, by way of the rare birds and unique fish of some of the most remote islands in the world.
Of course, arcing across the globe in a matter of hours is a great convenience, one I would never wish to give up, but once in a while it is a real privilege to slow down, look around, and find that the journey is the destination.
