South Georgia
For three days we have explored South Georgia’s islands and coastline, and even a bit of her mountainous interior. We have had close encounters with king penguins and wandering albatross, sniffed around the edges of abandoned whaling stations, hiked in the footsteps of Sir Ernest Shackleton and marveled at a blizzard of seabirds swirling around the ship’s lights at night. The weather, constantly changing as is the norm, has brought us snow, rain, brilliant sunshine, mysterious fogs and the infamous catabatic winds. Only one aspect of this spectacular island remained hidden from us; so while the guests were out on a visit to a Macaroni Penguin colony, I put on my dry suit, took up our digital video camera and slipped beneath the South Georgian seas.
Wind swept and ice capped, this island supports not a single tree above the waterline; but beneath the surface I found great stands of giant kelp, the marine forests of South Georgia. Here the narrow stipes of individual organisms twine together into thick trunk-like columns, which reach up from their sea bottom, anchors, 60 or 80 feet to the surface. Exactly like the trees of terrestrial forests, they bear their leaves or blades up into the light of the sun, which is their nourishment. And, in another close analogy to familiar trees, they provide physical structure which shelters and supports a wonderful variety of other organisms. On every surface of the cobbles and boulders beneath the kelp I found other smaller algae, like the undergrowth in woodlands. Within these thickets were sponges, anemones, sea stars, crustaceans and much more, a greater variety of different animals than even the richest rainforest can support. One of my favorite is this Glyptonotus antarcticus, the giant isopod. A relative of the woodlice or pillbugs commonly found in backyards and gardens, it crawls about the sea floor on one set of legs, grasps its prey with another set (both visible in this ventral view) and swims with yet another set (folded under its abdomen, which extends over my index finger).
South Georgia is truly a natural paradise, sure to impress anyone who encounters it; but I wonder if even Shackleton dreamed of the biological riches concealed beneath her seas and revealed to us by the Endeavour’s expedition technology.
For three days we have explored South Georgia’s islands and coastline, and even a bit of her mountainous interior. We have had close encounters with king penguins and wandering albatross, sniffed around the edges of abandoned whaling stations, hiked in the footsteps of Sir Ernest Shackleton and marveled at a blizzard of seabirds swirling around the ship’s lights at night. The weather, constantly changing as is the norm, has brought us snow, rain, brilliant sunshine, mysterious fogs and the infamous catabatic winds. Only one aspect of this spectacular island remained hidden from us; so while the guests were out on a visit to a Macaroni Penguin colony, I put on my dry suit, took up our digital video camera and slipped beneath the South Georgian seas.
Wind swept and ice capped, this island supports not a single tree above the waterline; but beneath the surface I found great stands of giant kelp, the marine forests of South Georgia. Here the narrow stipes of individual organisms twine together into thick trunk-like columns, which reach up from their sea bottom, anchors, 60 or 80 feet to the surface. Exactly like the trees of terrestrial forests, they bear their leaves or blades up into the light of the sun, which is their nourishment. And, in another close analogy to familiar trees, they provide physical structure which shelters and supports a wonderful variety of other organisms. On every surface of the cobbles and boulders beneath the kelp I found other smaller algae, like the undergrowth in woodlands. Within these thickets were sponges, anemones, sea stars, crustaceans and much more, a greater variety of different animals than even the richest rainforest can support. One of my favorite is this Glyptonotus antarcticus, the giant isopod. A relative of the woodlice or pillbugs commonly found in backyards and gardens, it crawls about the sea floor on one set of legs, grasps its prey with another set (both visible in this ventral view) and swims with yet another set (folded under its abdomen, which extends over my index finger).
South Georgia is truly a natural paradise, sure to impress anyone who encounters it; but I wonder if even Shackleton dreamed of the biological riches concealed beneath her seas and revealed to us by the Endeavour’s expedition technology.
