Penola Strait, Antarctica
There were things in the water today. Not just the gentle gentoo gliding gracefully in the shallows, sliding over rounded granodioritic rocks riddled with irregular zenoliths. But there were things with teeth, sharp, pointed teeth that tear and teeth that grip.
The day started so sedately. Not a ripple marred the smoked glass surface. Tiny bergy-bits had lacy edges or perfect pyramids mirrored in the calm. Platter-like ice floes served up penguins or seals, which gazed at our passing, occasionally inscribing circular tracks as they started to leave but ultimately stayed, the decision being made that we were no threat to them. The Wauwermar's Islands were white mushroom caps scattered in the inky waters. We squeezed into the narrow passage of the Lemaire Channel, guarded by glacially carved peaks. Rivers of ice cascaded down steep valleys, fracturing en route, fragmenting frequently to cast their progeny adrift from the shore.
From Lemaire to Penola we sailed. Above the sky played with color. Charcoal gray dominated the edges. White puffs echoed the shapes of ice below. Pastel pink and baby blue managed to appear momentarily. At Petermann Island the drama began, albeit slowly at first. Zodiacs delivered hikers to the shore and the kayak platform was lowered. The first banana colored boat barely slithered into the water when the call echoed far and wide. Killer Whales! A tall dorsal sliced the surface, rising like a sinister black sail. The falcate forms of female fins rose and fell, traveling always south, passing beneath and about loaded Zodiacs. On shore we watched as they hesitated as if to consider the red-coated forms above or was it really to stare at their prey, a leopard seal lurking in the shallows? Neither selection seemed to earn more than a glance and these biggest of dolphins continued on.
A smile on his snake-like face, the possible prey became predator. The sinuous forms of not one but two of these pinnipeds appeared in our protected bay where they had been penguin seeking until forced into momentary hiding. In recent times this species has been known to teethe on tubes of rubber boats and attractive yellow kayaks could potentially become a new attraction. But the temptation was whipped away as we decided nesting penguins or Zodiac tours would provide ample entertainment.
Across the Strait, the brash ice thickened, moving in and out with the tides. Now the kayaks felt secure and many tested how it felt to be a bit of ice, a bit of the frozen south. "South, further south", others cried and zipped a wee ways away to the Yalours, a cluster of tiny islets, to wander into rocky notches painted orange with lichen or to watch blue-eyed shags tuck stringy kelp into their chimney-pot nests.
Tonight we rerun it all. Outside, the lowering light dances on the mountains and on the drifting ice. It is Thanksgiving Day. The turkey has been devoured, and now in the quiet of the evening as we head towards the Drake and home, we can be thankful for this land, wild, white, remote and free.
There were things in the water today. Not just the gentle gentoo gliding gracefully in the shallows, sliding over rounded granodioritic rocks riddled with irregular zenoliths. But there were things with teeth, sharp, pointed teeth that tear and teeth that grip.
The day started so sedately. Not a ripple marred the smoked glass surface. Tiny bergy-bits had lacy edges or perfect pyramids mirrored in the calm. Platter-like ice floes served up penguins or seals, which gazed at our passing, occasionally inscribing circular tracks as they started to leave but ultimately stayed, the decision being made that we were no threat to them. The Wauwermar's Islands were white mushroom caps scattered in the inky waters. We squeezed into the narrow passage of the Lemaire Channel, guarded by glacially carved peaks. Rivers of ice cascaded down steep valleys, fracturing en route, fragmenting frequently to cast their progeny adrift from the shore.
From Lemaire to Penola we sailed. Above the sky played with color. Charcoal gray dominated the edges. White puffs echoed the shapes of ice below. Pastel pink and baby blue managed to appear momentarily. At Petermann Island the drama began, albeit slowly at first. Zodiacs delivered hikers to the shore and the kayak platform was lowered. The first banana colored boat barely slithered into the water when the call echoed far and wide. Killer Whales! A tall dorsal sliced the surface, rising like a sinister black sail. The falcate forms of female fins rose and fell, traveling always south, passing beneath and about loaded Zodiacs. On shore we watched as they hesitated as if to consider the red-coated forms above or was it really to stare at their prey, a leopard seal lurking in the shallows? Neither selection seemed to earn more than a glance and these biggest of dolphins continued on.
A smile on his snake-like face, the possible prey became predator. The sinuous forms of not one but two of these pinnipeds appeared in our protected bay where they had been penguin seeking until forced into momentary hiding. In recent times this species has been known to teethe on tubes of rubber boats and attractive yellow kayaks could potentially become a new attraction. But the temptation was whipped away as we decided nesting penguins or Zodiac tours would provide ample entertainment.
Across the Strait, the brash ice thickened, moving in and out with the tides. Now the kayaks felt secure and many tested how it felt to be a bit of ice, a bit of the frozen south. "South, further south", others cried and zipped a wee ways away to the Yalours, a cluster of tiny islets, to wander into rocky notches painted orange with lichen or to watch blue-eyed shags tuck stringy kelp into their chimney-pot nests.
Tonight we rerun it all. Outside, the lowering light dances on the mountains and on the drifting ice. It is Thanksgiving Day. The turkey has been devoured, and now in the quiet of the evening as we head towards the Drake and home, we can be thankful for this land, wild, white, remote and free.
