At Sea in the Southern Ocean
We drifted off to sleep last night with some trepidation after our delightful visit to the Falkland Islands. Thus far the weather has been teasingly benign. Easy swells pushed us along from the Beagle Channel all the way to West Point Island. Perhaps even more surprising: sunshine...and lots of it. We made our landings under blue skies with just a few wisps of white spread about the horizon. The “unattainable” landing at Steeple Jason? No problem! In fact, every outing has been under near perfect conditions. And so, as we left the harbor of Stanley last night and set off across the Scotia Sea, some of us couldn’t help but wonder if maybe we were due for some change. After all, we’re sailing into the outskirts of the Southern Ocean in our efforts to reach South Georgia. It’s an ocean known for its tempestuous weather; one that gave rise to the terms “roaring forties” and “furious fifties.” And it’s a body of water that only a hundred years ago would have struck palpable fear in the hearts of even the most experienced sailors. And yet, here we are, a group of mere globe trotters, setting off for one of the more remote islands in the southern hemisphere. How could we be so bold?
In the last one hundred years, technology has done much the level the playing field against the elements of the seas. Stronger materials have lessened much of the damage waves and ice can cause. Satellites and GPS enable vessels to see storms as they are building and change course days, even weeks, in advance and avoid most every tempest. Radar and sonar afford even small sailboats a navigable picture of what lay before and under them as they glide along the earth’s most abundant element. Refrigeration and medicine have increased the length of time ships can stay out of port, to the point where scurvy is practically unheard-of and three-course meals can be served at every setting! So, with so much going in our favor, it seemed inevitable that the sea would at least toss up a few hurdles along the way…just to flex its might if nothing else. Still, we awoke today to blue sky and easy winds. So calm was it outside, that we had lost most all of our accompanying sea birds fleet. And perhaps the greatest affront to Poseidon himself…people sunbathing out on deck! Sunbathing?! En route to South Georgia, mere miles from the Antarctic Convergence? I never thought I’d see such a thing. Still, we “trudge on.” On to South Georgia and its bounty of wildlife. On to the South Orkneys in their precarious position above the Weddell Sea. On to the peninsula itself and its bevy of historic landfalls and breath-taking vistas. Yes, we “endeavour” forth under a blue sky and warm sunshine… not in ignorant bliss, but in respectful awe of the conditions around us; for history has already taught us how difficult these seas can be and we are grateful for our comfortable ship, its experienced crew, and of course Poseidon’s good-natured disposition.
We drifted off to sleep last night with some trepidation after our delightful visit to the Falkland Islands. Thus far the weather has been teasingly benign. Easy swells pushed us along from the Beagle Channel all the way to West Point Island. Perhaps even more surprising: sunshine...and lots of it. We made our landings under blue skies with just a few wisps of white spread about the horizon. The “unattainable” landing at Steeple Jason? No problem! In fact, every outing has been under near perfect conditions. And so, as we left the harbor of Stanley last night and set off across the Scotia Sea, some of us couldn’t help but wonder if maybe we were due for some change. After all, we’re sailing into the outskirts of the Southern Ocean in our efforts to reach South Georgia. It’s an ocean known for its tempestuous weather; one that gave rise to the terms “roaring forties” and “furious fifties.” And it’s a body of water that only a hundred years ago would have struck palpable fear in the hearts of even the most experienced sailors. And yet, here we are, a group of mere globe trotters, setting off for one of the more remote islands in the southern hemisphere. How could we be so bold?
In the last one hundred years, technology has done much the level the playing field against the elements of the seas. Stronger materials have lessened much of the damage waves and ice can cause. Satellites and GPS enable vessels to see storms as they are building and change course days, even weeks, in advance and avoid most every tempest. Radar and sonar afford even small sailboats a navigable picture of what lay before and under them as they glide along the earth’s most abundant element. Refrigeration and medicine have increased the length of time ships can stay out of port, to the point where scurvy is practically unheard-of and three-course meals can be served at every setting! So, with so much going in our favor, it seemed inevitable that the sea would at least toss up a few hurdles along the way…just to flex its might if nothing else. Still, we awoke today to blue sky and easy winds. So calm was it outside, that we had lost most all of our accompanying sea birds fleet. And perhaps the greatest affront to Poseidon himself…people sunbathing out on deck! Sunbathing?! En route to South Georgia, mere miles from the Antarctic Convergence? I never thought I’d see such a thing. Still, we “trudge on.” On to South Georgia and its bounty of wildlife. On to the South Orkneys in their precarious position above the Weddell Sea. On to the peninsula itself and its bevy of historic landfalls and breath-taking vistas. Yes, we “endeavour” forth under a blue sky and warm sunshine… not in ignorant bliss, but in respectful awe of the conditions around us; for history has already taught us how difficult these seas can be and we are grateful for our comfortable ship, its experienced crew, and of course Poseidon’s good-natured disposition.
