Gold Harbour and Cooper Bay, Island of South Georgia
Dawn in South Georgia. "Good morning everyone, good morning" was the gentle wake up call by Tim at 0400 over the PA system. "We plan to go ashore early to watch the sun rise over the large king penguin colony. The air temperature is right around freezing, but the wind is light and the sky partly cloudy. We plan to spend the morning here, so those of you who would like to go ashore for early light conditions, we will begin disembarkation by Zodiac at 0430. It promises to be a lovely morning as the light hits the glacier behind the tussock grass and the mountains should light up with alpineglow as we arrive on shore."
We had slipped into Gold Harbour in the wee hours of the morning, and it looked to be a glorious sunrise, so we were gently awakened. We sleepily went ashore and there we were met by rambunctious fur seals, gentle gentoo penguins, dueling bull elephant seals, glowing yellowish-orange headed king penguins by the thousands, northern and southern giant petrels, sub-antarctic skuas, snowy sheathbills, and a glacial backdrop out of a fiction book. It was magic, and my favorite place on this earth. Up in the newly lit daytime sky, high overhead, were the light-mantled sooty albatrosses performing their famous tandem courtship flights. What a romantic place, I thought; perfect for celebrating life and love and courtship. I wished I could join them.
Repositioning to the southern part of the island, we spent the afternoon at Cooper Bay, home to a large macaroni penguin colony. One is pictured here sitting on a nest in the tussock grass. Of course the usual suspects (and our now-familiar friends) were on shore once again; the furs, the ellies, the gentoos, curious sheathbills, and a few blue-eyed shags for good measure - and color. We either went up to the raucous colony of macs (we're on familiar terms with these animals now!), or we took a Zodiac cruise through the flotillas of giant petrels, frolicking penguins or soaring white-chinned petrels and more courting light-mantled sooty albatross. If you can capture all that activity on film, more power to you, for it is indescribable, and a perfect finale for our time in South Georgia.
As we sailed by some grounded icebergs and the last outcropping of land, we took a long, last look at Cape Disappointment named by Captain Cook when he discovered that South Georgia was an island and not the fabled "Southern Continent." I couldn't help but wonder what he would think today. Where Captain Cook found only disappointment, we found pure joy.
Dawn in South Georgia. "Good morning everyone, good morning" was the gentle wake up call by Tim at 0400 over the PA system. "We plan to go ashore early to watch the sun rise over the large king penguin colony. The air temperature is right around freezing, but the wind is light and the sky partly cloudy. We plan to spend the morning here, so those of you who would like to go ashore for early light conditions, we will begin disembarkation by Zodiac at 0430. It promises to be a lovely morning as the light hits the glacier behind the tussock grass and the mountains should light up with alpineglow as we arrive on shore."
We had slipped into Gold Harbour in the wee hours of the morning, and it looked to be a glorious sunrise, so we were gently awakened. We sleepily went ashore and there we were met by rambunctious fur seals, gentle gentoo penguins, dueling bull elephant seals, glowing yellowish-orange headed king penguins by the thousands, northern and southern giant petrels, sub-antarctic skuas, snowy sheathbills, and a glacial backdrop out of a fiction book. It was magic, and my favorite place on this earth. Up in the newly lit daytime sky, high overhead, were the light-mantled sooty albatrosses performing their famous tandem courtship flights. What a romantic place, I thought; perfect for celebrating life and love and courtship. I wished I could join them.
Repositioning to the southern part of the island, we spent the afternoon at Cooper Bay, home to a large macaroni penguin colony. One is pictured here sitting on a nest in the tussock grass. Of course the usual suspects (and our now-familiar friends) were on shore once again; the furs, the ellies, the gentoos, curious sheathbills, and a few blue-eyed shags for good measure - and color. We either went up to the raucous colony of macs (we're on familiar terms with these animals now!), or we took a Zodiac cruise through the flotillas of giant petrels, frolicking penguins or soaring white-chinned petrels and more courting light-mantled sooty albatross. If you can capture all that activity on film, more power to you, for it is indescribable, and a perfect finale for our time in South Georgia.
As we sailed by some grounded icebergs and the last outcropping of land, we took a long, last look at Cape Disappointment named by Captain Cook when he discovered that South Georgia was an island and not the fabled "Southern Continent." I couldn't help but wonder what he would think today. Where Captain Cook found only disappointment, we found pure joy.
