Deception Island
An early wake up call and a quick cup of coffee opens our eyes to a fog -veiled glimpse of Deception Island . Calm seas and minimal ocean swell allow a safe landing on the long beach, which serves as a portal to Baileys Head, one of our largest colonies of chinstrap penguins, living in a snow fringed cirque, on this volcanic island. Black ash imbedded in the ice is testimony to the recent fiery past of this South Shetland Island. We pick our way through the thousands of penguins, busy with the important business of procreation and the nurturing of their young. We who often consider ourselves the centre of the universe, give pause to reconsider our significance in this environment, where we are totally outnumbered by "lesser" species so well adapted to such an unforgiving environment.
Later, after leaving the surf washed beach without so much as wetting our feet, the ship navigates its way through Neptune's Bellows , a narrow sea-break in the rim of the caldera. Inside is a sheltered body of water, which during the time of the sealers and whalers was a prized refuge for the fragile ships, which brought them from their distant ports in North America and Europe.
At Pendulum Cove, we find a stretch of beach ideal for our much anticipated opportunity to swim in the Southern Ocean. Following the lead of our fearless leader we shed our protective layers and immerse our selves in the tepid waters enshrouded by the vapours and fog of this infernal cauldron.
We weigh anchor and reposition at Whalers Cove for our afternoon visit to the remains of the shore based whaling station. Time and the elements, including a volcanic eruption, has erased much of the evidence of the whaling era. Wandering through the remains, we can feel the hard life of the sealers and whaling men of this place. At the peak of whaling, there was a constant coming and going of catcher boats as they towed their prey through the entrance to the bay. The large whale carcasses, weighing up to 100 tons, lay floating in the blood tinted waters waiting to be hauled up the plan to be stripped of their blubber blankets, which were fed into the pressure cookers. Out poured the valuable whale oil, put into casks and piled aboard the northbound cargo ships destined for markets hungry for edible fats. All that remains of the southern leviathans are their bones buried under the black ash and lying silent at the bottom of the sea.
An early wake up call and a quick cup of coffee opens our eyes to a fog -veiled glimpse of Deception Island . Calm seas and minimal ocean swell allow a safe landing on the long beach, which serves as a portal to Baileys Head, one of our largest colonies of chinstrap penguins, living in a snow fringed cirque, on this volcanic island. Black ash imbedded in the ice is testimony to the recent fiery past of this South Shetland Island. We pick our way through the thousands of penguins, busy with the important business of procreation and the nurturing of their young. We who often consider ourselves the centre of the universe, give pause to reconsider our significance in this environment, where we are totally outnumbered by "lesser" species so well adapted to such an unforgiving environment.
Later, after leaving the surf washed beach without so much as wetting our feet, the ship navigates its way through Neptune's Bellows , a narrow sea-break in the rim of the caldera. Inside is a sheltered body of water, which during the time of the sealers and whalers was a prized refuge for the fragile ships, which brought them from their distant ports in North America and Europe.
At Pendulum Cove, we find a stretch of beach ideal for our much anticipated opportunity to swim in the Southern Ocean. Following the lead of our fearless leader we shed our protective layers and immerse our selves in the tepid waters enshrouded by the vapours and fog of this infernal cauldron.
We weigh anchor and reposition at Whalers Cove for our afternoon visit to the remains of the shore based whaling station. Time and the elements, including a volcanic eruption, has erased much of the evidence of the whaling era. Wandering through the remains, we can feel the hard life of the sealers and whaling men of this place. At the peak of whaling, there was a constant coming and going of catcher boats as they towed their prey through the entrance to the bay. The large whale carcasses, weighing up to 100 tons, lay floating in the blood tinted waters waiting to be hauled up the plan to be stripped of their blubber blankets, which were fed into the pressure cookers. Out poured the valuable whale oil, put into casks and piled aboard the northbound cargo ships destined for markets hungry for edible fats. All that remains of the southern leviathans are their bones buried under the black ash and lying silent at the bottom of the sea.
