King George and Deception Island, South Shetlands
There was something Mediterranean about the view outside this morning: sun sparkling on a placid sea, a semicircular rocky bay with dramatic volcanic cliffs and brightly-coloured buildings behind the beach. Last night we left the icy white wonderland of the Weddell Sea and have now traveled northwest to the South Shetlands, an archipelago renowned for strong winds and violent storms. So this was freak weather indeed: blue skies and halcyon seas. It was also from the sublime to the ridiculous: from the pristine beauty of armadas of sailing icebergs, to the scientific suburbia of King George Island. This is the most populated part of Antarctica: on this one island alone there are 13 different research bases. To our left, the smart blue prefabs of the Chinese base, Great Wall, in front of us the small town of Frei, the Chilean base, and to our right, the red hangers of Bellingshausen, the Russian base. Once ashore we wandered around to look at the neighborhood. The Chilean community includes several families, a small school, a gym, a small blue church and a signpost built out of whale vertebrae. Sturdier souls marched out across the meltwater stream which marks the boundary (and one hour time zone difference!) between the Chilean and Russian camps, and there on a volcanic crag was the Disney-like apparition of a timber Russian Orthodox Church. Swathed in plastic and scaffolding, it is being strengthened to withstand the hurricane-force winds which punch through these islands at regular intervals. What a strange sight! A triumph of carpentry over commonsense, and just another twist to the cultural counterpane these islands have become. Beyond it is a small orange building funded by Coca-Cola for environmental education; appropriate perhaps, as the plain below still glitters with remnant glass shards from 40 years of drinks bottles, recently cleared.
We left this bizarre toy town and steamed west for Deception, but somehow we just kept getting interrupted by the wildlife: first two groups of Orcas butting through a choppy sea, then Orcas menacing a Humpback Whale and calf, then Orcas pursuing penguins, and lastly Orcas shadowing a Sei Whale which steamed on, unfazed by its powerful escorts. But Deception Island beckoned: a huge volcanic caldera 8 miles across breached by the sea on one side which made a perfect sheltered harbour for the 19th century whalers. The National Geographic Endeavour squeezed in through the narrow gateway of Neptune's Bellows, then anchored in Whaler's Bay. This was a chance to stride along the black cinder beach, explore the rusting whaling station and reflect on the 1968 volcanic eruption which all but destroyed the British administrative base here. And just to prove that humans never learn, over 30 reckless souls took a hot bath in a steaming beach bowl dug out by the crew, while the rest of us looked on, aghast.
There was something Mediterranean about the view outside this morning: sun sparkling on a placid sea, a semicircular rocky bay with dramatic volcanic cliffs and brightly-coloured buildings behind the beach. Last night we left the icy white wonderland of the Weddell Sea and have now traveled northwest to the South Shetlands, an archipelago renowned for strong winds and violent storms. So this was freak weather indeed: blue skies and halcyon seas. It was also from the sublime to the ridiculous: from the pristine beauty of armadas of sailing icebergs, to the scientific suburbia of King George Island. This is the most populated part of Antarctica: on this one island alone there are 13 different research bases. To our left, the smart blue prefabs of the Chinese base, Great Wall, in front of us the small town of Frei, the Chilean base, and to our right, the red hangers of Bellingshausen, the Russian base. Once ashore we wandered around to look at the neighborhood. The Chilean community includes several families, a small school, a gym, a small blue church and a signpost built out of whale vertebrae. Sturdier souls marched out across the meltwater stream which marks the boundary (and one hour time zone difference!) between the Chilean and Russian camps, and there on a volcanic crag was the Disney-like apparition of a timber Russian Orthodox Church. Swathed in plastic and scaffolding, it is being strengthened to withstand the hurricane-force winds which punch through these islands at regular intervals. What a strange sight! A triumph of carpentry over commonsense, and just another twist to the cultural counterpane these islands have become. Beyond it is a small orange building funded by Coca-Cola for environmental education; appropriate perhaps, as the plain below still glitters with remnant glass shards from 40 years of drinks bottles, recently cleared.
We left this bizarre toy town and steamed west for Deception, but somehow we just kept getting interrupted by the wildlife: first two groups of Orcas butting through a choppy sea, then Orcas menacing a Humpback Whale and calf, then Orcas pursuing penguins, and lastly Orcas shadowing a Sei Whale which steamed on, unfazed by its powerful escorts. But Deception Island beckoned: a huge volcanic caldera 8 miles across breached by the sea on one side which made a perfect sheltered harbour for the 19th century whalers. The National Geographic Endeavour squeezed in through the narrow gateway of Neptune's Bellows, then anchored in Whaler's Bay. This was a chance to stride along the black cinder beach, explore the rusting whaling station and reflect on the 1968 volcanic eruption which all but destroyed the British administrative base here. And just to prove that humans never learn, over 30 reckless souls took a hot bath in a steaming beach bowl dug out by the crew, while the rest of us looked on, aghast.
