Neko Harbor & the Enterprise Islands, Antarctica
For this they left the ocean where they are so adept for the foreign environment of land. They have plodded up snow-covered slopes to gather in groups, standing and waiting for the snow to melt. They have carried stones, stolen stones, and arranged piles of stones into their nests. They have squabbled with neighbors over space and stones, and they have called loudly, their bills pointed to the skies above, to greet their mate from last year and re-establish the pair bond that will assure their cooperation in the tasks to come. The object of all of this is the egg, the first of the two that each pair of gentoo penguins will produce this season. Hopefully, the precious stones will elevate the eggs above the flush of spring melt yet to come, the attentive parents will protect the eggs from hungry skuas, and about 34 days later each egg will become a tiny gentoo penguin chick. Then the work of feeding the growing young will begin, but that is yet to come.
This morning we visited the Gentoo penguin colony at Neko Harbor, a small nick in Anvord Bay, which cuts in to the Antarctic Peninsula; we were standing on the Antarctic Continent itself. It was a gorgeous warm (at least by Antarctic standards), clear, and calm day, and coats were shed. The penguins, too, were warm; the undersides of their flippers showed pink as blood was sent to capillaries near the skin surface to cool. Many of us climbed the snowy slope above Neko Harbor for a view over the Gerlache Strait to Anvers Island and Mount Français. At 9,258 feet, it is the highest mountain of the Peninsula. It takes its name from the first expedition ship of the French Antarctic explorer Jean-Baptiste Charcot. The descent was as exhilarating as the view, as many chose to sit and slide, with landings none-too-graceful at the base. A few Weddell seals dozed peacefully on the snow, chosing to ignore the proceedings and the many cameras pointed at them.
We left Neko Harbor. A small group of Antarctic killer whales (or orcas) passed close to the ship in the Gerlache Strait, allowing us to photograph their distinctive dorsal fins. Our afternoon stop was at the Enterprise Islands, in Wilhelmina Bay. The enterprise from which the islands get their name was whaling. A relic of the whaling days is still to be seen: the wreck of the Guvenorin. It was the most modern factory ship in the whaling fleet until it caught fire in January of 1915 with over 16,000 barrels of whale oil aboard. The ship and oil were lost; the men aboard were saved. We explored the wreck and the surrounding islands by Zodiac and by kayak. Between 1907 and 1931 over 60,000 great whales were taken from the South Shetland Islands and the Antarctic Peninsula. Their blubber was rendered into oil; their carcasses were shoved out into the bays to rot. Now a few abandoned waterboats, piles of barrel staves, and giant whalebones lying on the ocean floor remain to tell the tale. Populations of the great whales have never recovered from their decimation. There is nothing to be gained from condemning the whalers; they were providing a product that society demanded. But let us, at least, learn a lesson from their enterprise.
For this they left the ocean where they are so adept for the foreign environment of land. They have plodded up snow-covered slopes to gather in groups, standing and waiting for the snow to melt. They have carried stones, stolen stones, and arranged piles of stones into their nests. They have squabbled with neighbors over space and stones, and they have called loudly, their bills pointed to the skies above, to greet their mate from last year and re-establish the pair bond that will assure their cooperation in the tasks to come. The object of all of this is the egg, the first of the two that each pair of gentoo penguins will produce this season. Hopefully, the precious stones will elevate the eggs above the flush of spring melt yet to come, the attentive parents will protect the eggs from hungry skuas, and about 34 days later each egg will become a tiny gentoo penguin chick. Then the work of feeding the growing young will begin, but that is yet to come.
This morning we visited the Gentoo penguin colony at Neko Harbor, a small nick in Anvord Bay, which cuts in to the Antarctic Peninsula; we were standing on the Antarctic Continent itself. It was a gorgeous warm (at least by Antarctic standards), clear, and calm day, and coats were shed. The penguins, too, were warm; the undersides of their flippers showed pink as blood was sent to capillaries near the skin surface to cool. Many of us climbed the snowy slope above Neko Harbor for a view over the Gerlache Strait to Anvers Island and Mount Français. At 9,258 feet, it is the highest mountain of the Peninsula. It takes its name from the first expedition ship of the French Antarctic explorer Jean-Baptiste Charcot. The descent was as exhilarating as the view, as many chose to sit and slide, with landings none-too-graceful at the base. A few Weddell seals dozed peacefully on the snow, chosing to ignore the proceedings and the many cameras pointed at them.
We left Neko Harbor. A small group of Antarctic killer whales (or orcas) passed close to the ship in the Gerlache Strait, allowing us to photograph their distinctive dorsal fins. Our afternoon stop was at the Enterprise Islands, in Wilhelmina Bay. The enterprise from which the islands get their name was whaling. A relic of the whaling days is still to be seen: the wreck of the Guvenorin. It was the most modern factory ship in the whaling fleet until it caught fire in January of 1915 with over 16,000 barrels of whale oil aboard. The ship and oil were lost; the men aboard were saved. We explored the wreck and the surrounding islands by Zodiac and by kayak. Between 1907 and 1931 over 60,000 great whales were taken from the South Shetland Islands and the Antarctic Peninsula. Their blubber was rendered into oil; their carcasses were shoved out into the bays to rot. Now a few abandoned waterboats, piles of barrel staves, and giant whalebones lying on the ocean floor remain to tell the tale. Populations of the great whales have never recovered from their decimation. There is nothing to be gained from condemning the whalers; they were providing a product that society demanded. But let us, at least, learn a lesson from their enterprise.
