Adelaide Island, Antarctic Peninsula
The previous evening an ambitious plan had been hatched by Expedition Leader Tim Soper and Captain Leif Skog: to sail south towards the Antarctic Circle and beyond. The Antarctic Convergence may define Antarctica biologically, but the Circle sits in the public forum as a grail of types for anyone journeying south. It is an astronomical delineation; at its latitude on the longest day of the austral summer the sun does not set.
To achieve such an ambitious goal the National Geographic Endeavour plied a course during the night through open water outside the archipelago that comprises the western boundary of the Gerlache Strait, Crystal Sound, and Margeurite Bay. The night passed fitfully as our vessel bounded over unhindered and rhythmic moderate swells. However, the upshot was a straight sail without the threat of encountering progress-impeding pack ice.
By morning our vessel was astride the western edge of large Adelaide Island - Our goal: the Chilean summer-only station Teniente Luis Carvajal Villaroel Antarctic Base on the southwest point of the island. Throughout the early and mid-day hours new avian visitors, principally Antarctic petrels, escorted us south. At 0825 hours the National Geographic Endeavour reached her first goal - the Antarctic Circle. After crossing the great parallel our vessel neither slowed nor altered course, cutting a ruler-straight line even farther south across the Southern Ocean. Throughout the morning and early afternoon the swells did not abate. The sky grew dark, limiting visibility, and wrapped us in a cloak of snow-driven cold. We were not to be deterred, and before long we were firmly anchored a few cables from our land-based destination.
The unoccupied base stood frozen in time, literally. It was a veritable museum of former Antarctic human occupation, a tiny ghost town in a state of arrested decay. Only the formidable cold kept the ravages of an ever-advancing clock and the persistent attack of microorganisms at bay. We wandered through the base perusing its contents. The ramshackle buildings held a cornucopia of personal histories, former scientific endeavors and adventure exploits - all ours to view through the lens of history and passing time. Just over a small rise north of the base along a rocky shore a small group of Southern elephant seals, largest of all seals, congregated together in apparent thigmotactic comfort. Most were enduring the uncomfortable necessity of the annual molt. As the day turned to evening the National Geographic Endeavour made her way into the belly of Margeurite Bay and turned north. The skies broke revealing lofty, gilded mountain peaks, millpond seas, and a sun that would not set. We were sailing the realm of the midnight sun.
The previous evening an ambitious plan had been hatched by Expedition Leader Tim Soper and Captain Leif Skog: to sail south towards the Antarctic Circle and beyond. The Antarctic Convergence may define Antarctica biologically, but the Circle sits in the public forum as a grail of types for anyone journeying south. It is an astronomical delineation; at its latitude on the longest day of the austral summer the sun does not set.
To achieve such an ambitious goal the National Geographic Endeavour plied a course during the night through open water outside the archipelago that comprises the western boundary of the Gerlache Strait, Crystal Sound, and Margeurite Bay. The night passed fitfully as our vessel bounded over unhindered and rhythmic moderate swells. However, the upshot was a straight sail without the threat of encountering progress-impeding pack ice.
By morning our vessel was astride the western edge of large Adelaide Island - Our goal: the Chilean summer-only station Teniente Luis Carvajal Villaroel Antarctic Base on the southwest point of the island. Throughout the early and mid-day hours new avian visitors, principally Antarctic petrels, escorted us south. At 0825 hours the National Geographic Endeavour reached her first goal - the Antarctic Circle. After crossing the great parallel our vessel neither slowed nor altered course, cutting a ruler-straight line even farther south across the Southern Ocean. Throughout the morning and early afternoon the swells did not abate. The sky grew dark, limiting visibility, and wrapped us in a cloak of snow-driven cold. We were not to be deterred, and before long we were firmly anchored a few cables from our land-based destination.
The unoccupied base stood frozen in time, literally. It was a veritable museum of former Antarctic human occupation, a tiny ghost town in a state of arrested decay. Only the formidable cold kept the ravages of an ever-advancing clock and the persistent attack of microorganisms at bay. We wandered through the base perusing its contents. The ramshackle buildings held a cornucopia of personal histories, former scientific endeavors and adventure exploits - all ours to view through the lens of history and passing time. Just over a small rise north of the base along a rocky shore a small group of Southern elephant seals, largest of all seals, congregated together in apparent thigmotactic comfort. Most were enduring the uncomfortable necessity of the annual molt. As the day turned to evening the National Geographic Endeavour made her way into the belly of Margeurite Bay and turned north. The skies broke revealing lofty, gilded mountain peaks, millpond seas, and a sun that would not set. We were sailing the realm of the midnight sun.
