Marguerite Bay, Antarctica
Summer. Memories drift to the forefront with the mere utterance of the word: sun and fun; delicious smells of the sea; or maybe the caress of a lover from long ago. Joy warms the soul as minds slip back in time and recreate the freedom of youth. It is seldom that we are awarded the opportunity to return to those carefree times. But today was "as brilliant and lovely as any Antarctic summer could be" and from the oldest to the youngest we inhaled its gifts with great exuberance.
So what does one do on a sunny day below the Antarctic Circle?
Take a stroll on a beach for starters. For most of the morning Adelaide Island seemed to float above the crinkled ocean. Glaciers poured from its flanks fanning out into piedmonts and shelving into the sea. A foggy comforter snuggled against its icy skirt hiding the junction of land and water. Jenny Island rose tall near Adelaide's southeastern tip. Her ice free beaches beckoned both man and beast alike. We gingerly meandered on rounded granite boulders, all ornately stacked and terraced by rivers of ancient ice. Squirming mounds of moulting elephant seals occasionally acknowledged our presence with snorts or grunts or wide open mouths but mostly they just laid there in the sun, peeling uncomfortably.
There is nothing more fun than being on the sea when the skies are blue above, just sailing away and listening to the sound of the bow cutting through the water. Today the simple act of sailing was surpassed by mixing in an abundance of wildlife. Imagine a mirror backed with the richest silver so that whatever image was cast back at you had a brilliance that was mesmerizing. Stitch together snapshots of sharp mountain peaks covered in snow and ice cascading in frozen rivers, the surface slumping angled blocks. Then paste these all around right side up and upside down. Now add life and action. Humpback whales exhaled with heart-shaped blows and dove below the surface, diamonds of liquid pouring from graceful flukes as they became airborne. Minke whales lunged and splashed in groups of three to five. On floes drifting by, the golden pelage of crabeater seals glistened in the light.
A walk after dinner is usually a quiet way to end the day. But the sun was still far above the horizon when the National Geographic Endeavour decided to "park" in the fast ice and we all headed out to stroll around the frozen plaza as if it were a traditional promenade. The only other presence in this vast white wilderness was one lone Adélie penguin "teen".
As the sun tickled the mountain's crest, a tall form stood up on a nearby ice floe. Its shadow stretched far to the side like a monolithic tower. An emperor penguin, its auricular patch a golden glow, was the sunset on our day.
Summer. Memories drift to the forefront with the mere utterance of the word: sun and fun; delicious smells of the sea; or maybe the caress of a lover from long ago. Joy warms the soul as minds slip back in time and recreate the freedom of youth. It is seldom that we are awarded the opportunity to return to those carefree times. But today was "as brilliant and lovely as any Antarctic summer could be" and from the oldest to the youngest we inhaled its gifts with great exuberance.
So what does one do on a sunny day below the Antarctic Circle?
Take a stroll on a beach for starters. For most of the morning Adelaide Island seemed to float above the crinkled ocean. Glaciers poured from its flanks fanning out into piedmonts and shelving into the sea. A foggy comforter snuggled against its icy skirt hiding the junction of land and water. Jenny Island rose tall near Adelaide's southeastern tip. Her ice free beaches beckoned both man and beast alike. We gingerly meandered on rounded granite boulders, all ornately stacked and terraced by rivers of ancient ice. Squirming mounds of moulting elephant seals occasionally acknowledged our presence with snorts or grunts or wide open mouths but mostly they just laid there in the sun, peeling uncomfortably.
There is nothing more fun than being on the sea when the skies are blue above, just sailing away and listening to the sound of the bow cutting through the water. Today the simple act of sailing was surpassed by mixing in an abundance of wildlife. Imagine a mirror backed with the richest silver so that whatever image was cast back at you had a brilliance that was mesmerizing. Stitch together snapshots of sharp mountain peaks covered in snow and ice cascading in frozen rivers, the surface slumping angled blocks. Then paste these all around right side up and upside down. Now add life and action. Humpback whales exhaled with heart-shaped blows and dove below the surface, diamonds of liquid pouring from graceful flukes as they became airborne. Minke whales lunged and splashed in groups of three to five. On floes drifting by, the golden pelage of crabeater seals glistened in the light.
A walk after dinner is usually a quiet way to end the day. But the sun was still far above the horizon when the National Geographic Endeavour decided to "park" in the fast ice and we all headed out to stroll around the frozen plaza as if it were a traditional promenade. The only other presence in this vast white wilderness was one lone Adélie penguin "teen".
As the sun tickled the mountain's crest, a tall form stood up on a nearby ice floe. Its shadow stretched far to the side like a monolithic tower. An emperor penguin, its auricular patch a golden glow, was the sunset on our day.
