Antarctica
After days of relentless sunshine, it was a relief to wake finding what we had expected of Antarctica. Clouds blended softly from pearl to lead, and real snow fell from the sky.
We spent the morning at Port Lockroy, a station built by the British to monitor German boat movements in World War II. The station has recently been restored, and so is an interesting place to visit. Walking up to the main building, we were greeted by now-familiar Gentoo penguins. With nests sheltered around and even under the buildings, some of these Gentoos seemed to be enjoying a bit of British hospitality - tea, no, kippers, maybe. These penguins, in addition to their normal ecological naiveté, are quite habituated to people, so we enjoyed particularly close views of them. Though the camp is British, American sheathbills were clearly very comfortable here, perhaps due to the common language. These rather dumpy birds scuttled busily among the penguins, little dismayed by the hissing and snapping beaks of the nesting birds. Though plumed like heaven's fluffiest cumulus, these birds have superlatively earthy habits, usually making a living off of that which comes out of either end of a penguin. True to villainous form, one pair had a disheveled nest beneath the hollows of a whale's skull.
Nearby, at Jougla Point, we found more whale remains. Port Lockroy was once a whaling station, and the scattered curvaceous bony forms were testament both to evolution's sculptural genius and to a particularly grizzly bout of exploitation.
A visit to Port Lockroy is about the wildlife and history, but it's also about the postcards! Where else can one get a postmark from Antarctica? The gift shop also proved a certain attraction. Most of us returned to the National Geographic Endeavour newly garbed in penguin-studded regalia.
By afternoon, we reached Dallmann Bay, where we hoped to find more whales. Cetaceans were disappointingly scarce until late afternoon, when our patience was amply rewarded. We found a humpback cow and calf. The pair was diving regularly, probably feeding on a layer of krill our sonar sensed at about 30 meters. The captain eased the ship closer to the whales. Then they began to swim slowly and steadily along the surface, giving us outstanding views. Glass-like water enabled us to see the whales' every feature, and tinted their pale pectoral flippers a stunning shade of deep cerulean.
During dinner, the Captain brought us into Lampeyrere Bay, a fjord deeply rent into the flank of Anvers Island. The walls of the fjord are blanketed, draped, smothered in ice. An endless glaucous pallet shaded crystalline ramparts, towers, canyons, seas. This was the mind's eye of the Frozen Continent, and was a fitting farewell to Antarctica.
After days of relentless sunshine, it was a relief to wake finding what we had expected of Antarctica. Clouds blended softly from pearl to lead, and real snow fell from the sky.
We spent the morning at Port Lockroy, a station built by the British to monitor German boat movements in World War II. The station has recently been restored, and so is an interesting place to visit. Walking up to the main building, we were greeted by now-familiar Gentoo penguins. With nests sheltered around and even under the buildings, some of these Gentoos seemed to be enjoying a bit of British hospitality - tea, no, kippers, maybe. These penguins, in addition to their normal ecological naiveté, are quite habituated to people, so we enjoyed particularly close views of them. Though the camp is British, American sheathbills were clearly very comfortable here, perhaps due to the common language. These rather dumpy birds scuttled busily among the penguins, little dismayed by the hissing and snapping beaks of the nesting birds. Though plumed like heaven's fluffiest cumulus, these birds have superlatively earthy habits, usually making a living off of that which comes out of either end of a penguin. True to villainous form, one pair had a disheveled nest beneath the hollows of a whale's skull.
Nearby, at Jougla Point, we found more whale remains. Port Lockroy was once a whaling station, and the scattered curvaceous bony forms were testament both to evolution's sculptural genius and to a particularly grizzly bout of exploitation.
A visit to Port Lockroy is about the wildlife and history, but it's also about the postcards! Where else can one get a postmark from Antarctica? The gift shop also proved a certain attraction. Most of us returned to the National Geographic Endeavour newly garbed in penguin-studded regalia.
By afternoon, we reached Dallmann Bay, where we hoped to find more whales. Cetaceans were disappointingly scarce until late afternoon, when our patience was amply rewarded. We found a humpback cow and calf. The pair was diving regularly, probably feeding on a layer of krill our sonar sensed at about 30 meters. The captain eased the ship closer to the whales. Then they began to swim slowly and steadily along the surface, giving us outstanding views. Glass-like water enabled us to see the whales' every feature, and tinted their pale pectoral flippers a stunning shade of deep cerulean.
During dinner, the Captain brought us into Lampeyrere Bay, a fjord deeply rent into the flank of Anvers Island. The walls of the fjord are blanketed, draped, smothered in ice. An endless glaucous pallet shaded crystalline ramparts, towers, canyons, seas. This was the mind's eye of the Frozen Continent, and was a fitting farewell to Antarctica.
