Cape Lookout, Elephant Island
After a smooth and benign crossing of the infamous Drake Passage (with apologies to any readers from previous trips to the Antarctic who might remember it otherwise) we approached Elephant Island at midday in a dense fog. Suddenly before us loomed a rugged island of volcanic origin; steep slopes rising up from small beaches to end in sharp glacially-carved ridges, and glaciers tumbling down from the mountains above. There is scarcely a spot for a safe and comfortable landing. This fact was discovered by Ernest Henry Shackleton and the men of the failed Imperial TransAntarctic Expedition when they reached Elephant Island on April 16, 1916. It had been sixteen months since their boots last touched land. They landed first at Cape Valentine, the easternmost point of Elephant Island. It provided little refuge, so they moved seven miles along the north coast of the island to a small point of land that we now know as Point Wild, after Frank Wild who looked after the 22 men who waited there while Shackleton and five others made their epic small boat journey to South Georgia Island to affect their rescue. We did it in reverse and in considerably greater comfort, first passing Point Wild and then rounding Cape Valentine on our way to an afternoon excursion by Zodiacs at Cape Lookout. For most of us it was our first close-up experience with penguins, and Cape Lookout offered us a grand experience: three species - chinstraps, gentoos, and, with careful looking, a few macaroni penguins. Macaronis are Subantarctic penguins; they may be the most abundant of all penguin species worldwide, but they are rarely seen here so we were fortunate to encounter them.
From the vantage of our Zodiacs we can focus on the comings and goings of the penguins. Incoming penguins ride the swells and then frantically try to grab a toehold on the smooth rock as the water recedes. Sometimes they succeed; sometimes they don’t and they have to try for a landing on the next swell. Outgoing penguins gather up in groups on the rocks. Their seeming reluctance to enter the water is related to the presence of hungry leopard seals that patrol the waters below penguin colonies. Enter the water alone and your chance of becoming a leopard seal meal is high, and so the penguins gather up and then make a group dash hoping to pass the predator and reach the open sea where they will seek food for their hungry young. Where leopard seals were hauled out on the land, however, an awkward truce prevailed. Penguins scurried past a resting seal and it paid them no heed. We also enjoyed views of Antarctic fur seals and of heaps of giant elephant seals, all on the land, and Weddell seals swimming past. Three penguin and four seal species; we will call that a pretty spectacular start to our Antarctic voyage. And so we turned the bow of the National Geographic Endeavour to the south, toward Antarctic Sound and the Weddell Sea.
After a smooth and benign crossing of the infamous Drake Passage (with apologies to any readers from previous trips to the Antarctic who might remember it otherwise) we approached Elephant Island at midday in a dense fog. Suddenly before us loomed a rugged island of volcanic origin; steep slopes rising up from small beaches to end in sharp glacially-carved ridges, and glaciers tumbling down from the mountains above. There is scarcely a spot for a safe and comfortable landing. This fact was discovered by Ernest Henry Shackleton and the men of the failed Imperial TransAntarctic Expedition when they reached Elephant Island on April 16, 1916. It had been sixteen months since their boots last touched land. They landed first at Cape Valentine, the easternmost point of Elephant Island. It provided little refuge, so they moved seven miles along the north coast of the island to a small point of land that we now know as Point Wild, after Frank Wild who looked after the 22 men who waited there while Shackleton and five others made their epic small boat journey to South Georgia Island to affect their rescue. We did it in reverse and in considerably greater comfort, first passing Point Wild and then rounding Cape Valentine on our way to an afternoon excursion by Zodiacs at Cape Lookout. For most of us it was our first close-up experience with penguins, and Cape Lookout offered us a grand experience: three species - chinstraps, gentoos, and, with careful looking, a few macaroni penguins. Macaronis are Subantarctic penguins; they may be the most abundant of all penguin species worldwide, but they are rarely seen here so we were fortunate to encounter them.
From the vantage of our Zodiacs we can focus on the comings and goings of the penguins. Incoming penguins ride the swells and then frantically try to grab a toehold on the smooth rock as the water recedes. Sometimes they succeed; sometimes they don’t and they have to try for a landing on the next swell. Outgoing penguins gather up in groups on the rocks. Their seeming reluctance to enter the water is related to the presence of hungry leopard seals that patrol the waters below penguin colonies. Enter the water alone and your chance of becoming a leopard seal meal is high, and so the penguins gather up and then make a group dash hoping to pass the predator and reach the open sea where they will seek food for their hungry young. Where leopard seals were hauled out on the land, however, an awkward truce prevailed. Penguins scurried past a resting seal and it paid them no heed. We also enjoyed views of Antarctic fur seals and of heaps of giant elephant seals, all on the land, and Weddell seals swimming past. Three penguin and four seal species; we will call that a pretty spectacular start to our Antarctic voyage. And so we turned the bow of the National Geographic Endeavour to the south, toward Antarctic Sound and the Weddell Sea.
