Brown Bluff & Devil Island, Antarctica
The edges of dreams are soft and blurry and yet the subjects are well-defined, burning a lasting image in our minds that lingers long after awakening. Was today reality or just a glorious dream?
Fog mixed with fluffy flakes of falling snow isolated us upon a satin sea. Blue bergs sailed into view, ferrying penguin passengers across the stage. At the edge of our world, sharp-edged tabular bergs loomed like apartment houses, most with traditional blocky shapes but here and there the architect had applied more modern styles utilizing slopes and angles. The sea and sky were one. No horizon line defined the transition from one to the other. Even as our field of view expanded, ice and ship seemed suspended in the universe.
A filmy curtain draped over the flat topped volcano at Brown Bluff, but on the shore, life was wildly abundant. It was as if spring break had arrived and all the soon-to-graduate penguin chicks had gathered here together. Gentoos and Adélies alike sported strange attire. No two were alike and each was more comical than the other. It is amazing what can be done with randomly placed tufts of down. Afros and mohawks, mustaches and beards, vests, short skirts and ragged trousers were readily identified. Adult chaperones scurried about, separating their off-spring from the others, ensuring that a healthy meal was had before the youngsters were left abandoned.
Weddell seals mimicked rocks snoozing amidst the frenzy. Like a bull in a china shop, an Antarctic fur seal strolled along the beach, its swagger sending flocks running before him while the curious trailed behind. The time comes when every proper penguin must go to sea. Today was the day for many whose new plumage was fully waterproof. They leapt into the frigid foam, some floundering and others swimming somewhat skillfully. Anyone who has seen a penguin porpoise has marveled at the grace and agility of this bird as it alternately flies through the water and soars through the air in elegant arches. Apparently this latter mode of maneuvering is difficult to learn for these youngsters, collapsed like flopping fish as the initial arching leap abruptly terminated with a free-fall belly flop
Midday brought definition to distant shores where glaciers poured from islands. But with the change in temperature, superior mirages stole the edge of sea and shore and icebergs seemed to fly. The water was a mirror and through it pushed a pod of killer whales. They led. We followed. Blows burst like fireworks as they surfaced, lined up shoulder-to-shoulder.
Perched high on the horn of Devil Island, blue clad figures peered at yellow kayaks far below. On the lower flanks of the hillsides skuas squabbled, their source of food declining, for the penguin colony here, too, was filled with chicks about to fledge. Snow drifted down, hiding the cliffs of Cape Well-Met and softening the tops of turquoise bergs.
The edge of our day faded until it looked as it had begun.
The edges of dreams are soft and blurry and yet the subjects are well-defined, burning a lasting image in our minds that lingers long after awakening. Was today reality or just a glorious dream?
Fog mixed with fluffy flakes of falling snow isolated us upon a satin sea. Blue bergs sailed into view, ferrying penguin passengers across the stage. At the edge of our world, sharp-edged tabular bergs loomed like apartment houses, most with traditional blocky shapes but here and there the architect had applied more modern styles utilizing slopes and angles. The sea and sky were one. No horizon line defined the transition from one to the other. Even as our field of view expanded, ice and ship seemed suspended in the universe.
A filmy curtain draped over the flat topped volcano at Brown Bluff, but on the shore, life was wildly abundant. It was as if spring break had arrived and all the soon-to-graduate penguin chicks had gathered here together. Gentoos and Adélies alike sported strange attire. No two were alike and each was more comical than the other. It is amazing what can be done with randomly placed tufts of down. Afros and mohawks, mustaches and beards, vests, short skirts and ragged trousers were readily identified. Adult chaperones scurried about, separating their off-spring from the others, ensuring that a healthy meal was had before the youngsters were left abandoned.
Weddell seals mimicked rocks snoozing amidst the frenzy. Like a bull in a china shop, an Antarctic fur seal strolled along the beach, its swagger sending flocks running before him while the curious trailed behind. The time comes when every proper penguin must go to sea. Today was the day for many whose new plumage was fully waterproof. They leapt into the frigid foam, some floundering and others swimming somewhat skillfully. Anyone who has seen a penguin porpoise has marveled at the grace and agility of this bird as it alternately flies through the water and soars through the air in elegant arches. Apparently this latter mode of maneuvering is difficult to learn for these youngsters, collapsed like flopping fish as the initial arching leap abruptly terminated with a free-fall belly flop
Midday brought definition to distant shores where glaciers poured from islands. But with the change in temperature, superior mirages stole the edge of sea and shore and icebergs seemed to fly. The water was a mirror and through it pushed a pod of killer whales. They led. We followed. Blows burst like fireworks as they surfaced, lined up shoulder-to-shoulder.
Perched high on the horn of Devil Island, blue clad figures peered at yellow kayaks far below. On the lower flanks of the hillsides skuas squabbled, their source of food declining, for the penguin colony here, too, was filled with chicks about to fledge. Snow drifted down, hiding the cliffs of Cape Well-Met and softening the tops of turquoise bergs.
The edge of our day faded until it looked as it had begun.
