Salisbury Plain & Prion Island, South Georgia
It did not look promising. Low scudding clouds, mountains dusted with frozen snow from last night's blizzard, the sea surface pummelled by gusting squalls. But who dares wins....and our dreadnought Zodiac drivers were there to run us to the black sand beach, surfing in through the surge. Salisbury Plain they call it, but there is nothing plain about this site: all along the shoreline, all along the cobble beach crest, up through the tussock grass and packed into a huge natural amphitheatre as far as the eye can see....penguins. The most beautiful of all the penguins, the King, distinguished, dazzling and debonair in gold, silver, black and white uniforms that would grace any parade ground. Approaching the main colony, the sound of the city swelled from subtle hum to soaring hymn, a symphony of whistling chicks and bugling adults. Our reward came suddenly: clouds scattered, sunshine flooded the teeming city and we were gazing out across the Kingdom of the Kings, unforgettable. A bustling city indeed: come in any month and there will be penguins here, over 50,000 furclad chicks in winter, over 100,000 adults in spring, and now, in late summer, a king's kindergarten of adults and chirping chicks.
When Robert Cushman Murphy visited here in 1912 there were barely 350 pairs, almost finished by the slaughter and egg-collecting of passing sealers and whalers. But he was a biologist, and thrilled by the remnant colony:
"Their colours gleam with a splendour not to be forgotten - I have never seen any other animals that appeared quite so chic and magnificent as these royal birds. The movements of the white breasts and golden gorgets stir me as the daffodils stirred Wordsworth".
He was referring to his favourite poem:
"I wandered lonely as a cloud that floats on high oe'r vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd, a host of golden daffodils...."
From here we crossed to Prion Island, also named by Murphy, and climbed the brand new boardwalk into the tussock towers to gaze out over several nests of the wandering albatross. Like carved marble statues they sat patiently, an 80-day vigil until their single egg hatches. How many more will see such a sight? Each year their numbers dwindle, still caught on long lines far to the north in the heavily fished waters off Argentina. Today we saw the world's most beautiful penguin, the worlds greatest flying bird and one of the worlds rarest songbirds, the tiny South Georgia pipit, which still thrives on this rat-free islet. A fine reward for daring to brave the elements in this windswept world.
It did not look promising. Low scudding clouds, mountains dusted with frozen snow from last night's blizzard, the sea surface pummelled by gusting squalls. But who dares wins....and our dreadnought Zodiac drivers were there to run us to the black sand beach, surfing in through the surge. Salisbury Plain they call it, but there is nothing plain about this site: all along the shoreline, all along the cobble beach crest, up through the tussock grass and packed into a huge natural amphitheatre as far as the eye can see....penguins. The most beautiful of all the penguins, the King, distinguished, dazzling and debonair in gold, silver, black and white uniforms that would grace any parade ground. Approaching the main colony, the sound of the city swelled from subtle hum to soaring hymn, a symphony of whistling chicks and bugling adults. Our reward came suddenly: clouds scattered, sunshine flooded the teeming city and we were gazing out across the Kingdom of the Kings, unforgettable. A bustling city indeed: come in any month and there will be penguins here, over 50,000 furclad chicks in winter, over 100,000 adults in spring, and now, in late summer, a king's kindergarten of adults and chirping chicks.
When Robert Cushman Murphy visited here in 1912 there were barely 350 pairs, almost finished by the slaughter and egg-collecting of passing sealers and whalers. But he was a biologist, and thrilled by the remnant colony:
"Their colours gleam with a splendour not to be forgotten - I have never seen any other animals that appeared quite so chic and magnificent as these royal birds. The movements of the white breasts and golden gorgets stir me as the daffodils stirred Wordsworth".
He was referring to his favourite poem:
"I wandered lonely as a cloud that floats on high oe'r vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd, a host of golden daffodils...."
From here we crossed to Prion Island, also named by Murphy, and climbed the brand new boardwalk into the tussock towers to gaze out over several nests of the wandering albatross. Like carved marble statues they sat patiently, an 80-day vigil until their single egg hatches. How many more will see such a sight? Each year their numbers dwindle, still caught on long lines far to the north in the heavily fished waters off Argentina. Today we saw the world's most beautiful penguin, the worlds greatest flying bird and one of the worlds rarest songbirds, the tiny South Georgia pipit, which still thrives on this rat-free islet. A fine reward for daring to brave the elements in this windswept world.
