Drake Passage
We are back in the Drake making our way south, ocean all around and a bit of wind, which makes it interesting. Lots of low clouds with many holes, like a slice of puffy white bread. Under clouds the sea is slick graphite, almost metal, in the light it is bright and alive. Small showers, now and again, even a little snow. We move south and we are not alone.
The birds, they must come from miles and miles around, beyond our mixed flock the sea looks empty, birds of all sizes. Look there, that one could sit on my hand, that one might fit on my shoulder, and that one could have me for lunch… Wilson’s storm petrel, blue petrel and wandering albatross.
The bigger the bird, the less it does to stay in the air, but they need the wind across their wings, not a storm, just a breeze. The Cape or pintado petrels really like the windward side of the ship, an extra little kick from reflected pressure to hang in the air looking at us, perfect for photography. And that’s the point, we have entered a different world where Nature rules and we are the visitors, the oddities.
There are talks today on photography, nature and the etiquette of Antarctica, and time to discover the ship, the National Geographic Explorer. The day ends as it began, heading south, ocean all around, but we have arrived, crossing the Convergence, that mostly invisible barrier, the transition from chilly to cold water whose embrace defines the Southern Ocean and the continent within.
