Dogs Leg Fjord, Marguerite Bay
Solitude is a much desired condition.
Not only is solitude positively wished for.
In silence, we listen to ourselves, and in the quietude,
we may even hear the voice of god.
Here in Antarctica, we journey into the unknown on Expedition Days, exploring fjords like Dogs Leg in Marguerite Bay where few ships have made soundings and fewer people have left footprints. Our expedition leader, Matt Drennan, sighted this beautiful glacier yesterday on our way to walk on the fast ice which caresses the edge of Marguerite where Crabeater seals lounge on the ice and keep a breathing hole open for hunting. On the bridge Matt scans and begins designing tomorrow today. Matt and expedition staff roll out of bed while most of the ship is still sleeping and launch a zodiac for a closer look, in search of a landing and kayaking site.
“Bridge, Bridge, Bridge, Matt”. “Matt, Bridge, go ahead”. “Give us a few more minutes to check out the landing over by the glacier, this one has Antarctic terns nesting and the rocky hillside is a bit steep”. “Standing by”.
“Bridge, Bridge, Matt”. “Matt, Bridge.” “This other landing is choked with grease and pancake ice, the first site will work best. Please send a couple of shovels to shore along with three life jacket bags. We’ll be ready for guests in 10 minutes”. “Matt, Bridge, good copy.”
On the bridge of National Geographic Explorer, there is usually a lot of banter back and forth about places we’ve visited, new places we’d like to visit, and a plethora of shipboard gossip that hasn’t got anything to do with penguins, or ice, or seals, or whales. The Antarctic represents a very tight family, and returning each year is like coming home. Returning to a sacred place where we each find inner peace and fill up our sense of wonder. What expedition staffs hold in common is the love of sharing this amazing place.
So going ashore this morning, the day after Christmas, is yet another present from the officers, crew, and expedition staff on National Geographic Explorer. We walk up a rocky hill to stand next to a glacier oozing azure blues and sparkly light. Snow turned to ice, more snow turned to ice, collecting over hundreds of years in this pristine fjord. The only voices, besides those in our heads, are those of the Antarctic terns as they circle overhead, announcing that we are sharing their territory. The views are breathtaking, one can barely take in the beauty, which is all around us, both looking up from four inches off the ocean in a kayak, and from the top of a hill we scrambled up to look down upon this vast wilderness under brilliant sapphire blue sky and radiant sunlight.
As we sail out and continue our Expedition Day, many of us relax after lunch. Not for long.
“Good afternoon, good afternoon, sorry to interrupt your lunch or nap, but we have sighted orca on the bow of the ship. You may want to bundle up and come join us for our first look at these type B orca, who appear to be hunting for seal lunch.”
Two orca, the largest dolphins in the world, one male with a tall dorsal fin, and the other a female, spy hop along the edges of ice looking for seals to dislodge. The bull surfaces alongside NG Explorer and we get a rare and wonderful look into the water at this top end predator of the sea. Our Captain slows the ship to a crawl and we watch and listen, as these gray and white whales fill up our senses with lunges and blows.
Oceanites shares the work of their collective genius, led by Ron Naveen, who together with Lindblad Expeditions has over the years gathered the data for The Site Guide To The Antarctic Peninsula. Aileen and Paula explain their work as penguin counters, numbers which hold the story of individual species and their distribution and status. As Matt says, “Our goal is to keep potential impacts to an absolute minimum, and it is hoped that The Oceanites Site Guide will substantially assist these efforts – and enhance each visitor’s awareness. Use it often. Enjoy the splendor, but tread softly”.
Antarctica is the last continent we have.
For many of us today, we set foot on our seventh continent. For all of us, stirring beauty, a moment of solitude, and a rare quietude made for a perfect Expedition Day.
Solitude is a much desired condition.
Not only is solitude positively wished for.
In silence, we listen to ourselves, and in the quietude,
we may even hear the voice of god.
Here in Antarctica, we journey into the unknown on Expedition Days, exploring fjords like Dogs Leg in Marguerite Bay where few ships have made soundings and fewer people have left footprints. Our expedition leader, Matt Drennan, sighted this beautiful glacier yesterday on our way to walk on the fast ice which caresses the edge of Marguerite where Crabeater seals lounge on the ice and keep a breathing hole open for hunting. On the bridge Matt scans and begins designing tomorrow today. Matt and expedition staff roll out of bed while most of the ship is still sleeping and launch a zodiac for a closer look, in search of a landing and kayaking site.
“Bridge, Bridge, Bridge, Matt”. “Matt, Bridge, go ahead”. “Give us a few more minutes to check out the landing over by the glacier, this one has Antarctic terns nesting and the rocky hillside is a bit steep”. “Standing by”.
“Bridge, Bridge, Matt”. “Matt, Bridge.” “This other landing is choked with grease and pancake ice, the first site will work best. Please send a couple of shovels to shore along with three life jacket bags. We’ll be ready for guests in 10 minutes”. “Matt, Bridge, good copy.”
On the bridge of National Geographic Explorer, there is usually a lot of banter back and forth about places we’ve visited, new places we’d like to visit, and a plethora of shipboard gossip that hasn’t got anything to do with penguins, or ice, or seals, or whales. The Antarctic represents a very tight family, and returning each year is like coming home. Returning to a sacred place where we each find inner peace and fill up our sense of wonder. What expedition staffs hold in common is the love of sharing this amazing place.
So going ashore this morning, the day after Christmas, is yet another present from the officers, crew, and expedition staff on National Geographic Explorer. We walk up a rocky hill to stand next to a glacier oozing azure blues and sparkly light. Snow turned to ice, more snow turned to ice, collecting over hundreds of years in this pristine fjord. The only voices, besides those in our heads, are those of the Antarctic terns as they circle overhead, announcing that we are sharing their territory. The views are breathtaking, one can barely take in the beauty, which is all around us, both looking up from four inches off the ocean in a kayak, and from the top of a hill we scrambled up to look down upon this vast wilderness under brilliant sapphire blue sky and radiant sunlight.
As we sail out and continue our Expedition Day, many of us relax after lunch. Not for long.
“Good afternoon, good afternoon, sorry to interrupt your lunch or nap, but we have sighted orca on the bow of the ship. You may want to bundle up and come join us for our first look at these type B orca, who appear to be hunting for seal lunch.”
Two orca, the largest dolphins in the world, one male with a tall dorsal fin, and the other a female, spy hop along the edges of ice looking for seals to dislodge. The bull surfaces alongside NG Explorer and we get a rare and wonderful look into the water at this top end predator of the sea. Our Captain slows the ship to a crawl and we watch and listen, as these gray and white whales fill up our senses with lunges and blows.
Oceanites shares the work of their collective genius, led by Ron Naveen, who together with Lindblad Expeditions has over the years gathered the data for The Site Guide To The Antarctic Peninsula. Aileen and Paula explain their work as penguin counters, numbers which hold the story of individual species and their distribution and status. As Matt says, “Our goal is to keep potential impacts to an absolute minimum, and it is hoped that The Oceanites Site Guide will substantially assist these efforts – and enhance each visitor’s awareness. Use it often. Enjoy the splendor, but tread softly”.
Antarctica is the last continent we have.
For many of us today, we set foot on our seventh continent. For all of us, stirring beauty, a moment of solitude, and a rare quietude made for a perfect Expedition Day.
