Lemaire Channel, Petermann Island, Booth Island
Today was a day about the power and beauty of ice.
We woke early to the promise of a vista of uncompromising grace. The magnificence of the mountains carved by the centuries of ice, which still slip in their sloth-like ways towards the sea, shone in elegance in the new snow of last night.
We stood quietly on deck through the Lemaire Channel. All day, and most days since this trip began, the glaciers have been rumbling, groaning and thundering. We hear them at every landing, we hear them as we sail by. The accumulation of ice is falling away from the bedrock which it has grasped hard hold of for centuries. Landslides of brown earth cascade over the snow. The ice is melting.
Petermann Island and Booth Island gave us the chance to crunch through the wet snow in search of penguins. It was easy on Petermann Island. No sooner had we unclipped our life-vests when a curious mob of Gentoo penguin chicks came over to see us. They grabbed at hanging strings or zipper pulls. They poked at our legs and they were so hot from the warming sun that they nearly fell asleep in our laps. “Penguins make me laugh,” a new friend said to me.
Booth Island has a rock cairn atop a hillside to commemorate Jean-Baptiste Charcot’s scientific expedition’s presence on the island. From this vantage point, we saw leopard
seals sleeping on icebergs, and the timed chaos of the penguin rookeries. With all of this to see, it was the icebergs, big, voluminous and multi-hued that sent us dreaming. Like Henry Moore sculptures, they continually drew our eyes to them in their intricate forms, both simple and profound.
After dinner we met in the lounge for a daily recap of the day’s events. Good cheer was ever present. We laughed with each other, shared insights together and remembered our day in detail.
But the land was not done with us. Outside the light had gone pink and gold. Before it slipped away, we found ourselves on the back deck, once more captivated by the beauty and the power of the ice.
Today was a day about the power and beauty of ice.
We woke early to the promise of a vista of uncompromising grace. The magnificence of the mountains carved by the centuries of ice, which still slip in their sloth-like ways towards the sea, shone in elegance in the new snow of last night.
We stood quietly on deck through the Lemaire Channel. All day, and most days since this trip began, the glaciers have been rumbling, groaning and thundering. We hear them at every landing, we hear them as we sail by. The accumulation of ice is falling away from the bedrock which it has grasped hard hold of for centuries. Landslides of brown earth cascade over the snow. The ice is melting.
Petermann Island and Booth Island gave us the chance to crunch through the wet snow in search of penguins. It was easy on Petermann Island. No sooner had we unclipped our life-vests when a curious mob of Gentoo penguin chicks came over to see us. They grabbed at hanging strings or zipper pulls. They poked at our legs and they were so hot from the warming sun that they nearly fell asleep in our laps. “Penguins make me laugh,” a new friend said to me.
Booth Island has a rock cairn atop a hillside to commemorate Jean-Baptiste Charcot’s scientific expedition’s presence on the island. From this vantage point, we saw leopard
seals sleeping on icebergs, and the timed chaos of the penguin rookeries. With all of this to see, it was the icebergs, big, voluminous and multi-hued that sent us dreaming. Like Henry Moore sculptures, they continually drew our eyes to them in their intricate forms, both simple and profound.
After dinner we met in the lounge for a daily recap of the day’s events. Good cheer was ever present. We laughed with each other, shared insights together and remembered our day in detail.
But the land was not done with us. Outside the light had gone pink and gold. Before it slipped away, we found ourselves on the back deck, once more captivated by the beauty and the power of the ice.
