The Voyage of M.S. Explorer to Antarctica 20/11/06

Deception Island

(For snaps of the poolside orgy see "Two Nomads" or "Our Epic Journey" in Links; I didn't have my camera with me at the time!)

Another early start this morning with a tantalising prospect ahead; we were to swim in the Antarctic.

On Deception Island (62 degrees 59' south), in the South Shetlands, is a small inlet called Whalers Bay. The whole island is a caldera, that is created by a volcano. In the early days it was a whaling centre and the huge vats used to contain the whale oil are still on the beach, rusted red and graffitied. However, abandoned when oil prices dropped, it was reinhabited by the British in the 40's and maintained as a military base in the 60's. In 1967, eruptions caused damage and when the eruptions continued in 1969 and 1970, the base was abandoned. There were minor eruptions in the 90's and it is still active volcanically. What this meant for us was thermal heating. The sea itself is cold, but pools dug in the shoreline are heated by the water bubbling up from beneath. The trip staff got to work on digging two pools while we, the passengers, wandered around the abandoned buildings (including an aircraft hangar) or climbed to Neptune's Window, a picturesque gap in the surrounding cliffs. (In order to get into port Foster, the larger harbour of which Whalers Bay is a part, we had to sail through Neptune's Bellows).

Apparently Scott described this as a hellish place. It is certainly desolate and not just due to the wrecked buildings. Three graves are all that are left of a cemetery destroyed by the eruptions. Behind them stretches a rock strewn plain of snow , the stones showing black or red depending on the vagaries of the Earth which threw them up. Some are large, some are pebbles, but they are relatively newly minted compared with the ancient geology we have so far encountered. If we came here on the wrong day, I doubt the heat would allow swimming.

There were not meant to be any penguins here, but no one had told the penguins and five gatecrashed the party. Other wildlife included gulls, skuas (I saw one with research tags around its legs) and the occasional washed up starfish (more definitely tentacled than we're used to). I kind of wish we had a little more information on the life that lies beneath the waves, especially given that these can be rich waters.

Eventually the pools were dug. Clustering around a beached dry dock, we stripped off in the minus one air and ran to the crowded pools. I don't think the diggers had anticipated the popularity and things were crowded, resembling more an orgy than a beach party. Naturally I got a spot that was just a little too hot (which is why no one had been sitting there). The water welling up at my back could have boiled an egg here, if you had an egg. And you could sink a pint of Harp, if you had a pint of Harp. Well, probably a better lager; there were calls for a nice cold beer from some of those merrily boiling away. the heat though was preferable to the icy sea that some brave sould unwisely dived into. With the cold air on my chest balanced by the warm water around my legs, I was relatively content. The Irish contingent wore our national pallor with pride. It had to end though. Then it was a hasty dry down with a damp towel and a rush to get dressed.

Lunch, lectures, reading.

Aitcho Island

Our next and final destination was Aitcho Island (after HO or Hydrological Office). The first penguins we had encountered at Elephant Island were chinstraps, but they are more properly sub-Antarctic maritime penguins and we had seen no more. Until now. Aitcho Island was full of them. We landed at Whalebone Beach which sure enough was peppered with whalebone. The penguins often used it for their nests. Also on the beach were gentoos and two or three seals (I only saw two). One was a Weddell seal, many of which we'd already seen, but the other was the very distinctive Leopard Seal, a penguin eater. It was huge and a little bit sinister in appearance, with its sleek, yet bulging head and wide, smiling mouth. It plopped down to the waterline in fits and starts before gracefully swimming off.

In walking from one end of the short beach to the other, I somehow managed to lose my camera. I wasn't too dismayed, at least initially, as the beach was short and I hadn't walked far. Nevertheless it could have been a very nasty loss. Sure enough, Adam from Hong Kong found it on the sand and I recovered it.

The main thing about Aitcho Island is that further north than any of our other destinations, it nevertheless felt the coldest. This was probably due to the brisk wind and dampness of the place. The penguins took on a silver sheen as they huddled against the flying snow, the ice on their backs showing against the black. We generally agreed that this was the closest we came to Antarctic weather the whole trip and it still wasn't much below minus one. We were meant to have three hours on the beach, but it says a lot that we were all back on board after two. This allowed us to depart on our homeward journey earlier than expected.

Very soon after leaving those relatively sheltered waters, the weather got foggy and the waters rougher. We were heading once more into the rough and tumble of Drake's Passage.

I determined to risk not taking seasickness tablets this time, and instead gave them to Marie from Dublin. So far I've been fine.

At dinner I learnt that 'North by Northwest' had come from the small but impressive collection of dvds Englishman, Matt, had with him. He chose 'Thunderbolt and Lightfoot', with Clint Eastwood and Jeff Bridges, as that night's screening. I sat through it not having seen it for years, but it wouldn't be my cup of tea. In contrast to Lehman's, Cimino's script is lazy and often offensive. Strange though how many buddy movies with sad endings appeared in the 70's (remember 'Midnight Cowboy' and 'Scarecrow').