I was up by 4AM. My body clock had yet to
adjust, but that was all right. The sun rose at 2:47AM so I had a clear view
from our porthole. There’s less ice and ‘bergs going to Mikkelsen Harbour,
today’s destination, which is around 100 nautical miles from Brown Bluff, where
we sailed from yesterday. I had time to read about Antarctica …
Sara Wheeler, recording her journey in Terra Incognita, wrote: “ … one of
Antarctica’s salient characteristics is that of scale.” Indeed. The continent
comprises 10% of the earth’s land surface. It is larger than Europe, larger
than Australia, one and a half times the size of the USA. It is the land of
extremes. Antarctica has 90% of the world’s ice and, because of the very thick
ice sheets that cover this land, it is the highest continent, with an average
elevation of 5,965 feet, which is 3X higher than any other continent. And yet
it is also the lowest. Exclude the ice sheets and approximately half of
Antarctica is below sea level. It is the windiest place on earth. The strongest
wind ever recorded in Antarctica was 327 km/h, in July 1972. It never rains and
rarely snows out here, so Antarctica is the driest place in the world. In fact,
it is a desert, a frozen one. And of course, it is the coldest place. The
lowest temperature ever recorded in Antarctica, -93.2 Celsius, in August 2010,
is also the lowest ever recorded in the planet. (Yikes! Just reading about it
hurts.) Lastly, for most of the year, Antarctica is either in total darkness or
in total daylight. It’s summer and, on average, we’re getting only three hours
of darkness.
I stopped reading after a while and went
back to our porthole. Soon enough I noticed splashes on the water, but I
couldn’t tell what’s causing it. Things gradually became clear, and the PA
announced it: “Folks, we spotted two humpback whales near our ship. Put on your
warm clothing and come to the deck …” I woke up Rhodora. We didn’t rush this
time; we could see the behemoths right outside our porthole!
Humpbacks reach up to 62 feet long and can
weigh around 36 tons. Our Captain estimated these ones to be about 50 feet.
They have stocky bodies studded with barnacles. Tubercles (bumps) appear on the
head and pectoral (side) fins. Their pectoral fins are long, about 15 feet on
these ones. Their dorsal (top) fins are short and wedged-shaped. Their tails –
they call them flukes – are lifted out of the water when they go for a deep
dive. (It might interest you to know that the patterns on the tails are unique
to each whale in the same way our fingerprints are to each one of us.) Their
blow (or spout) sprays upward into a V and reaches up to 10 feet from the
water’s surface, making them very visible even from afar. These giants are
playing right before our eyes. They were slapping their pectoral fins,
spyhopping, fluking, and breaching. Jesse, who went up the deck to take some
pictures, said she and others ran from front to back and side to side to
witness the action. The play went on for a good 15 minutes. We couldn’t have
asked for a better morning show!!!
We didn’t “chase” the humpbacks like we did
the orcas. Their antics had been on full display and more than appreciated. We
had a lecture instead, on climate change, delivered by Andre Belem, a Brazilian
who has a PhD on climatology. (Andre is also a Zodiac driver.) Rhodora and the
kids were in full attention; I, alas, sadly, embarrassingly, fell asleep in
some parts. The price, I suppose, of being up too early. But I did get the gist
of Andre’s session. Or so I believed, my family reminded me – it’s tough when
you have too many geeks in the house. First, Andre informed us that experts
don’t use the term “global warming” anymore – it has been grossly misleading.
Climate changes have been occurring forever and, while, yes, man contributes to
it in arguably adverse ways, it isn’t wholly conclusive that man is the only
one to blame for the changes (Take the Ice Age.) In other words, it isn’t as black
and white as Al Gore’s power point slides show it. The question is: can we do
something about it? Yes. Rhodora practical take is: let’s be energy efficient.
One surprising tidbit: ice has actually been increasing in Antarctica in the
last few years. The news I get is that ice has been melting, and melting fast.
The place where this is happening is in Greenland and the Arctic Region.
After Andre’s session, we went to Mikkelsen
Harbour on Trinity Island. This harbour was once used by whale hunters for mooring
factory ships. Close to the shore, we found unoccupied huts and radio masts. We
came here to snowshoe and visit a Gentoo penguin colony.
The chief challenge for me when it came to
snowshoeing was no longer the walking. It was strapping my boots onto the
contraptions; I had to bend and I get dizzy quickly. This time around I stepped
on soft ice and landed on my butt. Geez, I tried, but I couldn’t get up. I sank
in a hole! Hahahaha. Jason and Nico, our Chilean trek leader, mercifully pulled
me up. I was fine, just a bit embarrassed, but quickly moved to help Rhodora
strap her boots. That done, we followed the others on the way up. 
Our pace was
faster; our steps more efficient. One quickly learns to appreciate snowshoes.
We watched our fellow guests - who opted not to use snowshoes – sink in,
fumble, and slide on the snow. They struggled moving. We didn’t go up very far;
the hill itself wasn’t very high. But from where we were, we saw magnificent
icebergs. Floating white mountains on black waters. They were awesome! As we
went down to a more level spot, we saw a skeleton of a boat. Its bottom covered
with snow, it looked like a set of short posts inserted on the ground. We also
spotted two Wedell seals lounging, separately, on the ice. One lifted its head
ever so slowly, lazily, I suppose to check us out, and concluded nothing was
interesting (It was probably saying, “Lord have mercy, damn tourists, again …”)
or, more importantly, nothing was threatening, and resumed its idle position.
Good for him. Or her. (I couldn’t tell.) The environment and wildlife are
clearly priorities here and the guides are rather strict in enforcing the
“rules.” We were instructed to walk past the seals one by one, and very
quietly. We understood fully, and complied obediently. Out here, respecting
your fellow creatures is something that goes straight to your heart.
We’ve now reached the beach, which is
covered with fist-sized pebbles instead of snow. Jason quickly moved to a block
of iceberg and sat on it. He lied down on the block, testing its feel and his
gear’s worthiness. He was blown away that he barely felt cold and was
completely dry. He found another block that had a big hole in the middle and
promptly inserted himself inside the hole. We’re quite content to sit on the ice
boulder and pose for pictures. Later on, Rhodora, Jesse and Juliene tested the
waters. Rhodora washed her hands; so did I. We wanted to know what it felt
like. What did we expect?! Brrrrrr!!! I saw some small, really nice pebbles and
thought of pocketing one. Dropped the idea; I swore earlier I won’t take
anything from this place. Jesse and Juliene sat on a rock, removed their boots
and socks and dipped their feet. I didn’t want to go that far. Andre, the
climatologist, joined the fun and showed Jason a rock in the water that was
barely visible on the shore. Ever the ham, Jason stood on the rock, alternately
lifting his left and right leg. He looked like he was standing on the surface
of the water! 
We walked back to our starting point to
board the Zodiacs. While waiting, we watched the Gentoo penguins. Gentoos can
be distinguished from other penguins by their bright red bill and white bonnet
over their heads. They’re bigger than Adelies, the ones we saw yesterday. They stand
over two feet tall and weigh some 10 to 12 pounds. In this instance, they were
walking hurriedly, flippers held back for balance, but still waddling – and
stumbling. No one seemed to get hurt, however. They fall on their bellies and,
in that position, they use their claws to push themselves forward. On ice, they
move faster that way. They seemingly line up to swim. Gentoos feed on krill
(shrimp-like creatures) mostly, but also hunt for fish. But they don’t fish too
far from the shore.
All awkwardness is shorn off once they’re
in the water; they’re like different creatures altogether! They’re suddenly
powerful. And graceful. (Tells you something about being in place where you
belong.) They’re able to dart in all directions while repeatedly leaping in and
out of the water, a movement experts labelled “porpoising.” According to Nigel,
our New Zealander guide, this action allows them to breathe while swimming at
high speed. Movement through air has less resistance than movement through
water, so it’s more energy efficient. It also allows them to see both prey and
predator. (Someone made a pun about how everyone needs a purpose, but not
everyone needs a dolphin.).
On the way back to the ship, Jonathan, our
French Zodiac driver, took us close to gigantic iceberg, a flat, 60-foot thick,
5000-square foot tabular platform. It had icicles in front and column-like
structures at the back. Very impressive.
We had a late lunch, but nobody really
cared.
We went back to the water at 4PM, cruising
around Cierva Cove in Hughes Bay. This area is known for its collection of
stunning icebergs. The water at this hour was littered with small pieces of
ice. Mike directed our attention to a landmass, snow-covered like the others,
except for the top. We could see Gentoos climbing up, their paths easily
discernible. “Penguin highways,” he called them. The highways had a reddish
tinge that came from their poop – krill diet, being reddish in color. It was quite
a challenge for them to get to the top, but gentoos, like other penguins, need
to nest on rocks, which makes perfect sense – they could lose their eggs on
snow and the equally obvious fact that snow is cold …
Suddenly, we’re surrounded by icebergs.
They’re everywhere! I don’t know about you, but in my time (ancient times, I
can hear you!), we were “forced” to memorize poems, and some of them are still
lodged in my brain. It’s Coleridge today, “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” …
The
ice was here, the ice was there,
The
ice was all around:
It
cracked and growled, and roared and howled,
Like
noises in a swound!
How did all these ice come about? The ice
formed in Antarctica is the result of snow falling upon snow upon snow upon
snow – ad infinitum. Over time, as in millions of years up to the present, the
fresh snow crystals adhere together to form a dense and compact mass. There are
two broad categories of ice: continental ice, which is ice accumulated on the
landmass, and sea ice, which is formed everywhere on the surface of the water.
The ice blanketing the continent flows
under its own weight and gravity to the sea. When it reaches the coast, it
continues to grow on the surface of the water. These ice shelves can extend for
hundreds of kilometers. When they break (or calve, as the experts call the
process), icebergs are released into the sea. These icebergs can travel for
years. (Cue soundtrack from Titanic.)
Here at Cierva Cove, icebergs come in all
sorts of wonderful shapes. We had a field day naming them. Here’s some wacky
ones we came up with: marshmallow, yoghurt, failed soufflé, melted cream,
meringue, queen conch, muffin, Easter Island, bear paws, shaving cream, Dove
soap lather, Hershey kisses, etc. They’re “ice white” and glowing blue, with
hints of green sometimes. Why does ice turn blue? As the ice become more
compact and dense, the air bubbles inside are practically “squeezed out.” Under
this condition, the light’s red spectrum is absorbed, but the blue is reflected
back. Blue ice means veeeery old ice.
Mike wasn’t quite through with us. He and
Jamie have this hypersense that there’s something out there. So Mike kept
pushing the Zodiac to one corner or another, poking as it were. He told us he’s
never been to this part – it’s farther down the bay, rocky towers hiding an
entrance – and would like to explore it with us. We were game, of course.
Jamie’s team joined our group. Ice blocked our way at first, but Mike stirred
us brilliantly and, in time, we landed in a beach. 16 Weddell seals lounging!
Mike thought they’d be here – and his instincts were right.
Weddell seals are about 10 feet long and
weigh some 1,300 pounds. Their fur is silvery gray, often with darker or
lighter patches – my field book says. They look light brown to me. (Darn, these
animals haven’t read the book I’m reading!) They have small heads, short
snouts, and large eyes. They look quite adorable. All the seals we’ve seen so
far were sunbathing and hardly mobile. Is that all they do? Jamie was quick to
correct our impression that seals are lazy. He told us we’re looking at
recovering seals. Chances are, these creatures have been diving during the
previous days. Non-stop. They feed on fish, squid and krill, and to do that,
they have to dive as deep as 2,000 feet, and remain underwater for over an hour
at a time. Nature’s special adaptations are mind blowing.
Back in the water again, viewing more
icebergs up close for the last time. We got thirsty at this point and one of
our boat mates reached for a chunk of ice and started chewing on it. He said,
“This one’s salty.” “Hold on,” Mike said. Using a paddle, he picked a bigger,
clearer, more transparent ice. He handed it to Rhodora. “Go ahead, take a bite
and chew.” Rhodora did. “This one’s fresh,” she said. “Yup, probably the
freshest one you’ll ever have in your life,” Mike smiled. “It takes a while for
ice to turn that way,” he added. “And how long do you think it took?” “About
40,000 years,” he replied. Whoah! We’re drinking 40,000 year-old water and it’s
fresh! There’s that irony here in Antarctica. I look at the icebergs and I know
they’ll never look that way again after sometime. Wind, water, and sunlight
will change them. Everything here seems
to be for “the moment”, yet everything here has been here “forever.” I bought a postcard at the ship’s gift shop this
morning. It featured fantastic ice caps on a mountain range. I asked Jamie if
he knew where the shot was taken, and he promptly replied, “Of course not.” I
know what he meant – things change; we’ll never have that same view again. And yet it’s out there. Stays out there.
Before we went back to Ocean Nova, our
three Zodiacs “parked” in the water side by side by side. The crew offered hot
chocolate, delightfully spiked with Tia Maria. Ah, just what we needed …
Read about our adventure at the Cuverville Island in my Antarctica Journal 5 (Part 1).
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