lat: 70 31.62S
So what is happening in this part of the world? We have hit a unique snag. We have to unload the fuel for the base, yet the swell is too big. Normally the swell is buffered by ice, but as there is no sea ice, a first for Aukta Bukta, the swell is rolling into the bay, barely noticeable in the centre of the bay but crashing high against the cliffs of the ice shelf. This is a fantastic sight, watching the towering icy cliffs constantly bashed, disintegrating before your very eyes.
But what does this mean for us? The direct fuel pumping (from the ship, to the containers on the shelf) could not occur, forcing the reloading of the containers onto the ship to be filled before being replaced onto the ice. The crew are fearless, and work together with absolute trust against the swinging tons of metal. However, as the fifth container was caught swinging and hit by swell at the same time, sending it slamming into both the ships side as well as another container...I have never seen a ship reverse so fast as it was forced to stabilize the swinging container.
That ended any further plans of loading for the day! Our drivers were forced to return to the base so that the cat train can leave the base and we can start back loading, to return to South Africa all waste from the past year. This left us with containers full of polar fuel. Luckily, half the fuel needed to be delivered to the Germans, and so they met us today to reload the containers back onto the ice shelf. A weird collaboration of gigantic icebergs, and ice formation near the shelf saw the calming of the bay as our drivers drove off into the white expanse of the continent, and so offloading to the Germans went easily and quickly.
We spotted a plane today! flying to and landing at Neumeyer (the German base), we can just see it from where we are. If you imagine a pebbled beach, one of crystals with an underlying black. And the waves you see in the sea, continuing through the pebbles instead of crashing against the shore, then you can imagine waves moving through a bank of forming ice. slowing down, slowly being absorbed, until the energy is buffered.
The sun set for the first time today. With beautiful pinks and oranges spinning across the skies, ice and
ocean. Lining our wake, our disturbed glass surface with a golden tint.
There are daily mirages forming over Antarctica. The refection of white into the sky gives the impression of
towering icebergs caught in the middle of the continent. This evening was incredible. Minke whales, killer whales (hunting), humpback whales (feeding) and three leopard seals (circling the ship)! All of which were spotted within 5 minutes of each other. After the abundant numbers of whales last year, it feels like a desert this year, with only the occasional sighting of whales (every few days instead of everyday). I think its a combination of us being here a couple of weeks early, and the unique (good) weather and ice (none) conditions.
We entered the ships volleyball competition, raiding our spray paint collection and turning into a hippie version of the "suneaters". Besides our best intentions, and the full energy of days of sun absorption behind us...we were creamed. In both the first and knockout round! The Bosons team ("top Dogs") got hold of
us afterwards for two hours of solid training so that we would stand a chance in the final competition tomorrow. We reckon we might now get a point;-)
Friday 28 January 2011
Tuesday 25 January 2011
The Bouy Run
lat: 70 31.18S
The buoy run, the compacted work, the bug brought on board at South Georgia to a team that can not afford to have a man down and the ability to just keep pushing yourself in darkness, murky green waters and overcast skies cannot really be described. Your mind on high alert just starts thinking, and never stops...
And then the sun comes out, and your mind stops the eternal circles it has spiralled into, the internal
struggles, the mindless loops. And you realise that none of it matters. You are here. Now. For that is the power of the Polar region. The eternal energy, the sea breeze that smells of sea, not fish. You look back from where you've come from and you see this dark mass of storm clouds shielding all horizons from view and the sharp contrast as it breaks into light.
Along with the sunshine and the spirits it lifts, the polar region brought too the morphation of fingerless
gloves and hands, and hat as hair. Contest to be alpha male swung into earnest between the boys on our team. Elephant seal chest bumps and couch squishing couldn't determine the position, forcing the stiff competition onto the ping pong table and volley ball court. One sprained ankle later and it was decided that the man who cried the least while watching "7 pounds" could be alpha male...the position in still open.
After the fire, the captain delivered a flash for inspiration for us: 25 songs all with the words "fire" in the title!
We ran two very important sleep studies linked to latitude/sunshine/oxygen supply on this trip. We
discovered that one can function for 24 hours straight, if half of the time is spent working and the other
exploring an Island. But you will feel like hell at the end of your next shift. However, if you arrive at the ice, and the sun comes out, you can run for 36 hours (on three hours sleep), and still not feel tired, but be told that its not a good idea to operate heavy machinery and your pupils dilate...;-)
In the early ours of the morning towards the end of the buoy run eviction notices were slipped under our doors (we had to move back into our shared cabins as everyone will be returning soon). We retaliated by spending the next day sleeping on the monkey island (the sun had come out :-)) under a pile of blankets. You might enjoy that I managed to get sunburnt between 5 and 7 am this morning! At -2'C.
We are back at the ice shelf. And it is beautiful. The relentless waves have calved deep blue caves out of the cliffs and the seals and whales frollic around us.
This is the first run the the Agalhus has ever done to the ice shelf where no other ice was reached first. To the officers' knowledge, no other ship has ever reached this shelf with out sailing through other ice first.
The buoy run, the compacted work, the bug brought on board at South Georgia to a team that can not afford to have a man down and the ability to just keep pushing yourself in darkness, murky green waters and overcast skies cannot really be described. Your mind on high alert just starts thinking, and never stops...
And then the sun comes out, and your mind stops the eternal circles it has spiralled into, the internal
struggles, the mindless loops. And you realise that none of it matters. You are here. Now. For that is the power of the Polar region. The eternal energy, the sea breeze that smells of sea, not fish. You look back from where you've come from and you see this dark mass of storm clouds shielding all horizons from view and the sharp contrast as it breaks into light.
Along with the sunshine and the spirits it lifts, the polar region brought too the morphation of fingerless
gloves and hands, and hat as hair. Contest to be alpha male swung into earnest between the boys on our team. Elephant seal chest bumps and couch squishing couldn't determine the position, forcing the stiff competition onto the ping pong table and volley ball court. One sprained ankle later and it was decided that the man who cried the least while watching "7 pounds" could be alpha male...the position in still open.
After the fire, the captain delivered a flash for inspiration for us: 25 songs all with the words "fire" in the title!
We ran two very important sleep studies linked to latitude/sunshine/oxygen supply on this trip. We
discovered that one can function for 24 hours straight, if half of the time is spent working and the other
exploring an Island. But you will feel like hell at the end of your next shift. However, if you arrive at the ice, and the sun comes out, you can run for 36 hours (on three hours sleep), and still not feel tired, but be told that its not a good idea to operate heavy machinery and your pupils dilate...;-)
In the early ours of the morning towards the end of the buoy run eviction notices were slipped under our doors (we had to move back into our shared cabins as everyone will be returning soon). We retaliated by spending the next day sleeping on the monkey island (the sun had come out :-)) under a pile of blankets. You might enjoy that I managed to get sunburnt between 5 and 7 am this morning! At -2'C.
We are back at the ice shelf. And it is beautiful. The relentless waves have calved deep blue caves out of the cliffs and the seals and whales frollic around us.
This is the first run the the Agalhus has ever done to the ice shelf where no other ice was reached first. To the officers' knowledge, no other ship has ever reached this shelf with out sailing through other ice first.
Thursday 13 January 2011
Island escape
lat: 55 21.66S
South Georgia is once again magnificent. Last year the clouds opened up for the few hours we were there, bathing everything is a warm glow, softening, but still suggesting the harshness hidden below the glow. This year allowed us to see some of rougher side of this stark island. Even with the low hanging clouds and the hint of wind, South Georgia lost none of it's charm. Last year I did the full historical and cultural tour of the island. This year I decided to explore the hills. I returned to Shackelton's grave first. You cannot step onto this land without going there, dwelling on his epic journey, the courage of both him and his men, what they faced. The fact that none of them died-yet so many have been lost to both the seas as well as the white expanse of Antarctica. I then turned to the mountains that were his last obstacles before reaching help, and disappeared into them.
We did not have long, but to walk on land! To hike without sea spray in your face! And to smell rock, hear the cries of the sooty albatrosses against a backdrop of the gurgling stream. and to just walk was amazing. We aimed for a glacier lake but time constraints cut this short. A ford across the river created a perfect clear pool. Glacier melt water. Delicious to drink. Icy to jump into, but refreshing:-)
I swear the Antarctic fur seals are chauvinistic! I got chased AGAIN this year! And this time I was with two other girls! And the guys went a few meters ahead of us unmolested!
Last year I swore that I would return to South Georgia once again. I am glad I did, and I would happily return again for its towering cliffs, aggressive Antarctic fur seals, lethargic elephant seals, king penguins, graves of lost souls, bones of lost whales, but most of all, for its magic.
Apparently South Georgia is visited by an average of 70 ships in the summer season! This knowledge, as well as passing a gigantic cruise ship as we were leaving drove home how fortunate I have been regarding South Georgia. To have brilliant sunshine the first year and decent weather the second along with a singular lack of anyone else around has been incredibly lucky. The cruise ship in question is called "the world", carries about 200 people and has privately owned apartments. It is gigantic and, like all cruise ships, it looks like a breath of wind would knock it over. I do not think I would like to face the Southern Ocean in such a ship, nor would I want to be on such a pristine island filled with such natural energy when it arrived. But from a point of view of preserving both a historical and natural site, and making such a place and knowledge available to the public, it is indeed necessary. What was really special were the South African scarves and flags waved at us from "The World" as we passed-they looked suspiciously like those sold during the World Cup and made us smile, graciously handing the bay over to them, as we turned and sailed into hail.
We now feel like we are in the Southern Ocean. The swell has picked up beautifully with rising towers of water threatening to break over you. Your movement down the corridors is dictated by the ship, so is the speed you arrive through doorways. The amount of times a door opens only for it to close again as the person is forced backwards is really quite funny. The patterns of unknown bruises on ones body is now distinctly railing height and the rides available from just sitting on a chair beats many roller coasters as you suddenly end up crashed against a wall on the other side of the room. The whole ship creaks and one is rocked to sleep at night.Or woken up as things go flying across one's cabin. It is in all beautiful, impressive and majestic, making one feel very small against the might of the sea.
We unfortunately discovered that if the waves hit the sideboard portholes our dry lab floods. dry = keep our computers there. Or as least did, till tonight. We begin our CTD sampling in earnest in a few days time. Up until now we have been doing surface research, but the Weddell Gyre is our main area of interest for this cruise. As we are planning 6 CTD's a day, any free time is about to vanish.
South Georgia is once again magnificent. Last year the clouds opened up for the few hours we were there, bathing everything is a warm glow, softening, but still suggesting the harshness hidden below the glow. This year allowed us to see some of rougher side of this stark island. Even with the low hanging clouds and the hint of wind, South Georgia lost none of it's charm. Last year I did the full historical and cultural tour of the island. This year I decided to explore the hills. I returned to Shackelton's grave first. You cannot step onto this land without going there, dwelling on his epic journey, the courage of both him and his men, what they faced. The fact that none of them died-yet so many have been lost to both the seas as well as the white expanse of Antarctica. I then turned to the mountains that were his last obstacles before reaching help, and disappeared into them.
We did not have long, but to walk on land! To hike without sea spray in your face! And to smell rock, hear the cries of the sooty albatrosses against a backdrop of the gurgling stream. and to just walk was amazing. We aimed for a glacier lake but time constraints cut this short. A ford across the river created a perfect clear pool. Glacier melt water. Delicious to drink. Icy to jump into, but refreshing:-)
I swear the Antarctic fur seals are chauvinistic! I got chased AGAIN this year! And this time I was with two other girls! And the guys went a few meters ahead of us unmolested!
Last year I swore that I would return to South Georgia once again. I am glad I did, and I would happily return again for its towering cliffs, aggressive Antarctic fur seals, lethargic elephant seals, king penguins, graves of lost souls, bones of lost whales, but most of all, for its magic.
Apparently South Georgia is visited by an average of 70 ships in the summer season! This knowledge, as well as passing a gigantic cruise ship as we were leaving drove home how fortunate I have been regarding South Georgia. To have brilliant sunshine the first year and decent weather the second along with a singular lack of anyone else around has been incredibly lucky. The cruise ship in question is called "the world", carries about 200 people and has privately owned apartments. It is gigantic and, like all cruise ships, it looks like a breath of wind would knock it over. I do not think I would like to face the Southern Ocean in such a ship, nor would I want to be on such a pristine island filled with such natural energy when it arrived. But from a point of view of preserving both a historical and natural site, and making such a place and knowledge available to the public, it is indeed necessary. What was really special were the South African scarves and flags waved at us from "The World" as we passed-they looked suspiciously like those sold during the World Cup and made us smile, graciously handing the bay over to them, as we turned and sailed into hail.
We now feel like we are in the Southern Ocean. The swell has picked up beautifully with rising towers of water threatening to break over you. Your movement down the corridors is dictated by the ship, so is the speed you arrive through doorways. The amount of times a door opens only for it to close again as the person is forced backwards is really quite funny. The patterns of unknown bruises on ones body is now distinctly railing height and the rides available from just sitting on a chair beats many roller coasters as you suddenly end up crashed against a wall on the other side of the room. The whole ship creaks and one is rocked to sleep at night.Or woken up as things go flying across one's cabin. It is in all beautiful, impressive and majestic, making one feel very small against the might of the sea.
We unfortunately discovered that if the waves hit the sideboard portholes our dry lab floods. dry = keep our computers there. Or as least did, till tonight. We begin our CTD sampling in earnest in a few days time. Up until now we have been doing surface research, but the Weddell Gyre is our main area of interest for this cruise. As we are planning 6 CTD's a day, any free time is about to vanish.
Sunday 9 January 2011
Maroon Rock
Lat: 59 26.91S
In the middle of a blizzard and increasing swell we crept towards South Tuli. At two Miles away the island was still not visible but the first signs of land greeted us with chinstrap penguins rushing both to meet us and guiding us towards the island as they return to their nesting grounds. They have an endearing way of swimming through mostly jumping out of the waters before metamorphing into ducks with their heads above water to watch you. A marooner’s rock rose out of the snow, perfectly crafted for those abandoned by their fellow human beings to their fate. And then two islands appeared: South Tuli and Cook Island. Both majestic, volcanic and covered in glaciers. The site of land drove us to the deck, the wind and furious snow forced us back to collect final protective layers against the very nature we had come to see. The beaches and slopes of south Tuli are covered with penguins and elephant seals, with mini icebergs forming with the breaking waves. The slopes rise up in a molten mass of black rock, interjected with red scree and pillars of rock, cast at a differed time, forcing their way through crevasses, casting an illusion of crumbling fortresses built by some vast culture in centuries past.
It is, in all, awe inspiring.
Only dampened by the extremely pungent smell of ammonia!
Blue sky opened up as we neared land. I have a theory, the islands of the Southern Ocean are surrounded by a swirling mass of bad weather to scare off wondering seafarer's.
The old Argentinean "weather station" which was bombed during Falkland War is just visible on the beach and it was to that that we sent our delegation of weather service people to drop off their own weather buoy. Two rubber ducks were lowered into the water (one full (6 people) and the other with only two people to act as a safety raft in case something went wrong) and raced off towards the land looking incredibly small.
Once the full boat had ramped onto the beach, the unthinkable happened...while the Met boys were playing on land, those of us mad enough to venture to the sea surface in a now calm blizzard were offered a ride! Which was AWESOME! Descending into a rocking rubber duck from a wooden ladder off the side of a ship is, looking back, perhaps slightly dicey. Racing off sends a wave of water over all passengers which you only really notice when you try and move and everything has seized up from cold. But what a ride! the penguins were continuously jumping around us as we sped to just beyond the breakers where we slowed to stare, absorbing our surroundings; elephant seals fighting on the shore, lolling in the waves, and the sound! The sound of thousands of penguins calling and talking all at once.
It is a wild island, uninhabited, but claimed without doubt by nature.
Our first proper sunset in weeks occurred the other night, firing the sky and water with a multitude of lights.
It's amazing how the smallest signs of normality lifts your spirits- a mixture of the first dark night and lifting clouds allowed us to see stars for the first time in weeks.
Watching the sea birds who spend their entire lives round here makes you wonder: Are they ever warm? Really warm? As we understand it? I haven't been warm since a few days outside Cape Town, I haven't been permanently cold, but a chill resides in your bones which rears up the moment the wind rises or the temperature drops.
The swell has finally caught up with us and everything not tied down is now going flying, and the dreams thatyou can only dream down here are in full force, so even when you sleep your brain remains active during the night.
In the middle of a blizzard and increasing swell we crept towards South Tuli. At two Miles away the island was still not visible but the first signs of land greeted us with chinstrap penguins rushing both to meet us and guiding us towards the island as they return to their nesting grounds. They have an endearing way of swimming through mostly jumping out of the waters before metamorphing into ducks with their heads above water to watch you. A marooner’s rock rose out of the snow, perfectly crafted for those abandoned by their fellow human beings to their fate. And then two islands appeared: South Tuli and Cook Island. Both majestic, volcanic and covered in glaciers. The site of land drove us to the deck, the wind and furious snow forced us back to collect final protective layers against the very nature we had come to see. The beaches and slopes of south Tuli are covered with penguins and elephant seals, with mini icebergs forming with the breaking waves. The slopes rise up in a molten mass of black rock, interjected with red scree and pillars of rock, cast at a differed time, forcing their way through crevasses, casting an illusion of crumbling fortresses built by some vast culture in centuries past.
It is, in all, awe inspiring.
Only dampened by the extremely pungent smell of ammonia!
Blue sky opened up as we neared land. I have a theory, the islands of the Southern Ocean are surrounded by a swirling mass of bad weather to scare off wondering seafarer's.
The old Argentinean "weather station" which was bombed during Falkland War is just visible on the beach and it was to that that we sent our delegation of weather service people to drop off their own weather buoy. Two rubber ducks were lowered into the water (one full (6 people) and the other with only two people to act as a safety raft in case something went wrong) and raced off towards the land looking incredibly small.
Once the full boat had ramped onto the beach, the unthinkable happened...while the Met boys were playing on land, those of us mad enough to venture to the sea surface in a now calm blizzard were offered a ride! Which was AWESOME! Descending into a rocking rubber duck from a wooden ladder off the side of a ship is, looking back, perhaps slightly dicey. Racing off sends a wave of water over all passengers which you only really notice when you try and move and everything has seized up from cold. But what a ride! the penguins were continuously jumping around us as we sped to just beyond the breakers where we slowed to stare, absorbing our surroundings; elephant seals fighting on the shore, lolling in the waves, and the sound! The sound of thousands of penguins calling and talking all at once.
It is a wild island, uninhabited, but claimed without doubt by nature.
Our first proper sunset in weeks occurred the other night, firing the sky and water with a multitude of lights.
It's amazing how the smallest signs of normality lifts your spirits- a mixture of the first dark night and lifting clouds allowed us to see stars for the first time in weeks.
Watching the sea birds who spend their entire lives round here makes you wonder: Are they ever warm? Really warm? As we understand it? I haven't been warm since a few days outside Cape Town, I haven't been permanently cold, but a chill resides in your bones which rears up the moment the wind rises or the temperature drops.
The swell has finally caught up with us and everything not tied down is now going flying, and the dreams thatyou can only dream down here are in full force, so even when you sleep your brain remains active during the night.
Thursday 6 January 2011
Island bound
lat: 62 52.13S
New Year’s celebrations had only just ended when we were told that night shift was beginning again that night as we were departing for the buoy run! So here we are, second night in, after finally getting sleep during the day after holding matchsticks in our eyes for our first shift and smiling as the sun dips in a perpetual sunset and rises again in a sunrise. As we crossed out of the Polar Circle, a line in the clouds that have just formed seemed to mark end of Neptune's kingdom and the start of the High seas.
Watching the icebergs is like watching one of the last tree fellows, worn and weathered and incredibly wise, sailing on one last, lost journey.
Something happened tonight that almost made Seb, our team leader, jump over board! Remember we inexplicitly lost two UCTD's on the way down? We had another probe flown down to us, and started using it today. After running 4 dummy runs the actual underway UCTD was dropped into the water, as it descended below the surface, a seal rose up next to it and swam towards it with an open mouth as though it was about to eat it! Before diving below the line! If we had lost the UCTD to a seal, NOBODY would have believed us!
I saw a whale today! I was standing on the deck staring at to sea when there was a swoooah and a whale surfaced 2m from the ship! it was incredible. I think it was a pygmy right whale.
The birds too are accompanying us, trailing in our wake and soaring off our flank.
Saturday 1 January 2011
Walking with Giants
Wednesday 29th December 2010
Lat: 70 12.44S
Today we walked with giants. Surrounded by swirling snow we have crept for ages through valleys of sulking giants, today the clouds lifted, allowing us to truly see where we were, to raise our heads and stare in wonder at the halls we have been allowed into and to hold council with the leaders of the ice.
SA Bukta is truly beautiful. The Antarctica dome slopes up from the top of the ice shelf, disappearing into the clouds as though it rises up forever.
We have two snowman standing on the boat now. After days of snow continuously covering the deck, snow covered layers of ice and sludge have turned the deck treacherous. The snow crystals themselves are beautifully crafted with the cold and one cannot get over staring at them in wonder as they snuggle into your jacket.
The weather is promising to clear tomorrow, which should allow the overwinter team to fly to the base. Their bags left on the Cat train before Christmas, leaving them with one change of clothes - they are looking forward to following their possessions.
That was a few hours ago and having just trudged inside that forecast is starting to look extremely optimistic. We are in swell (as we are surrounded by ice that is quite impressive), have white horses dancing around us, feel like we are in a blizzard and have been banned from venturing outdoors. The tubing of our incubators froze today as the temperature plummeted to -20'C (with wind chill, it is summer after all!). A few hours time is predicted to see temperatures of -10'c (without the gale force winds stirring up). I won't lie, it's feeling distinctly cold right now.
Being outside all bundled up makes one feel like some ancient nomadic Viking on a long ship in the North Sea.
Lat: 70 12.44S
Today we walked with giants. Surrounded by swirling snow we have crept for ages through valleys of sulking giants, today the clouds lifted, allowing us to truly see where we were, to raise our heads and stare in wonder at the halls we have been allowed into and to hold council with the leaders of the ice.
SA Bukta is truly beautiful. The Antarctica dome slopes up from the top of the ice shelf, disappearing into the clouds as though it rises up forever.
We have two snowman standing on the boat now. After days of snow continuously covering the deck, snow covered layers of ice and sludge have turned the deck treacherous. The snow crystals themselves are beautifully crafted with the cold and one cannot get over staring at them in wonder as they snuggle into your jacket.
The weather is promising to clear tomorrow, which should allow the overwinter team to fly to the base. Their bags left on the Cat train before Christmas, leaving them with one change of clothes - they are looking forward to following their possessions.
That was a few hours ago and having just trudged inside that forecast is starting to look extremely optimistic. We are in swell (as we are surrounded by ice that is quite impressive), have white horses dancing around us, feel like we are in a blizzard and have been banned from venturing outdoors. The tubing of our incubators froze today as the temperature plummeted to -20'C (with wind chill, it is summer after all!). A few hours time is predicted to see temperatures of -10'c (without the gale force winds stirring up). I won't lie, it's feeling distinctly cold right now.
Being outside all bundled up makes one feel like some ancient nomadic Viking on a long ship in the North Sea.
Merry Christmas!
Lat: 70 02.50S
The ship brought out all the stops this year. We have a tree on the bridge, in the lounge, in the dining hall, in our lab AND in the engine control room! We had a proper Christmas lunch with crackers, hats and excellent food. We dressed up both for Christmas eve (cocktail dresses and collared shirts) and today, and received a special thanks from the captain for the effort. As we were working yesterday they kept the dining hall open later for us for supper. We also sent Christmas presents to everyone who has gone out of their way to help us in the last few weeks, and the bridge sent us all presents too :-).
We had such good weather for offloading that we have finished already and are now sitting at SA Bukta to offload the fuel and fly the teams out to the SANAP base. But the weather closed in and we are getting hit by another cold front tomorrow, which means everyone but the drivers are still on board. Six of the SANAE 49 guys (last year's team) arrived on the last of the good weather days and are now spending Christmas with us. It is amazing to see them again - they all look slightly mad with long hair and wavy beards.
We were also visited by the Captain and Head Scientist of the Polar Stern. The Captain towers above our tallest driver (all of whom outstrip the rest of us). They invited us to a goodbye party on the ice before they left, but unfortunately the wind changed direction pushing the ice back up the shelf so we couldn't get back to the shelf to join them. They circled us on their way out instead. Our captain says he wants to be an icebreaker when he grows up. They have a scientific team of 55! We have 14! They are doing some unique work on whales, birds and this thermo-thing to track them.
The Polar Stern did break break up the ice for us, but even so, we could not reach the shelf as the broken pieces were flowing and we could not risk it building up against us while we offload. So we sailed to the other side of the bay just so that a polyna would open, laughing at us as we disappeared (so we sailed back to that!). We did see some Weddell seals while packed on the other side of the bay.
Today the penguins swam in full force towards us, and we have been fortunate enough for them to steer some of their towering colonies towards us as we haven't seen many huge icebergs up close. This made today extra special.
It is so cold that all around us ice is forming on the water surface, we glide through it sending ripples through a solid surface.
The ship brought out all the stops this year. We have a tree on the bridge, in the lounge, in the dining hall, in our lab AND in the engine control room! We had a proper Christmas lunch with crackers, hats and excellent food. We dressed up both for Christmas eve (cocktail dresses and collared shirts) and today, and received a special thanks from the captain for the effort. As we were working yesterday they kept the dining hall open later for us for supper. We also sent Christmas presents to everyone who has gone out of their way to help us in the last few weeks, and the bridge sent us all presents too :-).
We had such good weather for offloading that we have finished already and are now sitting at SA Bukta to offload the fuel and fly the teams out to the SANAP base. But the weather closed in and we are getting hit by another cold front tomorrow, which means everyone but the drivers are still on board. Six of the SANAE 49 guys (last year's team) arrived on the last of the good weather days and are now spending Christmas with us. It is amazing to see them again - they all look slightly mad with long hair and wavy beards.
We were also visited by the Captain and Head Scientist of the Polar Stern. The Captain towers above our tallest driver (all of whom outstrip the rest of us). They invited us to a goodbye party on the ice before they left, but unfortunately the wind changed direction pushing the ice back up the shelf so we couldn't get back to the shelf to join them. They circled us on their way out instead. Our captain says he wants to be an icebreaker when he grows up. They have a scientific team of 55! We have 14! They are doing some unique work on whales, birds and this thermo-thing to track them.
The Polar Stern did break break up the ice for us, but even so, we could not reach the shelf as the broken pieces were flowing and we could not risk it building up against us while we offload. So we sailed to the other side of the bay just so that a polyna would open, laughing at us as we disappeared (so we sailed back to that!). We did see some Weddell seals while packed on the other side of the bay.
Today the penguins swam in full force towards us, and we have been fortunate enough for them to steer some of their towering colonies towards us as we haven't seen many huge icebergs up close. This made today extra special.
It is so cold that all around us ice is forming on the water surface, we glide through it sending ripples through a solid surface.
Ice and Initiation
Monday 20th December 2010
Lat: 70 24.95S
We are at the ice shelf! Can you believe it? This time last year we were still battling through the high seas! And on Christmas day we were stuck in the ice! I cannot believe the difference weather conditions make to such an expedition. Neptune has truly been kind to us, our seas have been calm and only a few lines of ice marched out to meet us before we entered a polinya. Looking at the satellite imagery - if we had had to aim west of Penguin Bukta we would be battling through fields of thick ice.
There is pack ice around the ice shelf, so we are waiting for the Polar Stem to meet us and break through the ice for us so that we can offload into the shelf. He (an icebreaker, therefore male) should arrive tomorrow.
Initiation occurred today. Having been given my dose of initiation last year, and hence carrying immunity, I acted as paparazzi - and for my pains came a cropper on the deck, twice. Thank you to the padding of polar gear! I never thought I'd ever say this, but I think I prefer being initiated than watching it happen to others. But the general camaraderie was there and the build up with the bears (Neptune's minions) entering the boat the night before was fantastic. The crew retaliated by all locking their doors - unfortunately for them, Neptune has access to the master key. They were softer on everyone this year (both male and females were submerged fewer times than the equivalent of last year's). Both the sea and air temperatures were also warmer and you couldn't see any ice. The mood of the entire ship was lifted as everyone recounts (and exaggerates) their experiences. Now, having crossed the polar circle, we are all truly in the same boat.
Lat: 70 24.95S
We are at the ice shelf! Can you believe it? This time last year we were still battling through the high seas! And on Christmas day we were stuck in the ice! I cannot believe the difference weather conditions make to such an expedition. Neptune has truly been kind to us, our seas have been calm and only a few lines of ice marched out to meet us before we entered a polinya. Looking at the satellite imagery - if we had had to aim west of Penguin Bukta we would be battling through fields of thick ice.
There is pack ice around the ice shelf, so we are waiting for the Polar Stem to meet us and break through the ice for us so that we can offload into the shelf. He (an icebreaker, therefore male) should arrive tomorrow.
Initiation occurred today. Having been given my dose of initiation last year, and hence carrying immunity, I acted as paparazzi - and for my pains came a cropper on the deck, twice. Thank you to the padding of polar gear! I never thought I'd ever say this, but I think I prefer being initiated than watching it happen to others. But the general camaraderie was there and the build up with the bears (Neptune's minions) entering the boat the night before was fantastic. The crew retaliated by all locking their doors - unfortunately for them, Neptune has access to the master key. They were softer on everyone this year (both male and females were submerged fewer times than the equivalent of last year's). Both the sea and air temperatures were also warmer and you couldn't see any ice. The mood of the entire ship was lifted as everyone recounts (and exaggerates) their experiences. Now, having crossed the polar circle, we are all truly in the same boat.
Life Aboard
62 37.59S
Temp: -0.1'C
And we rise to new heights. One of my team members (Izzy) has been personally banned by the Captain from one, running on deck and two, walking on deck by herself. She managed to fall twice in front of the Captain.
It snowed all night! The entire ship was covered with inches of snow icing waiting to be rolled and thrown! The rolling assault of ice flows continue to bare down on us and the icicles lengthen.
We celebrated our graduation last night. We made our hats. A different colour for each person (mine was organge) attached to a orange Bennie with a special (apple and cinnamon) teabag dangling as the hat string. "The Nutcracker" was playing as we were lead into the bar and fed drain cleaner (cheap tequila).
We set fire to the ship today. We blew the plugs in our front lab...with smoke and flames. I'd like to point out that I was at the back playing with snow and it wasn't my plug.
We've organised Christmas presents for some of the crew who really go out of their way to help us out (the hoodies I mentioned earlier), so we set about wrapping them last night - with tissue paper and psychedelic spray paint we created a whole range of neon Christmas wrapping.
Temp: -0.1'C
And we rise to new heights. One of my team members (Izzy) has been personally banned by the Captain from one, running on deck and two, walking on deck by herself. She managed to fall twice in front of the Captain.
It snowed all night! The entire ship was covered with inches of snow icing waiting to be rolled and thrown! The rolling assault of ice flows continue to bare down on us and the icicles lengthen.
We celebrated our graduation last night. We made our hats. A different colour for each person (mine was organge) attached to a orange Bennie with a special (apple and cinnamon) teabag dangling as the hat string. "The Nutcracker" was playing as we were lead into the bar and fed drain cleaner (cheap tequila).
We set fire to the ship today. We blew the plugs in our front lab...with smoke and flames. I'd like to point out that I was at the back playing with snow and it wasn't my plug.
We've organised Christmas presents for some of the crew who really go out of their way to help us out (the hoodies I mentioned earlier), so we set about wrapping them last night - with tissue paper and psychedelic spray paint we created a whole range of neon Christmas wrapping.
Thar She Blows
Friday 17th December 2010
59 23.45
Temp: 0.6'C
I walked down the gangplank of The Agulhas in February having left a part of myself drifting on ice. I swore then that I would love to return to Antarctica. And here I am. With the first line of the ice that grated against the ship this morning I felt my heart soar, I laughed as the first snow fell at the same time and as the icicles formed on the railings. Unlike last year, the ice has formed on the deck.
We discovered what happened to that deepening low pressure system. We are in it, you can see it clearly from the barometer, but the ice has absorbed the sea's energy, buffering us from what should be a huge swell. Instead we are in swirling cloud, flurries of snow, rocking our way South.
We have slowed right down, gently navigating through ice and mist. The first whales were sighted yesterday, both killer whales and a humpback whale. Unfortunately I had to see them through evidence of someone else's lenses.
The boot washing ceremony occurred yesterday to clear all our land equipment of seeds and bacteria, and the helicopter pilots are talking of the first flight. I cannot believe how fast we have reached the polar circle and the difference good weather makes to one's travel time.
59 23.45
Temp: 0.6'C
I walked down the gangplank of The Agulhas in February having left a part of myself drifting on ice. I swore then that I would love to return to Antarctica. And here I am. With the first line of the ice that grated against the ship this morning I felt my heart soar, I laughed as the first snow fell at the same time and as the icicles formed on the railings. Unlike last year, the ice has formed on the deck.
We discovered what happened to that deepening low pressure system. We are in it, you can see it clearly from the barometer, but the ice has absorbed the sea's energy, buffering us from what should be a huge swell. Instead we are in swirling cloud, flurries of snow, rocking our way South.
We have slowed right down, gently navigating through ice and mist. The first whales were sighted yesterday, both killer whales and a humpback whale. Unfortunately I had to see them through evidence of someone else's lenses.
The boot washing ceremony occurred yesterday to clear all our land equipment of seeds and bacteria, and the helicopter pilots are talking of the first flight. I cannot believe how fast we have reached the polar circle and the difference good weather makes to one's travel time.
A False Alarm
Thursday 16th December 2010
59 23.45
Temp: 0.6'C
Neptune is truly looking after us. After battening down the hatches the storm on the satellite imagery turned into 8m swell with a period so large that we gently skated through the seas. The 3am sunrise brought snow petrels and the knowledge that the ice was close.
The ice has rushed to welcome us this year, with scattered individuals followed by lines of curious growlers already flocking to the ship. The fog closed in today and with it a silent blanket of peace descended. One can almost see the ships of distant past sailing on our flank and past souls lost to the seas swirl around us, keeping us safe in our passage to Neptune's domain. Sitting watching the waves through the mist, once could see figures rising and falling, standing to watch us before turning away to be replaced by another.
We lost another UCTD the other evening, a period of mourning followed before we could look towards the sun again. In answer to the question, this affects the entire cruise, however it doesn't affect my project directly. We are having another flown in to us at the ice. What does affect my project is the early presence of growlers. The Fe fish doesn't like these little blocks of ice and had to be pulled onboard before she started fighting with them.
I was pleasantly surprised today. My block of halva turned out to be a block of nougat instead.
The first timers are getting nervous for the initiation which should be in the next day or two.
59 23.45
Temp: 0.6'C
Neptune is truly looking after us. After battening down the hatches the storm on the satellite imagery turned into 8m swell with a period so large that we gently skated through the seas. The 3am sunrise brought snow petrels and the knowledge that the ice was close.
The ice has rushed to welcome us this year, with scattered individuals followed by lines of curious growlers already flocking to the ship. The fog closed in today and with it a silent blanket of peace descended. One can almost see the ships of distant past sailing on our flank and past souls lost to the seas swirl around us, keeping us safe in our passage to Neptune's domain. Sitting watching the waves through the mist, once could see figures rising and falling, standing to watch us before turning away to be replaced by another.
We lost another UCTD the other evening, a period of mourning followed before we could look towards the sun again. In answer to the question, this affects the entire cruise, however it doesn't affect my project directly. We are having another flown in to us at the ice. What does affect my project is the early presence of growlers. The Fe fish doesn't like these little blocks of ice and had to be pulled onboard before she started fighting with them.
I was pleasantly surprised today. My block of halva turned out to be a block of nougat instead.
The first timers are getting nervous for the initiation which should be in the next day or two.
The Caveat
Wednesday 15th December 2010
The wild lonely sea and sky bit of the voyage is what I enjoy too - if I am above deck. We are now gearing up for tomorrow's storm and I am honestly looking forward to it! Some wild weather is always exciting.
I do not think one ever truly switches to night shift. Last night's low was a true indicator of that. The last place in the world I wanted to be was here, and I could not think of a single reason why I wasn't sitting at home. Summer has gone into mourning because I am not there to celebrate it or its fate - that's why you are having such lousy weather.
The wild lonely sea and sky bit of the voyage is what I enjoy too - if I am above deck. We are now gearing up for tomorrow's storm and I am honestly looking forward to it! Some wild weather is always exciting.
I do not think one ever truly switches to night shift. Last night's low was a true indicator of that. The last place in the world I wanted to be was here, and I could not think of a single reason why I wasn't sitting at home. Summer has gone into mourning because I am not there to celebrate it or its fate - that's why you are having such lousy weather.
The Darker Side
Wednesday 15th December 2010
Yesterday, a mixture of nightshift, exhaustion and things going wrong began to take its toll, and all my demons started to rise. I sat staring into my own darkness and wondered if I was ready for this trip.
I woke up tonight feeling as down after spending the entire night dreaming with bad dreams. So I went to the monkey deck. The clouds have descended on us and we are moving with the swell giving an eerie sensation fo staying still, totally engulfed in a damp grey blanket. The surreal nature of standing there woke me up, battered down my inner grey as life once again flowed through my freezing veins.
Tomorrow we hit that storm. I'm looking forward to it, I know it sounds weird but I'm welcoming getting truly thrown around. I feel we should hit rough weather before the absolute calm of the ice. Such contrasts are part of what makes this area of our earth so truly beautiful.
Yesterday, a mixture of nightshift, exhaustion and things going wrong began to take its toll, and all my demons started to rise. I sat staring into my own darkness and wondered if I was ready for this trip.
I woke up tonight feeling as down after spending the entire night dreaming with bad dreams. So I went to the monkey deck. The clouds have descended on us and we are moving with the swell giving an eerie sensation fo staying still, totally engulfed in a damp grey blanket. The surreal nature of standing there woke me up, battered down my inner grey as life once again flowed through my freezing veins.
Tomorrow we hit that storm. I'm looking forward to it, I know it sounds weird but I'm welcoming getting truly thrown around. I feel we should hit rough weather before the absolute calm of the ice. Such contrasts are part of what makes this area of our earth so truly beautiful.
Teething Problems
Tuesday 14 December 2010
These first few days have been like being lost in a whirlwind. Ceini was taken out by a horrible bug which left us running around picking up the falling pieces - I think I've grown extra invisible arms. My FIRe machine (Flourescence Induction and Relaxation which measures phytoplankton's photophynthestic "health") and I have been swearing at each other and pulling faces behind each other's backs ever since she took a chunk out of my hand (no laughing matter when you are dealing with salt water). I had to reread the instruction manual before we could call a truce - I still need to check today's data to see if the truce has held.
Our incubators are up and running. The helicopter team (some of whom were on last year's cruise) were amazing here. The incubators are placed on the helipad, so after gaining their permission to use the area I arrived with some helping hands from my team to set up the incubators, all of whom went back to their other work (feeling useless) when the helping hands of the heli-team enthusiastically descended to help me.
I have built a tent for myself under one of the benches in the wetlab. This is so I can spike my fertilization experiment without contamination. Set the experiment up last night - and in the process have redesigned the entire system to be more efficient. Raised a few smiles while setting it up - just for those who appreciate me lying on my back in a plastic tent, under a bench covered in dirt, water and duct tape. Years of childhood tent building took over.
We exerted our power as Oceanographers just two hours outside the harbour as we succeeded in bringing The Agulhas to a grinding halt! The Fe fish's winch broke bringing back memories of the nightmares of last year. The ship was stopped to bring it back on board safely.
The most critical accident was the loss of our Underwater CTD (Conductivity Temperature and Density). It's a machine we can cast behind us to measure the physical properties of the water column without stopping the ship. Its rope is meant to withstand extreme Southern Ocean stress. We are sailing in calm seas (2-3m swells). We lost it. With the full brain power of all on board, we have drawn up four possible reasons for the break of the rope of such an expensive piece of equipment:
1.) We hit an oceanography float (which would be funny - losing two pieces of expensive equipment in one cast)
2.) We hit a whale (which would be sad)
3.) We hit a Lochness monster (on its way to visit a distant cousin - we think this is the most likely explanation)
4.) Underwater pirates
On crossing into the Southern Ocean (across the Sub-tropical Front) we did our own ceremony. Seb (team leader) and I organised it as a surprise. After gently coaxing the whole team into the bar and briefly explaining to its inhabitants the significance of the crossing (work starts in earnest here) face paint, water tasting, acceptance of a vial of the front's water and a hoodie occurred. The Southern Ocean's Carbon and Climate Observatory (who we are collecting the data for) organised us hoodies to celebrate the 50th SANAP (South African National Antarctica Program) expedition.
The first few nights revealed a night sky of mythology and a darkness that wrapped around you like a fog, but now night is turning light, with hours of dusk lining inky blackness of crevices encrusted with jewels.
Tonight was beautiful. The first iceberg against the setting sun teased us on the horizon and the wondering albatrosses are now crossing these waters with us. I will always be lost in the wonder of those wings.
I swear I saw our first iceberg of last year again. They are all so unique in shape, to see one looking so familiar suggests an ageing friend.
Half the passengers have been seasick since leaving Cape Town. As we have been having beautiful weather (nothing has fallen off tables yet), I find this hard to understand.
These first few days have been like being lost in a whirlwind. Ceini was taken out by a horrible bug which left us running around picking up the falling pieces - I think I've grown extra invisible arms. My FIRe machine (Flourescence Induction and Relaxation which measures phytoplankton's photophynthestic "health") and I have been swearing at each other and pulling faces behind each other's backs ever since she took a chunk out of my hand (no laughing matter when you are dealing with salt water). I had to reread the instruction manual before we could call a truce - I still need to check today's data to see if the truce has held.
Our incubators are up and running. The helicopter team (some of whom were on last year's cruise) were amazing here. The incubators are placed on the helipad, so after gaining their permission to use the area I arrived with some helping hands from my team to set up the incubators, all of whom went back to their other work (feeling useless) when the helping hands of the heli-team enthusiastically descended to help me.
I have built a tent for myself under one of the benches in the wetlab. This is so I can spike my fertilization experiment without contamination. Set the experiment up last night - and in the process have redesigned the entire system to be more efficient. Raised a few smiles while setting it up - just for those who appreciate me lying on my back in a plastic tent, under a bench covered in dirt, water and duct tape. Years of childhood tent building took over.
We exerted our power as Oceanographers just two hours outside the harbour as we succeeded in bringing The Agulhas to a grinding halt! The Fe fish's winch broke bringing back memories of the nightmares of last year. The ship was stopped to bring it back on board safely.
The most critical accident was the loss of our Underwater CTD (Conductivity Temperature and Density). It's a machine we can cast behind us to measure the physical properties of the water column without stopping the ship. Its rope is meant to withstand extreme Southern Ocean stress. We are sailing in calm seas (2-3m swells). We lost it. With the full brain power of all on board, we have drawn up four possible reasons for the break of the rope of such an expensive piece of equipment:
1.) We hit an oceanography float (which would be funny - losing two pieces of expensive equipment in one cast)
2.) We hit a whale (which would be sad)
3.) We hit a Lochness monster (on its way to visit a distant cousin - we think this is the most likely explanation)
4.) Underwater pirates
On crossing into the Southern Ocean (across the Sub-tropical Front) we did our own ceremony. Seb (team leader) and I organised it as a surprise. After gently coaxing the whole team into the bar and briefly explaining to its inhabitants the significance of the crossing (work starts in earnest here) face paint, water tasting, acceptance of a vial of the front's water and a hoodie occurred. The Southern Ocean's Carbon and Climate Observatory (who we are collecting the data for) organised us hoodies to celebrate the 50th SANAP (South African National Antarctica Program) expedition.
The first few nights revealed a night sky of mythology and a darkness that wrapped around you like a fog, but now night is turning light, with hours of dusk lining inky blackness of crevices encrusted with jewels.
Tonight was beautiful. The first iceberg against the setting sun teased us on the horizon and the wondering albatrosses are now crossing these waters with us. I will always be lost in the wonder of those wings.
I swear I saw our first iceberg of last year again. They are all so unique in shape, to see one looking so familiar suggests an ageing friend.
Half the passengers have been seasick since leaving Cape Town. As we have been having beautiful weather (nothing has fallen off tables yet), I find this hard to understand.
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