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.
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