Homeward bound

lat: 65 12.12S
The end of our time at the ice shelf arrived at us with an unexpected rush. The swell dropped off enough before the next storm for the last of the back loading to be done. And so as the snow threatened in low clouds, and the minke whales jumped around us, we waved goodbye to the new team and the magical expanse of white stretching behind them.

And I am on my way home!

We thought that was the end of our ice time, but the second night, the enchanting swirls of the early morning hours and the thick fog brought in an unexpected ice flow. It was ice we have not seen on this trip! Huge pieces of pack ice up to 1/2m above the surface huddled together, moving quietly across the ocean. We ground to a halt before picking our way through the ice. It was like the ice we hit last year, where we kept getting stuck for about a week over Christmas. This was the first ice flow we have seen that can remotely be compare to that week. The clouds hung thick over the air dampening the sounds of the creaking ice. The noise of the ship straining, beating off the elements sent the sleepy hordes up to the deck to join us as
we stared out. The sound of the ice shifting and breaking around us was awe-inspiring, but all too short a time. Two seals waved at us as they floated past, and the penguin prints stared clearly up at us.

It is, quite frankly bloody miserable right now. The snow has continued for days, mixed with intermittent sleet, which pleasant to visit, is cold and wet after an hour and a half outside moving and tying down incubators, especially when you trample in under a pile of puddles only to be sent out again for a safety drill.
Something about outside is still magically refreshing. At least, until, the cold threatens to make your fingers fall off, and a searing pain rips through them as you retreat to the warmth of the ship.

.....

Having said all that, the sea  temperature has increased to 2'C and it is incredible the difference this makes, as the t-shirts emerge, not because it is hot, but simply because your body finds it just too warm.

A flash of green

lat: 70 34.05S
We have had the most dramatic sunsets; with fire and brimstone raining down, and explosions over the ice. But last night was something special. There were no clouds. The temperature had dropped so much that ice had formed over the entire deck and a calm stillness settled over us. The sun deigned to set in a menagerie of pinks and mauves, and then, just before the sun sank below the Antarctic dome, the sun itself changed colour. the amber faded to yellow, then blue, heading into an emerald, then teal shimmer before the whitened ball disappeared! The whole transformation lasted about 15 seconds, but WOW! The bridge confirmed that they too had seen the green flash. It was incredible.

There are leopard seals in this bay, and we realised why when a group of obviously juvenile emperor penguins appeared, exploring the ice shelf edge looking for a safe jump, instead they found us, and in very uncharacteristic emperor behaviour showed an interest on our loading! Thoroughly exploring the containers and Germans indiscriminately.

The weather turned today and we have been sitting in a snow storm of hours, as the ice forms on the sea surface the reminder that winter is on its way is strong, a natural nudge of the need for speed now. With warning of the bad weather, everyone was flown back to the ship. Every single person. except the cat train people. Without warning, our space was invaded, after a valiant effort to keep the lounge we retreated, shrinking from the overload of suddenly having people everywhere! It's great to see everyone, but it's like having a physical reaction against the arrival of people. A sharp reminder that we will be abandoning the ice again.

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The weather kept its promise of turning bad and we have now been in a snow storm for three days. It is positively exhilarating outside! With wind, and snow and ice, battled down hatchets and ear muffs!