There is no doubted about it, the winter season is approaching here. When we arrived back from the buoy run, we froze. The first few days sat around -14'C without wind chill. The sun now sets, for only two hours, but it still sets. Both the sunsets and sunrises are beautiful. You want to stay out for all of both, but it is just too cold. The setting sun specialises in pinks and oranges, the nights darkness never falls below a light mauve. The sun and moon circle each other, each eyeing the other like two warriors looking for an opening for attack.
A beautiful day and thick bay ice lead to the Captains consent that we could all go ashore. We rushed through our work for the day as the excitement rose on the ship. The discovery that the ice wasn't stable enough lead to an announcement that the unexpected treat was cancelled. The temperature on the ship fell rapidly. Sensing mutiny, the captain rushed to the far side of the bay towards a low place on the ice shelf. And we were winched ashore! Best method of transport ever! You stand on a tire-like-device and hold onto rope ladders that form a cone. You get swung out over the sea before bumping down onto the ice.
I headed with a group of us into the white following the lure of penguins over the rise. The penguins were adelles. There were about 20 of them, and they were still moulting. All the Adelles we have seen up till now had finished moulting. Gone was the toddler-like delight in all their surroundings, as they sat hunched over as their feathers fell away. Though they were still a happier crowd then the king penguins, and more welcoming then the emperors. They allowed us to leopard crawl quite close. These animals have never seen guns, though the cameras gave the scene a target practice appearance, they showed almost as much interest in us as we did in them. As we had left the chugging of the ships engine behind, the crunch of our boots and the occasional distant cry of a penguin were the only sounds that filled the air. Even the crashing boom of the breaking ice died away, as if the universe was trying to show true silence.
That B15 iceberg that has given us a hard time since the beginning of the trip hit the ice shelf yesterday. It was travelling 108m every 5 minutes (you can work that one out). So the impact sent cracks shooting across the ice. The teams on the cat train were airlifted to the safety of the ship for the night. The ice has now stabilised again, but there are plans to work through the night to load everything on board so that we can leave tomorrow. With the leaving, starts my nightshift again.
A beautiful day and thick bay ice lead to the Captains consent that we could all go ashore. We rushed through our work for the day as the excitement rose on the ship. The discovery that the ice wasn't stable enough lead to an announcement that the unexpected treat was cancelled. The temperature on the ship fell rapidly. Sensing mutiny, the captain rushed to the far side of the bay towards a low place on the ice shelf. And we were winched ashore! Best method of transport ever! You stand on a tire-like-device and hold onto rope ladders that form a cone. You get swung out over the sea before bumping down onto the ice.
I headed with a group of us into the white following the lure of penguins over the rise. The penguins were adelles. There were about 20 of them, and they were still moulting. All the Adelles we have seen up till now had finished moulting. Gone was the toddler-like delight in all their surroundings, as they sat hunched over as their feathers fell away. Though they were still a happier crowd then the king penguins, and more welcoming then the emperors. They allowed us to leopard crawl quite close. These animals have never seen guns, though the cameras gave the scene a target practice appearance, they showed almost as much interest in us as we did in them. As we had left the chugging of the ships engine behind, the crunch of our boots and the occasional distant cry of a penguin were the only sounds that filled the air. Even the crashing boom of the breaking ice died away, as if the universe was trying to show true silence.
That B15 iceberg that has given us a hard time since the beginning of the trip hit the ice shelf yesterday. It was travelling 108m every 5 minutes (you can work that one out). So the impact sent cracks shooting across the ice. The teams on the cat train were airlifted to the safety of the ship for the night. The ice has now stabilised again, but there are plans to work through the night to load everything on board so that we can leave tomorrow. With the leaving, starts my nightshift again.
