South Georgia!

So, I have found my Island.
The only question remaining is; will anyone visit me on it?

South Georgia is pure beauty. Green peaks rise up from the beaches, scarred with scrambled ribbons of volcanic rock. Echoed by blue mountains behind covered in snow. And Glaciers. Great columns of water towering frozen above the sea. The plants and harsh beauty resembles Scotland.

We were guided through traitorous waters and visible ship wrecks by two wondering albatrosses, who saw fit to circle our ship. The first sunrise we had seen in days lit up the mountainous slopes and the calm fjord we were entering.

We were treated as guests of honour, as the entire government of the island came out to meet us. One short, typical British man! To rule over a population of sixteen - every ruler's dream.

The newer habitations of the island are ugly army-barrack-like buildings which squat on the headland by Kings Point. It provides the base for governments, conservation and research. But the older part is special. It was the whaling station nestled comfortably in the heart of the bay. And is now a ghost town of rusted equipment that could extract 200 tonnes of whale oil on a good day. It is now set up as an open air museum, with plaques explaining each section. There are also four ship wrecks along the piers, each in its own stage of disrepair.  Whale bones literally litter the entire area.

The island boasts the southern most church. Surprisingly, it was built in Norway and brought down as a Lutheran church. It houses two original bells. Gorgeous sounding, and of course, fun to ring. The library is simply beautiful. I would live there for the library alone. The collection of leather bound literature fills the very room with whispered characters.

I never realised the true historical value of the Islands. I knew they were key in the Falklands War. But that was it. Their importance in both the whaling industry and early explorations were unknown to me. To discover that they were the very islands that Shackelton and 5 others struck out for (and reached) when the Endurance was crushed by the pack ice was amazing. To see the size of the boat they sailed in to find help was humbling. I have now sailed through those same seas. Where we were stuck in the ice, was where the Endurance went down. That entire route they navigated with only 6 nights of clear skies. In a way, we have retraced the expedition's unplanned steps. When one considers the very nature of weather down here and sees the effect it has on every decision made on board this ship, one can see that, even with the advance in technology, not much has changed. The advantage of radar on big icebergs is countered by the fact that metal sinks while splinted wood still gives you a chance of a raft. We have no effect on the elements, yet they control our lives.

Antarctic fur seals are the British football fans of the animal world. They are vicious, aggressive seals displaying distinct small seal syndrome.  One is meant to stay 5 meters from all island creatures at all times. But there is no way these will let you.  They are too intent on inflecting grievous bodily harm. Two of us had headed off together to explore the historical side of the island. Which included visiting Shackeltons’ grave (did you now he was only 46 when he had the heart attack?). The only path to it was littered with elephant seals, (which are GIGANTIC), king penguins and Antarctic fur seals. So we took the back route to avoid all animals. This included scaling the mountain side and a bog. We arrived at the grave only to watch two officers calmly walking through the hordes without any trouble. On our return route we decided to follow their example. That was our first mistake. We forgot to include the factor that both men are over six foot and built like rugby players. We are two, smaller than average, females. The first wave of attack sent us scattering in opposite directions. That was our second mistake. The next few minutes consisted of complicated chess manoeuvres with the other side moving all his players at one time as more seals came to join in the riot. When the comparative safety of the beach was reached (the seals turned on each other) we were met with the comment that "they like to play", with hearts still pounding we watched the lone speaker hike off into the distance. It was very surreal. But still left us with the problem that we still had half the "playground' to navigate. Definitely prefer the elephant seals (though they might have been Weddell seals.). Their sheer size ensures that they know they have nothing to prove.

An afternoon on the other side of the bay, spent lying in the sun, safely up a slope and armed with rocks (we had learnt) watching penguins was invigorating.  Totally unplanned, as we were actually trying to reach the next bay but found our way barred by a sullen group of penguins and a grassy slope of Antarctic fur seals in camouflage gear .

The king penguins where moulting, you could not find a more miserable group of misshaped feathers if you tried!

There is a cross that was erected in 1998 in commiseration of the 17 South African sailors who drowned when their trawler sank just off the coast.

As we set sail, we scampered onto the monkey deck eager to watch land disappear once again. The great glaciers rose up in farewell. And then as though summoned, the wind whipped round us as we exited the inlet. It was as though the future had slapped us in the face, for rolling in from the sea were black clouds and a white foaming sea. Within five minutes we, and a meter of sea surrounding the ship, were all that remained in a cold, whitened and extremely damp world.

Needless to say we have been running from storms ever since. And have lost a few days’ work in our attempted flight. Seems strange to be running for the shelter of the ice.