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.
Friday 11 February 2011
Thursday 3 February 2011
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.
.......
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!
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.
.......
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!
Friday 28 January 2011
An unexpected snag
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;-)
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;-)
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.
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