Drake Passage and the South Shetland Islands
Oh! There it is, our first iceberg, fifteen miles to starboard. It is very big, huge in fact, tabular, flat-topped, a wee bit of a continent-crushing ice shelf. Like us, it is a ship at sea, far from home, far from land, here in the Drake Passage. Our second morning in the Drake and she is kind, somnolent, the swell rocking us, the wind a lullaby. Well, not quite a millpond though, this is, after all, the most powerful of oceans, the only one that races with the wind completely around the world, around its continent, Antarctica.
Before lunch we see more big ice, some of it dark below, ice on islands, the South Shetland Islands, our gateway to Antarctica! We pass between the bits and pieces of land, the scattered, dangerous rocks, a narrow, shallow passage. Penguins porpoise beside us, petrels whirl about us, black and white pintados, and the tidal current is running fast, five knots, making its own tall waves. It all seems a little wild, very exciting! There is not a tree, not a shrub, not a blade of grass, the browns, yellows, oranges and reds are lichens and mosses, here and there, where there is not snow or ice or hard bare rock.
After lunch we take the Zodiacs and head for a rocky beach, Barrentos Island in the Aitcho Islands Group, a popular spot for chinstrap and gentoo penguins going to or coming from a foraging sojourn or well-needed bath, their noise and their odor all around us. There is more to see, just up on the hill, but not for me. I go the other way, into the sea.
Two dive buddies today, Assistant Expedition Leader Lisa, as always and second officer Dutee, an appropriate name for someone in the merchant marine. At a different island, but nearby we take a Zodiac to a site we know, a shallow ledge, then a steep slope down to about one hundred feet. Yes, the water is cold, 30°F, another degree or two and even the salt water will freeze. At first there is nothing, rock scoured by winter ice, then rock with a crust of calcium secreting red algae, with a few limpets grazing on golden, microscopic diatoms. Further down there is a thick growth of brown seaweed, like a field of waist-high grass with a few small fish darting out to see what it is all about and then quickly back in, out of sight. High in the kelp are sightless sea stars, golden with their five arms stretched out, feeling for, smelling for their prey, perhaps a snail or a small urchin, they are there too. We drop deeper, looking for where the ice never goes, just a bit further, add air to the suit, dropping too fast. Near the bottom of the slope, lots of colors, reds, yellows, pale grays and white, the things that do not move, sponges and sea whips and their predators, stars and spiders and plenty more. Take pictures and video, then it is time to go, make it ready for tonight and get ready for tomorrow to explore more of Antarctica’s toes not quite frozen in her icy waters.
Oh! There it is, our first iceberg, fifteen miles to starboard. It is very big, huge in fact, tabular, flat-topped, a wee bit of a continent-crushing ice shelf. Like us, it is a ship at sea, far from home, far from land, here in the Drake Passage. Our second morning in the Drake and she is kind, somnolent, the swell rocking us, the wind a lullaby. Well, not quite a millpond though, this is, after all, the most powerful of oceans, the only one that races with the wind completely around the world, around its continent, Antarctica.
Before lunch we see more big ice, some of it dark below, ice on islands, the South Shetland Islands, our gateway to Antarctica! We pass between the bits and pieces of land, the scattered, dangerous rocks, a narrow, shallow passage. Penguins porpoise beside us, petrels whirl about us, black and white pintados, and the tidal current is running fast, five knots, making its own tall waves. It all seems a little wild, very exciting! There is not a tree, not a shrub, not a blade of grass, the browns, yellows, oranges and reds are lichens and mosses, here and there, where there is not snow or ice or hard bare rock.
After lunch we take the Zodiacs and head for a rocky beach, Barrentos Island in the Aitcho Islands Group, a popular spot for chinstrap and gentoo penguins going to or coming from a foraging sojourn or well-needed bath, their noise and their odor all around us. There is more to see, just up on the hill, but not for me. I go the other way, into the sea.
Two dive buddies today, Assistant Expedition Leader Lisa, as always and second officer Dutee, an appropriate name for someone in the merchant marine. At a different island, but nearby we take a Zodiac to a site we know, a shallow ledge, then a steep slope down to about one hundred feet. Yes, the water is cold, 30°F, another degree or two and even the salt water will freeze. At first there is nothing, rock scoured by winter ice, then rock with a crust of calcium secreting red algae, with a few limpets grazing on golden, microscopic diatoms. Further down there is a thick growth of brown seaweed, like a field of waist-high grass with a few small fish darting out to see what it is all about and then quickly back in, out of sight. High in the kelp are sightless sea stars, golden with their five arms stretched out, feeling for, smelling for their prey, perhaps a snail or a small urchin, they are there too. We drop deeper, looking for where the ice never goes, just a bit further, add air to the suit, dropping too fast. Near the bottom of the slope, lots of colors, reds, yellows, pale grays and white, the things that do not move, sponges and sea whips and their predators, stars and spiders and plenty more. Take pictures and video, then it is time to go, make it ready for tonight and get ready for tomorrow to explore more of Antarctica’s toes not quite frozen in her icy waters.
