Lemaire Channel
Wind pushes the clouds about the sky. They snag on the sharp glacially sculpted peaks and trail off in wispy waves or snuggle in like a gray fur collar adorning montane necks. Over the icy dome of Mount Français they pile in rounded mounds like alien flying saucers.
Wind drives the ice across the sea. Lines of brash form sinuous curves that rise and fall upon the swell. Fairy castles and majestic arches cluster in protected corners or tight against the land. The ice goes where it will and occasionally determines where we won’t. “South,” we said. “We must go south.” And that we did until a gallery of glistening bergs barricaded the channel at latitude 65º 27.26’ S. The sea dashed against their western edges sending plumes of salty spray into the air or creating cascading waterfalls over fluted bergy-bits.
Do pinnipeds hitch rides on wind-blown floes or do they just climb on board for a snooze, not caring where their transport goes? Weddell seals, crabeaters too and even leopard seals barely open a sleepy eye, even when they yawn.
Wind may have designed our cruising plans but on land only the lightest of breezes blew. Glacial grooves were stepping stones to the rounded ridge of Pleneau Island where the sounds of Antarctica drifted to our ears, borne upon the wind. Waves lapped on the shore below. Gentoo penguins hummed and trumpeted. Rivulets of meltwater trickled along the rocks. Ice crackled in the distance. Petermann Island too, echoed the signs of summertime. Snow melt gathered in freshwater pools where argumentative skuas bathed. Adult penguins seemed not to care that their archenemy was there for they too dropped in for a refreshing swim.
Lemaire Channel squeezes the wind between its canyon-like walls. Thus it is from the protection of the stern that we watch the evening fall.
Wind pushes the clouds about the sky. They snag on the sharp glacially sculpted peaks and trail off in wispy waves or snuggle in like a gray fur collar adorning montane necks. Over the icy dome of Mount Français they pile in rounded mounds like alien flying saucers.
Wind drives the ice across the sea. Lines of brash form sinuous curves that rise and fall upon the swell. Fairy castles and majestic arches cluster in protected corners or tight against the land. The ice goes where it will and occasionally determines where we won’t. “South,” we said. “We must go south.” And that we did until a gallery of glistening bergs barricaded the channel at latitude 65º 27.26’ S. The sea dashed against their western edges sending plumes of salty spray into the air or creating cascading waterfalls over fluted bergy-bits.
Do pinnipeds hitch rides on wind-blown floes or do they just climb on board for a snooze, not caring where their transport goes? Weddell seals, crabeaters too and even leopard seals barely open a sleepy eye, even when they yawn.
Wind may have designed our cruising plans but on land only the lightest of breezes blew. Glacial grooves were stepping stones to the rounded ridge of Pleneau Island where the sounds of Antarctica drifted to our ears, borne upon the wind. Waves lapped on the shore below. Gentoo penguins hummed and trumpeted. Rivulets of meltwater trickled along the rocks. Ice crackled in the distance. Petermann Island too, echoed the signs of summertime. Snow melt gathered in freshwater pools where argumentative skuas bathed. Adult penguins seemed not to care that their archenemy was there for they too dropped in for a refreshing swim.
Lemaire Channel squeezes the wind between its canyon-like walls. Thus it is from the protection of the stern that we watch the evening fall.
