At Sea, South Scotia Sea
With a stiff wind off our port quarter we sail for the Island of South Georgia. Petrels and prions fly off the fantail and flaunt their aerial supremacy as they dip and glide, sometimes flexing against the wave-tossed sea, sometimes disappearing behind it. The hardy among us brace against the rail to watch and take photos and lose ourselves and find ourselves and lose ourselves in the majesty of water and sky, the deep blues and light blues, the wake of our ship clashing against the prevailing swells that toss pelagic mares tails high into the air. And still, the birds cavort in it all, comfortably at home in conditions that would make our own survival unlikely.
Speaking of survival, we heard about Shackleton today, and his epic journey on the tough little ship, Endurance; not so tough it could withstand the ice of the Weddell Sea, however. So it sank, leaving Shackleton and his men camping on the sea ice for five months before they rowed their little boats (the James Caird, Dudley Docker, and Stancomb Wills, each about 22 feet long, and 6 feet at the beam) to Elephant Island. From there “the boss” and five others made an epic 800-mile-long open ocean crossing in the James Caird to South Georgia, our destination today as it was his in 1916, though it’s spring here now, in 2011, while for him it was fall (April/May, 1916). And while we dine on braised brisket and chocolate mousse, and cruise buffets with ample choices, and have smiling waiters bring our cutlery and take it away, and find our beds made and pillows fluffed each night after dinner, Shackleton’s bedraggled, scarecrow men on the James Caird munched on pemmican and penguin meat, slept fitfully in their wet reindeer bags, drank the last of their fresh water, took their position with sextant and chronometer only three times (as weather allowed) in twelve days, and used their Irish humor to get them through. It makes us think how tough we can be when circumstances demand.
Later in the day, aboard our floating university, we heard about the geology of the Falklands and South Georgia, and about Antarctic krill, the so-called “rice of the sea,” the foundation species of the Great Southern Ocean. A shrimp-like zooplankton, krill eat diatomaceous algae, and are in turn eaten by penguins, seals and whales. Remove the krill, and the ecosystem would collapse.
Cocktail hour and recap in the lounge was fun, as always, and after dinner we gathered again for a photo critique. Soon it was late, as we set our watches forward one hour in preparation for five big days at South Georgia, 700 miles to the east of the Falklands.
