Mikkelson Harbour, Trinity Island
After watching low pressure systems build to the west and the heartbeat of the Drake Passage coming to life with the pulse of wind and waves, today was our final chance to enjoy the icy playground of the Antarctic Peninsula. For years weather forecasting technology has improved due to demand for comfortable and speedy passages for tourist ships heading to Antarctica and cargo vessels rounding Cape Horn. This is an area with nearly unlimited potential for wild weather so any help is greatly appreciated. Since we are in the market for a comfortable and speedy crossing of Drake Passage, we have heeded to the most up-to-date forecasts available and with the combined experience of our Captain and Expedition Leader, devised a plan to maximize our remaining time on the Peninsula while still ensuring the best ride possible. Heading north in the Gerlache Strait overnight, we reached the northern outliers of the Antarctic Peninsula, the South Shetland Islands. Here would be our best combination of incredible scenery and a northern departure point for our farewell to Antarctica.
The call for leopard seal was announced across the staff handheld radios and the frenzied decoding of directions began. In a lingo unique to a very small number of very odd humans, headings were given in reference to ice of a certain size, shape and color in a manner only those who read the water would know. “Leopard seal! Ten o’clock from the ship, straight past the hut, near a big, dirty piece of ice in the cove. Can’t miss it.” Zodiacs scrambled in all directions as drivers found their bearings. Some started off towards the wrong piece of ice only to change course towards the cluster of boats full of cameras held high and taking aim. Much like vultures circling a carcass miles away, this is the most obvious sign of something interesting to look at. Like motorized moths to an azure flame, the boats arrived at the berg. The leopard seal started to regularly show itself in a cove gouged into the berg, its dark body contrasting against the aquamarine haze of subsurface ice.
As the leopard seal repeatedly surfaced within his bastion of ice, the animal would quietly inhale and exhale, rarely opening its eyes to inspect the surrounding waters. Only the most confident predator or dedicated Casanova would act so blasé about life in Antarctic waters. Heavily modified dentition adapted for feeding upon krill belies this singer’s fearsome name and reputation as a bloodthirsty killer of seals and penguins. I will freely admit that upon first hearing about a nearby leopard seal, visions of flying penguin flesh and a satisfied leopard seal crossed my mind. Yet, today the seal was more Romeo than Rambo as we were granted a look into the private life of a male leopard seal. Between relaxed breaths in his cove of ice, the seal would descend and utter a haunting, cooing trill at regular intervals. Even as the Trinity Island glacier competed for our attention with a cacophony of falling ice, the mysterious singing leopard seal held our ear. Waiting with baited breath for the subsea incantation was a first for many and a powerful reminder that patience and keen observation can pay off. We started our encounter hoping for carnage and ended it entranced by an unlikely vox angelica.
