Exploring the Weddell Sea
The cold, dry air of the Weddell Sea can instantly jump-start a sleepy body. However, before the sensory overload can begin, you must first get there. The journey does not end when the plane touches down or the ship leaves the dock, but must also include the willingness to escape a cocoon of slumber, no matter how late the bar was open the night before. As the sleep left our eyes and the cold, stiff wind of the Weddell Sea hit our faces we knew that a singular experience had begun. No less than 5 minutes ago, most of us aboard National Geographic Explorer were warmly tucked into our comfortable berths until the hiss of an activated microphone perked up our ears. Much like the wild animals we have traveled so far to see, a wise traveler should rest with one eye open and be quick to respond. Those who have visited the Weddell Sea during the beginning of the Antarctic summer know an early morning wake-up call is worth listening to. What sort of things would raise you from deep slumber to frantic dressing in 10 seconds flat? How about a 4-foot-tall, 80-pound bird? One that can only be seen in a place that the naked ape was never meant to visit? This is an animal which just as easily could have remained totally unknown to mankind if it were not for certain key technological advances. The emperor penguin rarely strays from its kingdom of ice and today, with the help of Captain Kruess and National Geographic Explorer, and a little prodding from Expedition Leader Lisa, we arose to biting wind and sideways snow for a chance to view true avian royalty.
Finding the edge of the sea ice very near Snow Hill Island, a known emperor penguin colony, plans fell perfectly into place and emperor penguins were found standing and tobogganing on the ice. Because these animals are about to start a poorly-understood summer at sea, the chance to see these iconic birds fades as the days become longer. We laughed at the comical gallop of Adelie penguins running to and fro and the Chaplin-esque, untroubled shuffle of the emperors. All told, at least a dozen Big Birds were spotted as the ship slipped, pried and smashed its way through the sea ice of the Weddell Sea. When the wind-driven snow became a little too much, we turned our backs to the oncoming crystals and leaned into the wind to watch the angel of the Antarctic, snow petrels, flit about the ship just feet from our cameras. Direction-less light diffused by dime-sized snow flakes melted sky and ice into one. An unbridled land without a horizon.
“I got dressed so fast this morning I felt like a firefighter” — unknown guest covered from head to toe with only the raising of cheeks to belie the huge smile hiding beneath well-placed scarves.
