Danco Island and Neko Harbour
Up on the bridge early, we were watching the wind and wondering: would we be able to kayak today? There was a steady breeze from the east as we turned into the Errera Channel, ruffling the grey waters. But an east wind is a good wind: that means a wind off the polar plateau, and may bring even better weather…. To our delight as we turned north towards Cuverville, we came under the lee of Danco Island, the waters smoothed to a glassy calm and a hush fell over the land. Then three sunbeams struck a beach, a crag, and gleaming glacier: perfect kayaking conditions! Captain Leif Skog gently nosed our loyal ship onto a clean gravel beach and we made Danco our morning playground. The Hardy Heroics were landed by Zodiac, and immediately set off uphill led by Rick Atkinson, punching a trail through two feet of new soft snow. They disappeared over the skyline, to the amazement of the local gentoo penguins who of course do this trek every day—but not for pleasure! The birds here are a month behind schedule, with chicks mostly less than two weeks old; they will be hard-pushed to fledge in time. They need another two months to make it to adulthood, and temperatures fall fast from the end of March. Meanwhile, the Pond-Paddlers launched themselves out into the channel, lured by several icebergs grounded offshore, and found themselves the focus of surfacing penguins, unable to understand why these pond skaters would not dive in after them to lunch on hefty krill helpings. Our paddlers paddled for safety at one point as another cruise ship, the Silver Explorer swept through between the bergs scattering our yellow kayaks like chaff.
During lunch the National Geographic Explorer slipped away to the south and entered the sheltered bay of Neko Harbour, a favourite winter anchorage of the whale ship Neko almost exactly a century ago. But the whalers are gone, thank heavens, and time heals everything, for in the ensuing hundred years, the whales, slaughtered in their millions in the 19th century have recovered slowly and—yes! There were whales in the bay! We took the Zodiacs out to look at huge, grounded icebergs 80 feet tall, rotting slowly with teetering towers and outer ramparts split into glowing blue chasms. As we slowed to gaze up at these white ice castles, fractured battlements dripping with giant icicles, we heard behind us a loud pooosh! Turning to locate the sound, among the icefloes two glistening black backs surfaced suddenly. Homing in on the site, weaving among the brash ice and bergy bits, we came upon them: a mother humpback and her small calf, feeding in the rich waters, chilled here by giant bergs. A wonderful safe, krill-rich haven where they can gorge and grow in peace. A deep blue sky feathered by mist and cloud; golden sunshine on distant mountains; ice castles towering above a tiny Zodiac, two gentle whales and half a dozen spellbound humans. What a magical kingdom in which to spend our last enchanted afternoon.
