Stromness & Grytviken, South Georgia
Shackleton might have sold his soul to have seen Fortuna Bay as we did today. Teal blue waters turned to golden with the rising of the sun. Glaciers poured from mountain sides whose crowns were sharp and peaked. A sea lion chorus echoed from the hillsides. Above it all the sky was blue, decorated solely by filmy streaks of clouds.
Not quite a hundred years ago, three men, Shackleton, Crean and Wolsey, emerged from the heights and descended into Fortuna Bay, only to discover another climb awaited them. The dark and cold of winter surrounded them and fatigue must have been their constant companion. Today many of us walked with them in spirit, rising from the water’s edge, climbing ever higher on crumbling rocky slopes until the summit was attained. In the distant past the bay was shrouded and only the sound of the whaling station whistle indicated life existed down below. Today we felt as if we could see forever.
Rusting ruins are all that remain of the former shore-based factory. It was here in Stromness Harbour that our ship awaited our arrival and our companions walked in the opposite direction to the famous waterfall. Inch-by-inch, wildlife seems to be reclaiming their former territory. Fur seal pups frolicked in the surf or rode the rapids on the meandering outwash river. Calls of female seals searching for their offspring sounded frantic and forlorn. Clusters of king penguins regally gathered here and there as did their smaller gentoo relatives.
Outside the bay, the winds stirred the seas and albatross swirled on the updrafts. The National Geographic Explorer darted from bay to bay along South Georgia’s northern coast, visiting the open ocean only momentarily. From Stromness, we skipped to Maiviken and then onward to Grytviken after disembarking another large group of intrepid hikers.
There seems to be some uniformity about hikes here on South Georgia. Generally they start by going steeply uphill, often within a forest of tussock hummocks and blades wherein hide snarling fur seals. But the reward is so magnificent that one surely doesn’t mind. A string of glacial lakes cascaded down behind us as we climbed high above Maiviken. Ahead, magnificent snow-capped mountains drew us across the talus slopes that gradually tumbled down the far side of a divide towards Grytviken. The first glimpse of civilization here was the steeple of a tiny church, an incongruous sight next to the remnants of the former whaling station.
As the sun reached the mountain crest on its descent, we lifted our glasses high with a toast to “The Boss” at his final resting spot. It is easy to see how one could become enchanted by this magnificent island.
