Antarctica chapter five
Crossing the Antarctic Circle and a visit to Base W on Detaille Island.
There is no wake up call and yet I’m up early to gaze out over the sea.
I sleep with my blinds open so that I can see what’s outside as soon as I wake. I’ve told Ari and it’s one less thing she needs to do when she provides turn down service in the evening.
This morning icebergs dot my view. As we sail pass, what might appear to be one will sometimes reveal itself to be two or three fellow travelers.
Lectures are scheduled for the morning. Vide to give his on Amundsen and Scott and the race to the pole; Cherese on penguins. We’re scheduled to cross the Antarctic Circle after which we’ll make a landing at Detaille Island, our only excursion for the day.
After breakfast I settle into the conference room for Vide’s lecture. He sees me with Roland Huntford’s book that details the same story as his presentation. It’s not often a UK author bashes a British hero, he says. But I love it.
He proceeds to breathe life into the tale, punctuating his storytelling with dry asides and wry humor. Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one laughing and wonder if I’m the only one who thinks he’s joking. It’s a great presentation, equal parts informative and entertaining.
He mentions other explorers who attempted to reach the pole, a German and a Japanese expedition I’ve never heard of, and a number of us ask him to give presentations on those attempts to reach the pole. He tells us he’ll find time to tell their stories to those who are interested, perhaps in the library.
I’m feeling tired; I haven’t slept well or much. I’m far too excited and I feel like my brain races to process everything we see and do each day when I put myself to bed. And then there’s the anticipation, wondering what I’ll see outside as soon as it’s light.
I head to the bridge. The first officer stands watch. Icebergs line the horizon as we cruise our way towards 66.5° south of the equator.
At one point I run into the captain and ask him if he’s had a favorite ship he’s sailed. He tells me a ship is like a tool. You have five hammers in front of you. Which is your favorite; the one that does the job. This ship, he tells me, is very good for the voyage we are on.
I step outside and climb the stairs to the observation deck on 8. Dave is carrying a banner that he’s working to affix to the railing. On it is written “Crossing the Antarctic Circle.” I offer to help and pick up one end. My knots do the job but are a mess compared to his. Kris helps him tie another banner on the other side of the bow. His knots are equal to Daves and I look forlornly at the mess that are mine, the bitter end of the line flaps in the wind.
Eilidh is on deck as usual, scanning the seas for signs of whales. She’ll log many hours in the cold, sighting various animals as they surface to breathe. Garret stands by, but the attention is focused elsewhere as we near the Circle. Szymon makes an announcement and the deck fills.
Dilini and I stand the furthest forward on the deck, as if we want to be the first to cross. We make a joke to that effect and then it becomes serious. We do actually want to be the first to cross and we lean just a little bit more forward on the railing.
The ship’s horn announces our passing. The seas look the same. A speaker has been brought out and we dance to “Take on Me” to celebrate our entry into the Antarctic Circle. A number of Indian passengers have joined hands and dance in a circle. They grab Cherese and she gamely follows long, missing a beat each time they adjust the choreography, quickly picking up a step as she catches on.
Chinese passengers take photos of each other in front of the Chinese language banner that announces the crossing. Thankfully, the groups are large enough to hide my hideous double half-hitches and the long, straggling bitter end.
We continue our voyage southward. The deck clears as passengers head to lunch. We’ve made the crossing at 12:27 and there are no activities scheduled until we reach Detaille Island. The sea and the ice surround us.
After lunch I retire to my cabin, ostensibly to nap. I step out onto the balcony and see a large tabular iceberg. My thoughts of sleep dissipate and I stand outside, watching the iceberg, capturing the changes as it approaches then passes.
As we cruise towards Detaille Island I find myself once again up on deck 8. We’re surrounded by icebergs and a foggy afternoon. The hills on Detaille Island slowly emerge from the mist as we make our approach. There are few people on deck, and we share quietly the beauty that engulfs us.
Reaching the island, our ship holds is position off the coast. The zodiacs are once again lowered into the water and we stand and watch as the first zodiac filled with guides heads towards the island to stake out our route. From the top deck it looks tiny as it heads towards the desolate island, the furthest south we will go.
When our is called I head down to the mudroom. I pass Dilini on her way back on board and she tells me it was a good excursion. She tells me she particularly liked the musuem, which confuses me. I hadn’t expected to find a museum on the island.
The excursion procedures are becoming routine, and I quickly suit up and get in line for a zodiac. It’s a quick trip to the island, around some outrcoppings where we spot a fur seal before rounding a corner to a small cove that forms our landing site.
Szymon greets us and gives us the lay of the land. Detaille island sits off the northern end of the Arrowsmith Peninsula in Graham Land. A British research station (termed Base W) was established there in 1956, but was abandoned quickly when ice conditions kept supply ships from reaching the inhabitants.
The base has since been designated a historic site and monument, and one of the buildings now functions as a museum, providing a time capsule of what the science and living conditions were like in the 1950s.
I am the first one off the zodiac and walk quickly to the museum. Michelle is there to help brush the snow off our shoes before entering. The hut is built like a railroad car, rooms to one side with a hallway on the other connecting them. We walk past the bunk room and the kitchen; the work rooms are on the far end through a door in the kitchen. Boots and skis are stored in the hall. It looks just like it was left. The inhabitants could have been out on a smoke break.
Outside, I continue following the staked out path, up and around the main building to get a better picture of the entire base. A few buildings dot the area, their sloped roofs mimicked by the icebergs in the bay.
I continue up a small rise towards the end of our explorable area. Andi stands watch. A Chinese tourist passes us and continues past the crossed flags. In Chinese, I ask her to stay within the demarkated area.
Andi thanks me and jokingly tells me I could be a guide. I jokingly ask what the salary is. Probably not what you’re used to, she says. But all your expenses are paid and you get to travel to places like this. She raises her arms and guestures to the landscape around us.
I tell her maybe I got it wrong and that I should have become a guide. You still can; plenty of people in their 50s change careers. You shouldn’t let age define your choices, she tells me.
A bird circles the island behind me and Andi points it out. We watch as it floats by and then I let my eyes linger on the scene around us. It’s a serene moment; other passengers are waiting to shuffle through the museum and we’re alone on the small hill with just the views of the sea and the ice as our company.
Back at the landing point I follow an older passenger as she makes her way uncertainly on the uneven rocks towards the zodiac. Laura holds her hand on the tricker spots before handing her off to Szymon. She reaches back to take my hand and then looks up. Oh, you don’t need help, she says, withdrawing her hand.
Don’t I get the same treatment? I ask. That’s ageism! It goes both ways! She laughs and then makes a show of taking my arm, making sure to point out where it may be trecherous, making sure I watch each step. I laugh and then tell her what an amazing job they’re all doing. Sincerely.
Garrett pilots our zodiac back towards the ship. But humpback whales have been spotted in the area and he noses us towards them. We come close to one as it dives, lifting its tail fin out of the water.
We wait, drifting in the direction of its movement. The light shifts and the whale re-appears by a small iceberg. It rolls about, nudging the ice as if using it as a scratching post or a plaything. We all bear silent witness to the massive animal gently enjoying its evening not 30 meters away.
Garrett asks if there’s anything else we’d like to see we could stay here. We all want to stay; it’s what he wants to do as well. The whale seems unpreturbed by our presence and continues to circle the iceberg, popping its head out now from time to time before it starts making moves to swim on.
The radio comes to life telling the zodiacs to return to the ship. We’re disappointed and wish we could ignore it, but there’s a schedule to keep. Garrett tells us that leaving the orcas the night before was as hard for the guides as it is for us. Left to them, we would have stayed and tracked them. Seeing orcas feed in the wild is a once in a decade sighting.
We take one last look before we need to turn away. As if sensing our departure, the whale dives into the water. We thank them for sharing their presence with us and head back towards the ship.
On board I shower and then head up the upper deck to watch the zodiacs come back to the ship. Everyone is late getting back to the ship and Szymon doesn’t have time to change before the briefing. He’s still dressed in his polar gear.
He tells us that in the morning we’ll be visiting Peterman island and then, conditions permitting, we’ll be doing our polar plunge. He tells those with GoPros to make sure they’re firmly attached. If they sink into the water they release many pollutants into the ocean.
Vide joins us for dinner. We ask him about camping on Antarctica. Dilini, Ellie, and I had all wanted to do it, but we are out of the season; camping is done only on the snow.
He tells us that half of the people love it and half of the people hate it; he loves it, but some people don’t quite know what they’re getting into. It’s a lot of work as you have to dig your own snow grave to sleep in so that you’re not exposed to the wind. Most people don’t get much sleep, if any.
But it can be magical. He tells once after they set up camp a group of Weddell seals decided to bed down near them. They sang deep into the night, their songs sounding like the intro to a Pink Floyd song. He tells us we should look it up on YouTube when we get home. It sounds amazing.
We ask him how exhausting it is to guide that expedition. He tells us that on nights where guides camp they’re offered the next morning off. But almost no one takes it; you never know if that’s the day that you’ll see orca swimming off the bow of your zodiac.
Ellie has made friends with Tomas, a waiter from Nicaragua, and she secures us a seat in his section. He offers us some of the chili seasoning he’s made and brought from home. It’s delicious and from then on we try to sit in his section every dinner.
Afterwards Kris finds us to play Monopoly Deal. Cherese meets us in the library. Somehow, we learn it’s her birthday tomorrow, but she doesn’t want to make a big deal of it. She tells us she only accepts birthday songs in non-English languages. At cards, she crushes our souls. 🇦🇶
22 February 2024
