Antarctica chapter seven
Danco Island: Penguin highways and mountain views.
I find Starie, Craig, and Ellie on the Deck 8 observatory before breakfast.
Starie and Craig are usually up early in the morning scanning the sea for life. While navigating towards Danco Island the bow strikes a small iceberg and moves on. I kinda thought we’d feel that, says Ellie. I’m glad we didn’t! Starie replies.
Andi is on the observation deck and I thank her for co-hosting last night’s event. She admits that she was going to vote for our team but demurred when Tamsin cast her vote. I said it was all in good fun and that I had a really great time.
Back in my cabin I decide to wind Dilini up. I text her one word on the house phone system: collusion. She continues to think we were robbed.
•
At Danco Island the ship rests in a strait between landmasses. From my balcony I watch as the zodiacs are put in the water. Szymon makes an annoucement over the PA system telling us that conditions are icy and that they’re closing off the topmost part of the landing site as a result. I can see the trail as it rises up from the shore and watch as the guides stake out the path.
I’m standing with Eilidh and point out some rocky areas that protrude from the snow on the mountains. It looks like a sloth, I say. She misunderstands and asks me if I say I’ve seen a sloth. Yes, I say. And then, channelling my best Richard Attenborough, speak of the 1,000-year-old sloth that lays dormant as a mountain only to wake every 100 years to breed. She laughs. I wonder what we could get away with as guides so long as we spoke with authority, she ponders. Probably a lot.
The kayakers are the first to be called, and then it’s our group. I’ve been dressed and ready as I’ve been standing out on the balcony and find myself on the first zodiac bound for the shore.
We pass the kayakers on our way. They’ve started somewhat closer to the shore and they are drawfed by our surroundings.
On landing I pick up a hiking pole and start climbing. I cross a penguin highway but decide to stop for photos on the way down. I want to get as far as possible before having to come back down the mountain. Photos can wait.
I reach the midpoint and stop to talk to Garrett when he picks up his radio. Hi Andi, I have Eugene here. Can he come up? She’s at the top of the hill; she’s the one who assessed the conditions. She says it’s ok. I thank Garrett and continue my climb. There’s a dead skua up there, he tells me.
The snow has frozen and the going is indeed icy. I try to keep to areas where previous bootprints have made ridges and footholds, but even these are sometimes slippery and I’m thankful for my trekking pole.
Andy stands near a small rookery on a bit of exposed land. It’s from here that the penguins I passed are coming and going. It’s a long way to go on stubby feet, though I will see penguins lay on the ice and propel themselves upwards with their feet, making the effort seem fun by comparison to how I carefully picked my way up.
A Czech passenger arrives just after me and Andi lets us summit for the views. She asks us to come back down quickly as she starts eyeing a few other people making the trek.
At the top we make a small circuit for the views, taking photos of each other against the landscape. All around us are mountains, separated by narrow channels of water filled with ice. I hestitate to walk too close to the edge and stay within a path that has been beaten into the snow by prior visitors. There are no flags to mark safe distance.
Heeding Andis’s wishes I make my way down hastily. Looking back at the landscape I see an island that looks like it’s being devoured by an ice creature that’s come from the depths. Just below the ridge I can see Andi’s head and shoulders, facing the water.
She’s already stopped a few others from heading to the top and is actively trying to have us descend. There’s too many people who are wanting to make the trek and she fears for everyone’s safety.
As I make my descent I stop to take the photos I had eschewed during my ascent, stopping first at the skua that lays upon the ice, a cold place to rest.
As I approach the penguin highway I see a number of penguins on the move and stop to let them pass. And then I stop to watch, mesmerized. I could watch them all day.
Seriously. I could watch them all day.
All.
day
long.
But I can’t.
There’s a schedule to keep and a zodiac to catch. I continue descending down, stopping to take a look at another rookery on a lower slope. A woman walks carefully up the path and I give her my trekking pole to help. She protests, but I tell her I’m leaving soon and won’t need it.
I wait in line for the zodiac with Thanh, one half of a German couple I’ve met on board. They’re easily the most elegant people on our voyage and two of the most lovely. She’s alone and I ask after her partner. He had decided to take the morning off.
We bond over similar upbringings. She’s Vietnamese, brought up by a strict Asian father in a western country, given very little leeway, with a cooler mom. I tell her it seems like we were brought up by the same parents. I tell her my cousins once voted and told me my father was the most difficult father (though my mother was the best mom). I start introducing her as my sister from another mister.
She tells me that they could hear us playing How Big Is It? the night before from their deck six cabin. I start to apologize but she waves my words away. It should be loud, she says. People should be having fun!
•
On the beach our path is blocked by penguins. It’s impossible to keep our distance and so we have to weave around them to get to the landing site. As we do our best to make our way around the ones on shore, more swim up and step out of the water. They shake themselves off and then wander off in the opposite direction.
We board the zodiac and surprised to find a leopard seal just off the coast of the island lazing about on an ice floe. It looks up at us as we pass, then puts its head down as we drift away.
From our zodiac the passengers look tiny on the ice. We can see a tiny line climbing the hill up to Garrett where a small number of people gather.
Our cruise takes around the island. On the far side we pass a large iceberg that looks like it’s floating on a platform of ice.
When we come back around to the ship one of the lifeboats is in the water. Cherese tells us that they have to run it on a cadence to make sure it’s in working order. It looks like an orange sneaker bobbing on the
Back on the ship we ready ourselves for the voyage to Neko Harbor. Depending on our luck we may be able to take a shortcut, squeezing through a channel to the west of us which gives us a straight shot into the harbor. If the channel is iced in, however, we’ll have to navigate back around the 8km long Rongé Island. With fingers crossed, we hope for the best. 🇦🇶
24 February 2024
