The Ross Sea Antarctica, part three
A landing on Enderby Island.
I wake to the sounds of zodiacs being lowered into the water; gears wind, ropes slap the sides of the ship. It’s grey and overcast, the glass door wet from the passage if not from the rain.
I turn over, planning to return to sleep, but my curiosity over what’s happening outside gets the better of me. And so I get up to take pictures and watch the expedition guides race their zodiacs to the island—a narrow stripe of green and stone on the horizon—to scout out our landing.
At breakfast I sit alone in the sparsely occupied dining room on deck two. I had stopped by the lounge at the aft end of the third deck and seen people dressed in red parkas ready to head to the marina on the second deck. The lounge itself was quiet.
Back in my room I swap lenses and debate what clothing to wear. It’s relatively warm—12°C—but windy and wet. I don’t feel the need to wear all my layers and select a few lighter ones, expecting the parka and my waterproof pants to provide a great deal of resistance from the wind and to provide warmth.
As I’m about to gear up Giuseppe, our cruise director, makes an announcement. Due to wildlife activity, our landings will be delayed. The red group is rescheduled to 1320 from 1050.
I head to the observation lounge on deck six to find Inge, the woman from the hotel, there. She’s working at a laptop and pauses to chat. We talk about sailing and AI and the early promise of the internet before the discussion gets too depressing and I excuse myself to eat a quick lunch before retiring back my room.
It’s a wet landing, made more so by choppy seas and the rain. We’re already wet by the time we land. Still it’s a beautiful island full of sea lions and a sea elephant. It turns out we were delayed due to the endangered yellow-eyed penguins which chose out disembarkation time to cross to the sea. We had to wait for the colony to clear.
On the beach we see harems of females and the odd young male. Some fight in the distance. Oscar not Manuel takes us on our walk across the island, detouring us a few times due to the seal pups that are resting in the bush.
He tells us that he’s just introduced his children, 7 and 9 to Star Wars and is convinced that they patterned Chewbacca’s speech after sea lions. I ask him in what other he’s showing them the films. The original order he says, starting with Episode Four: A New Hope. The right order, IMHO.
He tells us about the flora and the fact that there are gigantic species of some plants on the island. That said he tells us it’s not like the tropics. Here, the difference between a megaherb and a regular herb could be but a few centimeters (but still 2-3 times the size) but to a botanist it’s very exciting.
He shows us lichen growing on the trees and tells us it is similar to what he finds in the Andes in his native Colombia.
We hike through a dense forest, the trees block the wind and rain. Oscar tells to be careful on the other side and to lean forward into the wind.
When we reach the exposed area the wind almost blows me off the boardwalk. We hike to the cliffs, taking a circuitous route around to the viewpoint to allow other passengers to pass. The gusts once again threaten to put me into the bush. The landscape reminds me of Iceland and of Sri Lanka, the wet morning I hiked to World’s End.
We sit for a while at the end on benches attached to the boardwalk. The sea churns and the wind sends a heavy mist up the cliffs. It’s a warm day and I could sit here for a while listening to the crash of waves with the wind batting my ears. I’ve walked in the front with Natalie and we decide to let others go ahead until we see Alice, the New Zealand observer, bringing up the rear. Sadly, it’s already time to go.
On the walk back I pause to take photos of flowers and the landscape. We catch up with Oscar who is pointing out some albatrosses resting in the grass. We watch as one takes off and glides around the other.
He had told us that they had put heart monitors on albatroses and discovered that their heart rate is the same whether they be gliding or resting on the ground. He also had pointed out a king albatross that had been resting earlier and told us it’s the only albatross that can walk. As if on cue it takes a few steps. It’s awkward but it walks. The others must drag their feet, spending so much time aloft or on the sea they’ve lost the ability.
We retrace our steps, following the boardwalk back to the landing site. It’s almost like watching a movie in reverse. We pass the flora that megaherbs that had been described to us before re-entering the forest, the sea lions and their pups on the other side.
Reaching the end of the boardwalk Oscar has us pause. There’s sea lions in the bushes and he looks to find a route around them. I have a hard time making them out.
On the other side of the brush, we’re once again within sight of the beach. Sea lions congregate on either side of us. I’d love to stay and observe them, but our time is limited and the weather is pushing us to go.
To make our way to the landing site we have have to cross paths with a sea lion that’s become a little too interested in our landing party. A guide stands before it waving a backpack to keep its attention and to keep it from blocking us from where the zodiacs await our arrival.
The beach is strewn with sea lions laying in the sand. Guides on zodiacs wait in the shallows. As one zodiac fills with passengers on their way back to the ship another slides into its place. Groups of red jackets wait on the shore.
I invite Oscar to have dinner some night. Unfortunately, tonight is the welcome gala but maybe tomorrow? He tells me he’ll check his schedule.
We’re in the last group of passengers to leave the island. With space in our zodiac we take some of the guides with us. Back on board, Eric, the Chinese guide, waits with us at the shoe washing station and I ask him how many Chinese passengers there are. Twelve, I think he says. And all but two speak only Chinese.
Natalie tells me she’s determined to go to the gym. She’s made of stronger stuff than I. I head back to my room to download photos and write, though a day later she’ll guilt me into going to the gym after I return to the table with a plate laden with desserts.
At 1830 I head to the theater on deck four for the captain’s welcome cocktail. The gala follows, and I’ve dressed for the occasion along with most of the passengers, and it’s actually nice to see. I had pooh poohed the idea when I had read about it, but now am glad I had packed a suit. A tux might have been overkill.
Emma asks me if I’d like a photo with the captain and I say yes. There’s a line and we start chatting. She’s halfway through a 9 month contract after which she is auditioning for the Crazy Horse Cabaret in Paris. It’s exciting that she has that booked and I wish her luck.
Natali taps me on the shoulder and joins me in line. We get our photo taken together with the captain and pick up a glass of champagne (our first of many as it’ll turn out) and then walk past a receiving line of guides all dressed to the 9s into the theater.
A woman sings alone on the stage. We sip our champagne as we wait for the festivities begin. And begin they do when Giuseppe steps out from behind a curtain. I tell Natalie that this stage is too small for him. And it’s true. There is more theatricality in every fiber of his being than this stage can hold. He welcomes us and introduces the captain who in turn introduces his head crewmembers. He tells us that there are 185 guests on board and just over 160 crew.
The head chef welcomes us downstairs. I ask if he runs both kitchens. He does, but is quick give props to his staff of 27.
We are seated at the end of a table. A Singaporean couple sits at the other end of the six top and it seems odd to leave space in between us so Natalie and I move over and introduce ourselves. For the past 15 years, they’ve been living in New Zealand, having relocated with their kids. She’s retired; he’s not. They have to provide for their dog Coco.
He tells me they left Singapore because of the school system. They felt it was too dependent on academics and they wanted something more well-rounded for their children. Are you actually Asian parents? I ask. He laughs. He’d like to think they’re not.
I think I have left my balcony door open and run upstairs to check. On the way up I run into Guiseppe and stop to chat. I ask him how long he’s been a cruise director. For a while. He tells me his mentor once told him that there are fewer than 500 in the world; it’s a select group. I had never thought of it before.
He tells me he’s worked large ships with thousands of passengers, but was happy to move to a smaller ship. His longest voyage? 120 days around the world with over 2,000 passengers, some of whom have become his friends. He tells me he quit that when his life became too much about the ship itself. He had retired and moved to Ibiza and then Paris until he got the call to work for Ponant.
He loves his job. It’s clear from how well he embodies his role. He says we should have coffee or lunch or dinner sometime. I tell him I’d love to. We won’t end up doing so until the last night of the trip. 🇦🇶
—28 January 2025
