The Ross Sea Antarctica, part five
Land ho! The continent, Possession Island, and a cruise through the sea ice.
We’ve reached 70°24.32' S and are continuing south. The sunrise at our present position is at 03:14; the sunset will be at 23:57. Soon, the sun will cease to set.
We’ve been sailing towards Cape Adare in hopes of a landing. There lie Borchgrevink's huts, the first buildings erected on the continent. He and his crew landed on Cape Adare in 1899 with the intention of being the first to overwinter in Antarctica. They built two huts for that purpose; they’re the only surviving first man-made dwelling on a continent.
I’m up at 0840. We’re some 70 nautical miles away from Cape Adare. At 0930 Joel gives a lecture introducing us to Antarctica and a few hours later we get our first glimpse of the continent. It starts small, a sliver of mountain and ice under heavy clouds coming near. A flock of snow petrols round the ship.
It appears a mirage, white on white, blue shadows mark the rocky terrain. After the flat, unbroken horizon of the past days at sea, it doesn’t seem real.
The captain had assessed conditions and tells us a landing at Cape Adare won’t be possible. We’re disappointed, perhaps Patricia most of all. We’re continuing south, towards Possession Island in hopes of a landing or other operations there.
The skies clear and a series of rocky islands appear before us. The decks fill. It’s mesmerizing. A rocky island reveals two arches through which we can see the snow on the shore. Natalie tells an art teacher once said if you wanted to make money to paint blue paintings. Looking out over the sea and the sky streaked with the pale white snow and cloud, it’s easy to see how monochromatically blue so soothes the soul.
The islands come closer, one shaped a shark’s fin or tooth, jutting sharply out of the water. The shore is tantalizingly close and we are all itching to disembark and to set foot on land. Wave after wave of eager anticipation wash over us as we stand out in the cold, our eyes filled with the spectacle before us.
Soon we encounter sea ice, little bits at first that swirl and swarm around the boat. Looking towards the shore they cover the surface of the sea. From our vantage point It’s difficult to see where the loose ice becomes fast.
Incredibly, the skies continue to clear, and our field of vision becomes awash in blue.
As we approach Possession Island we see penguins porpoising off the port side. Crowds form as everyone looks to catch a glimpse. It won’t be our last.
The ship stops and zodiacs drop into the water. The decks clear somewhat as people head off to prepare for a potential landing. A few linger outside to watch the operations commence.
Unfortunately, the conditions render the landing unsafe. The sea ice appears to be far enough away to allow for a landing, but it’s too dangerous to chance it. If the sea ice blows in, we’ll be trapped, offering an experience too-well known to Antarctic explorers of old.
The zodiacs are called in.
Instead, the captain proposes cruise through the sea ice. Le Soléal is rated C1, which means it can operate in light ice conditions with the help of icebreakers. Here, the ice is still broken; we’ll move slowly.
The decks fill again as we begin our manouevers. The boat inches forward as it pushes chunks of ice away from its bow. The Safety Officer appears on deck along with other crew members to watch our progress. She reminds me of the Officer’s dinner. She tells me she’s swapped watches with another officer and is going to attend. Should I go? Yes. And I should sign up for her table so she knows someone.
She tells me navigating the ice is stressful. There are four people on the bridge now: the captain, an ice pilot, with two additional on watch just in case.
Elise sees me, but I don’t see her. She’ll let me know at lunch the next day, saying I probably missed her because she’s small. I’ll tell her she should hit me to get my attention next time she does.
We leave a wake in the ice that closes slowly behind us. On the other side, the Captain proposes a zodiac cruise. They’re dropped into the water and we’re told our embarkation times by color group. Though disappointed we couldn’t make our landing, everyone is excited to be on the water.
We board Remi’s zodiac and he eases us towards the ice. We sit on the edge and watch as the swell creates waves of ice. They look like undulating hills and we lose sight of the other zodiacs and the landscape when we find ourselves in a trough.
One of the guides spots a Weddel seal and we ease through the ice to get a better view. A snow petrel flies overhead, it’s perfectly white form mimics the ice in the sky.
When it’s time to head back there’s a line of zodiacs waiting to disembark. The swells are making it difficult as the water hits the boat and fills the transom. At one point we see a zodiac tie up and then have to untie as the ship rises and falls.
Remi decides to take us on a ride around the ship, offering us a 360° view of Le Soléal.
Back on board we continue pushing through the ice. Tabular icebergs float by and I spend as much time as I can on deck, watching the ice flow by.
The sun won’t set until after 0100 and it’s somewhat discombobulating seeing the day remain so bright after dinner. Given our speed, it takes a little bit of time to make it through the ice to the other side. When we reach the open water it’s the golden hour.
Back in my cabin I find a certificate signed by the Captain Pierre-Marie Ducournau and Xavier Moroy, the exepedition leader. It marks our crossing of the Antarctic Circle at 1630 the day before. I step out onto the balcony and watch icebergs float by.
It’s difficult to get to sleep, not just because of how light it is. It’s difficult to convince myself to go to sleep. I want to stay up and stare at our surroundings: the sea, the ice, the mountains, the clouds painted gold. But I remind myself that it’s a marathon and not a sprint and that tomorrow will bring with it new sights to behold. Begrudingly, I make ready for bed, eager to see what the morning brings. 🇦🇶
—1 February 2025
