A voyage to the Ross Sea, Antarctica part 9
A walk on the fast ice in McMurdo Sound and a visit to the Cape Bird penguin rookeries.
It’s not yet 0700 when I wake up to an announcement from the Captain. There are orca off the port side. I’m not ready to get out of bed—let alone be conscious—but I’m not going to miss this.
As soon as I put my glasses on and look outside I can see a fin up close. I open the balcony door and step outside to get a better look. The orca are so close I can hear the blows. Two swim up close to the ship and I can see their bodies underwater before they resurface. It doesn’t get any better than that, I hear from the balcony next to mine. It’s Mark. We’ve been neighbors all this time.
I ask him if he can hear my music at night and whether it’s been a bother. He tells me he’s heard nothing. I should turn the music up!
We’re in McMurdo Sound, Mt. Erebus beside us, the U.S. Antarctica base just ahead. Our position: 77°53.79' S, 166°24.83' E. We watch the orca util they swim off and then navigate towards the fast ice for our morning excursion, a walk on the ice.
Once again Natalie and I are amongst the first to disembark. We board a zodiac and head towards the ice. The guides on the ice look like toy figurines, their tiny yellow and black outfits bright against the monochromatic mountains and sky.
The guides have cut steps into the ice and our driver pushes the nose of the zodiac up against them. Guides grab us by the arms as we step onto the gunwale and help pull us ashore.
We’re greeted with a vast expanse of white. Mt. Discovery looms in the background. A wide area has been staked out and we’re encouraged to explore on our own.
We walk carefully so as not to slip. Just beneath the snow lies ice. Here and there patches show through and we each catch ourselves now and again as our feet threaten to slip out from underneath us.
At one point we stop to chat with Oscar, almost unrecognizable beneath his gear. It’s his voice that gives his presence away.
In the distance there’s an object on the sand that looks like a seal. We make our way towards it and encounter Alice and Remi standing nearby. It turns out to be a steel barrel. Everyone was hoping it’d be a seal, but it’s not to be.
We wish we could wander on but we’ve come near the edge of the marked area. It seems safe enough to let us wander further; it’s impossible to walk out of view, but it’s for our own safety and for the benefit of the guides in the event we need to beat a hasty retreat.
On our way back to the landing site we run into Sabrina and stop to chat. Orca have been swimming in the area and we all wish we could see one up close from the zodiac. On the next cruise, Sabrina will have that chance, just missing a close encounter as she deals with an engine issue. Another guide will send her a photo of her facing the engine, an orca breaching what looks to be ten meters away.
When our allotted time is at an end we board a zodiac and head back to the ship, looking out for orca. They’re out there, we’re sure of it, but no luck.
Back on board, I head to an outer deck to look back at the passengers on the ice. I imagine a giant positioning them, spreading them out and bunching them together at the landing site. I see orca near one of the zodiacs and text Natlie. We wish it could have been us.
When operations are complete and everyone is back on board, the ship is away, headed north towards Cape Bird. The Captain makes an announcement, telling us that we’ve sailed to the southernmost place we can sail and that since there were no ships in the Bay of Whales we were the southernost ship in the world.
We have lunch in the formal dining room with the dancers Cindy, Emma (my dance partner), and Anna. It’s Emma’s first cruise, Anna’s second, and Cindy’s third. Anna is the youngest of the three, but is the captain of the troupe. It shows. She seems more assured and confident, answering questions and directing the others to follow suit.
I ask how they arrived on the ship and they tell me about the audition process. It’s a competitive gig with opan calls and callbacks in various European cities. There aren’t that many dancers within Ponant. There used to be more, including some male dancers, but there are less now and on this ship there are only the three of them.
I ask what they want to do after the cruise. Emma ultimately wants to be a teacher. She leads some of the dance classes on board and the other dancers both comment on how good she is. I ask their greatest concern. For Anna, it’s injury because it ends their contract and they’re sent home.
After lunch they tell me they’ll be performing in the evening and I promise I’ll attend this and all future performances. I need to support my colleagues!
We arrive at Cape Bird a little after 14h. We’re positioned at 77º12.60' S, 166°25.10'E. Beaufort Island, named after the man who established the Beaufort wind scale rises like a mountain out of the sea just off the coast.
A lone research station sits on the cape painted green. The captain announces we’re to do another landing. I’m surprised we get to do two in the same day. Everyone’s excited to see penguins.
Ombline shuttles us to the shore where we’re given a briefing and left alone to roam the marked out areas. Penguins are everywhere. They greet us as soon as we arrive and dot the landscape and rocky slopes, waddling to and fro and paying us little mind.
We walk along the beach to the east, penguins on all sides. We stop to watch and take photos and while we stand we sometimes find them practically underfoot. We’re to keep our distance, but sometimes in backing away from one penguin we find ourselves nearing another.
A group of chicks stands together on a small hill, the skeleton of a penguin rests just below. Life and death exist in close proximity, and I wonder what might go through their minds as they pick their way past their fallen brethren.
The landscape is beautiful, made more so by the low clouds and overcast light. The black and white penguins are reflected in the black and grey stones that make up the beach and surroundings. The sea looks leaden, the island a white peak in the distance.
A light snow begins to fall. It’s the perfect complement to the afternoon, adding a touch more magic to what’s already proved to be a magical day.
A penguin chick approaches us and waddles about, doing its best to navigate the larger rocks within its past. It seems that its performing for us, tripping over its own feet as it feels its way over the uneven ground.
We run into Manuel. We want to pick up the chick, to feel how soft its feathers are. He tells us he’s done so, having had to pick them up to weigh them when he studied penguins in a past position. Immeidately, I start thinking about how I might volunteer to conduct such a penguin census.
We turn away from the beach to climb a hill that overlooks the main rookery. We watch as one penguin couple appear about to share a moment before one turns to run away, chased by its mate.
Further up the hill we meet Lachie. He stands watch over a lone penguin in a clear patch of ground. He’s not sure if it’s sick but no penguins come near and we fear that it may not be long for this world. Lachie is there to watch over it and watch over us to make sure we don’t come too close to it. We’re giving it space, remaining respecful. As he he speaks he realizes he’s standing on a dead penguin and quickly steps back.
The view from the top of the slope past Cape Bird, over the penguins, to a glacier beyond is gorgeous. Each ridge showcases a different color until the eye reaches the white edge of the glacier pouring into the sea.
As beautiful as the landscape and the new life is around us, we’re reminded of the harsh conditions and the struggle to live. Past penguins litter the path and we do our best to watch our step to avoid them.
With our time coming to an end we head back down the slopes and walk towards the landing site, pausing to observe penguin anctics when a scene looks to unfold.
Penguin interactions aren’t the only ones we see. Back at the beach I catch Sabrina sharing a moment with a penguin, their bodies mirrored as they pause to take measure of one another.
Once again, it feels too soon to leave. The island, the Ross Sea, Antarctica. Cape Bird marks the northernmost point of Ross Island and once we set sail we’ll be continuing north on our slow return journey to Dunedin. This will be our last landing in Antarctica, though I won’t realize it at the time. Even with a schedule, it’s difficult to appreciate when something’s happened for the last time.
During dinner we circumnavigate Beaufort Island. The remains of a basaltic stratovolcano of unknown age it was first charted and named by James Clark Ross in 1841 and forms the northernost feature of the Ross Archipelago, which includes Ross Island, the Dellbridge Islands, and Black Island and White Island.
After dinner I head to the third deck lounge to watch the show. It begins with Anna Shut singing “How Far I'll Go,” followed by “Somewhere Over the Rainbow, and “I’m Yours” interspersed with performances by Anna, Emma, and Cindy. It’s a superfun show.
Afterwards music kicks up and the dancers return to lead guests onto the dance floor and the evening evolves into a dance party that continues until we reach curfew. I chat with Dain during a break from dancing and he confirms what we’ve all suspected. There’s a good group of guest on board. The dance floor is packed and it’s great seeing everyone having such a good time.
Afterwards I see Sam at the naturalist desk. He asks me what my plans are after the cruise and I tell him I’m headed to Australia for two weeks on a kind of ‘greatest hits’ type tour. He wishes I had asked him about it before, knowing we hadn’t met. He lives in Western Australia and invites me to visit. I tell him I’m thinking of returning to New Zealand next year to visit the South Island and will take him up on his offer if he’s serious. He assures me he is.
By midnight we’ve passed 76°37.82' S, 167°30.34' E and are steaming north at 11.4 knots, Franklin Island head. 🇦🇶
— 5 February 2025
