Antarctic Expedition
After a chaotic boarding onto the MS Midnatsol at Punta Arenas, I was finally on route to Antarctica - via the magnificent Patagonian fjords. The sign at the Port read “The Antarctic Gate - the entrance to Antarctica” - I couldn't believe this was really happening and I was on my way.
I had chosen a cabin in the middle of the ship, hoping it would be the calmest place when crossing Drakes Passage, but that was a few days away, so I had time to get acclimatized and find my sea legs. I was given my cabin card, an expedition jacket and lots of information about what was going to happen over the next 2 weeks.
I handed in my medical certificate, proving I was fit enough to come on this voyage - mandatory for everyone on board. All 353 passengers were assigned dinner tables, and put in zodiac boat groups. We all met the crew, the expedition team (including a photographer from National Geographic and someone who made Frozen Planet), and were given a talk on the following days activities. After dinner and a walk around the deck, I was ready for my bed - it had been a tiring day and I was hoping this part of the trip was going to be more relaxing.
How wrong could I be! We sailed along the Magellan Straight through the night, venturing into the open waters of the Pacific Ocean just before dawn - when the rocking of the ship woke me up. Then once more we were in the calm waters of the Beagle Channel, with finger-like channels, fjords and mountains plunging straight into the dark, icy water. This remote area with isolated islands and bays is almost undisturbed by humans. The restful day I was expecting just didn't happen! After breakfast we were fitted with rubber boots that are mandatory for all the landings, then we had a meeting to discuss the afternoons events. Straight after lunch it all began!
We were called out in the most efficient manner, to board the tender boats (16 to a boat), all kitted out and feeling like Michelin Men. The boats were very sturdy and the organisation could not have been any better. We were taken further into the 7 mile long Garibaldi Fjord, through thousands of small icebergs to the incredible azure striped Garibaldi Glacier.
It was such a different experience seeing it from sea level, rather than on the ship, and we could even touch pieces of ice that were floating on the water. We passed steep tree-clad mountains with snowy peaks and dark waters below. The weather changed every few minutes, starting with drizzle, then were lucky the sun came out at our nearest point to the ice wall, but then it hailed all the way back to the ship.
Drowned and freezing is an understatement of how I felt, but there was no time to dwell on it; I had to go and find out what was happening tomorrow. After an early dinner, I needed to catch up with a few things and headed to my cabin for an early night. We had a slow, gentle night cruising along the 150-mile long Beagle Canal, which is the natural boundary between Chile and Argentina.
We landed at Puerto Williams first thing in the morning, the capital of the Chilean Antarctic Province, with a full day there to explore. I went on the guided walk to the Omora Botanical Park, which was like nothing you could have imagined; after an hour walking along the shore, we arrived, and it was a sub tropical forest rather than a garden - but interesting nevertheless.
We were shown some of the 1500 local mosses that are special to this area, orchids, several other flowering shrubs and the 3 types of beech trees that manage to grow this far south. A giant species of Woodpecker lives there, together with many other birds - I was surprised to see mussel shells on the forest floor - that had been dropped by birds feeding in the fjord.
There are very few animals living this far south, I saw a few friendly dogs - but there are no reptiles or amphibians at all. After a leisurely hike back to the ship and a quick lunch, I headed out to see the remote town, the few shops it has are in the town square and were all closed, and the supermarket looked like a wooden shed.
This town only came into existence in 1953, it was originally a naval base and all around there is evidence of this - guns and tanks in the parks as well as in peoples gardens. Many of the houses were made from white cladding, in rows and reminded me of a seaside holiday camp. I passed the hospital and green wooden church on my way to the museum - what a fascinating place that was, even though there was nothing written in English.
As well as stuffed animals local to the area, there were photographs and information about the Yamana (aka Yagan) people that used to inhabit this region. They were a nomadic tribe who went from island to island hunting and gathering; it is hard to believe they didn't wear any clothing, no skins or anything - even in these harsh conditions. They just covered their bodies in blubber. When the first explorers saw this area, they named it Tierra del Fuego due to the large number of fires they saw - the Yamana trying to keep warm!
Many visitors only went to the museum to use its free wifi, which was an added bonus. Tourism now plays a huge part in Puerto Williams’s economy, and hostels and back packing trips can now be found there, as it offers the most southerly treks in the world. On the way back to the ship I saw the remains of the bow section of the Yelcho, the boat used to rescue Ernest Shackleton's men who had been stranded on Elephant Island. After seeing as much of the town as I could, I happily returned to the ship for dinner and a briefing on tomorrow's activities.
Before we set sail, I spent a delightful few hours up on deck watching the evening sky change colour from gold and burnt orange over the town to varying shades of pink and blue over the water, above the twinkling lights of Argentina.
The following morning, I woke up to the ship rolling again, and I knew we were in open waters and nearing Cape Horn. As I opened my curtains, I saw an albatross hovering above the ocean, right in line with my window. I had a bowl of porridge for breakfast (for energy), and I wouldn't have been disappointed if today’s landing was cancelled - I didn't like how rough the sea was.
But as we approached our landing area, the sea calmed down and it was all systems go. Back on with 'the wet landing kit', and down to the tender pit. Everyone's emotions were in complete turmoil; it was a feeling of excitement, terror, adventurous spirit and cowardice. It was terrifying getting into the tender boat with the swell of the ocean, and I can't remember how I got in or out, it was so quick - I think I was just thrown in and thrown back out!
The expedition leaders would have stopped anyone going who didn't look fit enough to get in and out of the boats, or to climb the steps up the cliff. I couldn’t look scared! The Lighthouse keeper greeted us all as we landed on the dark stoney beach, and then we climbed the 200 steps to the top of the island (The porridge helped).
Cape Horn is a 425 metre high rock with a fairly flat top, greener than I had expected - but with no trees. I headed along the boardwalk to the monument of a full size (10 foot) replica of a Wandering Albatross and there were other monuments, to sailors, explorers and a poem on one written by Sara Vial that begins 'I, the albatross that awaits at the end of the world….....!’
It certainly was the end of the world and I had been lucky enough to set foot on this usually inaccessible piece of land. Over 10,000 men in 800 ships, have lost their lives in the waters around here - all trying to avoid the hundreds of dangerous rocky islands that winds would have blown them into.
The sun kept popping out for a few minutes, but the wind never ceased blowing a gale. In the opposite direction there was a tiny wooden chapel, the lighthouse keepers quarters and of course the lighthouse - which we were allowed to go in. A small but colourful building, not at all what I had been expecting.
After signing the visitor’s book and getting a stamp to say I had landed on Cabo de Hornos, I began making my way back to the ship. The islands in the distance were shining and sunlight was shimmering off the sea; the MS Midnatsol stood proudly in the bay below and I felt such a sense of achievement. Not everyone gets to say they stepped foot on one of the most mythical places on Earth.
Once everyone was back on board, it was time to begin our 36 hour crossing of Drakes Passage (450 nautical miles) - another terrifying thought; but I kept myself busy, enjoyed a lecture about the Yagan tribe and tried not to look at the swell of the ocean. The night passed by and I was pleased when I got up the next morning without feeling ill; we had been travelling through a force 9 Gale with a 20-metre swell!
As we crossed the Antarctic Convergence (where the Southern Ocean meets the Pacific and Indian Oceans), the visibility was bad and it was snowing; this place is renowned for fog but we were assured that as it cleared we would see more birds as we approached Antarctica.
The gales and waves are due to the Antarctic Circumpolar Current that isolates the continent from the rest of the world. We crossed the 60-degree line at lunchtime ahead of schedule. There were mandatory meetings to attend about landing on Antarctica, biosecurity vacuuming of our outer clothing (boots were already disinfected when we arrived back on board yesterday) and classes in photography, sea birds and the maritime history of Cape Horn.
I was never bored - not even for a minute - but it was exhausting. I ventured out on deck a few times but not for long, there were now icicles hanging off the handrails and snow on the deck; it really was bitterly cold. I went to bed knowing from now on there could be icebergs close by, and the next time I woke up, I should be able to see the amazing white continent of Antarctica.
It certainly was right there when I opened my curtains, and the wind was still blowing a gale; but by 8am the ship had anchored off Half Moon Island and the bay could not have been calmer. This area belongs to the South Shetland Islands, named after the islands off the coast of Scotland, as they are both the same distance from their respective Poles - although their temperature ranges differ immensely.
The morning temperature began to rise and the sun even managed to pop out for a while - it could not have been more perfect. It was the opposite of what I had been expecting only a few hours earlier. People had signed up to do kayaking and snow shoeing here, but I was happy to go ashore and check out the penguins.
Without the swell, it was so easy getting in and out of the tender boat today, even though it was 'a wet landing' and we had to jump into the water. We were free to wander around certain areas and were told to stay at least 5 metres from any penguins, but if they wanted to come closer to check us out - that was ok.
They were everywhere, even on the beach where we landed. There were a few colonies, all making such a noise, and smelling quite awful; but nothing could put you off those adorable Chinstrap Penguins. They jumped out of the sea and hopped over the rocks, up the hills, on well-worn pathways trying to get back to their mates.
Even us humans didn't stop them in their tracks - we had to wait for them. It was wonderful to watch. They waddled along the paths, slid down the hills and leapt from rock to rock.
I crouched down to take a photograph and the next thing I knew, one was heading towards me - I couldn't move.
He came so close, I was holding my breath; I was so lucky to be able to video it. Afterwards someone came up to me and said that I had been surrounded and it looked like I was going to be mugged by penguins and needed rescuing!
After returning to the ship the weather carried on improving and I even managed half an hour on deck without my coat on - although that didn't last.
As soon as we were under way, and had dinner, a large iceberg and some humpback whales were spotted off the bow of the ship. What a sight the whales were - it is right what the expedition crew say 'It's the weather and the wildlife that rule the show down here'; what an end it had been to a magical day.
Next morning we had been advised to be out on deck early to see our arrival at Deception Island, a restless volcano that is still considered to be a significant risk. It was named by a captain who went round the horseshoe shaped volcanic caldera trying to find the opening to the safe harbour inside.
The entrance is called Neptune’s Bellows, it has huge basalt rocks on either side and as we sailed through, the sea calmed slightly but the wind did not subside at all - as it had done the previous day. The ship came to a halt at Telefon Bay on the farthest side of the interior and I was one of the first to be taken by tender boat to a very secluded bay.
Everywhere was coated in black volcanic ash from the last eruption in 1970. Surprisingly the entire land and mountains were solid ice with a coating of this ash, this became apparent where the ice was melting near the beach as it exposed the white ice underneath the black. I enjoyed walking along the beach but found it hard going up the steep hill to the plateau as the ground kept falling away; I only went half way up - just enough to have a good view of the lakes below.
I did find it a grim, depressing place and I have never been so cold in my life; the wind was so strong I felt like I was going to be blown off my feet. There didn't appear to be any vegetation or wildlife about - even the birds were avoiding this area.
Only 20,000 people land on Antarctica every year from 38 different ships - mainly to the area we were experiencing. We sailed passed an abandoned whaling station in Whalers Bay on the way out of Deception Island, back out into choppy seas of the Bransfield Straight - and what a rough night it was.
Next morning I woke to see sea-ice everywhere, thick misty skies and a real aerie atmosphere. It really did feel like we were in a different place now, and we were! The ship had to travel very slowly to avoid the huge icebergs, which as much as being fantastic, were a terrifying sight.
We came to a halt at 64 degrees South, actually now at mainland Antarctica - Andvord Bay with its innermost part - Neko Harbour. The first part of my day was spent 'cruising' in a tender boat and what an incredible time I had.
Travelling through the crowded sea ice and icebergs was exhilarating - terrifying but so fantastic. The noise when we crashed through the ice was so loud - even more so with the complete silence of the place.
Some of the icebergs were as big as our ship, with icicles hanging and blue veins running through them. We saw 2 crab eater seals lying on an iceberg, quite oblivious to all these people around them.
We were told not to loiter on the beach, but to head for the higher ground straight away, as due to constant calving of the nearby glaciers there is always a risk of tidal surges (of at least several metres) or larger tsunami.
If the wind gets up, we have to be prepared to leave the island immediately, as it can blow the ice - entrapping the ship, we had to keep alert at all times. I grabbed some walking poles and headed up the steep hill and what an absolutely amazing sight it was below me!
There aren't enough superlatives to describe the view, but it made you feel so very lucky. Everyone was grinning 'We really are on the Antarctic mainland today - it is unbelievable'. There, with the mischievous Gentoo penguins, many of whom were sitting on eggs, others returning from fishing trips, trudging up the penguin highways.
I sat in the snow to take a photo and within a few minutes, one was walking towards me – it was best moment. Every so often there was loud calving from the glacier, a thundering noise that didn't disturb the penguin colony, it just made all of us gasp in horror. Within a few minutes you could see ripples on the previously mirror-like water, radiating for miles past our ship.
There was a replica tent erected in remembrance of Amundsen, who reached the South Pole exactly 105 years before we stepped foot on the mainland of this great white continent. When I returned to the ship, I could not have been any happier, my day had been even more amazing than I had ever expected and I now felt like I had really been to Antarctica.
We left this extraordinary bay and slowly glided back into the Errera Channel. The water was so calm, rippled with sea ice, it was so atmospheric - we could have been drifting in outer space not the Southern Ocean.
There were so many icebergs, huge ones, colourful ones and some that looked they had been specifically sculptured; all reflecting in the dark waters. I saw a penguin standing on an iceberg and within 10 seconds, there were three, five, up to ten - all leapt out of the water - it was so amusing.
A crab eating seal slept on another chunk of ice, quite oblivious to the penguin nearby – thankfully that sort of seal doesn't eat penguins. We had to cruise very slowly, looking out for the deceiving clear icebergs, which can be the most dangerous; it was a scary moment when we had to pass through an almost solid area of sea ice (it was so noisy).
It was one of those nights when you cannot stop looking outside; you didn't want to miss a single second. This certainly was Antarctica at its very best and I was determined to stay awake as long as possible and enjoy it all. Early next morning we anchored at Cuverville Island surrounded by high mountains that were obscured by low cloud, and so many large icebergs.
It is the home to over 6000 pairs of Gentoo penguins, nesting happily not far from the shore. I could say that I was nearly blaze about seeing penguins swimming in the ocean now, they were everywhere and now we had seen them for a few days.
The unpleasant ammonia smell from this penguin colony was quite overpowering! But, once again, walking on untouched snow and seeing these penguins so close, scurrying up and down their highways on their fishing trips, and back to their nests was a very special sight.
Several Shua were trying to steal eggs from the nests, occasionally succeeding, and gulls were flying above. Immense icebergs added such wonder to this sheltered area and even though it started snowing, I hardly noticed because there were too many distractions, especially to see dozens of penguins playing and splashing about in the water – a penguin party!
The snow came down even heavier and when we left early afternoon, the visibility was dreadful. As we headed due south towards the Lemaire Channel, I was expecting a quiet afternoon, but how wrong could I have been! I had a once in a lifetime experience - there was a shoal of ‘Orca’ killer whales, 9 of them, feeding just in front of the ship. There were mothers with their calves and at least one male amongst them. It wasn't just their dorsal fins, I saw their entire bodies rising out of the water, and their tails, and I actually got the shot of a lifetime - one of their faces.
For many hours it felt as if we were a lone ship drifting through space, passing meteors and occasionally other planets - no other life but us (and the occasional seal). All the superlatives in the world could not describe the atmosphere around us. We were silently drifting through the calmest, reflective ocean; with the most fascinating shaped icebergs and frequent dense sea ice making terrifying noises as we went through it. But the colour of the sky, sea, sun and ice together was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
It wasn't that they were bright colours, they were very soft, almost two-tone, but for a short while the sky and sea became one. As we approached the entrance to the Lemaire Channel with its high mountains and huge glaciers, we were at our furthest point south; we had reached just over 65 degrees and were the closest we would be to the South Pole. We couldn't venture further down this channel as it was blocked with immense icebergs and had to turn around. It was cold, but I could not go in, could not go to bed - I didn't want the night to end. At midnight, the sun was still shining, it wouldn't get dark tonight, it would just be dull for an hour or two at the most; but eventually I had to go to bed.
I woke up to the sunniest day we had had, blue skies, white mountains and more icebergs - what more could a girl want. The captain struggled to position the ship by Damoy Point in Dorian Bay because there were too many icebergs! In this wind there is a real danger of being trapped in a bay or inlet by the moving ice.
This area is where Argentinean, and currently the British Antarctic Survey team have research stations and a well-stocked emergency hut. What a remote but beautiful place it was, with only the occasional seal and Gentoo penguin for company.
The granite mountains towered above us and the snow was so pristine, not glacial, icy snow - but it looked like soft, smooth snow that went for miles and miles. When I went ashore, I could see how soft it was, and how deep it was - it was really hard going.
I managed to see inside the emergency hut, walked past a sleepy Wendell seal and walked up a snowy hill to catch the most incredible view below - by which time I was exhausted.
Walking in 2 foot of snow, with so many heavy clothes on, really made you realise how hard it must have been for anyone to walk any distance here, let alone pulling a sledge. The wind was blowing a gale and although it was sunny, I felt really cold.
This was our last landing in Antarctica, and it was special. It was the last chance to see and smell the adorable penguins, and I managed to see their stoney nests closely today. Every day had given us something more to see, to experience and to enjoy - all of our expectations were surpassed.
The ship moved into the next bay, and before leaving this area we all had an exhilarating tender boat ride around the bay. Then the ladies from Port Lockroy came on board to give a talk about their conservation work, to sell us a few souvenirs, stamp our passports with Antarctica and take away the ships mail.
I felt sad the next morning when I woke; this was the last time I would wake up to see icebergs, glaciers, snowy mountains and penguins. We were in Wilhelmina Bay, a picturesque bay, 15 km long, surrounded by steep cliffs, glaciers and almost pyramid peaks towering above.
The sea was calm, it had stopped snowing and the sun kept appearing on different mountains every few minutes.
This area is famous for the number of humpback whales that reside here and I was so hoping to see one up close.
As I waited for my last Antarctic tender boat ride, I watched the smooth sea, with its never ending ice sculptures and was overjoyed to see humpback whales rising all around the ship.
They hardly made a ripple even on the flattest of waters. But as I know by now, the weather here changes by the minute and by the time I went out, the wind was howling, the waves were choppy and it really felt like we were in Antarctica.
We saw several crab eating seals lazing on the icebergs and of course lots of penguins - sadly the last we would see. We past some incredibly colourful icebergs - you can't ever be sick of icebergs - every one is so different.
And our final treat for the day, or the Antarctic experience, was to be taken to an area of solid sea ice, where we were allowed to land and spend a few minutes standing on the moving platform of solid water.
It was quite an experience, meticulously carried out, as had been every operation we had undertaken. By the time we reached the safety of the ship almost 3 hours later, we were all freezing cold and finally had experienced the harshness of this frozen wonderland.
As if that wasn't enough for our final day down here, as we departed Wilhelmina Bay, the calm waters returned together with dozens of humpback whales. Wilhelmina Bay, dubbed Whale-mina bay, had certainly stood up to its name.
They were on every side of the vessel, happily feeding, rising out of the water, calling out to each other, spouting and showing their tails. It was one of the most magical, unforgettable moments of my life and I just didn't want it to end. It was as though we were involved in our very own natural history programme.
But we had to say goodbye to this incredible, pristine part of our planet and head north. What amazing experiences we had had in this most magical of places. The place that never got dark, never went to sleep, never had a single moment when it failed to impress. It had more than lived up to my expectations, surpassing every possible dream I could have had, and left me feeling so very privileged to have been able to see it. Crossing Drakes Passage again, I kept well occupied. I went to another lecture about the Yagan people from Patagonia, Patagonia means people with big feet (due to them wearing guanaco skins on their feet), as when the first Europeans saw them, they described them as huge people who ate white people.
I also had a visit to the bridge and a chat with the Captain who showed us how he conserves fuel to protect the environment, ways he keeps the ship stable to keep his passengers happy and the mechanics of driving this amazing vessel.
Passing Cape Horn was special again, with albatrosses circling the ship, flying on the thermals, and swooping down to the ocean. After collecting our pilot, we entered the Beagle Channel again, passing Puerto Williams and Ushuia.
There were more pristine glaciers, high gushing waterfalls, and forests in a multitude of greens and oranges; and of course just the dark, dramatic mountains.
We were entertained with a show put on by the crew, before it actually got dark - the first time in 2 weeks. Next morning we sailed through the narrow Gabriel Channel, stopping at Tuckers Islands for our last cruising in the tender boats.
The weather was so changeable, one minute it was glorious sunshine and the next it was torrential rain, it was so hard to know how many layers to wear. In Patagonia they say they have 3 months of winter and the rest of the year is bad weather; so I donned my outfit, boots and lifejacket for the last time.
There were dolphins swimming in the bay, circling some of the tender boats, what an incredible sight they were being so inquisitive. We got really close to cormorant colonies, both king cormorants and rock cormorants, all nesting on the rocky cliffs.
The Magellan penguins, many of which had already hatched their chicks, were by the waters edge teaching the young ones to swim.
This breed of penguin nest in burrows, unlike the ones we had seen in Antarctica that build their nests with stones (so they have good drainage).
As we cruised over to another tiny
island, a couple of well-camouflaged sea lions were swimming amongst the bright mustard coloured kelp.
There were different types of ducks, gulls and a Caracara - the local raptor.
I was very emotional when I got off the tender boat for the last time, I had to give back my fabulous wellies and group name badge, I no longer belonged to the Black browed albatross family - what a lovely family we had been. The friends you make on these journeys really do make the experience so much more special, and I had met some wonderful people.
Before dinner I was invited to a cocktail party with some people I had started the trip with in Patagonia and another get together with my tender boat group. Then we all had a champagne toast and had to say our farewells to the Captain, his crew and of course the expedition team, who had looked after every one of us so well. More emotion!!! After dinner, the weather outside became abnormally calm and serene, and when chatting to the Captain, he said he had never seen it like this before. I just had to spend my last evening out on deck, enjoying the atmosphere and amazing scenery for one more evening.
The sunset just had to be one of the most spectacular of the trip, enjoyed of course with friends. When we arrived back at Punta Arenas the next morning, dolphins were around the ship, as if to say goodbye. A magical ending to a magical trip! And I felt the luckiest person alive, but now was time for the final part of my trip - I was flying up to Iguazzu Falls...……
Thanks for coming on this amazing adventure with me! I know there are a few more photos here than normal - but there were so many that I wanted to share with you all. I had condensed them quite well.......I did take 4000!
Lynne
Please check out my other blogs ..............
