Entries about oceans

I apologize. I started this week with grand intentions of writing a well thought out piece about travel writing. I forgot how grueling working the night shift could be. It turns out, staying up all night turns my mind to mush. My creative endeavors died without a whimper.

Whale Show


That being said, I have had a jaw-dropping week, even by my standards. I saw four different kinds of whales. This includes the giant sperm whales, orca and pilot whales. Get this, there were orca attacking a pod of sperm whales, trying to get at the newborn calf. The sperm whales were getting defensive forming a circle around the calf and batting at the orca with their flukes. There was a gigantic male taking charge of the pod. His enormous white head was scarred from a life full of battles. The orca had met their match.

I watched a large pod of short finned pilot whales for over three hours. I should have been sleeping, but it was too good of a show. I even saw them breach for the first time. As we cruised along side of them, they passed right by another pod of sperm whales. There was another giant male logging on the surface. As I stood on the fantail of our ship, I passed not more than thirty feet away from it. It was awesome!

Dolphins in Sapphires

One morning we came upon a pod of dolphins. I decided to head up to the lido deck to watch them from up above. Judging from experience, I figured that the glassy seas and morning light would make for good underwater dolphin photos. I was not disappointed. These are among my favorite dolphin pictures I have. I will never forget how beautiful it is to watch dolphins glide just beneath the surface of the water.

A Healthy Desert

I went for a walk among the boojum trees. Boojums are endemic to a very small region near Bahia de Los Angeles on the eastern side of the Baja Peninsula. They look like an upside down hairy white carrot. I love this desert. It’s very healthy, full of blooming cacti, birds, bees and vibrant desert fauna.

I sat in a narrow band of shade of a skinny cardon. It felt good to sit in the dirt. I could only hear the soft rustle of wind through the desert. I let my mind relax. Ahhh.

The only thought that came to mind was that I should continue to visit the desert in March and April. It feels really good to me be here. I don’t know if it’s the sun, warmth or desert itself, but I need to work this into my overall plan for healthy living.

Hiking Isla Danzante

There will come a day when I will be able to spend more than just three hours on Isla Danzante. There are just too many adventures waiting to happen. I want to walk around the island along the shore. I want to see the views from every high point. I want to anchor my sailboat in honeymoon cove. I will listen to the breeze and watch the stars.

It’s going to have to wait.

Ah well. I had a great morning hike on Isla Danzante. I walked around the north side of the island along the shore. I saw all kinds of sea stuff. I like calling the animals and plants of tide pools “sea stuff.” The ocean is so diverse and interesting, it’s hard for me to identify and understand what is going on in just one small section of shoreline.

Fortunately, my new adventure buddy knows a lot more than I do and she tells me all about it on our walks.

Walking Through Heaven

I took an early ride to the rocky shores of Isla Santa Catalina. I was exhausted from working all night, but I wanted to hike to a distant beach to try to find a certain kind of seashell I was convinced could be found there.




I never found the shells. Instead, I found a gorgeous desert landscape bathed in changing light. I don’t know if I was hypersensitive to the conditions due to my weariness, but I felt like I was walking through heaven.

I love this scene. I can't decide which one I like better. Let me know which one you prefer.

Thank you for putting up with this sad excuse for an entry. I promise I will get more sleep, which hopefully will lead to better stories.

Cheers!

I promised myself that I would jump in the ocean and drink a beer after work. By the time my shift ended, it was dark out. This didn’t deter me in the least. When I stepped ashore, I stopped briefly to say hello to some friends of mine near the bonfire, before slipping away to fulfill that promise.

I walked a couple hundred yards away from the landing area to a secluded sand beach where I couldn’t see or hear the ship. I set my pack down, and turned to look up the stars. Orion, Taurus, the Milky Way, and a hundred others twinkled above. I grinned. I turned to the water and padded over the cool sand to its edge. I dabbled my toe in an inch of water. It felt delicious. I entered the water, making sure to shuffle my feet along the sandy bottom in order to warn any rays or puffer fish of my arrival. When it was waist deep, I dropped to my knees, gasping from the chill of the water. I felt my body relax, my grin widen, and I started giggling. This was what I was dreaming about all day.

When I swished my hands through the water, tiny glowing orbs swirled in my wake. The bioluminescence glowed like fireflies on a late July evening. I am totally immersed in the grandeur of the desert seascape. At that point, I just let go. I figured the sea would take care of me. The gentle swells pull me in and out. I thought to myself, “I am riding the breath of the ocean, if not the breath of the world.”

I’m not sure I’ve had a better swim in my life.

Back on the beach, I cracked my beer. I took that first sip and looked up at the stars again. I had an idea. I grabbed my camera and tripod and set up a basic composition at the mouth of an arroyo. I tried a few exposures before I dialed in my ISO, my shutter speed, and aperture. Then I started experimenting with “painting” the rock with my flashlight.

I like the results.

My friend wandered down the beach to see what I was doing. I set down my camera, and we sat in the sand talking of constellations, whales, dolphins, birds, and Mexico. A single shooting star streaked by. After awhile, I grew chilly as I stopped taking pictures. I gathered my gear and we walked back to the bonfire.

We grabbed a drink and settled around the fire. Who doesn’t love a bonfire on a beautiful beach with friends? Alberto played flamenco songs on his guitar. A large waning moon rose over the ocean, gradually rising high enough to light the eerie sandstone formations of the desert.

I can’t think of a better way to cap off a great evening.

Vagabond Interrupted

I’ve had an amazing week. It’s been hard for me to write this entry on the count that I keep being interrupted by all of the awesomeness happening around me. For instance, this morning there were fin whales right off of our bow. Fin whales might be my favorite whale species, but that can change depending on if I ever see a narwhal or not. As it is, the fin whales were less then forty feet away. They had relatively short dive intervals going down for about three minutes before coming back up for air. I watched them for an hour. I even caught a quick glimpse of a fluke. Fin whales rarely show their flukes.

This episode led to more downloading and editing of photos for this entry. When I was in the middle of editing, the call came over the radio that there were mobula rays skimming the surface of the water off the bow. Once again, I set down my computer and tromped off to the bow.

I’ve never seen mobula rays up close before and was soon lost in the moment. The mobula rays could be the most graceful animal I‘ve ever seen in the water. They glide with elegant strokes from their wings, the tips breaking the surface of the water by a few inches.

I ran off to wake my friend who was taking a nap. It’s common among crew members to make “wake up” promises if something awesome is happening near the ship. The mobula rays definitely triggered the wake up clause. Experiences like this are better shared than not, and I was glad to rouse everyone out of their naps.

When I got back on deck, the rays glided along our port side, less then twenty feet away. I decided to get my camera… Ah jeez. See? Even as I write this, there are dolphins leaping just outside of my window. Well, I gotta go. I’ll be back.

From Sunrise to Sunset

It’s difficult to explain to people what a typical day is like working on a ship here in Baja. If you were to read my journal, or look at my pictures, one might think I spend all day relaxing on a beach, watching whales, or taking photos of dolphins.

What you don’t know is that I work twelve hours a day-everyday. This gives me the chance to experience the wonderful wildlife and play on the gorgeous desert islands. Generally, I keep myself very busy with the boat operations and up keep. But when there is good wildlife, I set down my angle grinder and pick up my camera. When I’m off shift, I take off my uniform and head to the beach.

Each day has been remarkable enough to deserve its own chapter. But, I’m not writing a book. It’s difficult to make time to write when there is so much to experience just outside that door.

The pictures that follow are this week’s featured bouquet. My days have been awesome from sunrise to sunset.

Sunrise Over Mexico

Bow Riding Dolphins

Land’s End

Dolphins in Flight

Humpback Whales near The Gorda Banks

These humpback whales breached dozens off times in a three-hour period. The food was plentiful. They would rise half way out of the water and fall atop the bait ball with a tremendous splash. Then they would eat the stunned baitfish.

Fin Whales

What you are looking at here is a fin whale just beneath the surface of the water. You can see a thin white line just below and right of the spout. This is the right side of the mouth of the fin whale. The left side doesn’t have this coloration.

Magic Water

Sunset Over the Pacific

I often wonder about my path in life. Sometimes it feels as though I look for greater meaning and miss the point completely. I don’t think I’ve made that mistake this week.

Cheers! To the good life…

It’s hard to believe I went to Antarctica. Who does that? As we were winding up our last days on the continent, my travel companion and I compared notes on how much we’ve worked this year. I’ve worked five and a half months in 2012, and she worked six months. We both started laughing at our ridiculous good fortune. By the numbers, we should be living in poverty. But here we are, sitting in white robes on a comfortable bed, waiting for our next landing on the Antarctic Peninsula. It’s absurd.

My advice: When opportunity knocks on your door, answer it.

Parting Shots

Orca!

I didn’t see many whales around the peninsula, except for one pod of Orca. The orcas were on the move in search of seals. The seals like to bask in the sun on top of ice floes. The whales will search among the icebergs; spyhopping out of the water to see if any seals are hiding on top. In this pod, there were two males, one female, and one juvenile whale.

Endless Mountain Landscapes

We had some outstanding weather on the trip. These shots are of the narrow passage that leads to Port Lockroy. The weather for the entire trip was amazing. There were several days in a row of brilliant sunshine with blue skies. Sunglasses and sunscreen were mandatory.

I didn’t expect the peninsula to be as mountainous as it is. I love seeing high mountains peaking out from heavy cloud cover.

Marching Penguins

Penguins spend a lot of their day moving from one group to another, one place to another. Though wary, they tolerate humans so long as we do not get in their way. A penguin is busy this time of year, there are rocks to haul, nests to construct and mates to attract.

A penguin highway is a great spot to watch them. The highway is obvious, as there is a ten-foot wide discoloration on the ice, and it usually has a couple of penguins ambling back and forth upon it. I like to sit down right near a highway at a strategic point where the penguins have to by closely in order to get where they want to go.

For instance, one of their paths wound up a rock ramp between the ocean and the main colony. I sat down right next to bottom side of the ramp. The penguins didn’t care at all. They waddled right by and allowed me to watch them from less than three feet away.

Penguin Flight

Brown Bluff sits at the extreme northerly end of the Antarctic Peninsula. Underneath this massive rock lies a large breeding colony of penguins. Like all life forms, a penguin must eat. To do this, they have to eventually get into the ocean and swim out to their feeding grounds. A leopard seal must also eat, and it knows the best place to catch penguins is between the colony and the feeding grounds.

The leopard seal is very crafty, and uses all kinds of stealthy camouflage to catch the penguins off guard. He will hide behind bergs; wedging himself into a small crevice before launching himself at the passing penguins. He’s a menace to penguins.

The penguins know this, and fight back with numbers. At a rocky point, the penguins gather in the hundreds. They wait there until the lead penguin closest to the water decides to go for it. Then it’s a game of follow the leader, and the hundred penguins that were standing behind him launch themselves into the sea in a mad rush. It’s impressive.

The penguin mob began swimming out to their grounds. When penguins swim, they “porpoise” through the water, jumping out like dolphins to catch a breath of air before diving back down. I watched the penguins get further away from shore. They looked like they were going to make it. Then, in an instant, they turned 90 degrees to their original direction and began to panic. The leopard seal struck again.

The penguins raced back to shore. They began popping out of the water and recklessly landed on the rocks. They were scared. When the chaos ended, I could see the leopard seal thrashing the penguin against the water. It was somewhat sad, but that’s the way it goes.

Around The Horn

We ended our explorations of the southern ocean by cruising through Drake’s Passage up to Cape Horn. This section of the world is unique. It’s where the Pacific Ocean meets the Atlantic and Southern Oceans collide. Our passage wasn’t bad. We had a good roll to our ship, but the seas remained relatively calm.

It was strange to see Cape Horn. Though I have read about it, I never imagined that one day I would be looking at the tip of South America. I had made it around the horn. What a strange life I lead.

In the old days of sailing, it could take months to make it around the horn, and many mariners did not make it. Hundreds of ships litter this section of ocean. Many sailors were never seen again.

Fortunately, our ship was not one of them. We turned northeast before turning into the Beagle Channel before returning to Ushuaia.

So ends one hell of an amazing life journey. In time, I may have more to say about this voyage, but I’m still digesting it. As one adventure ends, another begins. “Adios, Antarctica. Hola, Argentina.”

After much thought, I’ve decided I’m a struggling as a writer. I don’t know what adjectives to use when trying to describe the landscape of the Antarctic Peninsula and surrounding islands. My thesaurus has run dry. It’s hard to find words that illustrate supreme beauty-except those very words. Antarctica IS supremely beautiful, and that is all I have to say about it.

The Antarctic Peninsula is essentially made of six elements. These are: ice, rock, water, atmosphere, snow, and wildlife (which includes humans). The interplay of these six simple elements makes Antarctic landscapes magnificent.

Here is my proof.

Blizzard on Deception Island

There is nothing like walking around in a blizzard in Antarctica to make you feel alive. I landed on Deception Island in the midst of a fierce gale. The snow wasn’t really falling so much as it was whipping horizontally over the ground. It never really had a chance to hit the ice. The wind grabbed those flakes and used them to scour the land and the people who walked upon it. It was awesome.

It was a great day for photography. The wind and driving snow obscured the details of the landscape. I shot these photos in sepia to give an “olde tyme” feel to them. They are some of my favorites of the trip.

Neptune’s Window

My compatriots and I took a hike to a high point called Neptune’s Window. I love how these lines of people look in the heavy wind and snow.

Slush

I found a pond with interesting patterns made of slush.

Cuverville Island

Natural Ice Sculpture

A beautiful collection of natural ice art surrounds Cuverville Island. What I really love about these sculptures is not only are they completely natural, but they are only momentary. You have to appreciate them as they are in this moment, because a day from now they might be completely different. In the Antarctic, the flow of change is constant.

Weddell Seal

Seals spend much of their time sacked out on the ice floes.

Gentoo Penguin Colony

Gentoo penguins have a colony on Cuverville Island. It’s interesting to watch gentoos during this time of year, because they are beginning their mating season. All over Cuverville, the penguins gather about in groups on the highest points of the land. They choose high ground because the snow will melt the quickest on top, and it is here where they will make their nests made of rocks.

In the colony, the penguins consisted of two groups: those that are still looking for a mate, or those that have found one. The courting of penguins is quite elegant. After a good sit, the penguins will slowly walk in a circle. Together, they will bow down very low to the ground and open their beaks while looking at one another. Then the birds will return to a neutral pose and continue sitting around for a few hours.

The penguins that haven’t found a mate yet spend their days wandering from one group to the next. Often they will stand in trios and call out in a loud “purr.” These calls are announcements of their availability and fine genetics.

Penguin watching is a fascinating pastime.

Neko Harbour Shenanigans

I took my first footsteps on the Antarctic Continent on a cold beach at Neko Harbour. I started my afternoon off by hiking high up on a massive bluff. I passed the ever-present gentoo colonies as I sweated my way to the top. It overlooked the massive glacier that was just across the small cove from where we landed. The glacier had a huge piece of ice poised to fall into the sea below. It would have made a tremendous wave had it fallen. The glacier did sheave off some ice, but the giant piece stayed in place.

Since I was on top of a very steep hill, it only made sense to slide down to the bottom on my rain pants. I managed to talk two of my friends into joining me. At first, it didn’t look like we were going to have any luck. The snow was too soft; the slope not steep enough. We tried a few different techniques, before the snow and slope cooperated. We were soon sliding easily along the snow, laughing, giggling, and whooping with joy. We picked up speed. The joy turned into sheer terror as we reached the lip of the true slope. At this point, there was no way to slow down, and we went into a free fall down the side of the cliff.

I tried to dig my fingers, boots, and arms into the snow, but it was no use. I was at the mercy of gravity, speed, and friction. I finally managed to dig my feet into the slope, but that only caused me to summersault heels over head. I body slammed into the ground and lost all control of descent. Finally, I began to slow and gradually slid to a stop. I laughed. It was exhilarating. I looked over to see how Amy was doing and she was fine. Then we both watched to see the giggling Tiffany fly down the last slope to where we were sitting in the snow. We compared notes, laughed some more, and finally got up to collect our things.

After the slide, I watched penguins for the rest of the afternoon. They were up to their usual antics: Waddling around, bowing to one another, making nests, and looking cute. I had several of them bob right up to where I was sitting in the snow. I had a good look at their fine lines and remarkable feet.

Lemaire Channel and Booth Island

Lemaire Channel is one of the most beautiful stretches of water I’ve passed through. It is bound on both sides by steep, snow-laden mountains. Icy fields descend the mountain and form tidal glaciers at the waterline. I ventured through a corridor of blue glaciers. I felt like I was in a hallway of the Gods.

After passing through the channel, I rounded the south side of Booth Island. It is in this area that the big icebergs have gathered. There size is immense. Only about ten percent of an iceberg is above the waterline. Keep that in mind as you look at some of the photos of these icebergs.

The Keyhole

Leopard Seal

This is a male leopard seal. The leopard seal is a fierce predator that eats penguins as its main source of food. Their lithe, sinewy bodies are ideal for slipping through narrow openings in the ice. Leopard seals are territorial, claiming a patch of water as their own.

Compressed Ice

The heavy weight of the dense glacier compresses oxygen out of the ice, which is why it is so clear. The clearer the piece of ice is, the less oxygen is in it. You can see this same process for yourself if you take a small scoop of snow and begin working it and squeezing it with your fingers. As it melts, it becomes easier to form, try to keep it in the shape of a cube as you compress it. You will notice that it becomes clearer. Now you won’t be able to make it as clear as this piece, but the concept is still the same.

Pack Ice

It was an odd experience to be moving through pack ice on a ship. I have read about pack ice in countless books about Polar exploration. In my mind, I always wondered what it was like to be bashing one’s way through an endless plain of moving ice. As with everything, it’s one thing to read about it; it’s quite another to actually experience it.

First, some science. Essentially, pack ice forms when a large flat piece of new ice breaks up in smaller chunks and collects en masse by wind and currents. Most pack ice looks like a large collection of giant snow pancakes, with smaller chunks of ice in between.

Our ship is an ice class vessel, which means it can push its way through pack ice with relative ease. After the days activities, with dinner firmly lodged in our stomachs, everyone on board went outside to enjoy this unique experience. I bundled up against the cold, grabbed my camera, and went out to the bow of the ship.

The lighting was incredible. Photographers and painters dream about this light. It was low angled light from a golden sunset, diffused through bands of thin clouds. The sunset seemingly lasts forever in the Antarctic during the summer months, and this was no exception. In the background were heavily clouded mountains that contrasted beautifully in the sunlit foreground. The photographers on board were in ecstasy, shooting hundreds and hundreds of pictures in a couple of hours. They ran around singing Paul Simon’s “Kodakchrome.” They talked to the icebergs, complimenting them on their beauty as they snapped their shutters. It sounded like machine gun fire.

I loved every part of it. The ice pancakes were beautiful. Hell, everything was beautiful. It was an amazing evening in a unique landscape.

Adelie Penguins

This is the classic Antarctic scene: A small group of adelie penguins popped out of the water onto a flat sheet of ice right in front of me. They shook and rolled around on the floe, which helps them shed water from their dive. They were curious, yet cautious. They kept one eye on me as they rested. I halfway expected them to start tap dancing, but they didn’t.

Then one of the penguins took the lead and readied itself to jump back in the water. The other penguins followed it, and they all lined up before diving back into the frigid water.

Antarctica is supremely beautiful… Yep.

There are many things I want to write about South Georgia Island. However, South Georgia is another one of those places where the written word struggles against the island‘s reality. It’s too big, it’s too beautiful, and it’s too complex. I will do my best, but I will try to keep it short. My photographs, though poignant, cannot fully encompass this island for the same reasons. I chose these images because I liked them, they stood up to my artistic eye, and they offer views of the island as it looks today. And today, this island is magnificent.

South Georgia Island In Pictures

Peggotty Bluff, King Haakon Bay

This is the spot where Ernest Shackleton and company made landfall on South Georgia Island after crossing eight hundred miles of rough Antarctic waters in an open wood boat. During that crossing, he sailed through a hurricane and was able to make only three sightings with his sextant. He named the bluff “Peggotty Bluff” after a scene from “David Copperfield.” He stayed for a day or two, then with two other men made the first crossing of South Georgia on foot, a feat that is easily as impressive as the watery crossing considering their condition and the landscape they faced. I could talk about this odyssey for hours. If you want to learn more about this amazing feat of survival, read “The Endurance" by Caroline Alexander.

To me, it was a fitting place to make my own first landfall on South Georgia. This island is steeped in maritime history and amazing natural beauty. In my first fifty steps on the beach, I saw both. Wherever I looked, I saw high mountains, glaciers, and foothills. The beach was dotted with amazing wildlife I had never seen before. I gaped at a group of king penguins. I nervously grinned at sleeping fur seals and huge elephant seals. It was amazing.

And with all that natural beauty about me, I walked in the footsteps of Shackleton. Who, upon reaching this spot, had already been through hell, and still had not given up. I had admired “The Boss’s” grit before, but being here and seeing what he faced gave me new appreciation for his feat of survival.

Trinity Island, Stewart Strait

We passed through Stewart Strait in the late afternoon. The wind was howling from the northwest, a raw lashing from a cold whip on any exposed skin. I sat in the comfort of the ship’s library. I was content to watch the seals and penguins swim in groups through the lumpy slate gray ocean. The albatross and cape petrels zoomed by, gliding easily on the ferocious wind.

The sun cracked through the gloom just as we were passing Trinity Island. A compelling scene of ocean surf and misty islands unfolded before me. I grabbed my camera and shoved the door open against the gale. It felt like I was in a cyclone, but I steadied myself against the cold bulkhead and captured this shot. I stayed outside for as long as the sunshine lasted, which turned out to be only about ten minutes. I felt fully refreshed from my impromptu photo shoot. I pulled my way back into the library, took a sip of hot tea and smiled.

The Penguins of Salisbury Plain

Salisbury plain is on the north side of the island located on the Bay of Isles. This plain is home to one of the island’s largest king penguin colonies, ranking forth or fifth in total number.

Let me tell you about a king penguin colony. First of all, they stink. Penguins don’t care where they shit. Picture hundreds and hundreds of penguins mingling together, each of them shitting several times a day. The aroma is over powering. The main part of the colony stood around in a giant plain of greasy muck. I gingerly stepped through the sticky sludge as I moved around the edge of the colony. If any part of your clothing touched this gunk, it remained there even after brushing it off. Penguin shit is half Velcro and half toxic waste.

Secondly, the king penguin is a very handsome bird. It‘s plumage has very delicate lines with colors ranging in light gray, black, and bright yellow. It’s beak is bright orange along its side and black on top. It carries itself well, as though it is always just going for a stroll through the park.

The penguin chicks are extremely cute. Known as “Oakum Boys,” they wear a fluffy brown suit of feathers that looks to be a size too big for them. They are very plump. They walk around in a gawky toddler awkwardness that brings a smile to my face whenever I think of it.

Here are two of my favorite moments. Three chicks walked up to me and lifted their heads up to see what I was all about. Then, probably in frustration, one of them tilted its head skyward and started chirping quite loudly. It began flapping its useless scrawny wings as hard as it could. It ran around the colony with reckless abandon. It circled until it bounced off another adult bird, the latter bewildered by the young chick. It was hilarious.

One poor chick was convinced it had found its mum. It dutifully followed this mature penguin around the colony for over an hour. At intervals, the mature penguin would stop, turn around and curse the young chick out insisting it wasn’t its mum. It could not persuade the young chick of this. When the older penguin walked on, the younger one followed one-step behind. At one point, the young chick walked right into the back of the older one, which caused another bout of cursing. No matter what trick the mature penguin tried, the young chick stayed right behind.

Penguins are curious creatures. During the course of the morning, I sat on my haunches to gain a penguin perspective, or to use my camera. If I remained there long enough, a king penguin would come up to me and watch me for a couple of minutes before moving on. “What are these giant red penguins?”

The Ghosts of South Georgia

All that remains of South Georgia’s whaling history are decrepit artifacts of the once busy whaling stations. These old run down buildings are slowly rusting away- blown apart by the relentless wind. They are dangerous places, filled with asbestos, flying bits of metal and unexploded harpoon tips.

I walked through the largest station at Grytviken (pronounced Grit-vee-ken). Grytviken sits in a small cove on the west side of Cumberland East Bay on the north side of the island.

I had mixed feelings about Grytviken. As I looked over the huge collection of rundown machinery, broken concrete slabs, heavy chains, and rusted hulls of beached whaling ships, I couldn’t help but feel repulsion. All of this used metal was once part of a giant assembly line that killed and slaughtered the whales of the southern ocean. They turned the giant whales into barrels of oil, and sacks of fertilizer. It felt like a death camp - a disassembly line of the magnificent southern whales. They were very efficient. As the plaque states, “On a good day, thirty fin whales could be rendered in 24 hours.”

The whale populations of the southern oceans still haven’t recovered. International law protects them, but there are still some countries that continue to kill whales. It’s a very controversial issue.

On the positive side, Grytviken is home to an amazing collection of vintage maritime memorabilia. Throughout the grounds, there are interesting pieces of maritime history, from the giant chains, the rusting vessels, complete with a crow’s nest, and finally the well-stocked museum. With my camera in hand, I walked the grounds looking for history. It was all around me.

Shackleton's Grave

A very heavy snow squall fell upon me as I walked through Grytviken’s quiet cemetery. Shackleton lies here, his grave oriented north to south. I paused to reflect on the final resting spot of one of the great survivalists, and drank a toast to his spirit.

Gold Harbour Beach

I landed on Gold Harbour beach shortly before four in the morning. It was chilly, but I was comfortable enough in my xtratuff boots, long johns and rain pants. I wore three thin layers of protection over my torso topped off with a windproof parka. I was snug.

Upon arrival, I found elephant seals lying around like giant stuffed sausages all over the sand. Elephant seals are huge. The male can weigh over four tons, the female much smaller at only one ton. This bulk is primarily blubber. The male elephant seal looks much like Jabba The Hut (of Star Wars Fame). They spend most of its time fighting other males, mating (if it’s lucky), or sleeping in the sand. For such a large creature, they are surprisingly light on their flippers. If you aren’t careful, an elephant seal can sneak up and reshape you into a flat Stanley.

I must admit it was a bit unnerving to walk among the sleeping males. At the same time, it was exhilarating. I snickered at the slumbering giants. They were snoring and snuffing through their giant nostrils. I thought of my brothers after a hefty afternoon meal.

The weaners- the small elephant seal pups that have been weaned off mum’s milk- were very curious, and came right up to where I was standing. They were adorable. Their giant brown eye reflected the scene around it, and I had a hard time keeping it from chewing on my boots and tripod.

Mixed into the hundreds of seals were thousands of king penguins. This was another beachside colony and these birds chose one of the most beautiful beaches on earth for their home. I spent a lot of time admiring their clean plumage in the crisp morning light. The “Oakum Boys” were active; the curious chicks waddled over to where I sat in the sand.

Along with the king penguins, gentoo penguins waddled around in small groups. These penguins are much smaller than the king, but no less charismatic.

This was a fine morning. Gold Harbour has one of the most beautiful beaches I have ever seen. This was South Georgia at its finest, an experience I won’t soon forget.

The Penguins of Cooper Bay

Before we started making way towards the Antarctica Peninsula, we made one final stop on the eastern side of South Georgia Island at Cooper Bay.

In this small bay, I saw four different types of penguins. This includes two types that I had never seen before: the chinstrap and the macaroni.

It’s easy to see why they call them chinstrap penguins, as they have a dark line that runs underneath their chin. Though penguins cannot fly through the air, they can swim like mini torpedoes. To breathe they often pop up through the surface to catch a breath of air before diving back under. I was quick on the shutter for this shot of three chinstraps taking flight.

The macaroni penguin is easy to distinguish from other penguins by its bright yellow feathers that stick out of the back of its head. I was fortunate to get close to a small group of them lounging on a large rock near the water. It would have been nice to spend more time with the macaroni penguin, but it wasn’t in the cards. My time on South Georgia Island had ended.

I feel very fortunate to be one of the few people in the world who will ever make it to South Georgia. It is a very remote island located far in the south Atlantic. The wildlife and landscapes were among the most beautiful I have ever seen. Looking back at my photos from this trip, I realize that I only spent four days at six different locations on South Georgia. Imagine what a person might see if he spent a lot of time here on this amazing island.

“Onward!” We are now sailing to Antarctica.