Entries about ships

I remember very clearly lying on a picnic table in Petersburg, Alaska. I said to my friend, “I wish we could do this all afternoon. We could get a bottle of wine, maybe do a crossword and fall asleep.” She agreed. Then we checked the time. Our sunny revelry was over. We had to go back to work.

Well, my life has changed since that sunny afternoon. A week has passed by and I’ve fulfilled my contractual agreements with that ship. It left me behind in Sitka, Alaska and I’ve been happily unemployed for the last four days.

I spent my last week on the ship working a very odd schedule. I started my shift at 9 pm and finished it at 9 am. It’s not a good schedule to have, especially if you have any desire to be social. But, I did it without complaint, as that was what they asked of me.

I was in a sleepy torpor for two days as I tried to shift my sleeping schedule to more traditional patterns. I spent a lot of time lounging in sun strewn dandelion patches. Sitka has great dandelion patches. The flowers are bright and robust - nestled into the thick mat of fresh green grass. I thought back to my afternoon siesta with my friend back in Petersburg and I knew that lying around in a sunny park is everything I thought it could be.

At one point, I thought to myself that I should really write about my last week on the ship. I had a lot of fun teaching some new deckhands the tricks of the trade. I enjoyed the Alaskan seascapes in full bloom. I knew it was a passing thought, when I looked up at the clouds. I was just too tired.

The following photos will be my voice for the past week. They ring loudly and true about the supreme beauty in which I live, work and play.

Alaska in May

The Waterfalls of Tracy Arm

Midway Islands

Three Shades of Gray

Point Anmer, Point Styleman and Grave Point

Sunrays Over Taku Harbor

South Sawyer Glacier Explorations

Arctic Tern Taking Flight

Harbor Seals and South Sawyer Glacier

Icebergs

Davit Crane Fancy Work

This is the best piece of fancy work I have tied so far. This sling holds the hook of our davit crane to a rail. There are two different types of chain sinnets, two different types of whippings, and a four strand star knot atop the wooden button I made out of an old piece of wood. Look for another article on knot tying in the near future.

Early Morning in Glacier Bay

I love working the night shift in Alaska because the sun rises so early in the morning. I saw this scene around three thirty in the morning. It is a very peaceful time.

Afternoons in Front of the Marjorie Glacier

I’ve been spending a lot of quality time watching the Marjorie Glacier. Glaciers, like whales, often require many hours of patient observation before they will do anything of note. More often then not, they will remain motionless for hours at a time before rewarding the persistent with a grand show. Even if nothing happens, the suspense and pleasure of watching glaciers is time well spent.

Complacency

A friend of mine asked me, “Do you ever get complacent about the views around you?” It was a fair question. Have I become jaded? Maybe I have, I don’t know. For example, I remember the awe I once felt about seeing a humpback whale from a distance and hearing its powerful blow. Now, after seeing hundreds of them up close for the last three years, I wonder.

I enjoy seeing a whale as much as I always have. It is fair to say I’ve gotten much more fussy about which whales I’ll choose to photograph. After sorting through thousands of boring whale pictures and deleting most of them, I know what I’m looking for: An interesting composition in good light of a whale. If it isn’t intriguing, I’ll set my camera down and simply enjoy them.

Speaking of which, another friend of mine came down to my cabin to wake me up. “Thom! There are twenty orca outside, right now!” I leaned on my left arm and sleepily replied, “Twenty, hunh? Twenty one is the magic number.” With that, I rolled over and feigned sleep. I thought it was a good line, considering she shook me out of a dead sleep. Now, don’t get any ideas. After a few minutes, I got up and went out to watch the orca. There were three pods with about six members in each group. There might have been a single or two swimming around as well. It was the most orca I have seen together in one big pod. I didn’t take many photos as the whales were far away, but I like this one.

Waking Up In Sitka

On the third day of my stay in Sitka, I started waking up. My friend Annie and I went for a long walk in one of the most beautiful forest settings I have ever found. I called it a “Celebration of Green.” I’ll offer more on that later this week.

Today, I woke up to a beautiful blue bird sunny day. I lay in the warm womb of an afghan blanket as cool air from the open window wafted over my supine body. It was the best night of sleep I’ve had this year. I felt totally refreshed and energized. I was a new man. I looked at my clock, which said 7:32 a.m. I knew in that moment I had my mojo back! I have left that sleepy torpor behind, and it is time to embrace my life projects with all of the energy I can give them.

I wish I could convey just how happy I am right now. Words can’t do it.

On Wooden Docks

The tidal change can be severe in the Pacific Northwest. It is not uncommon for the tides vary by fifteen feet or more. Coastal communities have to build tall, beefy docks to counter the tides, which mariners call a hard dock. A hard dock has its structure embedded into the sea floor. The docks have to endure decades of abuse brought on by exposure to salt water, surging tides, docking vessels and wind. Heavy beams soaked in strong water resistant chemicals make up its support structure. The docks are tall, the better to cope with the differences in tide and swell. On the face of dock, they have skinny escape ladders set at intervals. These ladders serve two purposes. They allow a member of a docking vessel to climb on the dock to secure lines. They allow for someone who has fallen in the water a place to escape.

We moored our ship to an old wooden hard dock in the small island community of Alert Bay, British Columbia. On a whim, I put on a life jacket and walked along our rub rail on the dockside of the ship. It was cold, dark, and mysterious. There were large white cauliflower anemones attached just below the low tide water line. Barnacles stuck to everything. Bull Kelp draped from the crossbeams and ladders. The place had a life all of its own.

I quickly retraced my steps and grabbed my camera. The angles of the beams, the swirling water and life forms intrigued me. It was difficult to shoot one handed while hanging on to the lifeline with the other, but well worth the effort.

I was inspired. I began to explore some of the other docks of the ports we frequent. I remembered my visits to Astoria, Oregon whose wooden wharves and docks run the length of town. What other treasures could I find down there?

Wooden docks have character. I like the angled beams. Look at the hidden artistry that goes into each beam. The master builders have done well. The longevity of these docks is a test to their ability.

I’m beginning to see a reoccurring theme to my nautical pieces. I love the lore of the sea as much as the sea itself.

Have you ever gone for a stroll on a wooden dock? The thumping sound of feet on the old wood rings true. It sounds like a heartbeat, but it is just one small sound of the orchestra. Go for a walk in an old marina early on a Sunday morning. Listen to the distant calls of gulls, ravens, and eagles. Hear the sound of lapping water against the hulls of the moored vessels. Smell that salty air. Feel that cool air on your face. Mooring lines creak as they take strain against the ship. Look at the old vessels - see if you can find a wooden hulled ship. There is probably a fisherman quietly gearing up for the day. Say hello to the harbor cat as you pass by. Walk to the end of the wharf and look out at the distant sea. Sip your hot coffee.

Coastal towns thrived because of good harborages and docks. If you look at the layout of most ports, you will often find, ““Market Street.” or “Water Street.” These streets had bustling markets and often became the business district. That is because of the dock, and the importance of trade via water.

This is just the beginning to my explorations of these wonderful structures. I’m surprised I haven’t given them much thought before this, but I inspiration strikes as it will.

Author’s Note

As I’ve been working on this piece this week, Alaska has ripped open a bag of beautiful views and has thrown them all over the place. I’m sitting on some of the most gorgeous pictures I have to show you the underside of some old, dirty docks. Now that’s good blogging practice! Look for these photos and accompanying words within the week.

Cheers!

Considering Alaska

Here are some things I’d like you to consider about Alaska.

Male Orca

This whale marks my first orca sighting of the season. This male carries a fin that can grow up to six feet long. It was part of a four whale pod foraging somewhere near the border of British Columbia and Alaska.

Sunrise South of Ketchikan

Sunlight arrives in the early morning hours in May. I love the energy that a new day brings. The sun removes any lingering listlessness I might carry after working through the shadowy night. This beautiful scene rings of cold air, placid waters, and good color.

It soothes me.

Bow Riding Dall Porpoise

When I talk of “bow riding” animals, I am referring to dolphins and occasional porpoise that ride the cushion of water that our ship pushes as it makes way through the water. These animals ride this wave because they don’t have to expend any energy to move. In short, they are surfing a wave that lasts forever.

However, most of the animals that bow ride can swim much faster than the paltry ten knots our ship makes. They use us for as long as they want, before diving away. In my experience, dall porpoise don’t spend very much time bow riding.

The pod that rode our bow this morning stayed with us for twenty minutes -shattering my opinions. I took hundreds of photos of the porpoise, but really only liked this one. I like the color.

Aerial Views of the LeConte Glacier

I’ve given up making prejudgments about experiences I’ve never had. When I learned that I was going to take a float plane flight above the LeConte Glacier, the crew kept telling me, “That‘s so awesome!” To which I replied, “Yeah, it might be. I don’t really know, I’ve never done this before.” My lack of enthusiasm bothered many people. My friend Eva really got her dander up. “Well, I think it’s f’ing awesome…” I don’t know how I do it, but I always seem to push the right buttons. I’m just being realistic. Yes, it sounds great and I’m excited to go. But there is a possibility I might hate it, and I’d have to retract my previous declarations. I’d rather not.

It turns out, taking a low flying flight over a glacier IS f’ing awesome. I was blown away. I’ve seen many glaciers but I’ve never seen them from the sky.

Glaciers are essentially slow moving rivers of ice. We spiraled from the top of the glacier down to its face. It was a gigantic jumble of jagged ice. We banked steeply over the main ice field several times, finishing each loop with a grand view of the broken face.

Reflections of Endicott Arm

This was my first visit to Endicott Arm since the late summer of 2011. I had forgotten how beautiful the reflection of the Dawes Glacier looks on a bed of perfectly smooth water.

Evening Over the Fair Weather Range

I was having a great conversation with my brother Karl. You know the kind, where the topics are interesting, the one-liners are sharp, and the laughter rings true. Towards the end of our chat, the sun began its descent over the Fairweather Mountains. This range of high snow-capped peaks protects the western side of Glacier Bay National Park. I went downstairs to grab my camera, and warned my brother that I was going to take some photos while he talked. I’m a guy. Multitasking is something I cannot do very effectively, despite my delusions. While he talked on, I took this photo. When I look at it, it reminds me of him.

A Birthday in Glacier Bay National Park

Yep, I’m 32. I like the number much better than 31. I am now divisible, as where before I was an awkward prime number. It has been a good day. Glacier Bay was bathed in crisp sunshine. The mountains that surround this waterway were brilliant, wearing their snow shrouds proudly.

The Marjorie Glacier tossed ice off its face. Most of the crew were high up on lido, laughing, hamming it up, singing and dancing. I like the camaraderie. The glacier liked our energy and responded in kind.


It was a tranquil day of work. I didn’t over tax myself, that’s for sure. I stayed up late last night, enjoying the social scene, and I felt tired most of the day.

My friends presented me with the following:

3 types of chocolate in different shapes. My weaknesses are well known it seems.
3 awesome journals. I’m a writer, and therefore easy to shop for.
3 bookmarks, which I’ll put to use in my journals.
1 Sperm Whale
1 loaf of homemade pizza bread. How I love this tasty treat.
Lemon pound cake. I can’t wait for breakfast tomorrow.
Countless hugs and salutations

It occurred to me after work, that I wouldn’t be who I am today if it hasn’t been for all of the good people I have met along the way. Those experiences, whether good or bad has been important in the making of this Thom. For that, I thank you.

I would consider Alaska to be one of the sparkling jewels in my crown of travels. It continues to surprise me, to stun me, and to inspire me.

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.