By Jim Danzenbaker and Ann Nightingale

23 January 2012

The Drake Passage -- Crossing the 500-mile expanse of ocean between the northern tip of the Antarctic Peninsula and Cape Horn is no bargain for those susceptible to "mal de mer." (Image sourced online at: www.maps.google.com)

Ann's View: According to our leaders, we are making a trip through moderate waters—only five to seven meter swells and winds of about 30 knots. Despite being medicated, today was the roughest for me seasickness-wise. After a couple of attempts to attend lectures and drawing class in the morning, I headed to bed for good at about 11:30 a.m.  

Our cabin is near the bow of the ship, on the passenger level nearest the water. Our portholes don’t open for good reason. Every couple of minutes a wave washes over them. The strangest sensation that I have experienced on this trip is the ebbing and flowing of my own flesh while trying to remain still in bed. Gravity, centrifugal and centripetal forces work on all objects not attached firmly to the ship. Sometimes the wave action is enough to pull and push me up and down the sheets; other times, I stay put, but the forces attempt a massage, pulling the muscle and fat to and fro with each pitch and roll. As we rise over a swell and crash down into the trough, a loud bang makes me think that we must have hit something solid, but in fact it’s just the cold hard water of the Drake Passage. Keeping my eyes closed or covered is a must; the sway of the curtains is enough to make me queasy. The doctor has given me some new drugs, but I still haven’t found the right elixir for me. At 8 p.m., I asked for something to put me to sleep, which she did. I had a good night’s sleep.

By Jim Danzenbaker and Ann Nightingale

22 January 2012

Deception Island is the exposed volcanic neck in the lower half of the image, with Livingston Island in the top half. (Satellite image sourced online at: http://maps.google.com)

Ann's View: The schedule was fluid today, with many changes as the trip progressed. The original plan was to spend the morning at Baily Head on Deception Island, with a group making a three-hour hike across to Whaler’s Cove on the inside of this active volcano caldera. Others could take the ship through Neptune’s Bellows into the crater. A swim was planned for those brave (or foolish) enough to do so, and a historical visit to the buildings on shore was available as well. 

However, at breakfast we were told that the hike, swimming , and landing inside the caldera were cancelled. Instead, everyone who wanted to go ashore one last time could do so at Hannah Point, the only spot on this trip where we could see the entire complement of flowering plants in Antarctica: a grass and Pearly Wort. A small mutiny was mounted, and soon the plans for a short stop for a swim was reinstated. 

The Baily Head landing was described as our most difficult, and not suitable for less agile passengers. Although the seas appeared relatively calm, the beach is bashed by the surf, which we would ride ashore. Smoothed pebbles of volcanic origin make up the beach, so footing—especially in the water—can be tricky. I heard that only a couple of people actually fell and got soaked this year. At this site, we saw something we haven’t seen for a long time: a green hillside! 

Once ashore, the risk was clearly worth it! We were on the edge of a penguin superhighway, with hundreds of Chinstrap Penguins making their way to and from colonies near and far. The hilltops of Baily Head, some which appeared to be at least a couple of miles away, each held a Chinstrap colony. What a lot of work to get to and from the nests and chicks! This site holds at least 100,000 pairs of Chinstraps, most with one or two chicks. 

Chinstrap Penguin family with two chicks. (Photo by Jim Danzenbaker). 

The geology of the area tells of the volcanic history; layers of ash are trapped in the glaciers, and the rocky cliffs show the signs of great upheaval. Boulders litter the edges of the cliffs, making me feel a little nervous about the potential for earthquakes, especially since a 6.7 hit nearby while we’ve been on this expedition.  I climbed a steep bank to get a view from above one of the colonies, and found a single empty nest at the top. It was a great vantage point for a few pictures. When I turned around after a few minutes, though, there was a penguin coming up the path. I scrambled a little higher, and it walked right past me and settled into the nest. 

Since most of the chicks in this colony were almost grown, I suspect she may have lost hers to the ever present skuas or perhaps an accidental fall, but she still was defending the territory. A second penguin came up the slope to the nest. The two had “words”, and the new penguin turned around and left.  On returning to the beach, I was lucky enough to see two Sheathbill nests among the boulders. With no trees around, twigs are not easy to find, so birds who like to have twigs in their nests resort to using bones or feather quills. It makes for a creepy kind of nest for a bird with a creepy kind of face.  

The scenery on the way into the caldera was volcanically rugged. Steep cliffs showing the rust color of iron ore rose above us. Inside, we could see steam rising from some of the beaches. At Whalers’ Cove, some 27 of us chose to take the plunge, while a few wannabes came ashore to document the event. The first thing I noticed as we got ashore was the pungent odor of sulphur. Of course, this made sense, but I hadn’t considered it. 

Here's Jim perched atop the caldera at Deception Island during a previous tour. (Photo supplied by Jim Danzenbaker)

I had been told various stories about swimming here. First, was that the water was warm. Second, was that it was 0 C. But I was committed to doing it, so I was going in. The surprise was that Jim arrived ready to swim, too! He’d told me that he’d been there, done that, so didn’t need to do it again. Apparently, he’d had a change of heart. As we headed in, the water near the shore was definitely warm, but out about 10 feet, it dropped off sharply—both in temperature and in attitude. Ready or not, I was swimming! Thankfully, though, we could get back to the shore and wallow, like multi-colored Elephant Seals, in the heated sand and surf at the edge of Whalers’ Cove. 

Lured by promises of chocolate, we headed back to the ship and on to our final landing. Hannah Point, on Livingston Island, offer the greatest biodiversity of any of our landing sites on the Antarctic Peninsula. Colonies of Gentoo and Chinstrap Penguins exist side by side with Elephant Seal wallows, while above us Southern Giant Petrels and Sheathbills have their nests. The Gentoo chicks here are the largest and most advanced of those we’ve seen. We were greatly entertained watching them down the adults returning from the sea with food. Think about penguins running and tumbling through the colonies. It has comedy written all over it. 

At this point, I’d like to share a dirty little secret about penguins with you. Don't be misled the wonderful photographs you’ve seen of pristine parents with downy chicks. Those are the exceptions, not the rule. Penguin colonies are filled with guano covered adults and chicks. The birds have about a three to five foot range when they “go”, and with tens of thousands in one place, there’s a whole lot of “going”. The ground looks like a tapestry of poo. I think the Treaty rule of remaining at least five meters from the wildlife is to protect us and our gear as much as it is to protect the wildlife. 

The three hours onshore passed very quickly, and you could tell that the passengers were reluctant to call an end to this journey. Almost everyone showed up on time for the “last” Zodiac back to the ship. Once we were all onboard the Ortelius the anchor was raised and our travel past the South Shetland Island and out into the Drake Passage got underway. 

By Jim Danzenbaker and Ann Nightingale

21 January 2012

Ann's View: We’d passed by Cierva Cove on our way south, missing a planned Zodiac cruise due to the rough weather. It turned out to be an excellent decision, as when we arrived today the seas were calm. Eventually, the skies even showed a bit of blue. This “landing” didn’t involve landing at all, but rather spending the morning cruising through the ice to photograph icebergs and whatever wildlife we came across. 

Leopard Seal (Photo by Jim Danzenbaker)

There is an island with a large Chinstrap Penguin colony, but it is out of bounds and didn’t appear to have a landing spot for anything larger than a penguin anyway. We left the ship in clear water, but before long, we were grinding our way through brash ice in search of the most photogenic bergs. A Leopard Seal or two caused some distraction, but when they refused to give us a toothy yawn, we moved back to our ice expedition. 

The size of some of these icebergs is shocking. Some are larger than the islands in the bay. Most show the scars of collisions with other bergs or land, and several had the telltale marks of having flipped at least a few times. We were photographing a particularly sculptured large berg when all of a sudden the left end of it started to break away. Thankfully, we were far enough back to be safe, but close enough to have a cool view of a baby berg breaking away from the mother ship. The rule of thumb for approaching glaciers and large bergs is to be three times the height away from the ice. It’s a good rule!  

It was back to the ship for lunch, and then due to the great morning we had, we decided to do it all again! A whale had been spotted from the ship, so we headed in that direction and were quickly rewarded for our efforts. Two Humpback Whales surfaced about 20 feet from the Zodiacs, so stealthily that most of us were not able to focus our cameras for shots. As they moved around the boats, it was a guessing game as to where they’d come up next. They moved on after a few minutes, but another appeared a short distance away. For the next half hour or so, we’d move the boats, sometimes in the right direction, other times the completely wrong way. While I got great shots of whale habitat (the ocean) and a few back and fluke shots, I eventually put the camera away and just enjoyed the experience.  

All too often this was all we could photograph when the Humpback Whales surfaced. (Photo by Jim Danzenbaker)

Next we approached the island with the Chinstrap colony. The penguins resembled streams of ants as they moved up and down the green and pink snow. While the Antarctic has lots of white snow, the telltale sign of a penguin colony is the discoloration caused by thousands of little feet tracking algae and guano along their paths. I also learned that getting good shots of the penguins porpoising through the water takes more luck and skill than I possess. After several more hours in the ice, we were definitely getting a little chilled. And then the rescue Zodiac arrived! The expedition leader, Ted Cheeseman and ship’s doctor, Lynne Hoole, arrived with cookies and hot chocolate-spiked with Tia Maria for those who wanted a little extra warmth. By the time we returned to the ship, we’d spent about seven hours at this “landing” site, another amazing day in the southern ocean.

By Jim Danzenbaker and Ann Nightingale

20 January 2012

Port Lockroy (Image sourced online at: http://www.expeditions.com/DER_Details113.asp?DailyReport=144907)

Ann's View: Civilization was on the agenda today. We awoke later than usual, anchored off Port Lockroy, a British base which now houses a museum, gift shop and post office. The need for retail therapy was obvious among many of the passengers, who would soon be jostling for positions to be first on the Zodiacs. Two representatives of the base came aboard to give us a briefing on the site, which was built in 1904 and used for military purposes during World War II. It is now home to a Gentoo colony and a few people who maintain the historic site for Britain. 

Only 50 people are allowed to visit at one time, so our group was split between Lockroy and nearby Jougla Point. I will admit that I wanted to be among the first to the gift shop. A cruise ship had cleared out most of the goods at the shop at Grytviken, and I wanted to make sure that I had some goodies to bring home with me, for myself and for others. I had been advised by several people that a stop at Port Lockroy was necessary, if only for the delicious chocolate that was sold there. Imagine my surprise to find that not only did they not have chocolate in stock, they told me they never had sold it. I sure wish I could remember who gave me that particular bit of advice! 

The prices were steep, but as the only game in town, we paid them and took lots of additional items back to the ship with us. The money raised helps support the station, so it’s all good. One of the neat features of the museum is a ship-to-ship mail service. People can leave mail posted to a bulletin board, to be picked up when another ship is later in port. I saw an envelope addressed to Rod and Marlene Planck, so brought it back with me. A naturalist from an Aurora cruise that had been there several weeks ago had left a card for them. They were both surprised and delighted to get their first letter from Port Lockroy. Some of the passengers on board were very prepared with address lists and some even with preprinted labels so that they could send postcards to their friends. Sorry, everyone—I was not that organized.  

Halfway through the morning, the groups switched locations, and I headed to Jougla Point, where Antarctic Shags nest, and there is a reconstructed Blue Whale skeleton. The shags had chicks of various ages, some newly hatched and some ready to fledge. It was strange to see such a range of ages in this small colony. 

If one is lucky enough to get close to a Weddell Seal, they may hear it "sing." (Photo by Jim Danzenbaker)

A highlight for me was a Weddell Seal resting on some snow. As I got close to the snow, I started hearing strange sounds—first a descending high-pitched whistle, then a low rumbling (like I often get in my stomach). I heard it several times before realizing it was coming from the seal. It turns out the Weddell Seal is also known as the singing seal. Although the song is usually heard from the water, I had the good fortune to hear it on land.  

Good fortune continued as we headed through several channels on an afternoon of ship cruising. As we approached an unscheduled landing location, Jim spotted a pod of Orcas, and what turned out to be one of the most memorable events of the journey. For about forty-five minutes we were mesmerized by a pod of about fifty whales playing at the surface. We were surrounded by them, including a few that were clearly interested in the ship. The captain maneuvered the ship carefully between the groups of whales, but some came right up to the ship and even passed under it several times. Spouts, backs, flukes, and splashes were happening in all directions. No one minded the delay of the landing. Thousands of pictures were taken, and I suspect some of them will be excellent.  

The landing at Useful Island was to be an attempt to get us to a Chinstrap Penguin colony. The staff had to check it out first, as the Cheesemans have never landed there before. I took advantage of the delay to have a short nap. Somehow life and sleep became intertwined and I dreamt that the 5 p.m. landing had been cancelled due to high winds, so I decided to sleep a little more. When I woke up at 6 and looked out my porthole, the seas appeared reasonable, but I had missed the boats! I grabbed my gear and headed to the gangway just in case I could still get ashore, but met several staff coming the opposite way. The wind at the shore had indeed come up, and the landing had been called off. Four Zodiacs were out for a cruise, but it turns out I only half-missed this one. 

Editor's Note: Jim's portion of this entry may be added later, as his busy schedule of staff duties has precluded him from being able to write every day. 

By Jim Danzenbaker and Ann Nightingale 

20 January 2012

Ann's View: There was a whirlwind of activity for the passengers today, starting with a landing before breakfast. We were off into the Zodiacs before 6 a.m. to get close and personal with icebergs, and possibly some of the wildlife. While those who hadn’t yet set foot on the Antarctic continent, landing was a priority; for the rest of us, blue ice was the draw. We cruised around Neko Harbour for about two and a half hours, weighing down our cameras with the pixels of thousands of photographs. 

Pictures like these barely begin to capture the extraordinary beauty of blue ice. (Photo by Jim Danzenbaker)

The Zodiac that I was in didn’t see much in the way of wildlife, but others reported up to three Leopard Seals and dozens of Crabeater Seals.  The excitement of some of the passengers’ seventh continental landing proved a bit much for one person on board who managed to hit his head on a doorframe while rushing into a hallway. Dropped flat on his back as his feet kept going while his head stopped, he became the subject of a few photos and breakfast conversation. It’s a good thing the Ortelius has a doctor on staff! (The passenger is fine, if a little embarrassed and sore.)  

Crabeater Seals were among the most common wildlife as we cruised about Neko Harbour. (Photo by Jim Danzenbaker)

During breakfast, the Ortelius got underway to our southernmost location, Peterman Island. The route would take us through the Lemaire Channel, a narrow passage of intensely beautiful scenery, both above and below the ship. Sea ice had only recently broken up, so we were surrounded by floes of all different shapes and sizes. The sun came out and provided stunning views of the surrounding mountains, still deep in snow.  

As we continued south, it became clear that a landing at Peterman wasn’t going to be possible. We would have needed Zodiacs with skis to traverse the distance between the ship and the shore. The sea ice was thick, although broken up, but there was barely enough room for a penguin to swim, let alone push ten boats ashore. So we did the logical thing—turned around and went through the Lemaire Channel again, heading north to Booth Island and the only landing site where all of the bristletail penguins share a colony. 

The afternoon’s entertainment included watching several of the Russian crew go for a little swim off the gangway. The water is -2 C, so a little swim is actually a bit of an exaggeration. It was really just a plunge into the ocean, and then an assisted return to the gangway and back to the warmth of the ship. Hats off to the crew who made this brave, if somewhat foolish, dip in the southern ocean! Brrrrr!  

The landing at Booth Island took place after dinner, so we were off the ship in the early morning and again until after sunset. The sun sets around 11 p.m., but it doesn’t get dark at all through the night. The climb to the colony was our first on snow, and the warning of the day was to not leave “postholes”—deep divots where we sunk into the snow—as these could potentially trap a penguin. As promised, we were able see Gentoo, Adelie, and Chinstrap penguins on nests, and my first Chinstrap chicks. The sun was going down towards the end of this landing, and the colors on the snow and the sky were fantastic. Many more pixels were heavy-laden by the time we returned to the ship.

Editor's Note: Jim's portion of this entry may be added later, as his busy schedule of staff duties has precluded him from being able to write every day. 

By Jim Danzenbaker and Ann Nightingale 

18 January 2012

Ann's View: We passed two planned landing sites today due to rough weather. I am both grateful and surprised that I have not suffered during this latest round of high seas. Perhaps the drugs the doctor gave me are finally kicking in! So we continued south, putting us a day or so ahead of schedule, with plans to pick up the missed locations on the way north again in a couple of days. 

Postage stamp sized Cuverville Island gets lost in the distant view of the vast Antarctic Peninsula (above) and is barely visible even when one enlarges the satellite image (below). (Images sourced online at: http://maps.google.com)

Our first stop today finally materialized after lunch at Cuverville Island. We had an option to land first or Zodiac cruise, and I chose to do the latter. The seas were still too rough for comfortable iceberg photography, but we made the best of it. We were only a few minutes offshore when water started pouring out of the iceberg we were watching. Someone onboard realized what that meant—the iceberg was about to flip over! We hurried out of the way and warned the next Zodiac which was approaching, giving us an incredible and close view of the berg doing a flip. 

The sea was filled with Gentoo and Chinstrap Penguins porpoising gracefully through the water, cutting paths between the bergs, but our minds were on another target—a Leopard Seal. Soon, one of the Zodiac drivers had located one and we all converged on the floe to take pictures of this huge predator. Its mouth forms a kind of creepy smile that would work very well in a horror flick.  On shore, others were waiting impatiently for their turns in the Zodiacs, so we had to return. The seas had calmed considerably by then, so they probably got the nicer ride. But they didn’t get to see an iceberg flip! 

Gentoo Penguin and chick. (Photo by Jim Danzenbaker)

The Gentoo colonies on the island were doing well, with many nests containing two chicks. There were also an awful lot of dead penguins at this site. Every site has had its share, but they were much more numerous here. It wasn’t clear why, but it’s possible that a weather event may have been a factor. Those who had visited this colony on earlier trips noticed that the chicks were younger than the last time they had been here at the same time of year, so a late spring or too much snow may have played a role. 

Not content to do just one landing today, we continued southward during the afternoon and early evening. After dinner, we went ashore at Neko Harbour, a beautiful ice-filled bay. A glacier reaches the ocean here, and shortly after we set foot on shore—our only continental landing—a large ice chunk fell into the sea from the glacier face. It was big enough to cause a small tsunami, causing us—and the penguins at the water’s edge—to head for higher ground. By the time it reached us, it was probably only about a two-foot surge, but that was impressive enough. The water here is clear enough that you can watch the penguins swimming along the shoreline. This Gentoo colony also had young chicks in the nests. Two Weddell Seals rounded out the entertainment for the evening. Tomorrow, we’ll start the day here with some Zodiac cruising.

Editor's Note: Jim's portion of this entry may be added later, as his busy schedule of staff duties has precluded him from being able to write every day. 

By Jim Danzenbaker and Ann Nightingale

17 January 2012

Paulet Island lies just off the tip of the Antarctic Peninsula. (Image sourced online at http://mapsof.net/paulet-island)

Ann's View: This morning’s schedule consisted of a two-part visit to Paulet Island and surrounding waters. For two hours, we could choose a landing and for the other two, we could Zodiac-cruise among the icebergs for photo ops with penguins on ice. For those seeking a more physical adventure, a hike to the top of the island was planned. The landing was a bit more treacherous today, with rounded volcanic rocks interspersed with ice, resulting in a very artistic shoreline at the landing site. We all got off the Zodiacs at this location to sort out who was going where. 

Having landed last evening, I opted to start the day with a Zodiac cruise. It turned out to be more of a white-water trip. The winds and the rains came up and instead of enjoying a leisurely tour of the icebergs, we were hanging on tightly as we and our camera gear were splashed with saltwater. Still, the icebergs were beautiful, and the antics of the Adelie Penguins were entertaining. Yesterday, a penguin had landed in one of the Zodiacs right at a spot where a group of the birds porpoised through the water. We were hoping for a repeat today, but they all managed to figure out the difference between the boats and the icebergs. I had hoped to get some photos of porpoising penguins, but that wasn’t going to happen today. We all just had to be satisfied with mental images this morning.  

Adelie Penguins are always engaging and popular photographic subjects. (Photo by Jim Danzenbaker)

The penguins weren’t the only things in the water, though. Strings of gelatinous salps were common on the surface. These colonial animals drift around the oceans eating plankton and in turn being eaten by other creatures. When I first saw them, I have to admit that I thought they were feces of some aquatic creature. We were surprised to see tropical fruits and salad greens floating in our path, apparently tossed from another visiting ship. Despite the precautions visitors must take—we’re not even allowed to eat on shore—it is still legal to dump certain kinds of waste a prescribed distance from the shore. One of our team played a game of “Fruit Ninja”, Antarctic style, and managed to pluck a grapefruit and orange from the agitated waters. Due to the increasing winds, the landing site on the island had to be relocated, and ultimately, the landing was called off mid-morning.  

A fact of life on these expeditions is that the plans can be changed on a moment’s notice, depending on the weather and other circumstances beyond our control. We came dangerously close to the latter today when one of the staff barely escaped serious injury when his Zodiac was caught by the wind as it was being winched to the fifth deck. The boat went vertical, with the motor above his head, leaving him dangling from the harness while everything loose in the boat fell to the sea below. Fortunately, his grip held until the boat was horizontal again, and another Zodiac in the water below was able to collect almost everything that fell, including the driver’s dry bag containing some very valuable camera equipment. 

Editor's Note: Jim's portion of this entry may be added later, as his busy schedule of staff duties has precluded him from being able to write every day.