Awaking to a light shudder of the ship, we knew that we had successfully made it through the Gullet and anchored only a few hundred meters off Stonington Island. We learned this morning the reason we stopped and backed up last night. We have a film crew on board, filming a Mighty Cruise Ships segment for the Discovery Channel (to be seen later this year). The team was flying a drone and lost it! They backed up to see if they could recover it. No luck!
Stonington Island is only a 50-acre island of rocks, boulders, and a few snow patches. It was once connected via a snow bridge to the Northeast Glacier but now is separated by a 100-meter channel that offers protected waters for seals and penguins. Sitting quietly for the moment, you can see the subtle movements of the wildlife and hear the calving of icebergs off the glacier. The highest point on the island is only 25 meters above sea level. It is home to two abandoned research stations, the United States’ East Base and the British Base E. The East Base is the oldest U.S. research station and was only active from 1939 to 1941, when it was abandoned mainly due to World War II priorities. Britain’s Base E was one of more than 20 bases across the Antarctic to survey the continent. It was shut down in 1975 but is recognized as a historic site that may be visited.
The Science boat was the first to be launched this morning. Collecting water samples and measuring water clarity are just some of the focus areas. Interested guests could join the science team and participate in the study.
The MS Roald Amundsen is home to research activities associated with and providing information to international research organizations on specific programs. The cloud study program is associated with NASA to understand clouds and weather over the continent. Our ship’s researches regularly send photos of our clouds to NASA, which are merged with satellite photos. Since there are no weather stations down here, this is an economical alternative to understanding the formation and types of clouds. Another critical area is to study plankton and measure plastic's amount and impact. There is a lot of passion against plastics on board. (No single-use plastics are allowed or used anywhere onboard. A through-hull collection box continuously samples the water as we sail. After automated analysis, the resulting measurements are sent to the participating research centers in near-real-time. The expedition team consists of about 20 international scientists and expedition leaders representing various disciplines.
After donning special, calf-high boots, pants, warm clothing, a waterproof jacket, and a life jacket, we were directed to a single-purposed launch room on deck 3 where we would be checked out and released to board our Zodiak when it was ready. We felt and looked like astronauts waiting in a pre-launch room until we were freed to enter the space capsule, one at a time. That first launch was quite an adventure, but the crew’s steady hands and help made us feel safe. As we cast off from our ship, I was struck with awe…that I am here in this exceptional area of our planet. How fortunate we all are. It is truly a once-in-a-lifetime experience.
That awe soon turned to apprehension as we approached the rocky shoreline. This is not a beach landing. Slapping waves against the rocks jostled our boat about as if it were a small cork. Half a dozen expedition team members worked hard to steady the inflatable boat against the boulders and, in rhythm with the swells, helped us step shakily ashore. There is no path…just rocks and stones, from a few inches in diameter to the size of a football or an ice chest. This was going to be a challenge for any balance-impaired person. We grabbed a walking stick and followed a pseudo path marked with red cones that the advance team had put down.
Patches of snow or melting ice made walking more comfortable. Since this is late summer in Antarctica, most of the snow is gone. There was little to see at the first destination, the American East base. It was fully boarded up without access. Continuing up the hill to the British Base E, we were rewarded with three seals resting on the rocks, looking at us curiously. I spotted only two Penguins near the waterline.
Base E consists of several buildings, including a generator shack. Living quarters are in the main building, which includes a two-story section with accommodations for as many as 17 individuals. It was open to visitors. Securing a head-lamp, we entered and toured the rooms containing beds, stacks of mattresses, shelves with old rusty tins of who-knows-what food, empty glass jars, empty cabinets, and a kitchen that didn’t measure more than 8 feet by 8 feet. I selected not to visit the second floor. The stairs’ condition is suspect, with head clearance that would ensure a head bump. I asked our guide about the residents’ daily routine. What did they do all day? He didn’t have an answer. I will see if I can find anyone on board who knows. What about the sociological dimension? Were members selected based on specific profiles that would ensure compatibility and reduce conflict? One of Shackelton’s strengths was his ability to choose and form teams to ensure the mission would not be undermined. My thoughts go to the 1987 Biosphere 2 experiment in Arizona that was constructed as a self-contained ‘world’ for eight people. Despite attempts at spinning the results in a positive light, it was a failure.
Sociological issues were never considered as part of the program, and the experiment failed on that basis.
Returning to the boat landing site continued to challenge our agility. On returning to the ‘beach’, we had an opportunity to take a Polar Ice Swim. Everything was provided, including a doctor and medical team for unexpected physical responses. I decided that I did not need to do this. I was satisfied by putting my hand in the icy water and calling that my Polar Swim. We rolled back (literally) into our boat, exhausted and ready for the calm of our ship. Boarding the vessel required that we use a machine that scrubs the soles and sides of our boots before stepping onto a sponge mat soaked with disinfectant. We didn’t want to unintentionally contaminate our next landing destination.
A couple of hours later, we pulled and set sail for our next landing site, about two hours further south, at Red Rock Ridge, our first opportunity to step on the Antarctic continent. It was named Red Rock because it is bright red when the full sun hits the rock. Overcast skies denied this phenomenon today. However, the landing site served up its drama. The chosen location had very steep, large boulders. After the advance team made shore, an iceberg in the cove, about the size of an 18-wheel truck, inverted, causing a mini-tsunami to produce a 3-meter high wall of water that hit the landing site. Everyone was safe, but it did delay landings by an hour.
Once ashore, the main attraction was a group of about 100 penguins that didn’t show much interest in us. Several put on photo-worthy antics, but overall, it was a mild afternoon. The view looking out towards our ship, framed by mountains and icebergs, was exceptional. Some more adventuresome members were selected to climb to the top of the 300-foot ridge for an even more spectacular view.
I chose to sit on a rock, observe, listen, live in the moment, and not be driven to take photos for later reflection. I was staying present.
Once all the Zodiak boats were secured back in the bowls of our ship, we got underway. Our captain announced that we would continue to head south inside Marguerite Bay. We aimed to sail further south than any ship this year, further south than any Hurtigruten ship had ever sailed. It seems we have a very competitive Captain! His operating mode was not to set expectations but rather to tease us with possible ‘surprises.’ He only committed to having us experience an encounter with ice and an ice shelf.
Early this morning, he announced we would reach 70 degrees South by 3 PM. We ‘might’ go a little further, and conditions seem to favor our launching the Zodiaks for a tour near the ice fields, close to the ice shelf. At about 3 PM, the ship’s horn blasted, signaling our crossing of the 70-degree South line. We would continue to sail further South. As a distraction, he announced that hot dogs and bratwursts with beer were served on the aft outdoor deck.
The temperature dropped slightly below zero degrees centigrade, so we grabbed our hot dogs and retreated to the observation lounge to take in the scope of what we were in. We had moved into an icy field of growlers (ice sheets less than three feet in diameter), as well as Bergies (the size of a small house) that broke off the ice shelf, surrounding all sides of the ship. It was surreal.
As we were sitting quietly on the observation deck, seeing an unimaginable setting, soft music came on over the speakers – you’ve all heard this 1956 song before:
“Fairy tales can come true, it can happen to you
If you’re young at heart.
For it’s hard, you will find, to be narrow of mind
If you’re young at heart.
You can go to extremes with impossible schemes.
You can laugh when your dreams fall apart at the seams.
And life gets more exciting with each passing day.
And love is either in your heart or on its way.
Don’t you know that it’s worth every treasure on earth
To be young at heart.”
It seemed to catch the moment. How lucky are we?
The serene moment was shattered by the announcement that our expedition group would be the first to launch in 30 minutes. We were ready. Large swells made getting into our boats more complicated than we had experienced before. Once underway, sets of two boats motored about a kilometer away from the ship, skimming the edge of the ice field. We spotted a drifting, red buoy about 100 meters inside the ice field. Given clearance by the captain, we entered the ice field and retrieved the buoy. Our attention was so focused on the business at hand that we didn’t notice that fog was rapidly moving in, and in fact, we lost sight of the ship. It was time to dash back to the mother ship. Another great experience.
We had reached a position of 70.168 degrees South – a mere 400 miles from the South Pole.
Does it get any better?
Well, guess what? It might get even better! The captain just announced it was time to turn and head North, North East. He was alerted about a strong magnetic storm (the result of solar flare emissions approaching the South Pole) that could cause electrical disturbance and disrupt communication. There is a small probability we might see the Southern Lights (like the Arora Borealis at the North Pole) around midnight tonight, aft of the ship. I’ll be there!
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