Day 522 - Petermann and Danco Islands, Antarctica Day 4
Soaring mountains and glaciers cloaked in absolute white.
Day four of our expedition to Antarctica. Day one of Zodiac excursions now that we have finally arrived at the continent. It was calm when we awoke. We had survived the Drake Passage, skirted the Shetland Islands overnight and all of the ship's rocking had stopped. I gaze slack-jawed out our porthole window and see nothing but soaring mountains and glaciers cloaked in absolute white. I have never seen anything like this before, and it is breathtaking.
Now that we have finally arrived at the continent, we awaken to calm waters. The Drake Passage is behind us; we skirted the Shetland Islands overnight and all of the ship's rocking has halted. I leapt to look out our window like a kid waking up Christmas morning. I saw nothing but soaring mountains and glaciers cloaked in absolute white. I shook Cyndy by the shoulder. I had never seen anything like this before, and it was breathtaking.
Petermann Island
Early in the morning we head off to Petermann Island, at the edge of the Antarctic peninsula. It's 30° in the middle of summer. We bounce out to the island on our zodiacs to find hundreds and hundreds of Gentoo penguins, squawking, molting, hanging out for the summer with their chicks waiting for them to mature. After two months here, they'll leave their waddling behind them and leap into the water to spend most of their lives swimming with elegance and speed. Many have already departed.
Once at sea, though, they must always be wary of orca whales and hungry lion seals as they head into the Drake. But for now these fellows waddle with us humans and it's not always clear which ones waddle more. Penguins are exceedingly odd birds. They act human in so many ways and that is one of the reasons we find them so fascinating. We are careful not to get in their way and spend a couple of hours simply watching their sweet, engaging behavior.
Being a penguin fan, but not as much as many others – I mean except for the Pittsburgh Penguins – I am not altogether unhappy that it's time to get back into the zodiac. Our driver, a Russian named Grigori, zips us across the Arctic waters past enormous icebergs 30 to 40 feet high, the icebound descendants of the glaciers that have been slowly moving off the massive continent and calving into the sea. Once out on the zodiac we search for other wildlife, especially humpback whales, which seem to be swimming all around us. At one point we see three together and I was able to snatch this video of one and then two more humpbacks sounding and showing us their great broad flukes as they descended deep beneath the sea. You don't want to miss it.
Danco Island
Afternoon. We are blessed with perfect weather and the play of sunlight and dark clouds far away make for a perfect austral backdrop. We paddle from the ship on our kayaks toward the gargantuan icebergs near Danco Island. Blue-white glacial ice surrounds us. The water is a mirror. There is no wind, only the occasional sound of our fellow kayakers whispering over the splash of their paddles. There is an almost religious feeling to the place.
Without warning a humpback whale shows itself. We see it's dark back and a loud powerful fluting sound as it clears its spout. Its slate back skates by us. Slowly, she rises higher and takes another immense breath. She must be 30, perhaps 40 feet long, and I can't help thinking of the Loch Ness Monster or Moby Dick. Then one more time the great hump rises and descends showing every inch of itself and with stately grace, its great broad tail erupts from the water and descends deep below. What a show, and how lucky we were.
After the whale descended, we heard someone crying. I looked over at our nearest kayak mate, Elizabeth, a middle aged woman that Cyndy had met in the bathroom on the Ocean Diamond.
"I'm sorry," she said, wiping tears from her eyes. "I lost a daughter a few years ago. She had special needs and she always said that she was a mermaid."
Elizabeth broke down again. "I'm very sorry. I'm so emotional. I don't know why, but being here, seeing the whale… It's so peaceful."
She sobbed.
"She's your mermaid," I finally said. "And here she is with you."
After that there was a little else to say and soon we all returned to the ship and reminded ourselves how lucky we were.
