Today’s ‘two-o’clocky’ was, as is customary, opened by Klaas, our captain, giving us the sailing update. Incorporating the weather, miles covered in the previous 24 hrs, ship’s heading, forecasts for ice and distance to our next planned destination, this is generally a pep talk, but also sets expectations. Nothing can be assumed down here. It was not what we wanted to hear.
Almost 5 days at sea since leaving South Georgia, our variable and painfully slow progress has meant we are now at last heading for the South Orkney Islands (Plan A) to the south west. But it’s little more than walking pace at times and I want to scream. No longer the volcanic and inhospitable South Shetland Islands to the east (Plan C). But there is a catch. The reports of sea ice keep changing and southerly winds may blow that ice to Signy Island, our destination. They would also make the anchorage risky and mean more days at sea. Deep joy. Plan B would then be Elephant Island, 250 miles further on. More shadows of Shackleton.
Air and sea temperatures are measured every 4 hours and transmitted home. Europa is a valuable source of information in this desolate patch of the planet. At lunchtime the sea was 0.8 degrees and the air a balmy 1.8 degrees ! When you are at the helm in a snowstorm at 3am, it feels a darn sight colder, I can say. On lookout duty, even more so. 30 minutes is the most we are allowed to endure of either. Icebergs are 50 miles away, so a real threat by this evening.
Washing machines do not work well at sea, so clean clothes are a luxury. The engineers ensure we have hot water, but you need to be an Olympic gymnast to achieve a shower on a rolling ship without sustaining serious injury. It’s OK, though, we are (literally) all in the same boat. Climbing in & out of the many (less than fragrant) layers of clothing at all hours, several times a day to meet the elements is not something I shall miss. Nor is the abject misery and nausea of seasickness that can take hold at any time and last for days. Running out of a lecture to grab a bucket to vomit within earshot of all my fellow crew was never going to be my finest hour. But my aim was true. Dignity pretty much retained, this time.
Birds still follow the ship as we plough on south. The colder it gets the less likely we are to see albatross, but today a pair of black browed ones kept us company at 03:30. We made eye contact. Would be rude not to. It’s daylight down here then. By 07:00 a pair of sooty albatross also paid us a visit. So very cool. I love seeing these birds glide over the ocean so effortlessly.
In the distance the blows of indeterminate whales are a now familiar sight. We are in their territory for sure. Two days ago a few spouts of spray in the distance and a tiny black fin every so often constituted seeing these beasties. Hardly worth losing your breakfast for. But yesterday I had my moment. Sitting on lookout at the bow of the ship (that’s the front…), steeling myself against the 25kts of icy wind finding it’s way into every crevice, I saw a dark shape break the water under the bowsprit, not 10m from my eyes. ‘WHALE! Oh my god, whale !!!!’. I rushed forward to see more, but the safety harness pulled me up short, like an over-excited toddler in reins. Bugger.
A couple of minutes later, it was back. 2m from the side of the ship, right next to us, cruising alongside just under the surface. About 12m long, this was probably a Minke whale. I watched as it slowly swam under the bow and over to the other side. The water is crystal clear and all manner of greens & blues in the light. Now disentangled, I trotted round with it and leaned over the port bow rail. Out loud I said ‘Hello ! Good morning. Have you come to see us?’. I was only being polite. Well, what would you do…?
And then I had my special moment. Duncan, my fellow lookout, was busy calling the bridge to report the sighting, and as I looked down alone, this elegant creature rolled over on it’s back revealing a white belly. Then it turned it’s head round to look at me with both eyes and waved its’ flippers. I was choked. For a couple of seconds I had a new whale-fish friend. Then it rolled slowly back and swam off down the side of the ship. I was no longer cold but could barely speak.
10 minutes later over breakfast, others excitedly reported seeing a whale close by. But my exchange was personal. We are assured there will be many more whales, but for now, I’m feeling better about being at sea.