From Elephant Island we cross the Bransfield Strait, an open body of water home to quite a bit of wildlife. We are on our way to Antarctica proper – the ‘mainland’. Our one peninsula opportunity. In the Weddell Sea the ice is too far north for us to venture further south than this. At first disappointing, today made up for it.
Another blue-sky afternoon, bright sunshine and distinctly non-Antarctic weather. Little wind, but we kept full sail, assisted by the engines at times. An opportunity arose to climb the rigging. Keen to crack this I donned a harness, tied my camera to me and joined in. Fully expecting wobbly knees and swimming head, I was surprised how good I felt, but how small the footholds are. Always clipped on to the ship for safety, it’s a far cry from sailors of old who would fall to their deaths from swaying rigging in all weathers. Not for them the luxury of choice or a harness. Health & safety did not feature. Most could not swim, even if they survived impact. Having made it to the upper yards, I was happy to say I’d done it.
On such a calm day, the beauty and variety of the icebergs around us was breathtaking. A huge arch, like a bridge, drifted past all turquoise and white. Another looked like a cathedral spire. I ventured to the end of the bowsprit for some reflective time away from the others. Lying in the netting looking back at the ship this definitely felt like the right way to travel. I may not love this vessel, but I could not feel so alive on a cruise ship nor so close to the experiences of those early polar explorers.
Wildlife is all around. Fin whales, seabirds and a few penguins in the water. As we got closer to land, the low, white clouds morph into white islands. This is Antarctica – ‘the white continent’. A few dark patches reveal land, but otherwise it’s all like a freshly iced Christmas cake. And the closer we get, the more penguins swim around the boat, leaping in & out of the water like mini rugby balls with beaks and feet attached. I can’t stop giggling every time I see them. Looks like a lot of fun. What a welcoming party !
Europa drops anchor. The water is glass smooth, full of ice and penguins. The soundtrack is almost silent. We’ve arrived on the set of ‘Happy Feet’. Walt Disney himself could not paint a more amazing landscape. Mountains on the horizon, big glaciers all around, blue and white ice, penguins, penguins, penguins. And a seal or two. Standing on deck, the ice drifts past slowly making us feel as if we are moving. Like forgetting to put the handbrake on and rolling backwards at traffic lights.. But it’s all good.
Landing is a long Zodiac ride away. We pass small icebergs with penguins on them. It’s late in the evening, but this far south there is no darkness at this time of year. The light changes every second and the range of reflected colours is subtle and beautiful. On the beach there are distinct demarkations of birds. Kelp gulls defend their nests high up on rocks at the edge of the beach. At one end Adelie penguins crowd together for all the world like commuters on a train. Our guides describe these as the ‘city dwellers’. The rest of the beach is dotted with ‘village folk’; Gentoos. They are thieves, stealing nesting material from their neighbours without hesitation. Thus their nests need to be at least an outstretched beak away from each other, if not further. Gentoos breed earlier than Adelies, so whilst the latter had a few tiny offspring, Gentoo chicks were everywhere. Grey, fluffy and hungry ! And spraying poo from the nest with vigour. Jackson Pollock would have felt at home with their ‘artwork’. A lone Weddell seal slumbers on the shore, oblivious to the frantic activity around him.
Penguin fix done, we ascended a shingly path up the side of the beach where the bluff ends. On our right the high, rocky outcrop of Brown Bluff towers over the beach. To our left stretches out the top of a glacier, all rutted and grubby looking. The ice fulfilling its’ final job before melting at the waters’ edge. On the path the geologists were in for a treat: ‘pillow lava’ is exposed in the rock face. Looking like bubbling honeycomb, it’s the product of trapped molten lava breaking free in bubbles and cooling rapidly. A small waterfall pours down from the rock face above. We turn left and onto the edge of the glacier. A moonscape of jagged, white ice and rubble close up, very different from the smooth, white icing sugar glaciers we have seen elsewhere. This is the end of the line for this one with rocks, stones and soil ground up and brought to sea level. Many rocks are perched on pinnacles of ice, ready to fall when the ice melts. A stream of clear water gurgles through the ice, like a mini Cresta Run. The water is sweet and refreshing. Way, way better than any expensive bottled stuff.
At the waters’ edge we are truly standing on Antarctica. Brown Bluff is a rocky outcrop at the top of the peninsula, which is basically a mountain ridge 1,000 miles long. In context with the continent itself, it’s tiny. Antarctica really is vast. Huge. Enormous. We have barely tickled the chin of the continent by being here. Sandy wants to connect. Shoes off, she wriggles her toes into the earth. She can really say she’s stood on Antarctic soil.
It’s 23:00 and IAATO rules mean we have to be off the land and back on our vessel. A beautiful, full moon is rising over the sea and the sun has dipped below the mountains, but only just. The light is incredible. Hills, mountains, glaciers, snow all glow a kaleidoscope of colours, reflected in the mirror sea. No shades of grey here. Penguins are still porpoising their way back & forth, fishing for their young. As we board the Europa, the oohs and aahs are matched by the clicking of cameras. Antarctica just keeps on giving.
Anchor aweigh, we toast the most breathtaking of days in the bar with G&Ts (local ice included) until 2am. Brown Bluff was anything but brown.