Fort Point, Greenwich Island is not really on the radar of Antarctic voyages. Whilst not off limits, it’s certainly not one of the ‘regulars’ ships can book to visit as they must, to prevent overcrowding. Our expedition leader, Jordi, had found this place some years before. He says it’s ’super-nice’. Still running to another ‘Plan B’ for the voyage, adjustments brought us unexpectedly here. And what a great place !
The last 12 hours were foggy, very foggy. As we approached land, a series of big volcanic rocks, separated by a pebbly isthmus, flanked by glaciers appeared out of the gloom. Here we are, another crazy weather day, with blue skies and sunshine but only over our heads ! We land on a beach made up of smooth granite pebbles, the size of goose eggs. Very tactile. And they are warm to the touch. This reminds me of Chesil Beach or Hurst Spit.
On the rocky outcrop at the end of the beach, petrels and shags (cormorants) circle while at the foot of the rock, gentoo and chinstrap penguins honk and bray as they do their thing, waddling back & forth. In amongst the rocks, pieces of ice are melting visibly in the sun. Ice is washed up by the sea and deposited on the warm rocks to drip and shrink to nothing. At the other end of the beach a huge, blue and white glacier towers over the water, looking like one of the Seven Sisters, only prettier. It’s shimmering in the sunlight. The sea is littered with small pieces of glacier ice, drifting away with the current. In the distance we see and hear blocks breaking away – ‘calving’ – from the glacier. The sound of distant cannon fire.
Behind the beach is a nunatak. Yes, I thought that was something you used with Nintendo Wii, too, but apparently it’s a pointy, tall volcanic rock with a kind of crater all around it. A bit like an upside down Cornetto wedged in the snow. Climbing the snow was easy, but there’s very sharp rocks all around it above the snow line. We can only go so far, but the view back to the isthmus is worth it. We can see the fog all around us, but the sea is deep blue, reflecting the sky overhead.
Back at beach level I lie on the warm pebbles, shut my eyes and listen to the sea ice popping as it melts. This is amazing. I’ve taken endless photos to burn the images into my head. It’s a special place and the cruise ship passing a couple of miles away probably has no idea it exists.
The glacier is now depositing a milky sediment into the sea turning it turquoise. Europa looks as if she’s floating in the Caribbean. Back on board, boots scrubbed, Zodiacs stowed, we motor away, back into the fog.
Did that place really exist ?