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Earlier this year, Sligo-born biologist Monica Treanor (nee Sullivan, of Cartron Bay) went on a 22 day expedition to Antarctica, on board a tall ship, the Bark Europa. The ship left port on Jan 9th from Ushuaia in Argentina, the southern most town in the world, to embark on an unforgettable journey. She was out of direct communication for the duration of the trip but she entered the ship's internet log as it embarked upon penguin colonies, seals, incredible landscapes, immense icebergs, whales and powerful storms. The following are some of her log entries which recount this fascinating odyssey.
January 17th: Hourglass dolphins appear to steer our course for a short while and later a pilot whale is spotted off port. Well established sea-legs hit terra firma for the fist time since we set sail on Barrientos |sl, part of the Aichoo Islands in the South Shetland archipelago. This area is the warmest, wettest and most colourful part of the continent.
Gentoo and chinstrap penguin colonies create a boisterous, honking melody to the backdrop of the rhythmical oceans wash. Hiking the brow of the island, two humpback whales bid us welcome to Antarctica. Moving toward the northwest end of the island, we carefully tread along a narrow path, through soft beds of cushion mosses, in various shades of green, yellow and brown, draped lightly over these undulating slopes. A solitary brown, female elephant seal has made her way up here and created a most luxurious spot to rest on this -posturepedic- landscape, with a panoramic 5-star view. Passing majestic geological formations we observe a herd of southern elephant seals in wallows. We make our way back along Whalebone beach where vertebrae, discs, ribs and other bones are strewn over the cobble and sand. Guides and crew see us safely back onto the Europa and warm our hands with hot chocolate.
January 18th:
After sailing through the night we anchor off Half Moon Island. This is a 2 km long crescent shaped island. We land on a cobble beach by a rotting wooden dory. Wilsons storm petrels nest in the rock crevices. Kelp gulls, blue-eyed shags, Antarctica terns, skuas and snowy sheathbills are all busy overhead while we watch the antics of the grounded, wadling birds below. Penguin highways are continuously busy with traffic of dirty, hungry penguins wadling merrily down to the ocean as they pass their freshly bathed, clean, full-bellied, counterparts on their arduous struggle uphill to their mate and their squawking young.
Glaciers
During lunch we sail into the beautiful Yankee harbour and set anchor. We are encircled by valley glaciers and nunatack topography - a truly spectacular 360 vista. Some of the nearby glaciers are calving, spreading a plume of ice onto the otherwise uninterrupted, flat surface. Onshore, the powerful skuas with their fierce demeanour, scour the penguin colonies for hapless chicks or a tasty morsel. These mighty scavengers with wingspans of up to 160cm throw demon shadows over the innocent penguins, who stand erect and honk ferociously in a great crescendo toward the darkened sky. A fur seal has hauled out on a cobble spit some distance away. This sensor-filled day closes with mirror-calm waters in the bay, a wonderful steak dinner and a high spirit on board, before we settle down to a peaceful, still sleep. A beautiful quiet harbour for our majestic ship.
January 19th:
Early morning sees us sailing into Neptunes bellows, an active volcano, Deception Island. We are dwarfed in the centre by steep, dark walls, a striking change from the now familiar, ubiquitous bleached scenery. A hike along the dusty rim later descends to the gravelly shoreline, where krill and urchins are found. In the afternoon, crew and guests alike, enthusiastically unwrap their warm downy layers and quickly race their semi-naked bodies to wallow in the hot volcanic sands, desperately writhing to steal some heat from this active earth or indeed a hot steamy torso nearby!
Volcanic ash
After a wonderful hot chicken dinner, we land in Whalers Bay, where the beach is strewn with volcanic ash and cinders of various sizes, which cover the old barrels, equipment, whalebones and other debris from the old whaling stations that operated here. Melt-water streams from the glaciers and snow above, form channels in the ash, which run down to the sea. A fur seal rises from his rest and moves his powerful body into the sea. Some brittle stars Ophioura victoriae, which cover the sea bed here in their thousands, are washed ashore. Terns and skuas defensively protect their young during our visit. Lichens lend colour to the rock-faces on the hike up to Neptunes window.
January 20th:
Captain Rob advises all aboard that we should continue to sail southwards through the Gerlache Strait as conditions are currently unfavourable for landings. A great opportunity to study the birdlife by the ship. Speckled cape petrels fly right alongside and take short rest periods on the water. Skuas, terns and mankind momentarily, mutually check one another out. As the evening seas calm, we slowly meander through narrow channels adorned by white topped mountains and glaciers to find safe anchorage at Portal Point. The majesty of our surroundings and the near constant daylight tempts us to stay conscious and not slumber.
January 21th:
From Portal Point, we drop our zodiacs for our first close-up tour of the icebergs adrift. An exciting start to the second week at sea. These freshwater floating masses of irregular shapes inspire flights of fantasy. Frank Worsley, captain of the Shackeltons Endurance described the ice that threatened their lifeboat as they struggled to reach South Georgia Island.....Swans of weird shapes pecked at our planks, a gondola stirred by a giraffe ran foul of us, which amused a duck sitting on a crocodile's head.
Dream come true
Later in the day we move further south bearing 64 25 through calm waters and narrow channels giving the opportunity to many on board to climb the masts or hang out in the bow sprit. We pass a Norwegian whaling shipwreck, crab-eater seals on ice floes and a distant dorsal of an orca. This is indeed a truly magnificent place on earth, an endless feast for the eyes, so one is constantly reluctant to lower ones lids and dream of anything else, as the reality of the day is itself, a dream come true.
24th January (evening):
We head up north through Penola Strait. The waters open up briefly before we are channelled into the Lemaires deep waters (276m). The surface water is strewn with icebergs and ice floes, providing temporary rest places for penguins, crab eater, weddell and leopard seals. The fog slowly closes in, restricting our horizontal vision. Many eyes are called upon for iceberg watch. The captain steers us clear, but the ice continues to hinder our path, we crush big chunks of ice with our robust bow, it is an adrenaline-filled sound. The fog cloaks the tall vertical slopes (980m) as we sail into this unfolding mystery. It’s a terrific, calm, mystical passage. Closing midnight, shackles rattle at the arrival of our destination and anchorage for the next few nights u Port Lockroy. The fog is still thick u perhaps the dawn will unveil our surrounding landscape?..
25th January:
Our small boats are launched and we quietly motor through the unrelenting fog to make our way to a polished boulder landing, - Damoy Point, Dorian Bay. This is a fantastic 20 minute ride; creating fresh ripples on an otherwise undisturbed surface and moving further into the shifting fog, which is constantly teasing us with spectacular glimpses of snow-capped peaks towering above us. We visit a simple, well-stacked, emergency hut, with an overhanging whale-rib adorning the doorway entrance. Food, fuel, tools and dry, thermal clothes are amongst some of the supplies within. The forlorn mariners, waiting for winters to pass and ice to thaw, appeared to entertain themselves with a handmade monopoly board, with Antarctica destinations! The fog eventually submits to the rising sun and we are honoured and awestruck with the incredible view of the Seven Sisters mountain range, peaking at over 3000m. Back on board the Europa, with it is beautiful backdrop, lunch is served on deck.
Penguins
The afternoon's landing is nearby, at Jougla Point, where skeletal bones of a fin whale are set out on the sand. Gentoo penguins nest among rounded cobbles, boulders and pebbles.
Walking amongst colonies, our boots temporarily tread in a quagmire of guano, mud and snow-melt, making it a slippery affair. Some decide to stay closer to the shoreline and play it clean safe! The intense summers sun is also affecting the young chicks, who lie belly-down, wings outstretched, trying desperately to cool-off, while an internal furnace digests their last meal. Consecutive days of sunshine are making life difficult for these young, songless birds, who gasp for a mouthful of snow to re-hydrate.
Nearby on the other hand, healthy, boisterous, blue-eyed shag chicks (as large as their parents), often three to a nest, congregate on a rocky outcrop. They are fantastic to watch; some are moulting their downy layer for mature feathers and take their first bath in the icy waters below, while others stay in their nest and demand more food. Heads and throats disappear so far down the necks of adults, they appear to feed directly from their stomachs! A hike is offered for those who have enough energy and wish to climb above the nesting sites of skuas, kelp gulls and Antarctica terns. Crew and passengers from another sailboat join us for a barbie on board; an impromptu party is had, sea-faring stories are shared and we dance till the wee hours of the morning.
January 26th: Temperatures of 1.6 degrees Celsius swiftly shift clinging cobwebs from bleary-eyed party people, who rise from their warm bunks, from an all-too-brief slumber. Sails are tightly furled this morning and lie like wrinkled, swollen caterpillars that have mercilessly fed around these tall erect stalks and outstretched veins.
Last landing
Our last landing in Antarctica is made at Port Lockroy, where we get a chance to mail some tales and memories to our loved ones from a small Post Office, buy some Antarctican memorabilia and last but not least, take a deep breath and inhale the unforgettable smell of a penguin colony! Limpets (Nacella concinna) draped with corraline algae adorn the shoreline boulders and hundreds of dorso-ventrally flattened amphipods scuttle to take refuge, as our disinfected boots step ashore for the last time.
The gentoo penguins here are all accustomed to mankind and as a result chicks, adults and Homo sapiens alike, all join in the march up the boardwalk to the Post office! Some tired and resting chicks take a nap along the way, so you have to quietly and carefully step over them. wherever they rest their hats..! Pale-faced sheathbills enjoy a warm meal of a penguin chick. Reluctantly, we leave terra firma, but as we head for the docking place, a lone Gentoo stands tall on a boulder and flaps it’s wings as if to gesture -Good-bye-!
Leaving the Gerlache Strait, we head for Melchoir Island for safe anchorage for the night. A whale call is sounded around 8pm and within minutes there are lots of eyes, peering into the distance, over the port side. We come upon two pairs of feeding humpbacks, and the ensuing hour was filled with incredible moments for all on board to witness. The humpbacks were -bubble feeding-, blowing a series of bubbles on the port side of the Europa at first, from which we then raced across to the starboard, to see the completion of their bubble net and the close-up, engulfing of small fish and krill. These giant, filter-feeding rorquals created bubble nets over and over again, their blowholes continuously spouting, cameras clicking, videos running, flukes diving, bodies shivering, hearts beating, moments treasured forever.
January 27th:
In the morning, a zodiac tour of the Melchior islands is taken in the zodiacs. Fur seals are a regular sight on the rocks by the waters edge, occasionally looking up and scratching themselves. We are not that interesting! A leopard seal is isolated on a small iceberg; we quietly drift 360 degrees around it.
Activity
All aboard, boats are hoisted, deflated, washed and stored. The Europa is a hive of activity as one and all share in the workload to tie everything down, hang safety nets, schedule watches, get underway, and set sail for our homeward journey. The anchor is lifted for the last time and we are off. A favourable, up-to-date weather forecast keeps one optimistic for a not too rough passage over the Drakes dreaded waters.
Immense tabular icebergs are our last great image of Antarctica, as we sail northwards and the coastline is once again swallowed in the fog.
January 31th:
By noon, the Drakes Passage is once again testing our sea leg worthiness, but most are still enjoying the kitchens fare, some were even feasting on prunes for breakfast!. By dinner, one of the long-ago, infant-acquired skills is put to the test; the ability to successfully eat a meal, i.e. co-ordinate hand to mouth without dribbling; and the initial daunting balancing act, getting your meal to the table without spilling it on the floor or fellow passengers. The ‘dress smart’ code for dinner implies waterproofs! By 10.30 p.m. the sea is rough; barely digested food is contemplating an upward reflux motion, doors are tightly bolted, safety lines are secured and by captains orders, no-one is allowed on deck. The 10 m high waves pour their deathly white water in over the complete starboard side of the ship and with the next motion, the bow is swamped and the deck swallowed. Bunt, clew and other ropes are trapped in the fast release water holes, the captain and his first mate face the ruthless elements and bravely release the ever-increasing trapped ocean. Moments of relief refreshingly pour over us all. The gale force 10 storm is unyielding and we cannot get away from its grip, 4 sails are ripped, people who dare move are tossed, life raft jackets are billowing violently, alarms are ringing, engineers are going down below. In jest or in truth I hear someone say " Put the kettle on God, I’ll be seeing you soon!" Two other ships on the Drakes Passage call out S.O.S. and one passenger ship is rescued by an Argentinean vessel.
February 1st:
At 7 a.m., the bridge is hit by a almighty wave and with its secret hidden key, forcefully unlocks the metal doors on the port side of the ship, breaking an entry, annihilating our robust, iron-legged table on deck. Slowly the grasp of the storm weakens and the starboard side of the ship no longer succumbs to the embarrassment of the powerful ocean caressing its inner limbs. Our captain and his skilled crew have steered us safely through a ferocious storm and we now, once again, excitedly await terra firma or even the mere sight of the Beagle Channel. All on board are emotionally bonded. We’re alive and have quite the tale to tell.
Sligo Champion 02 May 2007
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