Monday 20th February, 2017
After two nights and a day of tossing and churning we crossed the Antarctic Convergence, an invisible line determined by the properties and condition of the sea water such as temperature and density. South of this line is the Antarctic Ocean. Some hours later the swell dropped markedly and we were in the lea of the South Shetland Islands. And then we saw it: a long low white cloud, brighter than the grey sea and cloud: an ice cap on the South Shetland Islands.
This was Antarctica … well, an Antarctic island!
Ice cap on a South Shetland Island
Birds were flying all around us, especially the Cape Petrel, but also albatross, fulmar and others, and in the water, penguins porpoise, dolphins surf off the boat’s bow, and whales spout … wildlife was rampant, yet we were still a long way off-shore.
Cape Petrel soared around the Polar Pioneer
Further on were rocky islands with rocky beaches, and the ships binoculars revealed thousands of penguins massed on the beaches, on the slopes above the beaches, and leading high up towards cliffs. A massive penguin rookery. The bare ground was also tinged green. Later I would find that this was a moss. There are no grasses, just moss and an occasional lichen.
The Polar Pioneer threaded her way through channels between islands and dropped anchor in a bay off one island: Barrientos Island, one of the Aitcho Islands in the South Shetland Archipelago. We had apparently made such good time across the Drake Passage, despite the roughness, that we had time for a landing this evening. The water was now very flat, and the dramatic churning, and for some the seasickness, of our crossing of the Drake Passage was a fading memory. All around were both small rocky islands, large islands with permanent ice caps, and glaciers down to sea level. And we had company: there was a yacht moored here too! We had supplies to deliver to her.
Barrientos Island, and penguin rookery
The big moment was now upon us: we were about to board zodiacs and make a landing on the island! The zodiacs are worthy of a story unto themselves. For now they are our means of getting ashore.
Hitherto I’d been wearing my shorts on board the ship, even outside where it was just a few degrees and very windy. But now I dressed up: thermals, long trousers, and waterproof overpants. Aurora Expeditions had given each of us a double jacket to use and keep: a relatively light weight padded jacket, and a waterproof and windproof outer jacket. These were donned as well, and were more than adequate. Then we had heavy duty wellington boots, borrowed from the ship’s store, with our waterproof pants worn outside of them. Finally, a warm hat and gloves. And while on the zodiacs we had life jackets. Almost like a Michelin Man!
This was far more gear than I’d worn skiing in Lapland in significantly colder conditions than these – but then I was seriously active, and here we were going to be sedentary and totally absorbed in our surrounds even when standing still. It was interesting to contemplate the difference in conditions in late summer here to those at the same latitude in late summer in Finland. Here the water is around 2°C, with the air temperature around 3°C and we are surrounded by icy mountains with glaciers to the sea, or by bare rock. In Finland the air and lake temperatures could be in the low 20’s, and we’d be surrounded by pastures with wildflowers, or by forests.
We boarded the zodiacs ten at a time and were soon speeding across the placid water early on a very dull Antarctic evening to a landing at a rocky beach. As we approached there were penguins swimming around us, and we could clearly see hundreds or thousands of them on shore, and up the slopes to the rocky skyline may be 100 metres or more away from the shore. Pretty soon there was a very strong smell of rotting fish, from penguin poo, and an incessant squawking, from penguins communicating.
On land the penguins were watching us approach.
We beached the zodiac, swung our legs over the side and stepped into the clear water. Thank goodness for the gumboots! They kept our feet warm and dry, and the penguin poo was easily washed off! There was a welcoming committee waiting for us: hundreds of Gentoo penguins massed on and above the beach. This, our first encounter with a penguin colony, was an experience that is impossible to properly communicate!
My first penguin, a Gentoo, checking me out, unconcerned by the blue invasion
They seemed as interested in us as we were in them, and were incredibly curious creatures. My first impression was who was observing whom? One of the internationally agreed guidelines for interacting with Antarctic wildlife was to keep a 5 m buffer zone between us and the animal. But apparently these penguins can’t read, or may be their metres are shorter than ours, as they simply marched right up to us and checked us out!
Not so sure about Krista’s walking pole. On another occasion a penguin attacked it!
They stood up to about knee-height next to me, and when we stopped they’d gather around. I’d be taking a picture of one, and before long there would be a throng behind and around me. People could simply sit and wait, and the penguins came up and pecked at boots or pack or jacket or walking poles … it was so engrossing that pretty soon I no longer noticed the smell of poo, but the noise never quite subsided into the background.
Sit and wait. Gentoos will soon come and socialise!
Penguins seem to have a neat little bottom hole that directs a squirt of liquid poo across the ground. Where one has been standing for some time will be marked by the streaks of poo-spray radiating from a focus. Penguins eat krill, and then more krill, and so penguin poo can also be stained pink from colouring in the krill. And so is the mud and the snow.
Penguin poo spray. Some one had been standing in this spot for quite a while!
On the other hand these endearing creatures went about their daily life as if we were not there. Some simply lay on the ground, while others waddled from here to there. Some put their heads back, opened their beaks and called to the sky (“sky calling”), while others begged for food. In this case their parent dutifully regurgitated some partially digested mass of krill and allowed the chick to eat it from the parent’s throat. If the chick was an interloper, it was summarily chased away.
“Sky calling” was a very common and noisy penguin behaviour
At this time of the year the penguins are moulting and there are piles of feathers scattered around where a moulting took place. They take quite some time to do this, and while doing so cannot go into the water so are very vulnerable and stressed. Tonight, very few seemed to be still actively moulting.
Penguin feathers everywhere
Penguins chased each other in conga lines – and they could run pretty fast – with one inevitably tripping and the following one or ones falling on top of it. Falls seemed pretty harmless and they’d no sooner fall than they’d be up and off again. One adult chased a line of chicks into the sea, and when all bar it were safely surfing in the water, it simply turned its back and waddled sedately back to the rest of the colony. This behaviour was common: it could be a mother refusing to feed interlopers, or survival training by forcing the chicks to come to terms with a watery environment.
… and on the run, to somewhere else
We were to see three different types of penguin on our trip: Gentoo, Chinstrap, and Adelie. All are known as “brushtail penguins” because of the shape of their tale, and all are barely knee high. Tonight I saw Gentoo, and a single Chinstrap. The Gentoo were by far the more inquisitive.
A lone Chinstrap penguin; the others are Gentoo
And so it went on … a truly remarkable introduction to Antarctica, and to penguins in particular!
The view back to the Polar Pioneer, and a general view of part of the island and rookery
It was now getting dark. We zodiaked back to the boat, which then used the cover of darkness to move to another anchorage where no doubt we will have another extraordinary adventure tomorrow.
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