Date: |
05.03.2025 |
Position: |
63°19,5S / 056°28.9’W |
Le vent: |
NE1 |
Météo: |
Overcast |
Température de l'air: |
-3 |
Fifty shades of gray – this expression perfectly described the world that unfolded before our eyes through the portholes and windows of the Hondius, our mighty ship that had almost become our home. Gently rocking on the waves, it slowly advanced through the veil of fog, approaching the location of our morning activity.
The Weddell Sea is the coldest sea in the world, and despite being on its very edge in the Antarctic Sound, the cold could be felt everywhere. Light snow was falling, covering the icy decks with a thin layer. Periodic gusts of wind lifted it into the air, creating small snowstorms, after which a new layer of fine, powdery snow rushed to settle on the exposed horizontal surfaces of our ship.
The world, having lost almost all of its colors, seemed unwelcoming and even somewhat gloomy, despite the fact that it was quite difficult to look at it without sunglasses. Antarctica clearly wasn’t pleased with our arrival, seeing us as unwelcome guests. We, on the other hand, inspired by stories and lectures about the brave polar explorers of the early 20th century, were in a great mood and, jokingly, prepared to repeat their feat and set off to explore the picturesque Kinnes Cove.
While we leisurely finished our morning meal and put on our warmest clothes, our guides were already lowering the Zodiacs on the water. At the appointed hour, just after nine in the morning, we, eagerly anticipating a battle with the forces of nature, lined up to board the Zodiacs and head into the unknown.
Slowly maneuvering between both ice floes and various-sized icebergs, we looked around, trying to spot representatives of the local fauna. A light breeze blew, but combined with the negative temperature, it didn’t feel like a gentle breeze at all. We kept shivering and wrapping ourselves more tightly in our scarves. Our fingers, gripping phones and cameras, froze quite a bit, so from time to time we had to hide our hands in our pockets or sleeves of our down jackets.
But where was the local fauna? Here it is, right on the shore! Our old friends – the Gentoo penguins – had claimed all the coastal rocks. It was astonishing, but these same penguins had been with us on our first expedition day in the Falkland Islands (Malvinas). Incredible how they can exist and even reproduce in such drastically different conditions! We were happy to see the Gentoo penguins, but we were even happier to occasionally spot other penguins we had never seen before – the Adelie penguins! Here and there, among the Gentoo crowds, we could spot these guys. They were slightly smaller, with black beaks and amusing white rings around their eyes that gave their expressions a striking liveliness. Sniping with the lenses of our cameras, we snapped one picture after another.
As we continued along the shore, we unexpectedly discovered another group of our old acquaintances – Fur seals! Resting on the rocks, they dozed, casting sleepy glances at us. Some of them, however, raised their heads proudly and assumed a haughty posture, looking at us with outright disdain: "Well, look who’s come to visit us!" All the Fur seals were adult males. Having finished the mating season on South Georgia, they had abandoned their pregnant mates to their fate and escaped to Antarctica to hang out, sleep, feast on fish and krill, and avoid any family troubles. Shameless, aren’t they!
But then one of our guides radioed us with the news we had all been secretly, let’s admit it, eagerly waiting for: "Leopard seal! Leopard seal in the water!" Our hearts raced with excitement, and we even managed to forget about the cold, so eager were we to see this fierce predator with our own eyes. Pushing through the ice floes and brash ice, we all headed to where the predator had been first spotted. And then, after a few minutes, we leaned over the side, cautiously watching this beast. The huge creature, gracefully arching its body, frolicked in the water, occasionally surfacing to take a breath of fresh air. The curious animal swam up to our Zodiacs, playing with the stream of water created by the propeller. We snapped photos and simply watched the movements of the true ruler of these waters.
Soon came the news that two more leopard seals were sleeping on an ice floe nearby. Indeed, on one of the floes not far from us lay two representatives of this pinniped species. Slowly, as quietly as possible, we literally crept closer to them. After all, this might be the only opportunity to get a good look at these predators. As it turned out, they looked both imposing and amusing at the same time. Every now and then, they would raise their heads and glance around menacingly. At first, the leopard seals remained calm, but soon they began to show that our presence was clearly annoying them. Moving back and forth on the ice floe, they shook their huge heads, flaring their nostrils. There was something almost comical about it – these apex predators looked like nothing more than enormous, toothy caterpillars.
Time passed quickly, and we were thoroughly frozen by then, so returning to the ship became a highly anticipated event. Satisfied with the fruitful morning and our rich photographic "catch," we headed back to warm up with hot chocolate and lunch.
Our afternoon rest was slightly extended: on the way to our afternoon activity, the Hondius encountered a large amount of drifting ice. The captain slowed the ship down and, giving orders in real-time, skillfully navigated between ice floes and enormous tabular icebergs, of which there were many. However, another surprise awaited us – someone from the expedition team spotted large, sharp fins among the waves. Orcas! A whole pod of orcas! The fierce killer whales were clearly preoccupied with something. At the same time, the water surface was teeming with giant petrels, skuas, and other feathered scavengers eager to feast on the flesh of freshly killed prey. We most likely arrived just as the meal was finishing. The orcas had killed a seal, torn its body apart with their sharp teeth, eating all the tastiest bits, while the birds were now happily picking at the leftovers.
When the time passed three in the afternoon, the Hondius finally slowed down. Right ahead, shrouded in clouds above, stood a massive cliff – Brown Bluff. This was the location of our afternoon landing.
The winches of the crane hummed, and soon several Zodiacs were lowered on the water. The members of the expedition team loaded all the necessary equipment into one of them and sped toward the shore to prepare for the landing. We also hurriedly gathered our things and began waiting for our turn to leave the ship and, for the first time since our landing on Salisbury Plain, feel solid ground beneath our feet. It’s worth noting that for many of us, the upcoming landing was of great importance, because it was a continental landing. In other words, Brown Bluff wasn’t one of the numerous islands in the region, but part of the actual continent. In theory, by landing there, one could walk all the way to the South Pole if desired.
In Antarctica, as well as on South Georgia, there are strict regulations, meaning we couldn’t all land on the shore at once. So, some of us went on a small Zodiac cruise with the plan to swap places with the others after a while. The air temperature was no warmer than in the morning, so those sitting in the Zodiacs again, shivering, pulled their hats down almost over their eyes, put on hoods, and tried not to take out their cameras unnecessarily. However, now and then we had no choice but to do so, because there were amusing and photogenic Adelie penguins sitting on the ice floes, and it was simply impossible to pass by without taking a photo.
The main action, however, was unfolding near the shore, opposite the landing site. There, a leopard seal was patrolling the waters, hunting penguins. It was a mesmerizing, though unsettling, sight. Imagine this: a young penguin, recently fledged, happily runs into the water, eager to finally use its wings and swiftly dart through the water, instead of awkwardly waddling along the shore, shifting from foot to foot. But then this vile, bloodthirsty creature appears and grabs the unfortunate penguin with its teeth, locking them in a death grip. The victim's blood turns the water a deep red. Immediately, numerous skuas fly in and begin circling the scene of the kill, hoping to snatch a piece of raw penguin meat while the leopard seal, with all its might, swings its head from side to side, smashing the lifeless body against the water's surface, causing the penguin’s skin to separate from the flesh.
The shore itself was a pebbly beach, overlooked by a massive cliff made of volcanic ash. A multitude of penguins, both Gentoo and Adelie, had occupied the entire area. There were young penguins as well as their tired parents. Some penguins stood motionless, molting. Not the most pleasant time in a penguin's life, but what can you do? The old feathers stuck out in all directions, and in their place, fresh, smooth, black feathers were growing.
The landing took quite a while, and we had plenty of time to admire the natural beauty of this northernmost tip of the White Continent. Of course, we also had enough time to freeze.
Once back on the ship, we spent a long time looking through the photos we had taken throughout the day and sharing our impressions.