Reporter's Notebook: Blue Glaciers, Bleating Humpbacks, Beauty at Sea
From blue glaciers to bleating humpbacks, photographer ruminates on Antarctica.
Jan. 25, 2008 — -- Our journey south ended at 67 degrees latitude amid a thick jumble of pack ice at the southern end of Crystal Sound. Our hope had been to continue south through one of two narrow channels -- known collectively as the Gullet -- and on to Marguerite Bay.
Though we tried to nose our kayaks through the ice, following increasingly narrow chutes of water until they dead-ended in even more ice, it was quickly clear this would be our turnaround spot. To celebrate we pull the kayaks up onto a football field-size sheet of ice and introduce ourselves to its other resident, a 400-pound leopard seal dozing peacefully mid-floe.
Our other option, besides slowly heading back north, is to sail out and around Adelaide Island, toward the British base at Rothera, to reach our hoped-for goal of Blailock Island. But after two long team meetings -- one with the crew of the Pelagic Australis, the other with my team -- we opt to stay where we are for a couple more days, to profit from the incredibly beautiful weather that will certainly end soon and to avoid spending three full days sailing.
Like all my previous expeditions, it has been an incredible joy being out on the ocean with kayaks. While I like using adventure to draw people into our stories and films about oceans and coastlines, I also simply like being out on the sea, separated from the ocean by just an inch of carbon fiber and Kevlar.
That feeling of connectedness with the sea is perhaps even more real here on the southern Ocean than anywhere else I've been, with the water temperature hovering just above the freezing mark, big sea creatures swimming all around and giant icebergs standing out against the horizon like floating cairns.
It is impossible not to be stunned, nearly silenced, by the incredible beauty that is all around. Icebergs. Tens of thousands of year-old glaciers. Tall granite mountains. A sun that never quite sets.
Even the fierce storms are beautiful in their rawness. It is a place to both admire and respect. Especially respect, since left alone out here, minus a stove and warm tent, you'd have a hard time lasting one night.
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