Susan R. Eaton
March 1, 2010

Antarctica: Dispatch Number Ten

It was a tough night: the Professor Molchanov pitched wildly, in 65-knot
winds and 10-metre-high seas, as we crossed the South Atlantic Ocean. I
tossed and turned (literally) all night, bracing my legs against the
wall and the end of my upper bunk. One woman fell out of her upper bunk,
and required medical attention. The sounds of the waves hitting the
ship’s hull were deafening. I was mesmerized by the ferocity of the
waves hitting my fifth floor porthole: the closest analogue that I can
muster is being a passenger in a car, at a drive-through carwash.
Mealtimes have become Olympic sporting events: quick response times are
required to catch sliding glasses and plates, and to prevent diners from
being catapulted from their chairs. Despite not having worked out for
more than three weeks, the pitching ship requires the engagement of all
of my core muscles.

Back to the magic of South Georgia:
Our last day at South Georgia was action-packed: after our early morning
visit at Salisbury Plain to view the 300,000 King penguins, we motored
for an hour to Prion Island, home of some nesting Wandering Albatrosses.
These rare and majestic birds are about the size of a turkey, and have a
wing-span of three metres. There are 48 nesting pairs on Prion Island
who build their nests on mounds in the tussock grasses. The government
has established very strict guidelines for wildlife viewing – the
government has constructed a boardwalk for visitors, and only 44 people
are allowed on the island at one time, for no more than 90 minutes.

After lunch we headed for Prince Olav Harbour, our third and final stop
that day, prior to crossing the South Atlantic Ocean. The divers and
snorkelers enjoyed interacting with Fur seals in the kelp forests, while
the rest of the Explorers toured and old sealing/whaling station by
zodiac. My snorkelling group spent about 90 minutes in the water, and
was rewarded by the acrobatic antics of a small colony of Fur seals
swimming with us. Snorkelling provides an interesting interface between
land and sea – above water, I photographed the Fur seals and their small
pups sitting on the rocks. In the water, I watched the seals dive off
the rocks, and, propelled by their curious nature, swim circles around
me and my fellow snorkelers.

The human-marine mammal interface in the wild is unpredictable, rare
and, above all, magical – submersed in an aqueous environment,
snorkelling offers humans a portal to another species, providing us with
new understandings, and transporting us back to the giddy, discovery
days of our childhood. One week earlier, on the Antarctic Peninsula, we
experienced the same emotions while snorkelling with Leopard seals –
given their billing as Antarctica’s top predator, however, we were
initially guarded around the Leopard seals. However, our various
encounters with Leopard seals were both respectful and measured,
providing us with unique insights to these magnificent animals.