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.