Traveling internationally, especially to places that are hard to reach, is always subject to unplanned disruptions. In our case, airport closures, strikes, and numerous canceled flights caused us to arrive two days late in Cairo, missing tours of the National Museum and the old part of Cairo. Fortunately, we arrived just in time to fly to Luxor, where we boarded our riverboat. Nothing could diminish our amazement in coming to Egypt and its 10,000-year history. It is a trip of a lifetime.
Wrestling with how to write about our trip, I couldn’t make it fit into the chronological format that I’ve used in past trip blogs. I will attempt to provide insights yet steer away from gonzo journaling. I’ll partition my 14-day experience into 5- 7 dimensions for structure. Since the Nile River led to the creation and maintenance of the ancient Egyptian civilization, I’ll start there. Follow-on dimensions will reveal themselves as I begin to write.
God Ra
Ra, the Sun God of Gods, creator of the universe, and giver of life, created Hapi, the Nile God, to serve as the soul and guide of civilization along its banks and give rise to Egypt for over 10,000 years.
All Ancient Egyptian gods/pharaohs have unique heads and headdresses. Ra’s head is a falcon symbolizing majesty and the ability to fly high. His headdress is a sun disk, representing the power to create and nourish life. A cobra representing divine protection, power, and wisdom is draped over the sun disk.
God Hapi is depicted with female breasts to nurture life. The headdress is adorned with symbols of fertility, sustenance, and abundance: fruit, flowers, and the reed, which populates the banks of the Nile.
God Hapi
If we take a moment to muse – what would your headdress look like? What would it reveal about you? Scary, maybe? Fun?
Egypt and the Nile are synonymous on the evolutionary civilization journey. While the Nile River emerged from geological shifts in Earth’s mantle about 30 million years ago, it is the thread that sowed the patches of nourishment, science, reason, freedom, justice, government, and life after death into a quilt of Egypt.
The Nile River’s confluence of two tributaries the White Nile and Blue Nile occurs in Khartoum, Sudan. The Blue Nile originates on the Ethiopian Plateau (6,000 feet) near Tana Lake, which experiences monsoons from June through September. The Blue Nile is the source of 80% of the water flowing into the Mediterranean Sea. The source of the White Nile is more ambiguous as several lakes, including Lake Victoria, flow North and are joined by streams and lesser rivers along canyons and cataracts towards Khartoum. There is general agreement that the Nile, including the Blue and White, is 4,100 miles long. The actual length remains an open question. The consensus is that the Amazon River is the longest in the world, making the Nile the 2nd longest. Comparing the two, the water volume in the Nile River is just 5% of the Amazon’s volume.
The Nile River
The Nile was woven into every aspect of ancient Egypt’s culture, religions, daily lives, and, most importantly, the afterlife. The flooding of the river and the blessings it delivered is immortalized in a Hymn to the Nile, composed in 2100 BCE by a man named Khety. The words are known, but the tune is lost. The river provided water and rich soil to grow food. The nutrient-rich silt deposited along the riverbanks was an agricultural blessing. On balance, it also presented severe challenges. The water level between flood and drought was enormous, estimated to be ~ 100 ft. Visiting the ancient temples, we could see water lines and chiseled boat ties on pillars 80 ft above the base. Mohammed, our guide, suggested that the river was used to move the boulders for the pyramids and to float the granite obelisks carved from a single stone to their emplacement. The other explanation: “aliens moved the rocks!” became the running joke. So, while the population of Egypt was approximately 3-10 million during ancient times, the river was a blessing. However, over the centuries, the benefits were overshadowed by non-agricultural problems and obstacles that hindered population growth and civilization’s advances. Yet the river remains as critical today as it was during Ancient Egypt, but different. The “Taming of the Nile” era began about three centuries ago. I’ll cover that in a later post.
Our attempt to orient where we were headed created high-energy discussions among our group and guides. It tortured our minds a bit. Here is the issue. During prehistoric Egypt, Egypt was divided into Upper and Lower Egypt. Lower Egypt is down-river (towards the Mediterranean) or the northern part of Egypt. Upper Egypt is upriver – South, towards Sudan. At the beginning of the Ancient Egypt period, around 3100 BCE, the founder of the first Egyptian dynasty, King Narmer, united upper and lower Egypt and designated Memphis as the capital of Egypt. Memphis is about 12 miles south of Cairo demarking the two Egypts. Though united, the Upper and Lower Egypt reference continues to this day. Our minds use the familiar Cardinal directions as a key reference. However, the Egyptians used the flow of the Nile as a reference. So, when Mohammed talked about a trip to Upper Egypt, we had to translate that into a southern direction.
As I wrote in the Prologue, security, especially in Cairo, gave us reason to pause our choice to take this trip. Here is what we experienced. Upon arriving at the Cairo airport, we passed passport control and proceeded to the van that would take us to our hotel. However, we could not leave until the police cleared us. Arriving at our gated hotel compound, the guards confirmed the number of passengers with the number listed by the airport police. After passing this first gate, we stopped at a second barrier and waited until they checked our vehicle’s undercarriage with mirrors on the end of long poles and walked an explosive-sniffing dog around our vehicle. A security person would always accompany us. Yes, they were armed with concealed weapons. Should we be fearful or concerned with all these weapons, or should we feel secure that they protect us? I decided to subscribe to the latter.
Early the following day, after only 3 hours of sleep, we returned to the Cairo Airport to fly south to Luxor, where we would embark on the ship River Tosca, our floating home for the next ten days.
Map of our Egyptian Journey
We symbolically entered a time-machine transporter at the Cairo airport and passed through two sequential screening stations. The screening included technology and a full-body pat-down. Men and women had to line up in separate lines. After a short flight to Luxor, we endured a security procedure like Cairo’s – passport control and waiting to be cleared by the police to leave. Departing the airport felt like we exited the time-machine transporter and stepped into Ancient Egypt.
Exiting our Time Machine
Our first stop was the Temple of Karnak. It is the second most visited historical site (the Giza Pyramids are first) of Ancient Egypt. Karnak is amazing. It was developed over 1500 years, starting in 2000 BCE, and is the largest religious complex in the world. More than 30 pharaohs made changes by adding to or modifying the complex. It is divided into three precincts: Amun, Mut, Montu, and several other minor temples and sanctuaries. Only the most noted precinct, Amun, is open to the public. The large, 50,000 sq ft Great Hypostyle Hall is defined by 134 columns arranged in 16 rows. Most are 33 ft tall, but 10 reach a height of 69 ft and a 10 ft diameter. The girders connecting the tops of columns weigh approximately 70 tons.
Model of the Karnak Temple
Lion entrance to Karnak Templelined with lion statues
Great Hypostyle Hall of Karnak Complex
Hypostyle Hall 70 ton girders bridging columns
Karnak’s large obelisk
After four hours of emersion into this exceptional place – the grand and the details, we were ready for a respite. The travel, time change, and lack of sleep produced a haziness that undoubtedly impacted our ability to see, hear, and absorb information. Thankfully it was time to head for the ship. But first, another security check at the dock. It was a walk-through, a scanning arch that triggered an alarm for anyone walking through. Several military personnel carrying automatic weapons mulled around but paid no attention to the warnings. A warm welcome by the staff and a glass of watermelon refresher awaited us on board. Fantastic! Time to settle into our suites, shed our tired travel clothes, unpack, and take a moment to reflect that we are HERE! Egypt! The moment drifted away by the mild vibration of the ship as the engines engaged. We cast off and began moving to the center of the Nile River.
Arriving at the River Tosca ship
Opening the sliding door of our French Balcony brought in the balmy 80-degree temperature, the smell of burning sugar cane, and the occasional Islamic call to prayer. Our mind’s eye could readerly visualize sitting on the deck of the steamship SS Sudan (Death on the Nile film, 2004), sipping a Great Sphinx cocktail (Vodka, Soda, Lemon, and Apple Syrup). Marvelous! Living in the moment! Very peaceful and restorative after hectic days.
It’s been exactly three years since completing our Antarctica trip and disembarking our ship M.S. Roald Amundson, in Punta Arena, Chile. The Corona Virus was spreading over Earth like a haboob. The virus had been a topic of intense interest and much discussion during our voyage. We took refuge in the knowledge that our ship was virus free, as were all the research stations in Antarctica. We had been in a safe place. But as we docked in Punta Arena, we could feel the cloud of the virus heading in our direction, just hours away. Our flight home started in Punta Arena with Santiago, and Mexico City stops. No one was wearing masks. We received the news as we switched planes in Mexico City that our ship, which took on a new set of passengers as we left, was put into quarantine. New passengers had carried the virus on board. The ship and everyone on board was quarantined and remained in port for 12 days. We dodged a bullet!
Soon after arriving home, the U.S. barred all flights from South America. We made it just in time.
As COVID protocols became mandatory in our area, all aspects of daily life were affected. We canceled plans for a Northern UK/Scotland/Iceland trip. We also scrapped a journey from Moscow to St. Petersburg (before the Ukraine conflict.) We had to adjust our mind’s focal length of travel destinations from worldwide to something much smaller – an opportunity to re-invent our life rhythm.
T.S. Eliot’s words come to mind:
“For last year’s words belong to last year’s language And next year’s words await another voice. And to make an end is to make a beginning.”
We focused on home, taking online classes, writing, producing home movies, delving into spirituality, and getting closer to our families via Zoom. We put a lot of energy into creating a showcase yard by adding forest paths, Asian garden art, and specimen plants, all anchored by an open pavilion to sit and enjoy the serenity of nature framed with beautiful sunsets.
Our backyard with a visitor to taste some new growth.
As if by magic, the Universe presented us with an opportunity last year: an excursion to Egypt, Cairo, Alexandria, and of course, The Nile. Exciting! YES, but maybe a little scary!
I have been fascinated with Egypt since my teens. One of the book sets I had purchased was Lawrence Durrell’s The Alexandria Quartet…yes, it’s still on my bookcase! So starting our journey with a few days in Alexandria seemed exciting and romantic. But first, let’s look at ‘scary.’ It has two components: Is Egypt safe? And are we ready to break out of the shell we’ve inhabited these last three years – a bold move? Well, the answer to the previous question is an enthusiastic YES.
The safety cloud over Egypt remains. The U.S. Department of State gives Egypt an Advisory Level 3 rating – ‘Reconsider Travel.’ Alexandria’s Safety Index is 49, while Cairo’s is 39 on a scale of 100…the higher, the safer. The bottom line, it is moderately safe. The six hours on the road from Cairo to Alexandria is rated as a much greater risk. The travel time would give us only 3 hours in Alexandria. To minimize risk, we decided to skip it and spend more in-depth time in Cairo. We countered any remaining hesitancy by watching Death on the Nile, Cairo Time movies, and reading The House Built on Sand by Peter Townsend. Serendipitously, we had just toured the Ramses and Pharaoh’s Gold exhibit (180 objects from Egypt) at the de Young Museum in San Francisco just before last Christmas. The stars seemed to be aligning! We’re going.
The area adjacent to the Nile River, extending along the coast of the Mediterranean Sea, was part of the Fertile Crescent that nurtured the expansion of human culture, originating in Mesopotamia, dating back more than two and a half million years. The Nile’s flooding deposited rich soil that fueled civilization in Egypt over seven thousand years – beginning about 5,000 BC. The Pharaonic period started in 3,000 BC with the reign of King Narmer and continued through thirty-two dynasties. The Pharaonic period ended with the death of Cleopatra in 30 B.C. and marked the end of the Hellenistic period (Alexander the Great). Rome annexed Egypt and continued to rule for seven centuries. Following the Roman period, Egypt endured tides of conquering foreign armies, race, religion, colonization, and politics that washed over the region and continue to do so to this day. The last upheaval, a political event, was the 25 January Revolution in 2011 -2013. Unrest continued into 2014 when the newly approved constitution banned political parties based on religion and the country democratically elected military strongman Abdel Tattah el-Sisi as President. He won a second term in the 2018 election. While the next scheduled election is in 2024, last year’s overwhelming approval of a constitutional referendum postponed the election until 2026, increased the Presidential term from 5 to 6 years, and allowed for a third Presidential term. It means el-Sisi could remain in power until 2030. It endorsed the desire for stability. The struggle to agree on Egypt’s identity continues to fuel unrest: Which dominates their identity – are they Arabs, Muslims, or Egyptians? Periodically, this spilled over into acts of terrorism, hence the Level 3 advisory by the U.S. Department of State.
Many museums (Berlin, New York, Chicago, San Francisco, etc.) have antiquity exhibits focused on the Pharaonic period, filled with artifacts – some acquired via suspect sojourns. Whenever we think of Egypt, we mainly visualize Pharaonic icons such as the pyramids, King Tut’s mask, the Sphinx, and archeological digs. Unfortunately, thieves have desecrated many Egyptian burial sites and temples in search of gold and other treasures. Additionally, international archeological teams have absconded artifacts to enrich their museums. It’s one thing to examine an artifact as a single point and yet another to see the context from which it came. I believe the full-scale setting will add dimensions to connect the dots of artifacts into an impactful, four-dimensional vista.
Our itinerary heavily focuses on the Pharaonic era, including Luxor, Valley of the Kings, and temples at Kom Ombo, Isis, and Khnum. While visiting these ancient jewels is a once-in-a-lifetime experience, my mission is to get a more contemporary sense of Egypt’s culture with a focus on religion. The Greek Apostle Mark spearheaded the patriarchate of Christianity in Alexandria in 42 A.D. Alexandria became the epicenter of Christianity. Egypt remained Christian until the 7th century when Muslims conquered the region. Religious domains of Paganism, Christianity, and Muslim continued to enmesh with many episodes of friction and conflict. The Egyptian Christians remain and are known as Copts. They are the second largest religion behind Muslims, yet only represent about 5% of the population. Cairo is the melding center of three apexes: Muslimism, Egyptian, and Arab. I’m hoping to get a sense of which dominates.
Our itinerary includes four days in the Cairo area and eight days on the Nile River, with stops at notable towns, temples, and mosques dating back to the Pharaonic period. We will sail upstream to the giant Aswan Dam, completed in 1970. The dam controls flooding downstream, generates electricity, increases water storage for irrigation, and fuels industrialization. It will be interesting to learn how the combination of the dam and climate change will impact the future of Egypt.
Itinerary of our travels in Egypt
I’m looking forward to exploring this part of the world. Note, dependent on internet access, I may need to postpone publishing daily posts at a later time.
“Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.”
Carl Jung
We began our sea days by emerging from the sheltered channel between Nelson and Robert islands in the Shetland Islands cluster, to experience the infamous Drake Passage yet again. Unlike the pond-like conditions we experienced a couple of weeks earlier on our way down to Antarctica, the seas were more in line with its punishing reputation as a challenge to any seafarer. It served up a rock’n’roll ride worthy of the Passage’s repute.
South Shetland Islands
Confident that we had acquired sea-legs over the last couple of weeks, we started the day with a brisk 10,000 step walk on the ship’s oval, outdoor track. Stay in shape. Burn calories.
The rhythmic pitch and yaw, along with strong headwinds and near-freezing temperatures, gave us quite a challenge as we weaved our way around the track. Periodically, a roque wave would break the rhythm, causing the ship to shutter and thrust us against the handrails. Well, 10,000 steps were not going to happen. Given that we were chilled to the bone, it was time to warm up with a hot cup of coffee and enjoy a hearty breakfast. The dining room staff quickly came to our aid and carried our trays as we grabbed anything nearby to secure our balance.
Walking steps on the observation deck
The grey monochromatic scene of low clouds, waves, and white caps offered little to capture our interest. Perhaps a floating daydream, or thoughts of how things are going at home. It was an excellent day to stay in, taking advantage of the many lectures, the Antarctic themed movies, skill classes, or thoughtful discussions with our travel companions. As we returned to our cabin, the crew left an invitation from our Captain, Torry Sakkariassen, to join him on the ship’s bridge, for a first-hand view of the ship’s control center.
Until then, a lecture on the Secci Disk by Dr. Richard Kirby seemed most interesting. Dr. Richard Kirby is a marine scientist who has spent his career studying plankton. More specifically, Richard’s research interests lie in how climate change and humans (e.g., fishing, plastics, etc.) impact plankton and the food network it supports.
First, a few notes re phytoplankton (the plantlike community of plankton), which live in the photic zone (near the surface) of oceans and other water bodies, and can reach depths of up to 600 feet, depending on water temperature and amount of sunlight. These organisms range from 0.002 to 0.04 inches (a human hair is approximately 0.004 inches) in size. Phytoplankton accounts for more than 50% of Earth’s photosynthesis that assimilates carbon dioxide and releases oxygen. It is the foundation for the marine food chain, ultimately a food (e.g., fish, shrimp) source for humans. Phytoplankton depends on nutrients delivered by rivers, land erosion, and polar melt. Hence, the health of Phytoplankton serves as an excellent barometer of our planet’s health.
So how can we measure the amount of Phytoplankton in bodies of water? These organisms directly affect the turbidity or transparency of water. A simple scientific tool to measure turbidity is the Secchi disk. The Secchi disk, invented by Angelo Secchi in 1865, is a round, white or white/black disk attached to a lanyard. The freshwater disk is 8 inches in diameter, while the marine disk is 12 inches.
Secchi Disk
The disk is lowered slowly in the water until it is no longer visible. The depth wherein it is no longer visible is the Secchi Depth.
Measuring the Secchi Depth
Measuring the amount of Phytoplankton instantly in time and place may be easy, but attempts to draw overall conclusions are very difficult and controversial. The number of variables is vast: atmospheric and marine temperatures, amount of sunlight, time of year, month, day, and the number of nutrients and land-based pollution (herbicides, pesticides, fertilizers) and melting rate of polar icecaps, just to name a few. Narrow studies such as those conducted for Lake Tahoe and Lake Erie have shown the variables’ impact. Still, a lack of useful historic data thwarts attempts to agree on the long term trend. According to Dr. Kirby, there is a ‘general’ agreement that the world’s Phytoplankton has declined by 40% over the last 50 years. Alarm Bell! Something we should take to heart when looking at the survival of homo sapiens. So what can we do? For one, we can participate by measuring the Secci depth whenever we venture out on a boat.
Public science is Dr. Kirby’s passion. He started the Secci Disk study in 2013 to measure the Phytoplankton in Earth’s oceans. Any seafarer may participate and contribute measurements to the research, which is ongoing without an end date or geographic boundaries. You can download the smartphone application, Secchi, which provides instructions, storage of measurements, and automatic submittal when an internet link is available. All you need is a Secchi disk, a line, and a moment to measure while on water. We measured the Secci Depth every time we stopped and launched our science boat.
After the lecture, I had an opportunity to sit down with him and ask questions. Given the decline of Phytoplankton, what can we do to stop further deterioration and hopefully reverse it? Addressing global warming is on top of his list. His actions list includes reducing pollution from chemicals in our land use, reducing microplastics, eliminating population growth, changing to plant-based food diets. As humans consume other species (cattle, chicken, snake, rodent, etc.), it increases the probability of pandemic type viruses jumping to humans. Pandemics carry the potential to dramatically affecting the world population, not dissimilar to the Black Plague in the Fourteenth Century. That pandemic killed approximately 50% of Europe’s population and a quarter of the world’s population. A worldwide epidemic is not a desirable alternative to limiting or reducing population. Today we are experiencing the Corona Virus Pandemic. What will be the ultimate impact? How many people will die worldwide? Our scientific and health care acumen will surely check the effect to avoid a Black Plague scale scourge. But, how many more pandemics are just around the corner? What can I do to ensure a healthy Earth for our children and grandchildren? In terms of what I can do to help the environment – move to a plant-based diet, reduce consumption, reduce my carbon footprint.
Taking a break from this weighty topic, it was time to head for the ship’s bridge to meet our captain, Torry Sakkariassen. While he refers to himself as the ‘Ship’s Driver,’ the female passengers referred to him as Captain Marvelous. All of them want to make sure they could have a fun photograph with him.
Roselie with the captain
Sue with Captain Marvelous
There were only six guests in our group, so we could walk around, talk to the captain, but “Don’t touch anything!” The bridge looks just like what we’ve seen in the movie Star Trek’s USS Enterprise. It has a raised, central seat for the captain, just like Captain Kirk’s. From this seat, he has complete control of the ship and can monitor all systems. There is no steering wheel, nor helmsperson. The ship is either under his direct control or on autopilot. His helm is a joystick to his armrest’s right, which he uses to steer the boat and adjust the speed.
Exploring the Bridge
Traditional anchoring requires a ship to drop its ‘hook,’ considering a complex set of parameters such as how much chain to let out, the depth, and the type of bottom to set the anchor. The ship would need room to swing around the anchor point as currents and the winds change. The swing circle would need to be of sufficient diameter and to be free of submerged hazards. It is no longer the case in our next-generation ship. Once the captain decides the place and orientation to anchor, he merely hits a button. The boat will use GPS to stay fixed at this location and orientation.
Location of ship’s drives
Drive propeller
How does it stay in place? The two Azipull thrusters that drive the ship can each independently rotate 360 degrees. Therefore the ship has no need for a rudder. The computing system uses the main thrusters and two side thrusters, which are always engaged, to hold the ship’s position within 30 feet. OK, enough of this nerdy stuff.
It was time to return to the observation deck, check out the scenery…nothing has changed…the same grey portrait. It was time to enjoy a glass of wine and exchange news on what was happening in our country and the world. We felt very fortunate to have this window of opportunity to experience the Antarctic, which by the way, has no Corona Virus. It was also a moment to reflect on how we live life, learning, and dipping into philosophy to examine our purpose. It was a quiet, thoughtful discussion in a salon setting…visions of a Gertrude Stein-like gathering in her Paris home come to mind. It was a lovely day of looking inside, reviewing our purpose, and imagining changes each of us can each make.
“The most dangerous worldviews are the worldviews of those who never viewed the world.”
…Alexander von Humboldt
The Prussian explorer, geographer, naturalist, and polymath (1769 – 1859) lived during Europe’s Romantic period. His works set the stage for the field of biogeography. Thru extensive travel and research in the Americas, he sought to combine branches of science and culture to create a view of the world as one interconnected system yet a component of a holistic universe. He was one of the first to propose that South America and Africa were once joined and to describe climate change caused by humans. Humboldt had a significant influence on Darwin and his scientific journey on the Beagle. Humboldt was a role model. Darwin carried several volumes of Humboldt’s works with him on his Beagle journey, for both inspiration and guidance.
The quote resonates with discussions we’ve had among our small group of travelers. We are concerned and saddened by the increasing amplitude and number of nationalistic epicenters led by nearsighted leaders who can’t see beyond their borders – geographically or culturally. Acquiring or keeping power is the key driver. Yet, we are encouraged and optimistic that, at the populist level, more people are traveling and striving to be a citizen of the world. Nothing beats travel to explore areas unknown to get a worldview. So, we muse about our current explorer trip, fashioning ourselves as wannabe Humboldts or Darwins, exploring the edge of civilizations as we know it, albeit from a berth of comfort and luxury.
An overnight camping-on-ice experience had to be canceled because it was too warm. Since it was late in the summer, with record-breaking high temperatures in the campsite area, most of the snow had melted, and the ice field was pitted with pools of slush. As evidence, the highest temperature ever recorded was 65 degrees Fahrenheit, two weeks earlier, on February 7, 2020, at the Argentine Research Station Esperanza in Hope Bay, just a short distance northeast from Orne Island.
Argentine Station
The journey continues as we leave Danco and Orne Islands along the Errera Channel– continuing northeast along the northern shores of the Antarctic Peninsula, towards our next destination, the Falkland Islands, with a stop and landing at Deception Island.
Sailing the Errera Channel served up spectacular scenes of the peninsula coastline, with the setting sun delivering postcard-grade views during dinner.
Dinner with a surreal viewView of Danco Island at sunset
As night set, we exited the channel and the leeward side protection provided by the Brabant Island and moved into open seas. The night delivered rough seas and very high winds. We were frequently awakened by loud bangs, as the ship shuddered when its hull slapped down in the trough, after launching off the peak of a high wave. Trips to the head during the night were a challenge, hanging on to anything available and bouncing off the walls. How long could I wait before I had no choice but to make the trip? The answer falls into the category of TMI!
The light of dawn gave us a view of the rough seas and a low, grey cloud cover. The captain announced that we would be arriving at Deception Island shortly but that it was not clear whether we could make a landing. We were encountering winds of more than 50 mph.
Approaching Neptune’s Bellows entrance to Deception Island Caldron
Deception Island, part of the South Shetland Islands, is located South-West of the main islands. It was formed between 8,300 BC and 4,000 BC when a volcano’s mantle collapsed. The volcano, with a base of about 18 miles in diameter, rose about 4,600 above the seafloor to a height of 1,800 feet above sea level. Current estimates are that more than 2.2 million cubic feet of magma erupted before the collapse of the mantle, which created the caldera. The horseshoe-shaped, 9.3-mile diameter caldron was flooded with seawater entering through an opening in the rim, Neptune’s Bellows. The volcano continues to be very active, with 20 events occurring during the last 200 years. The most recent eruptions in 1967, 1969 and 1970, caused damage to permanent structures on the island. As recently as 2014 and 2015, notable volcanic activities were a reminder that a significant eruption could occur at any moment. It raises concern for scientists, support people, and tourists that ‘it might blow’ at any moment. Being brave, we took our chances!
Deception Island on a clear dayMap of Deception Island
A British sealer first discovered the island in 1820. He never noticed the opening, so he just listed it as an ordinary island. Later that same year, an American sealer, Palmer, discovered the narrow entrance, Neptune’s Bellows. He named the island “Deception Island” because while it appears to be a typical island, inside was a safe harbor providing shelter to ships from the harsh winds and seas reaching across the Southern Atlantic Ocean. This safe port accelerated the sealing industry.
The entrance is so small and disguised that early sailors had difficulty locating the opening. Once having survived the entry through Neptune’s Bellows, they found a natural, safe harbor that offered relief from the harsh winds and seas from the Atlantic Ocean. The discovery launched the lucrative seal fur business, bringing up to 100 ships into Whaler’s Bay. The seal business had a short life, as the seals were hunted to near extinction by 1825. The island was ignored by humans until 1904 when the whaling industry, centered in South Georgia, sought to reach further away from home base. A fleet of hunting ships accompanied a factory ship to process whales that were towed alongside by the whale hunters. These factory ships needed to be moored to process these mammoth marine mammals. Whalers’ Bay, inside Deception Island’s caldron, offered the perfect conditions for these factories. At times, more than ten factory ships were in full operation, with the crews living in temporary accommodations onshore.
Processing a whale alongside whale factory ship
The factory ships would strip the fat from the whales that were tied alongside–cutting, pulling, and hoisting the sheets of fat off the sides of the whales. Once stripped of this outer blubber, thousands of carcasses were abandoned to an ad hoc graveyard along the shore. More than 40% of the available oil from each whale was wasted. To extract more oil, a Norwegian company constructed an onshore processing factory to process the carcasses, which was highly profitable. This onshore facility was short-lived. The 1920s brought online a new class of factory ships, equipped with slipways, enabling them to drag the whole whale onboard for processing without needing to be anchored. They would follow the whale hunting fleet, like a mother ship, to handle the kills underway without needing to set their anchor. By 1931, the Deception Island factory was shut down and abandoned, ending the whaling era for the island.
The island stayed abandoned until 1944 when the British built a research station (Base B) in Whaler’s Bay, as part of a British WWII military mission. The construction of the British site was followed by an Argentine station in 1948 and then a Chilean station in 1955. I believe that the research stations were but a guise to reflect the conflicting territorial claims of the island by the three countries. The Antarctica Treaty of 1959 resolved the conflict, by removing all nations’ claims. As a result, the British removed their station as required by the treaty, but the Argentine and Chilean bases remained. The volcanic activities in 1967 damaged these bases, which forced them to evacuate all personnel. They restored the stations for research but only for use during the summer months. There is no permanent crew on the station. Deception Island is a popular tourist stop for cruise ships and tour operators.
Our ship, the MS Roald Amundsen, is one that will be calling today. Our captain announced that we were approaching the 755-foot wide entrance to the caldera–Neptune’s Bellows. I went topside to watch our entry. The weather was ugly; the cloud ceiling was only a couple of hundred feet above the choppy water. Most features were unrecognizable, shrouded in fog and clouds. Navigating the entrance was tricky. In the center of the opening, 8 feet below the water surface, rests a significant hazard, Raven’s Rock. It has claimed several ships over the years. Our boat will need to enter by hugging the rock cliffs on our starboard side, only about 200 feet to our side. The visibility was terrible. The tops of the cliffs were in the clouds. Not much to see, and even less to photograph.
Norwegian whaling factory on the beach of Deception IslandDebri from a destroyed research station
As we exited Neptune’s Bellows, Whaler’s Bay to the starboard was the safe harbor for the whaling factory ships. We could barely make out the remains of the whale oil factory. The fog made everything look black and white…no colors. We proceeded into Port Foster and made way to Pendulum Cove, our intended landing site. It was frigid, with snow and ice flurries, along with a 35-mph wind. A decision re the excursion would be made after an advance team scouted the landing beach.
35 mph wind along the beach of Deception Island
We could hardly see the Kodiak as it faded in the fog close to land. A half-hour later, we received clearance for a landing with several restrictions. Weather conditions were harsh, visibility limited, and there were very high gusts of wind. The expedition team staked out a path, using red flags 25 feet apart to mark the trail we needed to follow. It was a circular path about ¼ mile in diameter, on the black, volcanic cinder-like ‘beach’ adjacent to our landing site. The cloud cover and fog restricted visibility. There would be no ad hoc walks or wandering about today.
Walking the beach
We could see the ruins of the Chilean Station Pedro Agkure Cenda. It was destroyed by the volcanic eruption in 1967. Under the 1956 Antarctic Treaty, all structures and equipment must be removed once a station is no longer active. The cost of dismantling and hauling away all debris is very costly. To avoid this cost, Chile finagled to have it declared a Historical Site and Monuments in the Antarctic under the Antarctic Treaty System. The British used this same mechanism to avoid the cost of dismantling most of their 26 deactivated bases in Antarctica. It would have been interesting to get a closer look at the ‘monument’, aka Chilean debris.
Yup! It’s HOT!
Hot water seeps up from the depths of the volcano. As evidence, one of the guides dug a shallow hole in the sand. It filled with hot water from natural hot springs seeping up from below. I’m not sure of the exact temperature, but it felt hot to the touch–not one I’d simmer in as a thermal hot tub (see the photo below from another expedition).
A an improvised hot tup – Deception Island spa
Early afternoon we set sail for the Falkland Islands. We followed the South Shetland islands to our port side until we were dead south of our final destination before we took a channel through the islands into the Drake Passage. Tomorrow will be a sea day, arriving in Stanley the day after tomorrow.
With a glass of wine in hand, it was an opportunity to reflect what we had seen and experienced during the past 12 days. It is a spectacular region of Earth. On the one hand, everyone should experience this continent, yet too much tourism could easily harm the eco-system. I came to realize that humans have had a greater impact than I expected. As you can see in the chart below, there are presently 70 permanent research stations, representing 29 countries, dotting the continent. Really! How many research stations do we need for scientific purposes? Granted that while all 29 countries are signatories of the 1959 treaty and thus relinquished territory rights, the playing field just shifted to the scientific or intellectual ‘territorial’ ambitions of these countries. I can’t reconcile the treaty’s intent to preserve the wellbeing of the continent, given a large number of active facilities along with the debris from abandoned stations scattered throughout.
How many research stations do we need?
So, we’ve left Antarctica behind, but fantastic memories will continue to bring back the awe and spirit we experienced. It exceeded all my expectations!
About 20 years ago, I took a ski lesson in Deer Valley, Utah, where my ski instructor talked about his life and work as we rode the chairlifts up the mountain. Born in Argentina, he decided to pursue his passion for skiing with a career as a ski instructor. He teaches skiing in Utah from November through March, then heads south to teach skiing at one the Patagonian ski resorts during their winter months. When he is not skiing, he treks through his favorite place in the world: Patagonia. That sparked my curiosity, for I knew nothing about Patagonia. Listening to his tales, the region promises the unknown and adventure. In 2006, we visited several spots in Patagonia on our way to Antarctica. Our time was limited, given that our primary objective was Antarctica and other parts of South America. The closest we got to experience the mystery was a six-hour hike on the tundra, in the foothills of mountains near Punta Arenas. It was breathtaking: clear air, clear skies, a quiet place to meditate and reflect.
2006 Patagonia
2006 Patagonia Foothills
Similarly, this year’s trip was focused on exploring Antarctica, but differed in that Patagonia was the launch point of our journey. We spent four days cruising the fjords, including a stop at Cape Horn. Seeing, experiencing the area, accentuated with onboard lectures on essential features and history gave me a greater understanding. Let’s set the stage.
The Patagonian region is made up of the lowest third of the South American continent, about 15% larger than Texas. The population is only two million. Early on, both Chile and Argentina claimed the region. Rivers and the Andes Mountain served as unofficial, natural borders and minimized contact and hence conflict. However, in the very southern area, the contention was strong. The Andes Mountain range was like a spine for the South American continent. Starting in the Caribbean area in the North, then following the West coast of South America until it ultimately reaches its end in Antarctica. About 15 million years ago, the Antarctic plate subducted beneath the South American plate, allowing the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans to meld. Antarctica’s Transarctic Mountain range was initially part of the Andes.
The Colorado River delineates the northern border of Patagonia. The southern boundary is not defined by any geological feature, but rather by treaty. Spanning many years, a series of agreements have clarified these borders. The entrance to the Magellan Straits is the cornerstone. The northern-southern border between Chile and Argentina is an arbitrary, vertical line across Tierra del Fuego. East of the line is Argentina, and West is Chile (see the map below).
Map of Patagonia
Approximately 10% of Patagonia is in Chile, and the rest is in Argentina. Magellan discovered the Straits in 1520 on his quest to find a route to the East Indies. Following his discovery, Spain made several attempts to establish settlements to defend its right to the territory and to protect the straits from pirates. It was not until 1843 that Spain launched an expedition along the Straits of Magellan, with the specific mission to build a fort and thus claim the region. Over subsequent years, the settlement was relocated a couple of times, finally ending up in its current location, Ponta Arenas. Later it served as a penal colony, a posting for unruly military personnel, and a melting pot of immigrants from Chile and pirates who wanted a different life.
Punta Arenas continued to grow as a key resupply port for ships traveling between Europe and the Far East until the Panama Canal opened in 1913. In 1870 British immigrants settled in Punta Arenas and started sheep farming for wool. By 1890, the wool business dominated the economy. Ultimately, more than 2 million head of sheep occupied 12 thousand square miles of grasslands around the Straits of Magellan. Today, the economy is dominated by agriculture and support for scientific expeditions to the Antarctic. More than 130 cruise ship visits are expected this year during the short four-month summer season.
The area south of the Straits of Magellan consists of mountains, lakes, glaciers, and islands interconnected by a network of channels, including the famous Beagle Channel. After boarding our ship, the MS Roald Amundsen, in Punta Arenas, we sailed south with the aid of a local navigation pilot that would captain the ship through the labyrinth of channels, including the Cockburn Channel. We reached the western entrance to the Beagle Channel by early morning. The 150-mile channel was named after the ship, Beagle, which was used to survey this region between 1826 and 1830. The Beagle subsequently carried a young naturalist, Charles Darwin, to record his first sighting of a glacier in January of 1833. That first glacier marked the beginning of a stretch of the Beagle Channel referred to as Glacier Alley that parades five tidewater glaciers named after countries: Holland, Italy, France, Germany, and Spain.
I recall that during the 2006 trip, we sailed this same Glacier Alley. The ice scientists onboard announced that these glaciers are receding as a result of global warming and might not be visible in five years. To see if this was true, I pulled out a few photographs I had taken during our 2006 trip, to compare with what I was seeing now. Not discounting the reality of global warming, I noted the glaciers seemed the same, without noticeable change. I’m sure there was a change, but as the saying goes, it all moves at glacier speeds.
We continued, sailing past the Argentinian town of Ushuaia, on our way to Port Williams, where we secured clearance to travel to Antarctica. As we headed to our next destination, Cape Horn, we had ample time to attend lectures about Patagonia: geology, fauna, flora, and human presence. I attended the geology sessions but was most interested in the human presence lecture.
The lecturer was Luciano Galvez-Martinez. Born in Santiago, he considers Patagonia his home. He had studied Translation and Conference Interpreting (English, Spanish, and German) at the University of Concepción, Chile. He was awarded two scholarships by the DAAD to study at the IIK Düsseldorf and the Universität Leipzig. His specialty is Patagonia and Tierra del Fuego. He worked for seven years as a tour guide in Torres del Paine, and he was part of the expedition team onboard the Stella Australis in Tierra del Fuego and Cape Horn for an entire year.
While not an anthropologist, he did weave a viable story of how humans ended up in this part of the world. Admittedly, anthropologists have developed a range of theories based on DNA sequencing and discovery of human remains, but no unified agreement on how humans came to Patagonia. Nonetheless, there is general consensus that humans did occupy Patagonia as far back as 10,000 years ago.
Luciano’s recital has humans originating in North Africa, migrating across the Asian continent about 25,000 years ago. They continued East, crossing the Bering land bridge between Asia and Alaska, about 15,000 years ago. Driven by their search for available food, they continued south along the western parts of North and South America to arrive at the southern tip of South America about 10,000 years ago. Over time, five indigenous tribes with different cultures began to emerge, based on where they lived and how they acquired food. Hunters or gatherers, inland or coastal, religious beliefs, and language defined their culture and survival. At the time of Magellan’s exploration, Patagonia was populated by five indigenous tribes. Some depended on agriculture, while others lived as hunter-gatherers. Tribes in the eastern part of Patagonia typically traveled by foot, while those in the west and south depended on canoes to navigate the fjords and channels.
Tribes of Patagonia
The indigenous group, Tehuelches, were the first people Fernando Magellan encountered on discovering what is now referred to as the Straits of Magellan. While wintering in San Julian Bay, Magellan’s crew found tracks left in the muddy ground by enormous feet. They fantasized that these people must be giants. Fantasy met reality when they spied a man strolling along the shoreline. Magellan sent a crew member, Piqafetta, ashore, to investigate. Encountering the very tall native, he noticed that his oversized footprints were made by the guanaco-leather moccasins. The native was very tall, more than six and a half feet in height. Considering that at that time, the average European male was just over four and a half feet tall, it was reasonable to label these people as giants. Magellan thus named them Patagonians, after a mythical giant character, Pathoagon, in a popular 16th-century Spanish novel. However, as they learned more about the people of the region, they were referred back to by their actual name, Tehuelches.
The Tehuelches (Aonikenk) people were nomadic hunter-gatherers who followed the Guanaco (Llama) herds. Both the Guanaco and rheas (a large, flightless bird, more than five feet tall and related to the ostrich) were the primary sources of food, clothing, and tools. They hunted on foot, with bow and arrow, until the introduction of horses in the middle of the 17th century. They captured wild horses, probably descendants of horses left behind by the sixteenth-century conquistadors. Horses provided many benefits – food, muscle to help with heavy work, bones for tools, and hides to build a shelter for protection from the harsh environment. They also increased the hunting range and changed the way they hunted. Riding horses, they could chase their prey and throw a bola (two or three stones the size of a lacrosse ball, tied together by long wires) aimed at their feet to wrap the legs and bring them down, making the kill much easier. While men were responsible for the security of the family, care of the horses, and hunting, the women’s duties included gathering firewood, getting water, cooking, making clothing, and raising their children. A man could have several wives, depending on his stature in the tribe and his wealth, which was generally measured by the number of horses he owned. Their clothing was made from animal hides, with the fur side against the skin, unlike our fur coats.
Young Tehuelche 1863
Tehuelche elder
With the arrival of the Europeans, the impact on their thousand-year-old lifestyle was dramatic. They were forced to abandon their nomadic life and to learn how to farm and raise sheep. These changes, along with exposure to new diseases and alcohol, set them on the path to extinction. José Maria Cuai, who died in 1960 at the age of 90, was the last full-blooded Tehuelche.
Tehuelche Women and Children
The next group, the Selknam people, numbered about 4,000 people when the first Europeans arrived in the 1880s. They were concentrated in the East, on the largest island in the Tierra del Fuego archipelago (see map). They were hunters. Despite the cold climate, their clothing was minimal. In contrast to the Tehuelche people, the Selkam made clothing from animal hides, with the fur facing out…like our fur coats.
Selknam ready for the initiation ceremony
Their religious beliefs, based on multiple spirits, played a significant role in the ceremony to transition to manhood. The secretive, male initiation (Hain) ceremony would test both physical and mental strength and could last for months. The ceremony reminded me of the passage to adulthood (minus the circumcision) ceremony practiced by the Maasai in Tanzania and Kenya. Black body paint, white stripes, the period of sequester to learn skills assigned to males, and tests are just a few similarities.
The Killing of Selknam people
Late in the 19th century, British settlers arrived to develop the land and brought in sheep herds purchased in the Falklands, converting the land to pasture fields, thereby pushing the Selknam off their traditional ground and reducing their hunting areas. Both the Chilean and Argentinian governments endorsed the encroachment to support economic growth. Not understanding the concept of private property or ownership, the Selknams hunted the farmers’ sheep, which were much easier to bring down than their traditional prey. Attempts to teach the Selknam to honor property were fruitless. Eventually, the settlers began to consider them as sub-human, embarking on the genocide of the Selknam people. Some of the sheep ranchers even offered a bounty ( one pound sterling) for every Selknam killed and confirmed by a pair of ears or hands. Some ranchers also reverted to killing by poisoning their food. Luciano showed photos of successful hunters, proud, rifle bearing, horse riding ranchers displaying their kill (very gruesome). One group of Selknams was rounded up in 1895 and relocated to Dawson Island, where they were handed over to the Salesian (Catholic) mission to be evangelized and ‘civilized.’ Some were sent to settlers as workers. When training them failed, the settlers took the children from their parents and gave them away. A group of 11 Selknams was captured and taken to Europe to be displayed much like zoo animals. Others died from diseases introduced by the Europeans. Angela Loij, the last full-blood Selknam, died in 1974.
Selknam captives en route to Europe
Selknam family on display and to perform in Europe
Living adjacent to the Selknams, the Haush were a polygamous society of people numbering only about 500. They occupied the south-eastern finger of the Great Island, reaching east into the Atlantic Ocean. One theory is that the Haush were pushed into this finger of land as the Selknams expanded south. Despite hostilities, the two people shared many similarities in culture and ceremony. In addition to the coming-of-age ceremony, the Haush had numerous celebrations and rituals. Ceremonies could include competition and ordeals to determine who was the most powerful shaman. Unique to the Haush were ceremonies that included chanting into a trance, dancing, and walking barefoot over burning embers.
Haush woman staying warm
Haush family
Mariners rounding Cape Horn, including Captain James Cook, would see large fires lit by the Haush as they passed by, waving their capes of animal pelts and shouting like a roar, until dark. These fires were frequently used as navigational aids.
The Haush were not sea-going people. They subsisted on fish and marine mammals found along the shore. They ventured inland to hunt the guanaco, which provided material for their garments, as well as protein for their diets. The guanaco skin with the hair outside was worn as a cape for protection against the cold. When doing physical work, such as hunting, the wraps were discarded, leaving them completely naked. It was a tough life, adapting to one of the most brutal climates on earth.
The Haush were caught up in the genocidal campaign initiated against the Selknams and orchestrated by the Romanian born Julius Pooper. As the population dwindled, the Selknam and Haush survivors huddled and merged near Lake Fagnani. This remaining cluster succumbed to diseases brought in by the Europeans. The final blow was the measles epidemic in the 1920s, which wiped out the remaining people.
The next tribe, Yaghan, occupied the southernmost part of Patagonia, which includes Cape Horn. Population wise they numbered about 3,000 when Europeans arrived. They traveled between the many islands to secure food. Men hunted birds and mammals and fished. Women gathered seafood along the tidewaters and dove for shellfish.
Haush covered in grease as protection from the cold
Haush battle position
The Yaghan people were the most unusual tribe. In contrast to the other tribes who made use of animal furs to stay warm, the Yaghans wore little or no clothing. Luciano showed us several photographs as evidence, in which they looked to be completely naked but covered in a white paste. Almost like ghosts sitting in a canoe. The prevailing theory is that the Yaghan survived by evolving to a much higher metabolism than other humans. With a body temperature higher than ours, they could generate more body heat and stay warmer in cold climates. To deal with extreme conditions, they covered themselves with animal grease, most likely from sea lions. They built small fires and huddled in shelters configured with overturned canoes. As described by settlers, the climate consisted of 65 unpleasant days plus 300 days of rain per year.
Haush couple
In contrast to the Selknams, the Yahgans were short (men were ~ 5 ft. tall) with slight bodies. When Europeans arrived, they began to wear clothing…at the insistence of the Europeans. The British immigrants, driven by the search for gold and farming of sheep, initiated the demise of these people. Missionaries arrived to denigrate the Yahgan way of life, to ‘civilize the savages’, and to educate them to work on tasks unfamiliar to the Yahgans. Their objective was not to help them survive, but rather to make them ‘European-like.’ They exploited the Yahgans. Hunting and killing campaigns, similar to what the Selkmans experienced, relocation of many to designated reservation areas, intermarriage, and devastation by Europeans brought diseases, ultimately resulted in their disappearance. The only remaining full-blooded Yaghan alive today is Cristina Calderón. She lives in Puerto Williams, Chile. Chile named her a Living Human Treasure and put forth to UNESCO in 2003.
The fifth and last people were the Kaweshkar (a.k.a. Alaculufes), numbering about 5,000 when the Europeans began to settle their traditional land in the 1880s. They occupied the area along the western coast of Chile. They were nomadic, traveling by canoe and living off the bounty of the sea. Their longboats, as long as 30 feet, were made of strips of wood tied together. They were large enough to hold the whole family as well as their dog and possessions. The canoe carried a hearth in a clay pot, which they kept burning permanently.
Kaweshkar canoe and their belongingsKaweshkar woman
Just as was the case with other tribes, settlers muscled them out of their traditional land. Seal lion hunters depleted their crucial source of food. The combination of disrupting their traditional lifestyles, abuse of alcohol provided by the settlers as payment for work and goods, and the introduction of contagious diseases, began to dwindle their numbers. In 1881, a group of Kaweshkar people was taken to Paris and the Berlin Zoo by anthropologists to exhibit like animals. The remains of several that died in Europe were held by the University of Zurich for further study. In the 1930s, the remaining Kaweshkar were relocated to Wellington Island, as their reservation. Given their maritime culture, they never farmed the land they were forced to occupy. Subsequently, they were moved further south, to Punta Arenas. Hmm, sounds like a familiar story: relocating American Indians several times – recall the Trail of Tears – thank you, President Andrew Jackson. Today, the Kaweshkar people are gone.
Yet another sad collateral on homo sapiens’ path through their existence.
Reaching 70 degrees south and closer to the south pole than any ship this year presented an exciting opportunity. How can we not go for it? However, it does impact our itinerary as do weather and seas conditions. The envelope of our journey requires we reach the Falkland Islands by Tuesday.
The Antarctic world at 70 Degrees South
This demands we modify our plans. The Vernadsky Research Station stop, for example, was the result of the 70 degrees south decision, the high headwinds, and the risk of encountering ice build-up on the original course. As the captain announced, they settled on Plan E. It was a fortuitous consequence. I find it hard to believe that Plan A to stop at Port Charcot Island would have been better. Sometimes things work out far better.
Vernadsky Station
However, executing changes like this don’t just happen. It demands a highly skilled team to pull it off. That includes the crew that runs the ship, the ‘hotel’ staff responsible food services and cabins, and the Expedition Team. The Expedition Team is central to what makes this Antarctic experience truly unique. It is made up of 25 women and men, ranging in age from the early ’20s to the late ’60s, from more than a dozen countries, representing a full range of scientific disciplines…geology, biology, birds, animals, Antarctic history, sea life, photography, to name a few. Members are all degreed, with most having earned advanced degrees, including several with doctorates. They select and secure landing sites, define the trails to minimize human impact, transport us via Zodiaks, lead kayaking outings, and collect sea samples with the Science Ship. The list goes on. Also, many present classes and lectures, which can number from 4 to 6 per day in both English and German. Many have visited or have spent time in Antarctica for multiple years. They bring their passion and knowledge and offer a rich perspective and point of view. Whenever the captain decides on changes, the team must quickly adjust plans and schedules.
The Expedition Center occupies the front half of deck 6 and includes books, charts, and a science center with a range of state-of-the-art instruments, including microscopes. The unique lecture hall is a rapidly reconfigurable area that uses floor-to-ceiling video screens that are, in effect, moveable walls.
Much of what I write, I’ve learned from lectures or 1:1 discussions with expedition team members. Expanding on a question I raised in an earlier blog following the Vernadsky stop, Larissa, an expedition team member, presented an hour-long lecture and slides of Life on the Antarctic Station. She is from Russia and has worked in the Arctic and Antarctic areas for more than 10 years as part of scientific teams, or working on supply ships delivering supplies to Antarctic stations during the 3-month summer window. This gave her a view of what life is like at a station.
While the population on the continent is about 4,000 during the summer, it dwindles down to 1,000 during the dark winter period. There about 70 research stations, some permanent, and others during summer periods only. Thirty countries have stations with the U.K having the most significant number with 27. The United States has 16, one of which is the closest to the south pole. The majority of the stations are located along the Antarctic Peninsula. Antarctica experiences brutal storms that prevent anyone from going outside. But it also has storm-free periods when personnel can work and play outside (snowshoeing, skiing, ball games, dog sledding, etc.). On those days, they may also be able to see and visit other nearby stations. Most stations are not as desolated as I had imagined. It almost seems crowded.
With few exceptions, scientists only come and stay for the summer. Those that remain during the dark period are focused on maintenance. Members sign a contract for a year or longer and rotate out on completing their time. Connection to the rest of the world is minimal. They don’t have internet access but may purchase time to call home via a satellite phone. They are indeed off the grid, with a rather simple daily rhythm and a challenge to prevent boredom. A critical component of everyday life is food. This is a challenge. No one wants to eat the same thing, the same menu, day after day, and week after week. Fresh vegetables and fruit that arrive via the annual supply ship are quickly consumed. What remains are frozen supplies, powdered, canned, or dried goods.
Cooks are challenged continuously, given the narrow spectrum of supplies in the storerooms. At a station, Larissa resupplied, the team was so unhappy with the cook, that everyone was given a chance to cook whatever their creativity could deliver. Station leaders put a lot of energy in coming up with tasks, games, entertainment to keep everyone engaged.
Larissa spiked her presentation with several anecdotes to give us a sense of life in the Antarctic. Several years ago, one of the stations included a female doctor, who experienced an atmosphere of conflict. Without elaborating, the doctor was rotated out early, and stations adopted a policy that females should not be on staff. This changed a couple of years ago. Vernadsky now has two female team members.
In another case in 1984, the Argentine Brown Station’s doctor had signed up for a year and desperately wanted to get home when his time was up. Unfortunately, they could not find a replacement and assigned him to stay through the winter. Despondent, he burned down the station. The station team was evacuated by the U.S. Navy and relocated to the American Palmer station. The doctor was fetched and put in jail.
The third story involved a stabbing at Russia’s Bellinghaus Station. The perpetrator loved reading books. Every time he started a book, a co-worker immediately revealed how the book would end. He asked the man not to do that several times. After many incidents, his request was ignored again. He suffered a meltdown and stabbed the guy in the chest. Whoever said there was no drama in these stations?
Leaving Vernadsky as dark to set in, we set course for the next mornings’ landing on Orne Island in the Wilhelmina Bay. The attraction was penguins. As we approach the landing area, the seas were rough with high winds. The designated landing site was a challenge requiring we clamber over large boulders to get ashore. The island is the breeding home to a large group of penguins and a variety of birds. We found the population much smaller than anticipated. Understandable since it is late summer, and much of the community had already returned to the sea and would not be back until next year.
At anchor by Orne IslandOrne Island excursionPenguin colony
Once everyone was back on board, we moved to another area of the bay, about a 3-hour sail away. We chanced upon a pod of humpback whales that put on quite a performance. The captain paused the ship so we could watch and encourage their play. I was fortunate enough to capture one breaching, displaying its colorful fluke.
Watching us move around their territoryHumpback whale flashing his colorful fluke next to our ship
Proceeding further, we stopped at our destination in the most beautiful setting in the bay. The scenery here was spectacular…the day was sunny with blue skies and just a few puffy clouds. The very best, most stunning stop yet. Icebergs floating around us, glaciers moving down steep slopes on the rocky cliffs, kissing the bay with caves that invite exploration. This was not going to be a landing site. Instead, we used our Zodiaks to cruise the surrounding waters. The bay was very calm with streams of growlers, snaking around the various icebergs that were as high as 5 story buildings. Many looked like ice sculptures, carved by wind and rain. Many were striking artistic creations. Our guide Boo explained that they might have flipped and so the carving was done by underwater currents.
Exploring the ice shelf…but at a safe distance
Our ship bidding behind icebergs
Juvenile penguins racing to get away from us
Motoring very slowly, we were surprised by several rafts of penguins porpoising in the waves ahead of us. The wanted to get away from us as fast as possible. They were probably juveniles, who just recently lost their plumage and returned to the water. Intersecting one a stream of growlers, Boo reached overboard to retrieve chunks of ice for us to taste. Surprise, it tasted just like ice. Anyone with a glass and some Vodka?
I preferred more time to drift, to turn off the engine, and to listen to the sounds of ice, wind, and birds. Well, Boo boohooed that request! So much for the attitude: “Anything the guest wants.” It was undoubtedly my highlight of this trip to date.
Ukraine’s Vernadsky StationDonna and Holly in the expedition launch room. Ready to go!Scientists at workStation galleyCurious Penguins checking out all the red coated guestsBrenda and Nancy ready to return to shipEvening sun in Antarctica
Yesterday was quite a day, securing several FIRSTS. To summarize, we have been further south (closer to the South Pole) than any other ship this year; it is the first Hurtigruten ship to EVER travel this far south, and the nearest other vessel was about 1,000 km away. I did go out around midnight to see if I could spot the Southern lights. No luck! It was overcast, and the sky was not completely dark.
Today’s goal was to approach the ice sheet. While still away from our target, we encountered an ice field of bergies and growlers, forcing us to standoff. Proceeding into the ice field, the amount of floating ice became denser as we went along. I looked over our port side veranda and could see the chunks of ice against our hull.
It doesn’t take much imagination to envision these ice chunks coalescing, should we become stationary and float.
Well, we never stopped moving. The captain decided not to proceed further. It would be at least another kilometer to get closer. Instead, we began to back out. Why take any risks? We continued to back up until we were just outside the ice field border, which looked like a riptide line.
Using our drive propellers and side thrusters, we held our position and launched the Zodiacs. Today’s outing would be an hour of motoring the surrounding ice fields. Each launch consisted of two boats for safety reasons (12 guests in each). The outside temperature and water temperature were zero degrees centigrade, with overcast skies and a 10 mph wind. We skimmed along the ice line, dipping in at intervals to be entirely surrounded by growlers and close to a bergie. We spotted something red about 500 meters ahead.
Proceeding toward it, we discovered a one-meter diameter, red buoy. It was not tied to anything, so who knows how it got there. Given the shape, it was not a navigation aid, but rather a marker that had broken free. Once our partner boat hauled it aboard, we retreated out of the field. We spotted another further away but decided not to risk getting deeper into the floating ice. Since leaving our ship, either the cloud cover had fallen, or a fog bank had closed in, for our boat was nowhere in sight. Moving in the general direction of the ship, we soon saw the ghost-like shape emerging from the cover.
Back on board and cold to the bones, it was time to celebrate and warm with a glass of Brandy!
As the evening set, with all hands back on board, we started our way back, north by northeast. The travel through the night was slower than expected because of strong headwinds and rough seas. By morning it became apparent that the initially planned landing was not going to happen. The landing site would not be safe given weather conditions. As an alternative, the team decided to land at Shoehorn Island, which has a cove that is protected from adverse conditions. It is a small island about 12 kilometers by 6 kilometers.
The on-board day allowed us to attend various lectures. Some items of interest:
Antarctica was part of a supercontinent, Gondwana, about 175 million years ago. Parts of what is now Antarctica were located at the equator and the northern hemisphere.
The shifting plates broke up Gondwana into several continents, including Antarctica, about 25 million years ago. The opening of Drake’s Passage with its currents further separated the continent from South America, ultimately ending up where it is today.
No animals live in Antarctica. The non-flying birds, the penguins, come to Antarctica solely for breeding. They head north before winter sets in, and the young can swim.
We arrived at Shoehorn Island late afternoon and spotted several buildings on the rise. It is the British research station Base Y, active during the 1950s. Fully intact, it has been named a historic site but is not open to visitors. Wildlife is minimal with some seals but no penguins. Given that our landing window was 8 PM, I decided to pass on the chance to go ashore.
Later that evening, the ship set sail and headed north. It was much slower than expected due to gale level headwinds and rough seas. We were rockin’ n rollin’ throughout the night. To make up time, they considered going back through the Gullet channel. This was too risky. Passage would be at night, and the fear was that ice would clog up the outlet of the narrow waterway, which would require us to backtrack. The chosen alternative was to take the eastern, ocean side of the islands. This would slow us down further, putting at risk reaching a planned landing at Charcot Island. The 55 by 45-kilometer island was discovered in 1910 by the French Antarctic explorer Charcot.
As the day unfolded, it became clear that we would not make Charcot Island. As an alternative, the captain made contact with the Ukrainian research station, Vernadsky Research Station, on Galindez Island. The research facility was initially constructed as British Base F but was sold to Ukraine in 1996 (for $1) after Britain decided to deactivate the site. The Ukrainians continue to conduct research on ozone, meteorology, and biology.
Broadcasting to the ship, the Captain ‘sold’ our visiting this base because it was an active station, so the scientists would show us around. They would love our company, and most importantly they have a bar! It’s hard to turn down this type of invitation…On second thought, something more devious may be at play here.
Walking around the ship this morning after the announcement that the landing had been canceled, my acute antennae and limited understanding of German, picked up a lot of animated grousing from some, mostly the German group. They seem to have taken issue with having taken time to go to the southernmost point, rather than to maximize the landings. I’m confident the Captain picked up this energy. Could it be that the spirit of Shackleton has incarnated our captain? Shackleton is universally acknowledged to possess skills to keep his team positive, motivated, and removing any friction at play. Let’s connect the dots: grumbling people …propose another landing site…with a bar…that has beer and vodka. Prosit! Maybe some singing? Can you hear it?
Ein Prosit, ein Prosit
Der Gemütlichkeit
Ein Prosit, ein Prosit
Der Gemütlichkeit
OANS! ZWOA! DREI! G’SUFFA!
(repeat, continuously while drinking a stein of beer)
Just saying!
After shuttling over to the station, several residents graciously gave us a tour, including the research and testing rooms, galley, workout room, surgery, and the common area with a bar to hang out and watch movies or play games. We didn’t see their sleeping accommodations. It is hard to imagine how the 12 people in this small space could live and work for a year. The cook and mechanic who tended the bar are scheduled to rotate out the day after tomorrow.
Well, I called it wrong. The beverage of choice is vodka, brewed on-site, and not beer. Several in our party opted to buy a shot…I decided to pass. This is the first working station that I’ve visited. In exchange for hosting us, the ship delivered fresh vegetables and fruit.
