Those sneaky penguins

The regulations also require keeping at least 5 meters distance from any wildlife, but that rule is a lot harder to follow. You might be waiting patiently for a couple of penguins to cross the path ahead of you, and not realize that there's another one coming up behind you.

View from the ship

This is the landing area at Heko Harbor, taken from the ship. One of the zodiacs is heading back to the beach, and if you zoom in, you can see the line of red jackets heading up the mountain to a viewing spot.

The Antarctic tourist regulations allow a maximum of 100 people ashore at one time; since there were 200 passengers on the ship, we were divided into six groups for zodiac boarding, and three groups at a time would be on shore. After an hour or ninety minutes, the first three groups would return to the ship and the other three groups would go ashore. (Which groups went first rotated every day.)

Since my group was going ashore later, I got to watch the first group from the ship.

I did not climb up that mountain by the way--much too steep and slippery. It would have taken all of the limited time on shore just to get my ass safely up to the top lookout and back down again, and I preferred staying closer to the beach where I could enjoy the glacier views and watch the penguins.

Gentoo love

I really did keep saying to myself, “You know, you don't have to take a picture of every penguin you see.” (Or mountain. Or iceberg. Or whale.) But did I listen?

These two were worth capturing, though. The penguin on the left had offered the penguin on the right a pebble. This is like a diamond ring in Penguinland, and all of us watching (from the mandated distance, of course) were crushed on the penguin's behalf when the pebble was refused. The rejected suitor dropped the pebble and waddled away, and the other penguin promptly dug around in the snow and retrieved it. Hey, you don't want to let a perfectly good pebble go to waste!

Neko Harbor

Yes, I probably should finish going through and posting pictures from South Georgia before jumping to Antarctica, but honestly with hundreds of pictures still to go through and school starting again next week, I'm finding it hard to be methodical. (And not sure that there's any real need to post pictures in the order I took them, anyway.) So I saw a picture I really liked from Neko Harbor and next thing I knew I was looking for more of them.

So here's a colony of gentoos, with a nice glacier as a backdrop.

A change in the weather is known to be extreme

(When I typed this Dylan quote as the title of the post, it occurred to me that I might have already used it. So I checked—I've already used it for three different posts, including one about Antarctica in 2018. But there are more than 5000 posts on this blog, so I think I'm allowed to repeat myself.)

It had been sunny and (reasonably) warm in Fortuna Bay in the morning, but by the time we got into the zodiacs in Prince Olav Harbour after lunch it was chilly and overcast. After about an hour, the mists rolled in over the mountains, looking like a backdrop in a movie where something very bad is about to happen and the wind started to pick up. And by the time we got back to the ship there was a thick fog and heavy swells and the zodiacs were bouncing around like giant rubber ping pong balls.

Natural and unnatural

Tussac grass and some yellow lichen in Prince Olav Harbour. South Georgia has 200 species of lichens, several types of grasses, and birds, but no mammals other than seals. After a long campaign, rodents brought by sailors were finally eradicated in 2018 after more than 200 years (one of the reasons for the stringent inspections before we could land there.) There also used to be herds of reindeer, which were introduced by Norwegian whalers, but they were so destructive to the native grasses and plants that they also had to be killed.

There are still some foreign plants that were brought by settlers, but most of what you'll see on the island is native—plus, of course, the detritus left by humans, like those giant rusty “flowers” in the picture on the right.

More ruins

Some of the ruined buildings on the bluffs overlooking the bay.

Prince Olav Harbour

A view from farther out in the bay, showing the wreckage strewn along the beach and the gloomy mountains overhead.

Even weirder, still beautiful

There are abandoned whaling stations all over South Georgia, but the most extensive ruins we saw were in Prince Olav Harbour. I liked the juxtaposition of the wrecked, rusting, tanks and buildings and machinery, and the crowds of seals that have now claimed the beaches as their own.

More seals on the beach

Seals in Elsehul Bay.

I kept singing the Taylor Swift song Snow on the Beach when I was in South Georgia, but substituting “seals” for “snow.”

“Weird but fucking beautiful” definitely still applies.

Miami Beach buildings

Some of the buildings I saw walking around near the hotel and the botanical gardens.

Miami is famous for its art deco architecture, but I didn't make it to the section of South Beach with most of the best-known buildings. Most of what I saw were buildings like the one on the top left—bungalows surrounded by palm trees. But you can see the art deco influence in the geometric shapes and colors in many of the other buildings.

Sunday bird blogging

I'm sure everyone expected a penguin, but I actually did see a new bird in Miami Beach.

It's not a terrific picture, but I loved the way these white ibises were moving in lockstep across the conveniently churned-up soil in a vacant lot.

Saturday reflections

These koi were the best thing in the Botanical Gardens. I love this picture.

Botanical Gardens

I was happy to wake up Wednesday to blue skies and warm temperatures—if you have to spend time in Florida, at least the weather should be nice—and I decided to go to the Miami Beach Botanical Gardens, which was about a thirty minute walk from the hotel.

The gardens were surprisingly small, and full of jungly greenery and few flowers—I had to keep reminding myself that I was back in the Northern Hemisphere, and Florida or not, it was still winter. But there were butterflies, and yellow warblers high up in the trees, and I savored having bare arms one more time before heading home to winter weather.

Urban poetry

An alley in South Beach. It was such a dark, dismal day that the original shot was practically black and white without any tweaking on my part.

I am home, and it is so cold here I am missing Antarctica. Or at least all of the layers I was wearing there, which is incentive to start tackling the suitcase full of dirty laundry, because those wool long johns are looking good right now.

Whiplash

Monday morning I woke up to snow-capped mountains in the Beagle Channel.

24 hours and three flights later, I was dragging luggage through the deserted Miami airport. My flight landed at 4:30 am, which ought to be illegal, and it was dark and drizzly all day, which added to my sense of disorientation. Where am I again? Oh, right, for some reason, I'm in Miami.

I went for a walk and found a cafe with excellent huevos rancheros, but after that I just watched TV in my room and counted down the hours until I could decently go to bed.

Just before sunset, the skies cleared and I got my first look at the Miami skyline across Biscayne Bay. That's better, I thought, and was asleep within minutes.

Are you kidding me?

This seal in Prince Olav Harbour in South Georgia perfectly expresses my mood at the moment. And it reminds me to focus on the wonderful journey I've had, instead of dwelling on the annoyances of the moment.

This particular moment involves waiting for an overnight flight to Miami in a crowded lounge at Santiago Airport, where there is little to eat and an entire refrigerator full of sodas but no water. There is a water dispenser, and when I asked—in Spanish!—where the glasses for the water were, I was told that there were no glasses and I should use a coffee cup. So I am sitting at a rickety table, with no access to a port to charge my phone, drinking water from a coffee cup, in what is allegedly a VIP lounge.

But look at how cute that seal is!

Iceberg, rock, glacier

All the components of the Antarctic landscape in one image, taken from the beach in Mikkelsen Harbor.

Glacier in Cierva Cove

I like this one because it is a little different: a scattering of chinstraps making a new pattern across the surface of the glacier.

Sunday bird blogging

Gentoos in Mikkelsen Harbor.

I couldn't get close enough to get a clear picture but if you zoom in you can see that the penguin on the bottom left has two chicks, so tiny that you could easily overlook them. The last time I was here I saw gentoo chicks, but they were much bigger—maybe the difference between visiting at the end of January instead of the beginning.

Gentoo swim club

As you can probably tell, I am just posting the pictures and videos I've happened to go through already, with no particular theme or order. I have maybe a thousand pictures I haven't gone through, so obviously will not be organizing them any time soon.

The penguin leaping out of the water at the end of this video—and sticking the landing because, penguins—is one of my favorite moments from this trip.

And a baby!

This elephant seal pup was probably less than a week old (and already weighed more than I do.) But so cute!

Elephant seals

Fur seals are lively and social and endlessly entertaining to watch, but I do have a soft spot for elephant seals. You would never describe them as “lively,” at least when they're piled on the beach like enormous furry sausages. (They can move, of course, but it isn't quick or graceful.)

And when you're observing from a distance, you can't always see their faces, which I find both strange and oddly beautiful. Fortunately these two young seals were curious enough about our presence to swim out and get a better look at us, giving us a better look at them as well.

Stuck a feather in his cap and called it macaroni

Macaroni penguins in Elsehul Bay in South Georgia.

I didn't see any of this species on my first trip to Antarctica, and we only saw them the first day in South Georgia. I would have liked better pictures, but you get what you get.

Saturday reflections

Mountains and glacier reflected in the unusually calm waters of Neko Harbor.

We're on our way back to Chile now, crossing the Drake Passage. So far it's not as bad as the first day out of South Georgia, and fingers crossed that that continues. We are trying to get to the Beagle Channel as fast as we can, to avoid some 75 knot winds that are predicted for tomorrow night.

Paradise Bay

Whalers called this bay “paradise” because of the many whales they found here, not because they found it particularly heavenly. Maybe they never looked up.

Hi guys, I'm back!

I did actually say that to the first Gentoo penguins I saw in Antarctica. I can't say that they were equally delighted to see me, but Gentoos usually look pretty happy, so maybe they were.

I admit I did ask myself if I really need that many more photos of penguins looking cute, but judging by the number I took yesterday in Cierva Cove, the answer, apparently, is yes.

And we are now in Antarctica

Some of the many whale bones on the beach at Mikkelsen Harbor yesterday.

Two more whalers

Tanks

I am fascinated by the ruins left by the whalers. There is a lot of controversy about whether they should be cleaned up and removed, or whether they should be allowed to remain as they are.

I hope they stay. I understand wanting to get rid of them and making the landscape as close as it can be to what it looked like before humans arrived. But apart from the difficulty of undertaking an ambitious cleanup in such a remote location, I like having these pieces of history there, and I especially like that the plants and animals are gradually taking them over. Taking South Georgia back.

It's been a hard day's night

Two baby seals just chilling outside one of the buildings.

Seals on the beach

 One advantage of the phone camera is that it's much, much easier to take video. I think that mama seal is saying, Get back here right now!

I was not expecting that

Not the wildlife— we'd been warned that seals and penguins wandered freely through Grytviken and we needed to maintain our usual 5 meter distance. (While walking the path from the cemetery to the post office, I had to pause a couple of times to allow seals to cross in front of me.)

No, what surprised me was how green it was. I know it's summer here, but although we've seen a lot of the tussac grass on the mountainsides, the large green spaces in the town were a surprise.

I should mention here that all of the pictures of Grytviken were taken with my phone. They'd asked us not to bring our backpacks unless we really needed them in order to speed up the inspections, and I decided to just make it simple and not bring a camera at all. The results aren't really bad, except for the pictures of wildlife. My iPhone just can't capture the detail my other cameras can.

Welcome to South Georgia

The buildings of Grytviken (with a glimpse of the giant rusting oil tanks.)

Endurance

I can't write about the Endurance without including one of Frank Hurley's iconic images of the ship trapped in ice on the Weddell Sea.

Shackleton and Wild

Scott for scientific method, Amundsen for speed and efficiency but when disaster strikes and all hope is gone, get down on your knees and pray for Shackleton—Sir Raymond Priestly

The rather grandly named Imperial Trans-Antarctic Expedition of 1914-16 is more commonly referred to by the name of the ship, the Endurance. There isn't any part of it that I don't find astonishing, especially now that I am actually in this part of the world and have seen the mountains of South Georgia that Shackleton, Worsley, and Crean crossed on foot, half-starved, with screws in the soles of their shoes for traction. (And having just made the very unpleasant crossing from South Georgia to Elephant Island in a big ship instead of a 22-foot lifeboat.)

In 1922, Shackleton was back in South Georgia preparing for yet another expedition, when he died of a heart attack at 47. Plans were originally made to return his body to England, but his widow requested that he be buried in South Georgia. Grytviken was a busy whaling station then, but it's still as remote a location as you can imagine. The expedition's doctor, Alexander Macklin, wrote, “I think this is as the boss would have had it himself, standing lonely on an island far from civilization, surrounded by a stormy tempestuous sea, and in the vicinity of one of his greatest exploits.”

Frank Wild, who was left in charge of the remaining Endurance crew on Elephant Island for more than four months after Shackleton set off in the James Caird, surviving on seal, penguin, and seaweed, died in South Africa in 1939 at the age of 66. In 2011, his ashes were moved to Grytviken, and buried next to Shackleton.

The ship's crew supplied whiskey for the traditional toast at the grave and I even drank a little of it.

Grytviken

Grytviken was the first place we were able to go ashore, although until the last minute it looked like the winds were going to keep us from landing. The South Georgian government inspector had to clear the ship first, to make sure we didn't have any contaminants (or rodents), and she also checked each of us before we got in the zodiacs—our boots, our jackets, our gear. Did we have any velcro? No? Good.

It was established as a Norwegian whaling station in 1904, and is still described as the largest “settlement” on South Georgia. There's a post office and a museum for the cruise ships that stop there, but they are only open during the summer; the people who work there go back to England in April.

The main reason I really wanted to go there was to visit Shackleton's grave in the small cemetery there, but it was an odd, beautiful place well worth seeing apart from that history.