Sleeping in a snow pit

Antarctica | Anno 2018

 

Thursday, January 25 | South Shetland Islands – Half Moon Island

Friday, January 26 | Hydrurga Rocks – Portal Point

 

 

Thursday, January 25 | South Shetland Islands – Half Moon Island

Antarctica – South Shetland Islands

During lunch, it finally happens. At twenty to one, dark silhouettes emerge in the misty distance. The mountain peaks are shrouded in grey clouds, snow patches cling to the brown slopes, glaciers slide between the peaks toward the sea. That's Nelson Island, one of the South Shetland Islands, a 510 km long rosary of islands – although sailors dare to call them the Shitland Islands because of the typically bad weather prevailing there.

 

South Shetland Islands

Thus, we sail between Nelson Island and Robert Island, entering Bransfield Strait, which separates the Shetland Islands from the Antarctic Peninsula. We realize that continental Antarctica is only one hundred and twenty kilometres away from us.

 

South Shetland Islands

The sea is much calmer now. A humpback whale catches our attention. Occasionally, an iceberg drifts by. Seemingly harmless, but it's not. The Explorer experienced this in 2007 when it collided with an iceberg here. About a hundred tourists and fifty crew members floated in lifeboats for five hours before being rescued by a Norwegian ship. Since then, the Explorer rests on the seabed, with the sad reputation of being the first cruise ship to sink in the Antarctic region.

Since then, the Explorer rests on the seabed, with the sad reputation of being the first cruise ship to sink in the Antarctic region

For now, the Antarctic mainland is not our destination. We veer southward and set course for Half Moon Island, a tiny island that presents itself on the map in the shape of a tasty croissant – hence its name. Expedition leader Jonathan announced last night that our first landing will take place there.

Just before three o'clock, we drop anchor a distance from the coast. The chatter of penguins reaches us from afar, but not their smell yet. Through our binoculars, we observe a barren, rocky island teeming with activity. Towers of basalt blocks remind us of the volcanic origin of the island. Its crescent shape is a remnant of the crater rim of a former volcano. Behind the island rise the snow-capped peaks of Livingston Island, some reaching heights of up to 1,700 meters.

In a barren spot among the snow, we spot the crimson building of Teniente Cámara, the Argentine base established here in 1953. There's no mistaking its nationality – a huge blue-white-blue flag is painted on the roof. Argentina doesn't take its claims to a portion of Antarctica lightly. Nor does the United Kingdom, as we'll come to realize in the coming days.

Boatmen and zodiac masters stand ready to grab us with a wrist grip and safely pull us on board

Zodiacs being lowered into the water

Heading towards Half Moon Island

Meanwhile, on the aft deck, the twelve zodiacs are being lowered into the water using davits. While one zodiac sets off to scout for a landing site and mark the path, we start getting ready in our cabin for the first time with our protective gear. Rain pants and a parka over our regular clothes, a second pair of socks, waterproof high boots, a neck warmer, a hat, waterproof gloves, a life jacket, sunglasses on the nose, and the hood of the parka over the head. Pfff, it's sweltering hot, so let's quickly head outside.

 

Half Moon Island (bottom left)

In the distance, a few zodiacs full of red figures are already zooming towards the coast. The sky is grey, dense clouds hang low over the shore. There's a stiff breeze, and the temperature is 3 °C (37 °F).

The reception desk on deck 3 is where we check out. This is done electronically with our ship ID card – a routine procedure that will be meticulously followed each time. There can be no ambiguity about the whereabouts of the passengers. Once the magnetic card is swiped, our name and photo flash on the screen. Making a mistake is almost impossible.

A staircase leads us to the open-air platform at the back of the ship, just above the waterline. A Milpro Heavy Duty rubber boat with a Yamaha outboard motor of 60 hp floats on the water, securely tied to the railing. Boatmen and zodiac masters are ready to grab us with a wrist grip and safely pull us on board. But first, we rinse our boots in the disinfection bath.

We climb on board smoothly and settle on the voluminous, black hull. It's compartmentalized into separate air chambers, so we don't have to worry about a fatal leak happening quickly. The hard bottom provides comfortable support, even though we're not allowed to stand up during the ride.

The zodiac master, on the other hand, is allowed to stand up, and he must do so. Standing at the helm, he steers his vessel with ten passengers on board in a wide arc away from the ship. If the unthinkable were to happen – the zodiac master overboard – the kill cord would immediately shut off the engine.

Just over one hundred hours after we left home, we set foot on land in the Antarctic region

Half Moon Island – Menguante Cove

About five minutes later, the Zodiac gently glides over the pebbles in Menguante Cove, a shallow bay of Half Moon Island. The faint chatter of the penguins has escalated into a feverish shriek. And we realize that the smell of their droppings will also become a prominent part of our experience.

Disciplined, we slide one by one over the hull towards the front, swing our legs overboard – always with our feet facing towards the ocean, as that's the lowest point of the boat – and wade through the water onto the pebble beach.

 

Chinstrap penguin

Chinstrap penguins

Finally, the moment has arrived. Just over one hundred hours after we left home, we set foot on land in the Antarctic region. Climbing over the pebbles, we ascend the slope and promptly find ourselves amidst the penguins.

 

Chinstrap penguins

These are chinstrap penguins, recognized by the black stripe under their chin. They are found everywhere in Antarctica, with a worldwide population of eight million.

 

Foraging for their offspring is a full-time job for penguin dads and moms

 

Almost as agile as goats, the penguins hop over the rocks, up or down. You can see them everywhere on the slope, even all the way up on the high ridge. Their secret lies in their stiff tail feathers. It looks like a sturdy brush, which they can use to push off for their jumps. Chinstrap penguins belong to the genus of brush-tailed penguins – scientists call them pygoscelis. This tail also comes in handy when swimming because they use it as a rudder. It helps them dive up to 180 meters deep.

 

Sometimes a penguin seems to glide over the obstacles

Penguins constantly descend to the water or scramble up the slope. Foraging for their offspring is indeed a full-time job for penguin dads and moms. They take turns staying with the chicks or going out to sea to gather food, sometimes up to 80 km from the coast. Krill is especially prominent on their menu – these are small, shrimp-like invertebrates. But they also find small fish and squid irresistible. They store their catch in their stomachs. When back at the nest, they regurgitate partially digested food with gagging movements, allowing the young chicks to pick it out of their mouths.

 

Chinstrap penguins on a glacier

Some routes are quite busy. Ab, our ornithologist, calls them penguin highways. Our instructions are strict: penguins have absolute right of way. Because if we were to hinder their provisioning, it could be fatal for the chicks. It's better not to tamper with the delicate process of reproduction in this ruthless environment.

It's better not to tamper with the delicate process of reproduction in this ruthless environment

The rowboat of unfortunate tourists (1961)

Down on the beach, we spot a wooden rowboat, weathered and partly covered in moss. It reminds us of the fate of 21 tourists who suffered shipwreck here in 1961 – there were no zodiacs involved back then. Eventually, they escaped with a fright, albeit after spending three long days and nights stranded on the island.

The fact that we still encounter fur seals here at all is a small miracle, as they were nearly wiped out by fur hunters in the nineteenth century

Antarctic fur seal or Kerguelen fur seal

Further along the rocky beach sits an Antarctic fur seal upright, with its pointed snout in the air. They also call it a Kerguelen fur seal. With its external ears and furry coat, it distinguishes itself from seals. Another difference – you'll rarely find it on pack ice.

It’s a solitary male, with its dark, coal-black fur and long whiskers. Krill, fish, and squid are its daily diet, but it's also known to snack on penguins. Its biggest enemy is the orca. Smaller fur seals sometimes fall prey to a leopard seal.

The fact that we still encounter fur seals here at all is a small miracle, as they were nearly wiped out by fur hunters in the nineteenth century. It wasn't until the 1940s that hunting was restricted. Now, the species seems to have rebounded. There are probably a million alone on South Georgia.

The fur seal contentedly scratches its lower back with one of its hind flippers. Such antics are not on the agenda for the Weddell seal lying further along the rocks, as its hind flippers are attached to its pelvis. It swims very well with these flippers, but walking isn't its strong suit. And scratching its back certainly isn't either.

Walking isn't the Weddell seal’s strong suit. And scratching its back certainly isn't either

Weddell seal

Of all mammals in the world, the Weddell seal has the southernmost habitat. You mainly find them on pack ice, preferably near holes and cracks in the ice. There are around eight hundred thousand of them spread across Antarctica. They're recognizable by their grey body with many pale spots and their small snout.

Once a Weddell seal has made a hole in the ice, it will regularly chew on it to keep it open. They can dive very deep, up to six hundred meters. They can hold their breath easily for eighty minutes. In winter, they prefer to stay underwater to avoid snowstorms. Then they come up to their breathing hole regularly to take a breath.

 

Weddell seals

An active, adult male Weddell seal can consume around 50 kg of food daily – krill, fish, squid, octopuses, crustaceans, and more. Even under the pack ice, he hunts by sight. But during the long, dark polar night, he relies on his whiskers to detect movements of potential prey.

 

Weddell seals

From the top of the ridge, we gaze down at the water expanse between Half Moon Island and the much larger Livingston Island. Down on the beach, two more Weddell seals are resting. For a moment, one of them turns its snout in our direction, that distinctive snout that seems to have a perpetual smile frozen upon it.

 

During the long, dark polar night, the Weddell seal relies on its whiskers to detect potential prey

 

Across the water, a glacier descends from the pale mists down the slopes to the water. Virgin white snow largely conceals the crevasses, the glacier's fissures, from view. At the base of the glacier wall, where an iceberg may occasionally drift by, the seracs, the blue-grey ice towers, rise monumentally above the water. What stands out is the pristine nature of the environment, despite any mud and guano. There's no trace of contamination from human presence, neither on land nor in the water. Let's keep it that way, Jonathan would say.

 

On the way to Baliza Hill

A short climb over rocks and stones brings us to the chattering penguins on Baliza Hill. There are hundreds of them. Pairing up, breeding, and raising chicks are the sole purposes of a penguin colony like this. Because penguins – also known as ‘fat-geese’ in German and in Dutch – are seabirds that have lost the ability to fly and primarily feel at home in the water. They only need land for breeding. Hatching eggs in the cold seawater would definitely not work.

Theft actually is rampant here

Penguin colony on Baliza Hill

Penguins are monogamous, Ab explains. At least if the relationship is successful. If chicks result from it, that is. Penguin colonies are more or less organized into streets – although we don't see any of that in this chaos. Nevertheless, couples find each other in this street plan at the beginning of the season. If the female unexpectedly doesn't show up, then the male won't hesitate to cosy up to the neighbour's wife.

 

Black and white penguins, black and red penguins

Males are slightly larger and heavier than females. However, determining the sex of a penguin is very difficult. Except during mating, because they do it doggy style, with the male on the back of the female. Which is not an easy task, with that slippery fur and that brush tail getting in the way. They mate multiple times, spread over several days. The female ends up with a dirty fur as a result – another way to distinguish the sexes from each other, chuckles Ab.

 

If the female unexpectedly doesn't show up, then the male won't hesitate to cosy up to the neighbour's wife

Like all brush-tailed penguins, chinstrap penguins build round nests of stones and pebbles. Not exactly a warm and cosy nest, we think, but it does exactly what is expected of it. Rain and snow can seep through the stones to the ground. The chicks are thus on a relatively dry surface. And that is necessary because their down layer is not waterproof.

 

Screeching to guide your partner or to mark your territory

The male hauls those stones all the way uphill from the beach. That's actually how a relationship begins. The male offers stones to its chosen female. If the female accepts the stones, then they are forever joined in matrimony, for better or for worse.

Theft is actually rampant here. If a male is on its way to the beach to fetch new stones, a male from a neighbouring nest might dare to transfer stones from the neighbour's nest to its own.

All that labour yields two eggs at the end of November or beginning of December. Now, the male and female take turns incubating, in shifts of five to six days. After 37 days, the chicks emerge. After another 20 to 30 days, they are old enough to leave the nest.

 

 

You wouldn't think it, but the fluffy brown chicks around us are not even 30 days old, even though they are almost as big as their parents. It's only when they are two months old that moulting will begin, and they will get their waterproof plumage, black on the back and white on the belly. These are perfect camouflage colours because it makes them difficult to spot both from above in the air and from below in the water.

 

Chick

It shouldn't surprise us that there are more chicks than adult animals present, Ab explains. Each pair typically has two chicks, but usually, one of the adult birds is absent to forage in the sea.

When both parents are away foraging, the chicks can be placed in so-called crèches for protection

Living in a colony has its advantages. Firstly, in terms of protection, not only against the elements but also against natural enemies. Danger is spotted more quickly, parents don't have to be as vigilant, and they can devote more energy to caring for the chicks. And when both parents are away foraging, the chicks can be placed in so-called crèches for protection.

 

 

Of all these enemies, the snowy sheathbill is perhaps the most aggressive. Despite its appearance resembling a common chicken, it’s more closely related to lapwings than to poultry. Stealing food right out of the mouths of penguins is no problem for it. It just startles the chick while it's being fed. The partially digested krill then falls to the ground, and the snowy sheathbill snatches it up. But it also enjoys penguin eggs and even a fluffy chick.

When a snowy sheathbill lands among the penguins, we immediately see it surrounded by a circle of angry penguin parents, their beaks gaping wide and screaming furiously in its direction. But the snowy sheathbill is not easily intimidated. It can live with the fact that it's not welcome. And we have to admit, as a scavenger, it keeps the colony tidy.

The snowy sheathbill is not easily intimidated. It can live with the fact that it's not welcome in the colony

A snowy sheathbill poses a real threat to penguin chicks

Living in a cluster, however, also has its disadvantages for the penguins. Diseases spread more quickly, parasites find hosts more easily, and competition for food and living space becomes fiercer. Penguins in a colony bicker over everything and anything. Particularly in this place, because due to lack of space, they are much closer to each other than is desirable.

They also defecate on each other regularly, concludes Ab with a significant grin – a conclusion that is met with disbelief. Until we suddenly see a dirty green stream spray low over the ground for about a meter. Keep a safe distance from penguins flashes through our minds. And that's not just because Jonathan ordered us to.

Standing there amidst the chinstrap penguins, it looks like an aging beatnik

A lost macaroni penguin

But there's a stranger among them. Ab spotted him a while ago. Standing amidst the chinstrap penguins, with its tousled yellow hair resembling spaghetti over its forehead – a macaroni penguin.

There are twenty million of these macaroni penguins worldwide. That makes them the most numerous penguin species on Earth. But this one doesn’t belong here. This specimen is hopelessly lost.

If the first chick does manage to survive, it will only receive food after its older sibling is satiated

Together with five other species, macaroni penguins belong to the genus of crested penguins or eudyptes, as opposed to chinstrap penguins, which belong to the brush-tailed penguins or pygoscelis. Crested penguins all live up to their name with a bizarre yellow crest.

Macaroni penguins are known to sometimes deliberately swallow small stones. Perhaps they provide ballast to dive more easily into the sea. Perhaps they also help to grind food, especially the shells of crustaceans, as they are a significant component of their diet.

Very peculiar are the eggs they lay. Like most penguins, there are always two, but they differ significantly in size. The second egg, which comes about six days after the first, is almost half the size larger than the first. All the care of the parents goes to the second chick. Only after the second egg is laid do they begin to incubate. During this time, the first egg lies there, sometimes even kicked out of the nest. If the first chick manages to hatch, it will only receive food after its older sibling is satiated.

 

Antarctic fur seal

Eggs and offspring, that's something our lonely macaroni penguin can only dream of. There's no chance of mating for it. It would have to find its fellow species first. So, for this lonely one, there's nothing else to do but stare motionlessly ahead amidst a chattering crowd of chinstrap penguins.

 

Teniente Cámara

Before we return to the Sea Spirit, we stop by at Teniente Cámara, the Argentine naval base. They are delighted to have visitors because they don't see many people here. Tea, juice, and cookies are waiting for us.

 

Half Moon Island (foreground), Livingstone Island (background)

There are sixteen of them, the military personnel manning this post for the summer. Their task is to maintain a semblance of Argentine presence in this sector and support scientists who come here to conduct research. But this season, they haven't had anyone visiting yet. And it doesn't look like there will be a change in that anytime soon.

Mud, guano, and sea salt are not really welcome on the Sea Spirit

Zodiacs are ready to take us back to the Sea Spirit. Mud, guano, and sea salt are not really welcome there. So, we give our boots and rain pants a thorough brush-down on the embarkation platform below. And we run our boots through the disinfection bath once again. Just swipe the magnetic card through the computer one more time, and it's official – we're back on board. Our excursion has lasted over two hours. They even have hot mint tea and a moist warm towel waiting for us on deck 3. Who are we to object to that?

 

Back to the Sea Spirit

While the Sea Spirit immediately sets course to the south, everything is being prepared in the lounge for the Captain's Cocktail. It will be a one-man show by cheerful Oleg, during which the captain will introduce a range of staff members in his own unique style, including the Russian first officer Anton, the Indian second officer Sharma, and the Russian hotel manager Dmitar, as well as those responsible for navigation, communication, the engine room, the kitchen, the restaurant... With over eighty crew members, they are almost as numerous as the passengers.

Tomorrow, there are already some highlights to look forward to – a landing amidst the penguins and an introduction to flying penguins, whatever that might be – but above all, our first continental landing and our night camping on the ice. If all goes well.

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Friday, January 26 | Hydrurga Rocks – Portal Point

Icebergs slowly slide past the window. Occasionally, a humpback can be seen in the distance. The sun peeks through the thick clouds from time to time, casting its sparkling glow over the gently undulating water. And chef Francis serves Belgian waffles with whipped cream as a breakfast surprise. This is how beautiful awakening can be in Antarctica.

With all those icebergs drifting in from the south, the navigation officer prefers to opt for a controlled standstill

Iceberg near Hydrurga Rocks

It's half past eight when we approach Hydrurga Rocks, some rock formations so small that they're not even deemed worthy of being called islands. But perfect for our kayakers, who will soon be able to paddle around the island easily.

We stop, but don't anchor. Too risky, according to navigation officer Sharma. With all those icebergs drifting in from the south, he prefers to opt for a controlled standstill where the engines keep the ship in position and the ship remains manoeuvrable.

We are now at the northern end of the Gerlache Strait. That's what the computer screen at the reception desk tells us, displaying the ship's position in real time. We left the wide Bransfield Strait behind us overnight.

 

On our way to Hydrurga Rocks

Shortly after, Sanna, our temperamental Finnish zodiac master, is already floating on the water with her zodiac. She has plenty of experience as a geologist and glaciologist – climbing Kilimanjaro, crossing the Greenland ice cap on skis, spending a season overwintering in Antarctica... she's not afraid of any challenge.

 

 

The other zodiacs quickly follow. It's almost windless as we go ashore on Hydrurga Rocks at nine o'clock. Gradually, the sun even gains the upper hand over the clouds. This is how beautiful the weather can be in Antarctica.

 

Disembarking at Hydrurga Rocks

Like red penguins we waddle over thick rocks towards the land. A Weddell seal lies luxuriously on its back in the snow, its speckled belly turned towards the sun, a blissful smile on its lips. It completely ignores us, seemingly unaware of our presence.

 

Weddell seal

Antarctic fur seals

Things are a bit more nervous down on the rocky coast with the Antarctic fur seals. There are about ten of them. Occasionally, one raises its pointed snout in the air or moves to another spot.

 

Antarctic fur seal

Elephant seal (m)

But the big fellow lying motionless on the rocks further away is neither a fur seal nor a Weddell seal. That's a genuine elephant seal. That's a true elephant seal. Upon closer inspection, it's a male with an underdeveloped trunk. So, a young male. Yet, he must have already had encounters with other males, probably over a female. The numerous scratches on his upper body bear witness to that. A fully grown male can weigh up to three tons. Elephant seals are among the largest living marine predators.

 

Chinstrap penguins

But it's the chinstrap penguins that dominate this island – in number, in their chatter, and in their smell. Snow is not their thing, but where there are bare rocks, they've claimed them everywhere.

Under an overhanging cliff, a handful of penguin couples shelter with their chicks. These chicks seem fully grown, almost as big as their parents. Cute, fluffy creatures, were it not for the fact that they're covered from head to toe in brown mud. How they managed that is a mystery. Whether a beautiful black and white plumage ever can emerge from under that dirty mess remains to be seen.

Whether a beautiful black and white plumage ever can emerge from under that dirty mess remains to be seen

Chinstrap penguin with chick

Penguins try to drive away a snowy sheathbill

Then a snowy sheathbill comes by, with the feigned nonchalance of a cunning rogue trying not to arouse suspicion. Snowy sheathbills are archenemies of penguins. But the penguins won't be fooled. Immediately, the snowy sheathbill is bombarded with the noisy protests of the squawking penguin parents. But it doesn't let itself be discouraged. Unperturbed, it continues to scuttle between the rocks, less than a meter away from the alarmed penguins. Penguin guano, ready to be consumed, is all it's after. For the moment being, anyway.

Even more dangerous for the penguins is the brown skua lurking on the outskirts of the colony. Self-assured, it surveys the surroundings from the rocks. If it were to approach the colony closer, all hell would break loose.

Even more dangerous for the penguins is the brown skua lurking on the outskirts of the colony

Brown skua

Kelp gull

This brown skua isn't really large, with a wingspan of 120 to 160 cm and a weight of 1 to 2 kg. But it more than compensates for that with its aggressiveness. He enjoys small marine creatures and carrion, but also eggs and small penguin chicks. He devours them on the spot, much to the dismay of the parents. And in the air, he dares to chase birds larger than himself, harassing them until they drop their food out of sheer terror.

Also present is a kelp gull, easily recognizable by the red spot on its yellow beak and the dark feathers draped like a cloak over its white back. In principle, it's a scavenger, but its audacity knows few bounds. It dares to land on the back of a whale and peck holes in its skin to feast on the blubber layer. Or pluck out the eyes of young seals before attacking the animal itself.

 

Penguins

It's as if they're waiting in line at the checkout in the supermarket, penguins lined up neatly on the rocky shore below. And that perception is also somewhat accurate, because they're going out to forage. Once it's their turn, things happen quickly. They briskly tip-toe over the smooth rocks, push off forcefully, and disappear into the cold seawater. Occasionally, they surface further out at sea, usually in groups. With their curved backs, they glide through the air, gasping for breath.

 

Chinstrap penguins (in the middle) and imperial shags (above)

Meanwhile, we head upwards. We continue our short climb through the snow towards the summit of the island. On the left, a narrow bay has formed between the rugged rock formations. The kayakers can use it as a calm spot to launch their vessels onto the water.

 

Climbing to the highest point of Hydrurga Rocks

The bare rocks on the other side of that bay are teeming with life. Storm petrels effortlessly maintain themselves there with their chicks on the steep rocks. But there's more to it. Right at the top, yes indeed, there are the creatures that Jonathan jokingly referred to as flying penguins last night – cormorants.

 

Penguin colony on Hydrurga Rocks

And that joke isn't even far-fetched. Because penguins and cormorants are roughly the same size and have the same camouflage colours, black on the back and white on the belly. This makes them less visible to predators from above and below – the penguins while swimming, the cormorants while flying. Even their chicks don't differ much from each other from a distance, with their naive appearance and fluffy brown fur.

These are actually imperial shags or blue-eyed shags, ornithologist Ab knows. You can recognize them by the crest on their head and the orange-yellow knob on their bill, but especially, well, by their blue eyes. Fish is their main diet. And then that serrated beak comes in handy to prevent fish from escaping their mouth. To catch those fish, they're willing to dive up to twenty-five meters deep into the water.

 

Imperial shags with chicks

Imperial shags and chinstrap penguins with chicks

Like chinstrap penguins, they are monogamous – another similarity – but they make their nests somewhat more comfortable, using plant material such as seaweed that they cover with mud and faeces. Their most formidable enemies are great skuas, which frequently snatch an egg or even a chick.

 

Imperial shags with chicks

Climbing along a slope strewn with loose rocks, we ascend the small hill that dominates the island, following John, our New Zealand nature photographer. The path is challenging, but the reward is unparalleled.

 

Chinstrap penguins

Because the view of the surroundings is unparalleled. About one and a half kilometres to the west, the two snow-capped peaks of Two Hummock Island rise almost seven hundred meters above the blue-grey sea. Closer by an enormous iceberg floats. Water erosion has carved parallel, vertical grooves into its soft blue flank.

But it's the imperial shags and their chicks that make the place irresistible. They sit barely two meters away from us, within arm's reach, so to speak.

Nevertheless, they completely ignore us. After all, they are too busy with other concerns. Like quarrelling with their neighbours because they are sitting too close to each other. Then they aim their wide-open beaks at the intruder, screaming and waving them vigorously. It's an undisguised threat of a beak fight, although it never actually comes to that.

 

The serrated beak is quite handy for preventing fish from escaping the mouth

Other penguins are almost screaming in ecstasy, as loud as they can, with their beak held upright, neck stretched, and wings spread wide open. They can only manage this after pumping their lungs full of air by taking several deep breaths beforehand. The unique sound they produce is recognized by their partner among thousands. It plays an important role in courtship, but now the main goal is to find each other in the colony.

 

 

Other penguins are busy grooming their feathers. Their daily grooming is essential for these warm-blooded animals. Because if you dive into icy water every day, your feathers must provide you with perfect protection against water and cold. Meticulously, they run their beak through their feathers to comb away the water and shake it off. Literally, no spot remains untouched, thanks to their flexible necks.

It is this preen oil – a mixture of oil and wax – that repels all water. But it also repels mud, faeces, and the like

Then they reach with their beak to their tail base, where they collect oil from their preen gland. They evenly spread this oil over the cleaned feathers. It is this preen oil – a mixture of oil and wax – that repels all water. But it also repels mud, faeces, and the like. It even forms a protective layer against fungi and bacteria.

 

They are too busy with other concerns. Like quarrelling with their neighbours

 

Despite all their diligence, penguins consider it their most important mission to simply stand and stare, motionless, with their minds blank, their gaze into the distance, an eternal smile around their beak. Nothing disturbs their bliss. Snowy sheathbills or great skuas are nowhere to be seen here.

Despite all their diligence, penguins consider it their most important mission to simply stand and stare

The chicks try to imitate the adult penguins' inert behaviour. And they succeed in this with verve. Although they are almost as big as their parents, they are still too young to learn through trial and error what it means to live life as a penguin.

 

Weddell seal

Fur seal

Penguins go foraging

We reluctantly leave behind the enchanting place. Under the overhanging cliff, the penguins are still dealing with the snowy sheathbill. On its snowy mattress, the lazy Weddell seal continues to ignore all the commotion. On the rocky shore, the penguins still dive one by one into the sea.

Hardly have we boarded the zodiac when a message comes in. Humpback whales have been spotted

Humpback whale

Hardly have we boarded the zodiac when a message comes in via the zodiac master's walkie-talkie. Humpback whales have been spotted at eleven o'clock to the port side of the Sea Spirit. There is no hesitation – let's all head there.

 

Humpback whales

It's not difficult to find them. There are just the two of them. Occasionally, their spouts shoot three meters high above the water. Every now and then, we even catch a glimpse of their tails as they dive deeper. Penguins are also frolicking in the water. The surroundings are majestic, the sun breaks through the clouds, and our excitement knows no bounds.

 

Fascinated by the spectacle

Humpback whale's tail fin

Until another message comes in via the walkie-talkie. Passengers are not allowed to stand up in the zodiacs, it says. Apparently, they are closely monitoring us from the bridge of the Sea Spirit with their binoculars. Safety first. For an hour, we continue to enjoy the sparkling curved backs that surface again and again.

 

Humpback whales

Shortly before twelve, everyone is back on board the Sea Spirit. Immediately, we set course due south, which means we are crossing the Gerlache Strait and approaching continental Antarctica. There we will set up our camp on the ice tonight.

 

Barbecue lunch with Brabant Island in the background

The sun is prevailing now, most clouds have been driven towards the horizon, the sky is blue, the wind has subsided. Then the decision is quickly made – on the aft deck, hotel manager Dmitar has prepared a barbecue lunch in the open air. While in the background Brabant Island slowly glides by and occasionally an iceberg passes by majestically, we indulge in our hamburgers, salads, and fries. This is how beautiful lunch can be in Antarctica.

 

 

Tonight we will be sleeping on Antarctic soil, but we better not appear unprepared on the ice, we realize. So, we get to work in our cabin with the bedding they've provided us – a linen sack, a sleeping bag, a bivvy bag. It's a matryoshka system, where one bag fits inside the other, and we ourselves are supposed to be at the very inside.

It's a matryoshka system, where one bag fits inside the other, and we ourselves are supposed to be at the very inside

At least, that's what Brooke and Sanna, our American and Finnish zodiac masters, taught us yesterday. The bivvy bag seals the whole thing waterproof from the outside, the sleeping bag guarantees a comfortable body temperature in outdoor temperatures down to –18 °C (0 °F), the linen sack is there for hygienic reasons – after all, the same equipment will be used by the second camping group tomorrow evening.

Slipping into your bedding smoothly and gracefully is a piece of cake. At least if you see Sanna demonstrating it. For some reason, it doesn't go quite as smoothly for us. Struggling and sweating we try to get inside until all that fabric embraces our body like a malicious boa constrictor. Even a brief bout of claustrophobia is part of the experience. And putting the zipper of the sleeping bag on the right side doesn't seem like a stroke of genius right away. Because then you have the hood of the sleeping bag lying on top of your face.

Even a brief bout of claustrophobia is part of the experience

Meanwhile, the Sea Spirit has completed the crossing of the Gerlache Strait. In front of us now stretches the monumental coast of continental Antarctica.

Snow-capped peaks partly veiled by clouds rise above the water. Their bare, deep blue flanks are intersected by glaciers that end in steep ice walls into the sea. Calving ice must be a daily occurrence there. The icebergs seeking their way to the ocean from Charlotte Bay are countless.

Captain Oleg, therefore, takes no chances and does not drop anchor. He considers a controlled standstill safer, allowing him to manoeuvre in time if there is any impending danger.

 

Kayaks at the ‘docking station’

To lower the kayaks onto the water, they are placed transversely on a zodiac, three at a time. The whole system then is lowered using a davit. One of the zodiacs floats some distance from the Sea Spirit and serves as a docking station for the kayaks. Once all ten kayaks are safely secured there, the kayakers arrive via zodiac, climb to the central zodiac and then into their kayaks.

 

Paddling amongst icebergs

It must be fantastic to paddle around in this white landscape with your kayak. But it's best to steer clear of the icebergs. Jonathan warned us that they can calve unexpectedly. Not only does this create a wild wave front on the water, but the iceberg's centre of gravity also shifts. In search of a new balance, the iceberg starts to tumble. Suddenly, a part of the iceberg can emerge above the water where you least expect it. At such moments, you definitely don't want to be near with your kayak.

Words scarcely do justice to describe this unparalleled scenery. It simultaneously fills us with humility and joy

 

A historic moment is about to unfold – our first footsteps on continental Antarctica. At twenty past three, the time has come. We disembark onto a small promontory of bare rocks. From here, you can reach the geographic South Pole on foot, Jonathan chuckles as he points south – just keep walking straight ahead.

A historic moment is about to unfold – our first footsteps on continental Antarctica

Disembarkation at Portal Point

They named this place Portal Point after it became clear that it was one of the easiest gateways to the continent. Testifying to this is the foundation of what was once Reclus Hut. In 1956, the British erected the wooden building here as a prefabricated structure on stone pillars.

Soon, however, they lost interest in this place. To us, that’s incomprehensible, because here we could forever revel in the immense beauty. The Antarctic Treaty is unforgiving though – buildings that are not used should be dismantled. So, in the early 1990s, the British dismantled their redundant hut. Nowadays, you can admire the hut in its original state at the Falkland Islands Museum in Stanley, Falkland Islands.

 

Icebergs in Charlotte Bay

We couldn't care less about those bare foundations. It's the steep snow slope ahead that beckons us. It's a bit of a slog through the snow, with the occasional slip and slide, but it doesn't take long before we're standing atop the hill, enjoying the expansive surroundings.

Words scarcely do justice to describe this unparalleled scenery. It simultaneously fills you with humility and joy. It's not the dozens of icebergs that leave such an impression, nor the numerous glaciers, nor the imposing dark mountains with their patches of snow, nor the vastness of Charlotte Bay – it's everything together that overwhelms you.

 

Glacier fronts in Charlotte Bay

By the way, the Charlotte after whom the bay is named was Georges Lecointe's fiancée, Jonathan informs us. Lecointe was the captain of the Belgica, the ship with which Adrien de Gerlache successfully led the first Belgian Antarctic expedition – the second in command, then.

We continue walking along the ridge, admiring the views on either side of the calm waters dotted with icebergs and ice floes, and descend to the snowy plateau where we will camp this evening. Further ahead, the snow shovels already are available.

 

Portal Point

It's quarter to five when we reluctantly tear ourselves away from this miraculous environment. But Jonathan has more surprises up his sleeve. We embark on a zodiac expedition among the icebergs – not too close, of course; Jonathan knows what he's doing. From the top of an iceberg, a great skua calmly surveys the surroundings.

 

Charlotte Bay

One iceberg is not like the other, as it turns out. They all have their own shapes, their own colours, their own ages, their own scars. And Jonathan reads their history from them, almost as if it were an open book. The ones we see here are typically three to four years old. Elsewhere, he has seen one from 2002, a staggering thirty meters long.

Many icebergs have been driven to the edge of the bay by the wind and have become grounded there. It becomes their final resting place, where they will slowly but surely melt away.

One iceberg is not like the other, as it turns out. They all have their own shapes, their own colours, their own ages, their own scars

Icebergs

Great skua

Sometimes, large chunks of ice calve off. Jonathan points out the scars on some icebergs, the fracture lines where these splits occurred. Some icebergs have been victims of this multiple times; he easily distinguishes two, three, even four fracture lines on some.

 

Charlotte Bay

After each amputation, the centre of gravity of the iceberg suddenly shifts. The ice mass starts to oscillate, seeking a new equilibrium. Ice that has been submerged for months rises to the surface. Such ice is recognizable by its smooth surface, as if a sculptor has polished it.

 

Humpback whales

Then, spouting fountains on the other side of the bay draw our attention to the presence of humpback whales. The glaciology chapter is promptly closed, and we cross the bay, preparing ourselves for a lesson in zoology.

 

They even grant us the spectacle of a skilful synchronized dive under water

A mother whale and her calf are busy feeding. Time and again, the arched, glistening backs with the characteristic fin emerge above the water. Shortly after, they gracefully disappear beneath the surface, each time presenting that iconic image of the black tail fin with a curtain of water droplets cascading down. They even grant us the spectacle of a skilful synchronized dive under water.

Highly noticeable is the pattern of white and ochre-yellow spots on the underside of their splendid tails. It's almost as if they're showing them off. Barnacles also hitch a ride on those tails.

 

Tail fins with unique colour patterns

Those colour patterns are unique, Eduardo, our Peruvian biologist specializing in marine mammals, will explain to us later. You can identify each humpback whale individually with them. Organizations like Happywhale even manage to track the whereabouts of individual animals in this way.

To be admitted to this select club, you must meet five criteria

Of course, these humpback whales are mammals. To be admitted to this select club, you must meet five criteria, Eduardo states. You must be able to regulate your body temperature, breathe air, have some form of fur or hair, if female, have mammary glands, and as a young one, receive breastfeeding. Fail on any of those points, and you're not a member of the mammal club.

 

Whales are land animals that for some reason returned to the sea

As is well known, all life on Earth originated from the sea. Therefore, the evolution of cetaceans – whales, dolphins and porpoises – is all the more remarkable, Eduardo adds. Because in fact, these are land animals that for some reason returned to the sea. This is evident from their skeleton, which still shows traces of arms, as well as a pelvis but without a trace of legs. On land, the closest relative of cetaceans is therefore the hippopotamus.

Masses of air bubbles appear on the water's surface every time the whales remain submerged for a while. It seems as if this duo applies the bubble-net feeding method, a technique where they trap prey fish in a curtain of air bubbles. Then they simply need to swim vertically upwards with their mouths wide open to pluck the victims from their prison. This hunting technique has often been observed in Alaska.

 

It may seem like they have a prince's life, those humpback whales – just needing to open their mouths to get food

But that's not the case here, Eduardo contradicts our suspicion; it's not possible with just two. Most likely, the humpback whale simply opens its mouth deep underwater to scoop up plankton, releasing air bubbles in the process. Then, it squeezes the water out with its tongue, causing the krill to stick to its baleen.

Whatever the case, a few Antarctic terns are interested enough in the spectacle to flutter above the air bubbles, hoping for some treats to bubble up. With their fiery red beaks, black skulls, and snowy white bodies, they are very easy to recognize. They only wear that black cap during the breeding season; outside of that, their heads are white-grey.

It may seem like they have a prince's life, those humpback whales – just needing to open their mouths to get food. But let's not overlook the immense effort they put into their annual migration. Because here, in the food-rich waters of the Antarctic, they only come to feed. They mate and give birth in the tropics, off the coast of Peru, Eduardo knows from personal experience. While the humpback whales of the Weddell Sea, on the other side of the Antarctic Peninsula, migrate to the coasts of Patagonia and even to the Caribbean. That's at least eight thousand kilometres – one way. Hats off to these humpback whales.

 

 

And the fun doesn't stop there. Before long, two other humpback whales join our duo in their hunt for food. Eventually, we don't know where to look anymore, with all those water spouts, those roaring sounds, those bubbles on the water's surface, those shiny backs, those elegant tail fins. And all of this so close by, on an almost ripple-free water surface. Such experiences are rare, Eduardo muses.

Back on board, we can start preparing for tonight's camp. It will be a dinner without coffee or alcohol, due to their diuretic effect. Because once we leave the ship, there will be no toilet facilities. And there won't be a shuttle back to the ship either. Premature return is therefore out of the question. However, we must always be ready to evacuate the site immediately in case of emergency.

At quarter past nine, it's time. Several zodiacs set out with about thirty campers and their bedding on board. Dixie Dansercoer¹⁾, an experienced expert, accompanies us.

Dixie Dansercoer, an experienced expert, accompanies us

Shortly afterward, we disembark at Portal Point and climb up the steep snow slope to the plateau. High above our heads, filmmaker Marc's drone buzzes around to capture every bit of our adventure. Everyone chooses their spot, and the nest building begins. It's done in a penguin-like manner – the male builds the nest while the female watches critically.

From Brooke and Sanna we learned yesterday to dig a pit in the snow first. Thirty to fifty centimetres deep to protect us sufficiently from the wind. We opt for a two-person pit, with the legs sloping towards the sea. With the snow that's been dug out, we build a small wall around the head end of our shelter, as that's the direction the wind is blowing from.

 

Digging a snow pit

Ready we are

Next, tamp down the bottom of the pit well and make sure it's as flat as a billiard table. Because the black foam sleeping mats are quite thin, and you can feel the slightest unevenness through them. We place the mats in position, and ready we are. At least for now.

 

It becomes a spontaneous campfire moment around Dixie Dansercoer (top left), but without the campfire

Gradually, we gather around Dixie Dansercoer's pit. Before long, everyone is hanging on his every word as he recounts the how and why of his life as the man who pulls a sled, as he describes himself. It becomes a spontaneous campfire moment, but without the campfire – because open fires are prohibited in Antarctica.

With the pink glow of a sun that refuses to set in the background, Dirk Dansercoer tells us about his passion as a young man for nature sports like kitesurfing. About his year as a rather naive exchange student with a Mormon host family in Idaho – where his fellow students gave him the nickname Dixie. About his growing interest in boundary-pushing outdoor activities. About his meeting with Alain Hubert, their shared passion, their preparatory expeditions to Iceland and Canada, their trial expedition across Greenland.

 

Icebergs in the midnight sun

And then came the Antarctic summer of 1997-1998, the season in which they would attempt the crossing of this immense continent under their own power – four thousand kilometres across merciless terrain. Towering disappointments awaited them. Just two days after their departure, Dixie broke two ribs. Alain suffered from carbon monoxide poisoning in the tent, initially mistaken for altitude sickness. Thirty days after their departure, they had barely covered 280 km, while one-third of their provisions had already been consumed.

But then, at four thousand meters high, progress gradually picked up, with daily distances of 50, 100, 200, and even 500 km. Eventually, after 99 days, they successfully completed the four thousand kilometres. An incredible display of willpower and perseverance.

The Inuit have a saying for that – A wet man is a dead man

Gradually, everyone now seeks their resting place. It's crucial that we go under cover dry. No snow in the sleeping bag. Moisture can be fatal in such a bitterly cold environment. The Inuit have a saying for that, Jonathan whispered to us: A wet man is a dead man.

We unroll our bivvy bags over the sleeping mats, secure our life jackets so they don't blow away, fold our parkas into a comfortable pillow, store our glasses in a boot, stack our boots to keep them dry, tuck the battery of our camera into our pocket to keep it warm, stow our rain pants under the bivvy bag, and smoothly slide into our sleeping bags – with the zipper on the left side. Zip up the sleeping bag, zip up the bivvy bag, and there we lie, with only an opening for our nose and eyes.

 

Nighttime in Antarctica

Above us now stretches a magnificent starry sky, if only there weren't dense clouds obscuring it and, even if those clouds weren't there, the sky is far too bright to see a single star.

As agreed, the Sea Spirit has backed away a bit to allow us to better enjoy the silence of Antarctica. Or, more accurately, to allow us to better enjoy the nocturnal sounds of Antarctica – the chattering of penguins, the spouting of whales, the creaking of icebergs. It's mostly the latter that make themselves known. Regularly, we hear the dull rumble of an iceberg calving.

 

Vaguely, we see in the distance the lights of the Sea Spirit. One must be quite crazy to trade that for a night in a snow pit

Vaguely, just above our toes, we see the lights of the Sea Spirit in the distance. There is our warm cabin, there is our cosy bed. One must be quite crazy to trade that for a night in a snow pit. But we feel fantastic.

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Jaak Palmans
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Courted by a penguin

 

1) Dixie Dansercoer tragically passed away on June 7, 2021, during an expedition in Greenland. While crossing the ice cap from south to north – a journey of 2,200 km with a snowkite – he fell into a deep crevasse. His body will likely rest eternally in an environment that he cherished.