Half Moon Island - Chinstraps galore
22 January: Deception Island and Half Moon Island
The wind has picked up to 35-45 knots, and we’re pushing into a reasonable swell. Rain and snow are hitting the front windows of the Bridge, and I can only stay out on the fly bridge for a few minutes.
We’re due to enter Neptune’s Bellows on Deception Island at 8:30am – a narrow and tricky passage. Having raced back to the cabin to throw on more layers, I’m out on the fly Bridge, trying to hold the camera steady – not easy in this raging gale, but there are great views of the entry to this volcanic caldera.
Deception Island’s natural harbour (the caldera) is supposed to provide shelter, but as we enter, it’s clear that the island is well named – the amount of shelter offered is definitely deceiving. Even in the caldera it’s blowing 30-35 knots.
It is a desolate place – dark, almost black volcanic rock and sand, a bunch of abandoned, dilapidated buildings and an airplane hanger, now filled with ice. This was once a research station, but the scientists left the island rapidly in the 60’s, when the volcano erupted for the 2nd time in a relatively short period.
Steam is coming off the water where the waves break on the shore; water that gathers when a hole is dug into the sand is toasty warm and some brave passengers decide to test this in swimsuits – good for them! We see a large cruise ship sail in and then sail out of the caldera – they really must wonder what on earth we’re doing on the shore here.
All too soon we’re at Half Moon Island, our very last excursion, and a dramatic contrast to Deception Island. The landing is stony and quite deep and I’m pleased that my feet stay dry (the shorter you are, the deeper the water!). We’re surrounded by curious Chinstrap penguins, and as with all the rookeries, they are living high up on a ridge overlooking a magnificent bay.
The Chinstraps are gorgeous – their markings look like they have little black helmets on their heads with a strap around their chin. Bobbing their heads as they walk, they stop to look at the strangers in red that have invaded their territory. They make their way up the rocks, and via a stretch of snow that is equivalent to a double black diamond ski run.
These, like all the penguins we’ve seen, are industrious little creatures, working hard day in and day out. With their little legs and feet, and round bodies, they do a huge amount of walking to and from the sea, climbing massive rocky cliffs and boulders in the process. They dodge Leopard seals and Orcas, and ward off Skuas that threaten their young. And they spend large amounts of time hunting and gathering that “perfect stone,” sometimes from another nest, for their own carefully built nest.
It has been a beautiful place to sit and reflect on all that I’ve seen. This island is ringed by large stretches of open water with icebergs slowly moving by, and a backdrop of huge mountains and glaciers. Even the sun has emerged. But the wind is increasing in strength and it’s time to finally leave the penguins and head back to the Ioffe.
It’s definitely with some sadness that I step from the shore and the waves and roll into the Zodiac for the bumpy and wet ride back. And all to soon, the anchor is raised and we’re heading north into the Drake Passage.
Over lunch we had heard that the Ioffe’s sister ship was reorganizing its schedule after a particularly bad crossing the previous day. We’re told that the wind has abated, but to expect the next 24-36 hours to be reasonably uncomfortable – my cue to start the Kwells!
Before dinner, the crew holds an “Albatross Auction” to raise money for education on the impact of long-line fishing on Albatross and other sea birds. There are great pieces for sale, and I have my eye on an Albatross flag. Bidding starts comfortably at around $120, and I chime in at around $300. Livio, a wonderful man from Turino, is bidding against me, and it seems to me that he’s prepared to dig deeper than me. But Scotty, sitting behind me, gets excited about my bidding and starts to up my bids. I push it up to $500, and let Livio have it for $520. Lots of fun, and over the next hour, we raise something like $8,500-9,000 for the Albatross!
Dinner is the usual yummy food, and with chairs anchored to the floor, we actually feel reasonably secure – at least while sitting. Walking around is getting a little more difficult.
In the middle of dinner Sue spots another huge iceberg outside the porthole. And while the ship detours around it, we see the full size of this massive piece of ice. It’s agreed that although it might not be the size of the great state of Connecticut, it is at least the size of 2 New York City blocks!
Each evening the crew have played a movie in the presentation room, and someone has led a talk in the bar. The movies have sounded great, but the presentation room is warm and cosy at the bottom of the ship – and definitely conducive only to sleeping. So the “bar talks” have been fun – tonight Sean has been telling us about the 12 months he spent researching at Cuverville Island.
And so to bed at around 11pm, with a Kwell on board, the packet close by and loose items either tucked away or well anchored to the floor.