Date: 14 February 2011
Position: 64:39.0S 062:57W – off the Antarctic
mainland
YESTERDAYS BLOG APPARENTLY DIDN'T
DOWNLOAD SO HERE IT IS AGAIN WITHOUT THE PIC!
The gale I rashly asked for turned into a severe gale,
Force 9. The seas got bigger and bigger. 3 metres – 4 metres – then 5 metres
high. It’s not exactly The Perfect Storm stuff, but probably bigger than
anything I’ve been out in before. The wind speed was 40 knots and occasionally
more. At its peak it was 49 knots – about 55 mph. We had the wind from the
northeast on our port beam, the
4th reef in the main (which leaves a sail about the size of a pocket
handkerchief) and the small staysail at the front. Pelagic Australis is built for these
conditions and she takes storms in her stride. When tucked away in the pilot
house it is comparatively comfortable. But when you have to go on deck to
shorten sail or whatever, it is indescribably cold. Sea and air temperatures are
close to freezing and the snow lashes your face like a knife. Pelagic Australis is a proper boat – no
namby-pamby push-button electric winches here. Its all hand grinding and the
loads are terrific so it requires a bit of puff. After a couple of minutes
exertion, breathing in drafts of this freezing cold air, it seems like someone
has scoured out your lungs with a wire brush. And once you return to the warmth
of the pilot house (at 8ºC the warmth inside is only comparative!), your cheeks
and ears tingle and your fingers burn as they thaw out.
We had entered the South Shetland islands to the north of
the Antarctic Peninsula between Snow Island and Smith Island (hope you’ve got a
good atlas). Once past Snow Island, in order to make Deception Island we had to
round up into the Bransfield Strait and head northeast, sailing as close to the
wind as possible. As you are taking the wind and waves head on, everything seems
more violent. After an hour or so of this punishment, Miles, our skipper,
decided to heave to and stop the boat for a while until the wind moderated. Now
just bobbing up and down, riding the waves like a duck, everything seemed a
great deal more tranquil (but everything is relative!).
There was a real desire by all of us to get to Deception
Island, and a real determination by the crew to get us there. It is one of the
“must-do’s” for any yacht visiting Antarctica and it is quite unlike anything
else on the peninsula. There aren’t many places in the world where you can
literally anchor in the crater of an active volcano surrounded by the snow-clad
mountains, swimming in the hot springs along the shore. But it is not a good
anchorage in strong winds and, as the gale was showing no sign of abating, late
yesterday evening the decision was reluctantly made to abandon the plan to visit
the volcano. We turned south again to head into the islands to the west of the
peninsula itself.
With such strong easterlies, Miles was concerned that ice
would be being blown in our path through the Gerlache Strait. At this time of
year there are a couple of hours of darkness at night and if you hit a big bit
of ice at speed it could sink you (as the Titanic found). So with the wind
having now moderated at last, we edged slowly through Dallman Bay in between
Brabant Island and Anvers Island, heading for Port Lockroy. Visibility was very
poor with mist as dawn was breaking. All if a sudden, Miles hurtled past me,
grabbed the wheel and changed course. “We wouldn’t want to hit that, would we?”
he said. Out of the mist, straight in front of us and less than a quarter of a
mile away loomed an enormous, magnificent
iceberg.
