Position: 64:49.43S
063:29.285W
Port Lockroy
Date: 13 January 2012.
We awoke yesterday morning to find that the freezing
drizzling sleet had stopped and, against the forecasts, the sun was shining
albeit intermittently. The light on the surrounding mountains, glaciers and
icebergs was dazzling. In these conditions one place you have to see is Paradise
Harbour from the high hill behind the Argentine Base Brown. It is truly one of
the most beautiful and spectacular views in the world. It was the whalers who
named this place in the early 20th century. Not a body of men known
for their aesthetic sensibilities, but even they knew Paradise when they saw
it.
It had been our intention to head straight for Port
Lockroy but we quickly changed our plans and sailed the five miles across
Paradise Harbour to Base Brown first. When leaving the anchorage at Water Boat
Point we saw a particularly large, flat ice flow with dozens of penguins on it.
More were turning up. The flat top of the floe was about two feet above the
water and the penguins were launching themselves out of the water to try and get
“ashore”. Some made it with a thump and waddled across the floe to join their
mates. Others didn’t make it, managing to get one foot on the edge of the floe,
before losing their balance and toppling back into the water with a splash. Cute
and comical wasn’t in it.
As we
arrived at the Argentine Base Brown at the southern end of Paradise Harbour we
saw, coming out of the anchorage tucked behind the base, the familiar light blue
hull of our old friends on Dawnbreaker. We hadn’t seen them since Ushuaia but
had been in constant email communication with them, reporting each other’s
positions for safety reasons and, for reasons of pleasure, we have been copying
each other in on our blogs.
The one thing every yacht owner that comes this far wants
as a memento is a photo of his yacht sailing against the backdrop of the
Antarctic mountains. This was our chance. We pulled alongside Dawnbreaker and
transferred Peter and Ewan, our cameramen; pulled away, hoisted our sails, and
did a couple of sail pasts whilst Ewan and Peter clicked and videoed us.
Once done, both Dawnbreaker and Mina2 went round to the
Argentine base to disembark our crews for a visit. Having walked round the
buildings (Base Brown is not occupied this year – apparently there is something
wrong with the generators) the crews trudged their way through the thigh high
snow up the steep slope to the rocky bluff overlooking the whole of Paradise
Harbour. Down below, I jilled around in Mina2 for an hour or so waiting for
their return. Once they had taken in the majestic view their descent was rather
quicker than their ascent as they tobogganed down the steep hill on their
backsides. We then headed across the Gerlache Strait for the 24-mile passage to
Port Lockroy going the slightly longer route down the Neumayer Channel just
southeast of Anvers Island. I remember when I came down here last February on
Pelagic Australis as a recce that the Neumayer Channel was stuffed full of
whales and we had heard reports from other yachts that there were lots of them
this year as well. But by the time we reached the channel, visibility was
closing in and it had started snowing heavily. In the event, we saw no whales in
this stretch at all.
We rounded the corner into Port Lockroy, a large bay in
which, unusually in Antarctica, the water is shallow enough to anchor without
tying in. We saw Podorange, a French expedition yacht that we knew, anchored in
the far corner. We also saw that the entire bay was covered in thick brash ice,
growlers and bergy bits. We nudged our way nervously through the ice, wincing a
little every time we heard and felt the thump of ice hitting the slowly moving
bow and scraping its way down the length of the hull. Eventually we picked a
spot that looked as clear as anywhere and dropped the anchor. It was to be a
busy night.
We set an anchor watch of two hours each. The problem
with ice is that is constantly on the move. The wind will pick up from one
direction and the ice heads towards you. You fend it off and it moves on. Then
the wind shifts and the ice comes trundling back again. Meanwhile the boat is
swinging around on its anchor and accelerating the speed of impact. Then the
tide will change and you get another motorway of ice curling its way round the
island in the middle, sometimes heading towards us but sometimes we escaped. So
this was not an ice watch of sitting down below reading a book and occasionally
popping one’s head out to have a look. It was pretty much constant fending off
with our one remaining pole.
But whilst all this activity was taking place there were
plenty of other distractions. Periodically there would be a groan; a crack like
artillery fire and a large chunk of the ice wall at the end of the bay would
come crashing into the sea with a roar, and a large wave would ripple across the
bay. More ice to fend off.
On my watch there was a particularly large bergy bit, the
size of a house, quite close by and thankfully not moving. But there was a
crack; an enormous bit fell off and the rest of the berg capsized with a rush of
water.
Then Venetia and I saw this enormous prehistoric looking
head appear out of the water about 20 metres away. A Leopard seal was on the
prowl for an early breakfast of penguin. The penguins (all Gentoos here) had
been frolicking about the boat all night, swimming underneath us and then
launching themselves with a plop onto a passing growler. But when the Leopard
seal is on the prowl they all go into a frenzy and group together in one
enormous flock, porpoising in and out of the water first one way then another.
The Leopard seal has a neat way of preparing his meal. He’ll grab a penguin in
his mouth and slit its skin open with its razor sharp teeth; a couple of
vigorous whips of its head and the penguin is skinned and ready to swallow. All
that’s left of the happy little penguin is its skin floating forlornly on the
water.
Once the Leopard seal had eaten its fill it launched
itself onto a iceflow barely 50 metres away and rolled over for a post-prandial
snooze.
These words can only paint half a picture. As I’ve said
before, this place and the experiences we are all having are, quite literally,
indescribable.
Today, we have an important mission, for we are to
present a tribute to Captain Lawrence Oates on the centenary of his death on
behalf of the Royal Cruising Club to the UK Antarctic Heritage Trust, who run
the old scientific base here in Lockroy as a museum. I’ll be telling you all
about that later.
