Sunday, 30 December 2018
Foyn Harbour, Antarctica
I’ve invented a new sport. Bathroom surfing. Bit choppy last night as we crossed the Bransfield Strait and as I was standing on the bathmat trying to have a pee, I find myself sliding around the bathroom on said mat. You can imagine the scene! There was so much movement with the waves that I ended up surfing the floor. Decide to step onto the cabin carpet instead but nearly end up with carpet burns on the soles of my feet as they were sliding along the carpet. Thankfully, I’d taken a dose of cinnarizine anti-seasickness tablets. Wow. They work! (for me before you all start suing me). Lie in bed and my whole body is moving in all directions. I only just fit in the bed so if I wasn’t headbutting one wall I was kicking the other wall. The waves are only about 3-4m high but it’s snowing as well. The condensation on my cabin window is partially frozen. The last time I had to scrape ice off my bedroom window was in the 1970s. Snow is forming in the window corners on the outside to make it look like a Dickensian scene. Totally different to last night’s calm seas and blue sky. It’s a raging torrent outside now. This is what Antarctica is all about!
We cross the Bransfield Strait in the early hours and wake up to calm seas at Portal Point. It’s magnificent scenery as I open the black out blind. Blue sky, snow capped peaks and mini icebergs floating about.
Boarding the Zodiacs is trickier due to the swell this morning. Plonk myself down at the rear and soon followed by a Chinese girl teetering on the brink of falling over due to motion of the Zodiac. Grab hold of her and sit her down on the side next to me to make sure she doesn’t fall overboard. She leans into me and says, “I feel very safe next to you!”. Ooh ‘eck. I’ve pulled.
Jump ashore on some solid rock at Portal Point, one of only four places where you can access the Antarctic plateau because of its natural low lying access. It’s one small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind when I set foot on the 7th continent, Antarctica.
There are two hills to walk up and as all the Chinese are going up one hill, I go up the other for a bit of peace of quiet, followed by the colonies. It’s deep snow and it’s pot luck as to whether you’re going to plunge a foot into the snow or just stay stable. The best thing to do is try and step in someone else’s footsteps as that’s more compacted snow. Except. It’s a struggle trying to fit my size 13 footprint into a dainty Chinese footprint. As we amble up the hill, a crevasse in the snow shows stunning shades of blue the deeper it goes. Unbelievable colour.
At the top of the hill one of the guides, Jonathan, says, “You can’t stop smiling can you!”. No. I can’t. This place is awesome. There’s no sense of scale whatsoever. You need the ship or people in photos to try and give some scale. Reminds me of being in Wadi Rum, Jordan. No sense of scale in the desert there, either. The ship in the bay looks tiny from up here.
It wasn’t that windy as we walked up but after 20 minutes looking at the view the wind picks up. And then seriously picks up. It’s a katabatic wind. The cold dense air on top of the Antarctic plateau is pushing down forcing the warmer air in the valley to disperse. The guides decide to call it in and we all have to return to the ship pronto. The Chinese have now made it half way up our hill but have to turn back. The sea kayakers are not able to paddle back as the wind is blowing them into a cove which they can’t get out of so they all have to jump on board a Zodiac and tow the kayaks back. Just goes to show how quickly the weather can change. I’d noticed that at every landing, the guides unloaded a few barrels of kit. It’s emergency provisions just in case the weather turns suddenly and they are unable to return to the ship. Food, water, survival bags, tents etc.
Be prepared.
The swell has gotten worse and we need two attempts at getting docked with the ship’s landing gantry. As we leave Portal Point to sail to Foyn Harbour, the wind dies down. It’s only been an hour and it’s changed again.
Foyn Harbour is a 2-3hr sail, so only about 20-30 miles away. But to pass the time, it’s another hearty lunch followed by an afternoon nap. All this fresh air and exercise.
Once in Foyn Harbour, it’s a 2.5hr Zodiac cruise around the coastline. Stunning vistas of snow capped peaks, glaciers, icebergs and the rusting hull of a whaling ship called the Governoren. The shades of blue in the glaciers are unbelievable. You can see the layers of snow, much like tree rings, twirling and contorting like meringue. Hear what sounds like thunder but it’s part of a glacier calving. By the time we’ve located the source of the noise we catch the tail end of the collapse.
Plenty of icebergs floating about. Some very big. Some very small. A number are smooth snow on top but a number have channels in them. This means that they’ve rolled over. The Zodiacs need to keep their distance from the icebergs in case they roll over. As they sit in the water, the ice below water level melts. As it does, the trapped air in the ice escapes and rises vertically creating what’s called bubble channels, look like grooves. As the ice below melts, the iceberg becomes top heavy and so rolls over, which is when you see the bubble channels (see photos below). I’ve educated you now, haven’t I.
One iceberg has a deep hole in it which makes the colour look like ultra violet light. Stunning colour. The water is crystal clear and you can see the rocks at the bottom as clear as anything.
In one inlet is the rusting hull of the Governoren ship. In 1915, the Governoren was a whaling factory ship which render whales into oil, and at the time one of the most technically advanced whaling ships. However. At the end of one whaling mission, the crew had a party. Someone knocked an oil lamp off a table which caused a massive fire, especially as they had thousands of gallons of whale oil on board. In order to save his crew, the Captain ran the ship aground in Foyn Harbour so they could all escape ashore. The ship still lies there, partially submerged with its bow pointing upwards above the water line. Much of the equipment is still in tact and you can see various cogs and wheels. Below the water, as it’s so clear, you can still see the rest of the sunken parts.
A flask of hot chocolate is produced on board the Zodiac. The engine is cut. Sit and have a mug of hot chocolate taking in the silence of our surroundings. Utterly mesmerising.
Dinner is different. BBQ on the top deck. It’s about +3C so wrap up warm! Great food. Great views. Great company. This is the life.
See a Chinese girl put some noodles on the chopstick wrapper on the table and stare at it. Wonder what’s wrong with the noodles. Hmmm. Keep off the noodles. After a few minutes, I realise there’s nothing wrong with the noodles. It’s an offering. She’s praying.
After the BBQ, music. Thankfully British stuff. Kylie, Spice Girls, Culture Club. So. There I am. Getting jiggy with it.
We depart Foyn Harbour about 2300hrs, just as the sun is setting. The sun peeks through a gap in the clouds illuminating the snow capped peaks, glaciers and icebergs. It’s simply stunning.
A brilliant end to another brilliant day.
