Category Archives: Antarctica to Alaska

10. My dear expedition travellers

Leave a Reply

Tuesday, 1 January 2019

Yankee Harbour, Antarctica

Wake up call as usual with the Expedition Leader’s Swedish tones over the tannoy, “My dear expedition travellers…”

Having crossed the calmer Bransfield Strait overnight, we’re now at the entrance to Deception Island. A caldera which you can sail into through Neptune’s Bellows, a narrow 600m gap in the volcanic walls of the caldera. The caldera is 11km long by about 5km wide. Whalers Bay is the first stop and see that the volcanic beach is steaming from the heat of the volcanic landscape. A couple of small tents on the hillside belong to two British researchers studying penguins. They come on board for breakfast and give some data to our guides to show us later. The maps produced by the data show how far penguins travel from the nest to gather food before the chicks are born (some distance) and after the chicks are born (closer to home). Fascinating insight. Data is captured by gluing three bits of kit to the penguin, camera, GPS tracker and a time-depth recorder. The British researchers are moaning about the French yacht moored in the bay. They were celebrating New Year’s Eve with very loud music. The British, in their tents, were not amused!

The whaling station originally started out as a fur sealing station in the 1820s, which subsequently declined. Whaling took over in the early 1900s, the remnants of which we see today rusting on the beach. More fascinating history just rusting away. In its day, Whalers Bay was bright red, awash with the whale blood from the whaling operation turning whale blubber into oil. The huge fuel oil tanks, boiler plant and accommodation huts still stand on the beach. Considering their age and the elements they’ve had to endure, there is still a lot to see and some of the equipment is surprisingly intact.

A large building at the end of the beach is the aircraft hangar. The beach was too short so the runway had a 20deg kink in it to make it longer. An old Aga oven still stands on its concrete base rusting away. Aga should use it for publicity!

A couple of weathered wooden crosses mark the cemetery where 35 people were laid to rest. One wooden cross is inscribed, ‘Tommern Hans Cuiliksen’, who died in 1928. Assume it’s the original wooden cross??

The advent of sea going vessels meant that palegic whaling took over and so the set up was no longer needed.

The beach is black lava rock and warm as it’s still volcanic. The warm water on the beach condensing in the cold air creates clouds of steam. Very atmospheric look.

Back on board the Ocean Nova, it’s a 4hr sail to Yankee Harbour. The ship has an open bridge, meaning that you can go in anytime and observe what’s going on. Really interesting. The Ukrainian navigator gives me little tour of the equipment. He basically taps in waypoints and the ship self drives itself to the next destination. We’ve apparently travelled 624 miles since we started this trip. I ask how far an iceberg is away from us on the port side. A quick check of the radar and it’s 1 mile away. It looks a lot closer, which shows how big the iceberg is and again no sense of scale.

Yankee Harbour. The final shore excursion on this amazing trip. It’s a stoney spit of land arcing out into the harbour. Surprising to see so many skeletons on the spit. Seals, penguin and whale. Walk along to the penguin rookery on the mainland. They’re all perched on nests protecting their month old chicks. They produce two chicks but feed the first born first. Second born only gets fed when first born is full. Needless to say, second born quite often dies. Chicks still have their fluffy feathers. Very comical watching then waddling about.

Post-dinner slide show of our trip. The first photos is yours truly at the head of a single line of Chinese walking away from the aircraft as we landed. I look massive compared to the Chinese. It elicits some laughter from them and they all turn around to look at going, “Aaah”. It’s enough to give you a complex about being tall!

Weigh anchor in Frei Base Station harbour at 2315hrs so should be a quiet night. We have a weather window tomorrow morning for the aircraft.

Feeling incredibly sad that it’s all over far too quickly.

9. Bloody hell, bloody hell

Leave a Reply

Monday, 31 December 2018

Danco Island, Antarctica

Really calm seas as we sail to Port Lockroy overnight. Wake up to even better vistas of blue sky, snow capped peaks, glaciers and glass like water. Not a bad way to start the day.

First port of call is Port Lockroy. The first British Antarctica station, imaginatively called, ‘Base A’, the second station was also imaginatively called, ‘Base B’. The British Antarctic group decided that to stake a claim to this bit of Antarctica they needed to set up a post office and there’s been one ever since. A lucky few will be getting, eventually, a postcard from Antarctica. It may be sometime. As the stamps are British, they have to wait for a ship that is going to the Falklands, from where the mail can be transferred to London for distribution. Nigel, our guide, was once based here in the 1990s for 4-5months with just one other colleague for company. He wrote a letter to his wife in December wishing her a happy anniversary in March the following year. She only received the letter the following November, it having taken nearly 11 months, and thought it was for the following March, so 15 months after he’d actually sent it.

The station is now part of the British Antarctic Heritage Trust (http://www.ukaht.org/) and staffed by four volunteers. You would think they were all British. First staff member I speak to is French. Second staff member is Finnish. Finally, staff members 3 & 4 are British. Three females and one French man. Hmmmm.

Board the Zodiac for the transfer to the island and Kenn, one of the guides, greets me with, “You can’t stop smiling can you!”. No. I can’t. It’s unbelievable scenery down here. I am so lucky.

Stepping on to the very small island in the middle of the bay you see the station comprises the original wooden accommodation hut, complete with Union flag flying proudly, another hut which remained a mystery and a Nissen hut, complete with solar panels, which is the new modern accommodation for the staff members.

The original accommodation hut comprises the gift shop (I’ve come all this way and there’s a gift shop!) and museum with rooms left as they were when the base was shut down. Bunk room, dark room for photography, dining room, small bar, weather research room, bathroom (comprising an old tin bath), workshop and a very small toilet (plank of wood with hole and bucket beneath). The kitchen and cupboards still have the original 40s/50s/60s foodstuffs still unopened. Marmite, Branston Pickle, Worcester Sauce, HP Sauce. All sat there still full of contents. Told that anything that was left wasn’t popular. The popular food was consumed. It’s a fascinating slice of history and one that I didn’t know existed. More research required when I return home.

Ask one of the British girls what they do at night after manning the museum and shop. Not a lot. Is the reply. Mainly email. You would need a certain mentality to be down here for a few months. But, admittedly, on a nice sunny day, it is rather spectacular.

Have my photo taken with a Chinese girl who is also British with the Union flag. We’re the only two British passengers on board. I’m 6’7” in my boots. She’s about 5’4”. Most amusing image.

Cross the bay by Zodiac to see the penguins and a few seals. Penguins are so comical the way they waddle. They have penguin runs which are like open tunnels in the snow. Given the depth of the snow, all you see is a little head bobbing up and down.

Sail through the Neumayer Channel enroute to Danco Island. It’s one of the most beautiful channels in Antarctica. I’d like to say I saw it. But. I just can’t help have an afternoon nap. All this fresh air you see.

Wake up just as we arrive at Danco Island.

WOW.

What a view.

There are lots of little mini icebergs floating down the channel. I’d heard these clatter the hull on the way up and we’ve actually been delayed getting here because of the quantity of the larger icebergs. No wind this afternoon. Ideal weather conditions for the landing. Two options. Walk up the little hill to see penguins or walk up big hill to see penguins. Choose the big hill. There’s about 2ft of snow to navigate through. Make sure I’m at the back of the line of Chinese walking up big hill. I’ll let them compact the snow to make it easier. We zig-zag up the hill. Nigel, the guide at the top, tells me his GPS says it’s only 155m/500ft high. WHAT?!?! Feel like I’ve climbed about 2,000ft! With all this polar gear on and exertion, I’m sweating buckets. I know the first rule of cold weather travelling is not to sweat but that went out the window about half an hour ago!

The views from the plateau at the top of the hill/really high mountain are insane. It’s awesome. You can’t describe the view so have a look at the YouTube panoramic videos below. This will only give you about 10% of what I experienced. There’s just too much landscape to capture it all on photo. Manage to escape the chattering Chinese and find a peaceful spot. Hear a rumble of thunder but quickly realise it’s one of the many glaciers calving. You should go to Danco Island at some point. It’s stunning.

As I’m looking down at the icebergs in the water below, see what looks like three penguins swimming. It’s only when I zoom in 100X on my camera that I can see that it’s not penguins but the sea kayakers. That’s how small they are. If you look on the panorama photo below, you’ll see a yellow jacket on the right edge. Below that just to the left is the water below. Can you make out 3 dots? Well, that’s the sea kayakers. That gives you an indication of the scale. It’s mind blowing!

On the way down, another guide, Falk, tells me that his trick is to be the last off the hill/really high mountain so you can have a few minutes peace and quiet and take it all in. There’s 60 Chinese above me so that’s not going to happen but I do sit with him for a few minutes taking it all in. The silence. The serenity. The sights. The sea. One of the most memorable days of travelling!

Quick Zodiac cruise around the icebergs enroute to the ship. It’s awesome.

Before dinner, there is the option to take a polar plunge. Jump off the landing gantry into the icy sea attached to a safety harness. I do my own polar plunge and come out of a hot shower onto deck 4 in just shirt sleeves to watch the real thing. The Chinese and the young American nephew are taking it in their stride. And then. Mr Oz makes an appearance. He’s 72. Think Grandpa Potts (Lionel Jeffries) out of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. I know he’s reading this. He jumps in. He immediately reaches for the landing gantry.

I think he’s having a heart attack.

He climbs out.

“Bloody hell, bloody hell.”, I can hear him say. I start chuckling as it’s quite funny.

The crew are on standby to give each participant a shot of vodka.

Mr Oz is offered one.

“F*** that! I need a hot shower!!” is the retort.

Recount all these details over the New Year’s Eve dinner. So funny. A great evening had by all!!

With the wonders of modern technology I’m able to have a video chat with friends back in the UK. I’m onboard a ship in Antarctica video chatting with people in the UK. How times have changed since I first started travelling 30 years ago., Back then it was letters and the post!

Post-dinner entertainment is a quiz and scavenge hunt. We decide to call our team of 5, ‘Bloody hell, bloody hell’ in memory of Mr Oz’s polar plunge. As I’ve climbed a hill/really high mountain, very good natured American nephew does all the running around whilst I manage the process. Interestingly, he’s studying aeronautical engineering and has been involved with a Hyperloop prototype pod whilst at university and run it on Elon Musk’s Hyperloop test tube. Very interesting to listen to!

Midnight approaches and on the stroke of the New Year, we all raise our champagne glasses, toast everyone and everything and welcome 2019 with the ship’s horn blasting out across the sea. The year starts with everyone dancing to YMCA.

An awesome end to 2018 and a brilliant start to 2019.

I can now say that I have been in Antarctica two years in a row.

So very lucky!

8. Bathroom surfing

Leave a Reply

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.

7. Medevac

Leave a Reply

Saturday, 29 December 2018

Bransfield Strait, Antarctica (again)

 

Alarm call at 0715hrs. Open curtain. It’s open water. Was expecting spectacular scenery having, in theory, cross the Bransfield Strait overnight to arrive at Portal Point. Breakfast was scheduled for 0730hrs but we hear that all staff are to report to the Lounge for a staff briefing now followed by all passengers being summonsed to the lounge for a briefing.

There is no spectacular scenery anywhere. It’s just water and sky. We’re in the middle of nowhere. Assume we’ve been delayed for some technical reason.

Mr Oz tells me that he heard an almighty bang above his cabin at about 0200hrs. The sea was a little choppy during the night so we surmise that perhaps a Chinese person has been tossed out of the top bunk.

Transpires that there was a medical emergency last night and a decision made to return to Frei Base Station for a medevac back to Punta Arenas. Told that they don’t know how long we’ll be in Frei Base Station as we’ll have to wait for the aircraft to have a weather window. Mr Oz enquires as to whether it’s anything to do with the loud noise he heard but is told no. A passenger has suffered a suspected aneurism and needs urgent medical attention. Good job it happened on day 1 when we were only 9hrs sailing from Frei rather than towards the end otherwise that would have been a couple of days sailing plus a wait for the aircraft. Not only that but there’s a group of Chinese doctors on board. They’re all friends from university way back when. Discover that there are three eye specialists and a retina specialist, which is fortunate as the medevac has problems with their sight.

So the lesson for today is this.

Make every day count. You never know when something untoward may happen to you. Live life. Enjoy life. Do things. See the world before it’s too late. Don’t sit at home putting things off. Do it now. Whilst you can! Life is too short.

Upon arrival at Frei, it transpires there’s another expedition ship doing a changeover of tours so our medevac is able, very fortunately, to get on their flight, which is due around 1100hrs.

Whilst we’re laid up we have a couple of hours on the Zodiacs visiting Ardley Island, about 100m from King George Island. It’s a rarity in that it houses 3 types of penguin. The Adelie, Gentoo and Chinstrap, who all live in close proximity.

This means I get to use my polar gear at long last. I’m on deck 3 which is about 4m from water level.

Right. Here’s the sequence.

Take off normal clothes. Stand there in underpants and socks. Find thermal long johns in luggage.

Put on black thermal long johns. It’s the first time I’ve worn such things. They’re like wearing thick tights. I’d like to say I look like a male ballet dancer. All toned muscular legs wrapped up in skin tight tights. But. You know.

Put on black thermal long sleeved vest.

Stand and admire in mirror at one’s physique. All skin tight clothing. You’re right ladies. Black works. I look three stones lighter. In. My. Head.

Put on normal trousers.

Put on normal shirt.

Put on hiking socks.

Start sweating buckets you’re so hot because the cabin’s so hot.

Put on fleece jumper.

Sweat some more.

Put on thermal wellies.

Put on waterproof trousers.

And then.

You remember.

Sod it!

You have 2hrs in the Zodiacs.

You need a final pee.

So.

It all comes off again.

Sweating like I don’t know what now.

Chuffing nora.

Final pee. Tick.

On it all goes again.

Why is this cabin so hot?

Once redressed then it’s wrapping scarf around neck such that it will protect mouth and nose.

Put on polar puffa jacket.

Put on thermal hat.

Put on waterproof outer coat.

Dripping with sweat now.

Put on life vest and pull tight.

Look like an overblown Michelin man!

I have to go outside to cool down.

Despite the faff, it’s all needed. Once on the Zodiacs and zooming across the bay the windchill is biting.

Short trip on shore to Ardley Island to see, and smell, the penguins. Rules are that penguins have priority on a walk. You have to keep 5m away from them and stop if you see a penguin waddling across your path.

Penguins perambulating prevent people proceeding on pebble beach.

What surprises is the number of penguin skeletons on the beach. Told that it’s usually because the parents feed the biggest chick first and second chick is only fed when biggest one is full. So quite often the second chick dies.

Back on the Zodiacs to circumnavigate the small island. See a seal on the shore line. It’s not moving. I ask the guide if it’s dead.  As soon as I’ve said it the seal rolls over, raises its flipper as if to say hi and smiles (see photo below). I kid you not. You couldn’t have made it up. Joke that it must be an animatronic machine such was the timing of it.

At the briefing on board, there was a huge chorus of approval from the Chinese when it was announced that we’d be going to see the China Great Wall Antarctic Station. One of the largest on King George Island. As we zoom across the water, there’s a loud bang from the Zodiac and the engine is stopped. We’ve hit an underwater rock. Propeller blades damaged but not enough not to function fortunately.

Our short shore excursion comes to an end and we return to the ship. Having come from the cold air on the water into the warmth of the ship we’re all desperate to strip off our polar gear. Back to cabins to undress. Everything comes off again. I’m down to my underpants and socks again when I realise that there’s a Zodiac full of Chinese waiting to transfer to ship pretty much outside my cabin window. So. There they are. And there I am. Praying they don’t look up!

Our medevac has successfully got on a flight and heading back to Punta Arenas. Now able to set sail again down the Bransfield Strait. I can see from my weather app on my phone that it’s going to get choppy about 6pm for about 12hrs.

Sure enough. It does. Wind picks up. Snow starts. White horses gather pace. We’re having a swell time. We’re rocking and rolling.

Chat with one of the guides after dinner and it transpires we have a mutual friend in the UK. Small world, eh.

 

 

 

6. Nipple warmers

Leave a Reply

Friday, 28 December 2018

Bransfield Strait, South Shetland Islands, Antarctica

 

Following on from yesterday’s blog, we all had a welcome dinner in Jose Noguiera’s former home, a palatial 19th Century mansion on the main square. Relief is overwhelming to find that I’m not actually the only non-Chinese passenger. There’s a retired couple from Oz and Uncle & Nephew from USA. I’ll no doubt have to keep the colonies under control. We all share a table and it’s most amusing! Good characters with stories to tell.

Early morning check in to Antarctic Airways. A swift process and soon at Gate 1. You can tell the passengers that are flying to Antarctica. We’re all wearing thermally insulated wellies. We are told to dress up in polar gear now for going on the plane so when we disembark in Antarctica, we’re hot to trot. Go through the rigmarole of clothing up. By the time I’ve put waterproof trousers on I’m sweating buckets, it’s so hot in the terminal building, so they swiftly come off again.

Excellent flight from Punta Arenas to Frei Base Station on King George Island in the South Shetland Islands, about 1,000km/600miles from South America. About 1hr 50mins flying time. We’re in a BAe-146 aircraft. Used for its short take-off and landing capabilities as the runway at Frei is very short and gravelly. Fly over the Drake Passage and see no white horses so assume it’s calm today. As we approach Antarctica, the cloud cover increases and we descend through low cloud until suddenly the sea appears a few hundred feet below, which reminds me of the time I flew into Honningsvag, northern Norway, at the start of my Cape to Cape trip.

As soon as we touch down, the brakes go on and reverse thrust. It’s an incredibly short runway primarily used as an emergency runway which anyone can land on at anytime. No tarmac just a gravel strip on an island. The stones thrown up on to the underside of the aircraft make a racket. The pilot only made the decision to fly 12hrs beforehand. He needs a 4hr weather window in order to fly, land, disembark/embark passengers and take-off again. A guide tells us that last year they were stuck for 5 days in Antarctica waiting for a weather window but assured that’s a rarity.

Once disembarked, it’s a 20-30 minute walk along the runway and down Antarctica’s busiest road (a car drove past) to the beach and the waiting Zodiacs. More safety briefings on life jackets and embarking/disembarking Zodiacs are just about to start when some penguins suddenly leap out of the sea and waddle up to the beach. Quick. Penguins. Cameras. Click. Click. Click. Reminds me of Africa when you saw impala on day one and it was a big thing but by day two you’re all impala-ed out and they don’t even make you want to take a photo. Suspect it will be the same for penguins.

Once on board the Zodiacs, we float out into the cold sea and are then given a ‘man overboard’ safety briefing before heading to the ship and transferring from Zodiac.

On board the MV Ocean Nova for the next week with Antarctica XXI  (www.antarcticaxxi.com). An ice class expedition ship. Told that we have to cross the Bransfield Strait, which, as an extension to the notorious Drake Passage, can get a bit choppy. Hmmm. Cinnarizine tablets taken.

Before the ship can set sail we all have to undertake a mandatory safety briefing and ‘abandon ship’ routine, which entails leaving your cabin on the emergency alarm sound and making your way to the Muster Station. Then shown how to put on an immersion suit, which gives us 6hrs in the freezing water. Yay. Next up is queuing for the lifeboat. Being the gallant and chivalrous type, I bring up the rear for my lifeboat.

As soon as the safety briefing is over, the ship starts sailing out of the inlet into the Bransfield Strait. It’s nice and calm in the inlet but I’m wary. Having crossed from Poole to Cherbourg one stormy English summer’s day, it was nice and calm in Poole harbour but as soon as we left, that was it. It was like being in a washing machine being thrown about all over the place. 20ft high waves and a Brittany Ferries catamaran do not go!

However, as I type this, we’ve been sailing for 6hrs now and it’s been OK. On the port side we have the Antarctic peninsula and on the starboard side the snow capped peaks of the South Shetland Islands.

Welcome drinks before dinner is interrupted by a pod of humpback whales breaching and snorting. Never seen a whale before and it’s quite something to be so close. Never been on a cruise before. So that’s two firsts.

The Englishman and his colonies now have a designated table. We’ve all got stories to tell and it’s a really good laugh. Mrs Oz tells us that in New Zealand they have a possum problem so use the fur to make gloves. And nipple warmers. Apparently, it’s a thing. She refuses to say if she’s wearing nipple warmers though. I’m not sure if she’s winding me up though?!

It’s a 15hr sail to Portal Point so we’ll be there early tomorrow morning and then we can set foot on mainland Antarctica!

5. Very unpredictable…like a woman’s heart!

1 Reply

Thursday, 27 December 2018

Punta Arenas, Chile

 

Finally. A day of doing nothing. No flights. No travelling. Today is for boot fitting, safety briefings and meet fellow travellers.

I have a technical problem with my website and blog so decide to contact a web designer in Nottingham for help. You may see an improvement in style over the coming week, though not necessarily content.

When booking this trip, I was trying to get a departure towards the end of January, which would then bump arrival into Alaska into June and thus more favourable weather at that end of the trip. However, that’s peak season and none of the fly-cruise departures had any availability. Apart from this 27 December 2018 itinerary. I was advised at the time of booking that I would be the only European guest as all the other travellers were Chinese, though assured it’s an English language cruise.

First activity is boot fitting. We’re to wear thermally insulated wellington boots as all the landings onto Antarctica are ‘wet landings’. You transfer from ship to shore in Zodiacs but have to disembark in the shallow water. There’s lots of boots in the boot room. It’s obvious which are for the Chinese. They’ve got the small sized boots. My boots, on the other hand, are the large ones at one end of the table. Size UK12/EUR47 for me. Boot room opens at 10am. Make sure I’m there pronto as I can see a lot of Chinese congregating in the hotel lobby just waiting to go en masse to boot room. Don’t do queueing.

Ask the lad in the boot room what the weather will be like in Antarctica. Always good to get local knowledge. He replies, “Always unpredictable…just like a woman’s heart!” So. There you have it. Today’s weather forecast for Antarctica.

By the time I’ve tried my boots on there’s a long queue of Chinese snaking around the boot room entrance. Glad I got in first.

An old friend (YKW) emailed a few days ago to say that I should visit the cemetery in Punta Arenas as it’s like Recoletta in Buenos Aires. It’s Punta Arenas’ 2nd most popular tourist attraction, which gives you an indication of what there is to see and do in Punta Arenas. Short walk from the city centre and I soon see ornate towering mausoleums above the white walled enclosure. There are rows and rows of lesser structures, family graves and smaller mausoleums. At one end is a high wall with glass fronted rectangular openings. Yet more enclosures housing the dead. It’s all rather impressive. The largest plot is set aside for the Braun Family, 19th century Russian immigrants who settled here and created wealth in the area. Find another area of the cemetery which is lower down such that I can see over the tops. It’s a bizarre site. Looks like lots of apartment blocks but each block houses hundreds of rectangular openings for housing the dead. Not only that, but to access the upper blocks, there are steps on rails (as you would find in an old fashioned library to reach the books on the upper shelves) which you can roll along to your plot then climb up to replenish flowers etc. They’re all glass fronted and see plenty of trinkets and photos in the recess before the blocked up coffin section.

A coffee shop across the road beckons. Ask the lad if they have Coca-Cola, in a very slow and precise manner so that he can understand that very well known international brand. He repeats what I say in a Spanish accent and says no and gives me drinks card. As he walks away, he’s obviously been thinking and turns and says to me in a Spanish accent, ‘Ah…Coca-Cola?’. Yes. We have. OK. Deary me.

I’m pacing myself in Punta Arenas. I have a further two days here when I return from Antarctica. So I don’t want to exhaust all the points of interest today. A bit of shopping for snacks turns into a 20 minute wait at the check-out. There’s a lot of faffing. The background music is playing British music and Dexy’s Midnight Runners comes on. I find myself singing ‘Come on Eileen’ a bit too loudly and a local woman looks up at me. She obviously thinks I’ve been let out for the day judging by her looks.

Walk up the hill to the panoramic view point over Punta Arenas. Fantastic views across the Strait of Magellan and facing south towards Antarctica. Chat with a young Kiwi lad who is teaching English in Chile. He’s spent two years teaching around Mexico, Guatemala, Peru and Chile.

Return to the city centre and main square to touch the foot of Magellan’s statue in the Plaza de Armas. Legend has it that if you touch the foot you will return one day to Punta Arenas. I know this to be true. I touched it back in 2005. And here I am again.

Tomorrow will be a 2hr flight to Antarctica. I’m guessing there won’t be any internet connection so no blog for a week. What’s that? Can I hear the sighs of delight from you all?? Surely not!

 

4. Musical chairs

1 Reply

Wednesday, 26 December 2018

Punta Arenas, Chile

 

Ever since I travelled from Braunschweig, Germany, to Salvador, Brasil, in 1999, via Hannover, Brussels and Lisbon, to discover that although I had arrived, my bags hadn’t, I have this fear that it will happen again. Consequently, I never now check my bags in and always travel with them as hand luggage. This fear is not unfounded as, for those that know me, I am 6’5” and not exactly slim and athletic. Hence, it’s not as though I can nip in to the nearest shop and buy clothes that fit. Unlike you normal people. As one of my friends remarked, I’m unnecessarily large. My bag was eventually found and I received it care of the gorgeous Selma from TransBrasil in Salvador, three days later. It’s not fun living in clothes that are three days old, I can tell you.

And that, dear reader, is why I will always take bags on as hand luggage. Bear that in mind as you read on. Coupled with the fact that I’ve got a load of polar gear packed which I really don’t want to lose the day before I fly to Antarctica.

I’m flying to Punta Arenas in southern Chile today. A 3hr flight. It’s a short hop across the road from hotel to departures and I soon join the long queue for airport security. Unlike a similar queue at Birmingham airport, it’s moving surprisingly quickly. I soon find out why.

I’m too used to the rigmarole at European airports where you practically have to undress and unpack your bags before being allowed through the scanners. Here, it’s a case of put your bag on a tray without taking out liquids, laptops and everything else and then walking through the body scanner fully clothed whilst your bag is X-rayed. It’s a doddle. But I suppose the Chileans don’t have the threat of Islamic terrorists wanting to blow them out of the sky.

As boarding approaches, the LAN Chile ground crew set up the queuing system. We’re going to be boarding by those in window seats first, then middle seats and finally aisle seats. I’m an aisle seat.  I’d recently read a news report about this type of boarding (https://www.telegraph.co.uk/travel/comment/the-fastest-way-to-board-a-plane/) but never seen it in action. Until now. Having managed to get to the boarding gate with my 20kg rucksack, which is both oversized and overweight (yeah, yeah, bit like me), I’m now hoping that I can secrete it past that final check at the boarding desk but I see an officious airline woman walking up the queues looking at people and saying something. Soon realise that it’s a case of make sure you’ve got your passports and boarding cards ready. A few minutes later, a small weedy looking young lad (the irritating type that would get bullied at school) also wanders up the queue doing the same thing so assume it’s another reminder. Until he reaches me. He looks up. I tower over him. My bag is way too big apparently. No. It’s not. Yes. It is. As it’s panto season. Oh no it isn’t. I tell him that it’s OK and full of puffy polar clothes that will squash down. He replies with, ‘Show me.’ Erm. I don’t think so mate. I know full well that it won’t squash down to a smaller size. Tell pipsqueak in a very assertive and authoritative manner that it’s OK. Rather surprisingly, he gives up and wanders off. I’m not there yet though. Still have to run the gauntlet of boarding pass scan, the final hurdle in my quest to get my overweight and oversized bag on as hand luggage.

It then occurs to me that we’re the last group to board. There’s lots of people with large daysacks and I fear that by the time I get on board all the overhead lockers will be full. All the window people are ferried to the aircraft by a bus, followed by middle seaters on another bus. Us ‘aislers’ are on the final bus. I manage to get my bag on bus without further challenge and make sure I’m now at the front right door of bus, as that’s usually prime spot for decanting bus to aircraft steps first. There are six doors on the bus (front, middle, rear, each side), so it’s 50/50 as to whether we decant left or right, though usually right in my experience. I’m in prime position.

Ho ho ho.

Bus arrives at aircraft from the front meaning the left doors will open. Sod it. To make matters worse, only the rear left door is open so I’m one of the last to decant. Sod it. There’ll be no space for bag in overhead locker and it’ll go in the hold, which at this stage is a negligible risk of going astray enroute. I’m one of the last to board and some eager baggage handlers are relieving folk of their smaller bags as it’s a full flight. Hmmm. Turn towards to handlers so my bag is out of sight, out of mind. Ascend the steps. Yes. Done it. I am on board with bag. Walk down the aisle. Rather stupidly, the aisle seaters who are already seated lean in to the aisle to see what’s going on and as I progress down the aisle my bag ricochets off heads and shoulders.

I’m in seat 26J, the final third of the aircraft. An emergency exit seat with lots and lots of leg room I am assured by the airline bod I checked with yesterday. I’m just waiting to discover that there’s no overhead locker space for my bag and after all that lugging it about, it will have to go in the hold. But. Someone is looking down on me. There is sufficient space. However, the joy of discovering space for oversized and overweight bag is overridden by the realisation that seat 26J is not an emergency exit seat with oodles of leg room. It’s a bog standard seat. I don’t do bog standard. I’m way too tall for bog standard. My 36” inside legs don’t do bog standard. I attempt to sit down. I can’t physically sit down. My legs don’t fit.

Sod it.

Right then. Time for a bit of Taurean charm. Stand up. Survey the extra leg room seats. 25B, C, J & K have a metre of leg room. 26A and 26L have about three metres of leg room as there is no seat 25A or 25L as it’s the exit door. 26K is a big bloke. So no. 26A is a petite Italian lady. Taurean charm on its way. At the same time as I’m positioning myself to pop the question, I see that a stewardess is also pointing in that direction and see that she’s trying to swap a Michael Moore type character (very big American director) who is also oversized for a bog standard seat.

Swiftly is my middle name. I make my move. I ask. She fully understands my predicament and very kindly agrees to swap her 26A with lots of leg room to my 26J with sod all leg room. She stands up and moves into the void created by an absent 25A so I can move into 26A. At the same time, stewardess sees what we’re doing, which has buggered up her planned chess move. She gabbles on in Spanish. Tell her I don’t understand and explain in English that we’ve swapped. It’s all agreed. Job done. Move on. Plonk my bum in 26A. Fasten seat belt. Possession and all that. Earphones in. Magazine open. Head down. I’m not moving.

Italian lady is still standing and dithering. Point to 26J across the aisle and tell her that was my seat. She sits down. So. All good. I’ve wangled prime seat. But then. Out of the corner of my eye, I see another stewardess coming towards me. Gabbling in Spanish. I’m not relinquishing this seat now. She approaches. Here we go. I’m going to get turfed out for my little unofficial seat swap. But no. She talks to the Italian in 25B (friend of 26A). It’s clear that Miss Italian doesn’t speak English or Spanish. Ooh. That’s done it. She has to move. You have to speak English or Spanish to sit in an emergency exit seat.

I remember this from my trip in 2005 when I wasn’t allowed to sit in an exit seat as I didn’t speak Spanish. Back then it was Spanish only. I still remember the smug little airline steward’s name from that escapade, Bernardo. It’s ingrained in my memory.

So, middle aged Italian in 25A has to move elsewhere. I get an upgrade. A sexy, young, blonde American girl now diagonally in front of me. Italian who swapped with me and is in 26J also has to move, as it’s classed as an exit seat, even though it’s not. She buzzes off somewhere and is replaced by a not so sexy, scruffy bearded young student lad.

Stop the music!                                                                                              

There ends today’s musical chairs.

We can now take-off. It’s a 3hr flight so really glad for the extra leg room.

Three minutes after take-off, the woman next to me (a Russian living in LA) reaches for the sick bag. Oh. Dear. God. That’s all I chuffing need. Vomiting Veronica next to me for 3hrs. Except. She’s only spitting out her chewing gum. Thank God for that.

The arid valley of Santiago surrounded by snow capped peaks, gives way to the lush green of the Chilean Lake District, which in turn gives way to the glaciers and lakes of Torres del Paine National Park. Everyone is now trying to see through the port windows. I have prime position for photographing the landscape. And soon become the official photographer for rows 23 to 27.

It’s stunning scenery and we fly over the actual Torres del Paine, the three large monolithic towers of stone from where the park gets its name. Absolutely stunning scenery (see photos below).

Land at Punta Arenas and as my grandfather would say, it’s a top coat colder here than the 33C heat of Santiago. Now a chilly 13C. Quick drive to Cabo de Hornos hotel, in the centre of Punta Arenas.

For those that haven’t been to Punta Arenas, it hasn’t changed much in the 13 years since I last came. Think northern Scandinavian town. Without the expense. And it’s still daylight even now at 2230hrs.

3. Doesn’t feel like Christmas Day

Leave a Reply

Tuesday, 25 December 2018

Santiago, Chile

 

Considering it was a 14.5hr flight (one of BA’s longest flights), it went incredibly quickly. Helped with about 8hrs dozing though. I’m one of the first to board and soon settle into my First Suite. Glad I’m not in Business as I’m convinced the seats have shrunk over the years, either that or I’ve gotten bigger (yeah, OK, I know).

There’s a baby crying in the Business section too and its noise permeates the cabin. Let’s hope that doesn’t go on all night. Babies should be banned from Business & First. If you’ve paid all that money you want a haven on tranquillity, not a creche!

Discuss.

Greeted by the stewardess with a Preston accent, it’s quite refreshing to hear a northern accent after working 4 years in London. A glass of champagne, Sir. Oh go on then, just the one…Mrs Wembley. I had to explain the origin of that phrase to some London Millennials recently, which then meant explaining who Dennis Waterman is, which then meant explaining Minder and Arthur Daley. There’ll be those of a certain age reading this, nodding and thinking of the halcyon days of British TV. The same London Millennials had to have carbon paper explained to them too!

Push back bang on time at 2200hrs and we’re soon over Poole before routing over the Atlantic towards Manaus in northern Brasil.

During the safety briefing, they play quite a good video with a cast of British film & TV stars which is very entertaining. At one point, David Walliams says, “Your glamorous cabin personnnel will now point to the exits.” Upon which, one stewardess excitedly says, “Ooh, that’s us!”

Another stewardess has a string of battery operated fairy lights wrapped around her body, getting into that Christmas spirit, except that when she walks past they reflect in the window and it looks like a UFO whizzing past outside. I take a picture of the reflection of her lights and send to my young Godchildren when I land, telling them it’s the lights of Santa’s sleigh enroute to England. They’re impressed apparently.

There are no window blinds on the Boeing 787-9 Dreamliner and it’s still dark at 0930hrs GMT by the time I ‘get out of bed’. It’s only when I go through to the galley that I realise that it’s broad daylight. Hmmm. Return to my seat and discover the windows are blacked out electronically. At the push of a button it becomes clear glass and I can see out. Discover we’re flying over the Andes (and as everyone knows, the Andes are at the end of your armies) and the ‘flight sat-nav’ tells me we’re flying over the Salar de Uyuni, the world’s largest salt flat in Bolivia. All being well, I shall be going there in a month or so. It really is impressive. It looks like snow amongst the desert brown of the surrounding area. The silvery moon is floating in the bright blue sky above and it makes quite a picture (see below).

Finally land at Santiago on time and I’m off the aircraft, through security, cross the road to the Holiday Inn Express Airport Hotel and in my bedroom within 10 minutes. That’s the way to do it.

Considering I’ve just had a 14.5hr long haul flight I feel rather refreshed so jump in a taxi to Santiago city centre. It’s obviously Ayrton Senna’s Chilean cousin’s grandfather driving as we speed down the main road to the San Cristobal Funicular. I last came to Santiago in 2005 when I toured around Chile and Easter Island, so not doing Chile on this trip. Been there, seen it, done it.

The funicular takes you up to San Cristobal park and the hills that overlook Santiago. A teleferico takes you along the ridge and back with magnificent views of Santiago in the valley surrounded by snow capped mountains in the distance.

It definitely doesn’t feel like Christmas Day, more like a sunny Sunday afternoon. Plenty of people perambulating and playing, there’s even a cycle race to the top of the hill but in 33C heat, I’ll give that a miss. The outdoor swimming pool looks tempting but I wouldn’t want to frighten the locals. My Christmas Day lunch comprises 4 churros dipped in vanilla sauce (only ‘cos they’d run out of chocolate sauce). It’s a heady existence, I tell you.

Return to the city via the funicular and walk the streets to Plaza de Armas, the main central square. Palm trees line the square which makes the festive Christmas tree look well out of place. There’s the ubiquitous groups of black African men selling fake Rolex and other tat from their woven nylon shopping bags, which may explain the presence of plenty of police. I need some Chilean pesos cash to enable me to get a taxi back to the airport but for the life of me, I can’t find an ATM. Chance upon the large covered, and ornate steelwork, market which is open, selling fish and has plenty of restaurants serving fresh fish freshly fried. Other types of fish are available. Still no ATM. With my boots on I’m heading for 6’7” and as I lollop through the market, I’m being gawped at due to my height. A waiter asks if I’m German (I’m blond (well, greying blond) and blue eyed). No. I’m not German. Turn the corner, another local looks up at me and asks if I’m German. No. I’m not German! Still can’t find an ATM so exit the market. Upon doing so, another local comes up to me gawping. Am I German? No. I’m not chuffing German! I’m British. And proud of it!

See a trio of patrolling policemen. They don’t speak English, nor I speak Spanish. But with the power of mime I ask where an ATM is. There’s one in the Metro station, so head back to Plaza de Armas. Lo and behold there are three ATMs. Yay. I can get back to the hotel now (local taxis don’t take credit cards I am told). I use my secondary credit card just in case it gets swallowed up. Except. I can’t remember the PIN, as it’s not in normal everyday use. After 3 attempts revert to my primary credit card after my credit card provider actually texts me with, ‘Having trouble remembering your PIN? Check online for a secure reminder.’ Blimey.

Cash in hand, eventually find a taxi. It’s Ayrton Senna’s Chilean cousin’s father this time. He’s way too big for his taxi. We speed and swerve through the streets. Speed and swerve. Two rotund ladies are slowly waddling across the road ahead of us as we speed and swerve. Taxi driver sounds his horn for them to get a shifty on. They take great exception to this! And. Stand. Still. Taxi driver swerves to avoid them. As he does, one of them throws her bottle of water at his windscreen as we speed past. Blimey.

Fortunately, windscreen doesn’t shatter. He shouts abuse in Spanish. I can but imagine what he’s saying. Probably the same as I would.

He drops me off at the airport taxi rank, as it’s easier than trying to get to the hotel across the road, and I nip inside to see if I can check in now for tomorrow’s flight to Punta Arenas. I can and do. One less thing to deal with tomorrow am.

As I’m walking out, a father picks his baby daughter up from the floor to put her on his shoulders. In doing so, he smashes her head on the low ceiling. There’s that short period of complete silence from her before the screams start. And an admonishing mother starts. Poor bloke.

2. Concorde Lounge

1 Reply

Monday, 24 December 2018

Heathrow, England

Typing this whilst sipping on a glass of Laurent Perrier Grand Siecle in BA’s Concorde Lounge. We might as well start as we mean to carry on. It’s all rather relaxing now and starting to feel mellow. Morning fraught with trying to resolve computer problems, which means my ineptitude in such matters has made things worse. So you may receive this blog, you may not.

Surprisingly good journey to Heathrow by train, apart from little Henry and Edward on the next table screeching away, and then the Piccadilly Line as the Heathrow Express is on a Christmas shutdown, so I have to endure 1hr crammed in with all the other travellers and oversized bags as this is now the only easy way to get to Heathrow, apart from a substantial taxi fare.

It’s a very quick transit through the dedicated security and soon settle in to the lounge, of which there are two, the First and the Concorde, though not sure what the difference is between the two. I’ve cashed in some airmiles from my weekly trips to Frankfurt over the years.

Quick shower in the spa to delouse myself after travelling on the Tube and then pre-flight dinner in the restaurant.

Only another 3hrs to kill but there are worse places to be to kill 3hrs.

All being well, shall be landing in a hot and sunny Santiago, Chile, on Christmas Day.

1. The formation lap

1 Reply

Friday, 21 December 2018

Nottinghamshire, England

After a few weeks planning (literally), the Antarctica to Alaska trip is currently on the formation lap and hoping for a smooth getaway on Christmas Eve. Drones permitting, I hope to be flying to Santiago, Chile, then flying down to Punta Arenas before flying out to Antarctica to cruise around the Antarctic Peninsula. Returning to Punta Arenas, it’s another cruise to Ushuaia, Argentina, hopefully via Cape Horn, before making my way north over the next five months through Argentina, Uruguay, a quick spur to Brasil, Paraguay, Bolivia, Peru, Ecuador, Colombia, Panama, Costa Rica, Honduras, El Salvador, Guatemala, Belize (possibly, to be confirmed), Mexico, USA, Canada and finally back into the USA for Alaska.

The geographically aware will note that Nicaragua is missing from the list. The UK’s FCO currently advise against travel there so having to hop over and unfortunately bypass it.

Travelling using planes, trains and automobiles…and a few buses. Temperatures will vary from sub zero polar conditions to tropical high 30s degC. Being British, I’m used to four seasons in one day and have the full range of apparel from polar gear to shorts and t-shirts packed.

19 countries, unknown miles, an unknown end date and unknown adventures await.

Armchair travel with me over the coming months and enjoy the journey.