By John Campbell

This past winter, I sailed on the Star Princess from Buenos Aires to the Antarctic Peninsula.  This was a sail-by only – landings are not permissible for a ship of this size – but these were four days that will live forever in my memory.

Elephant Island

Weather in the region can be capricious.  Our first destination, Elephant Island, was something of a disappointment to passengers on the sailing just prior to ours.  The ship arrived in a thick fog, so dense that the stern of the ship could not be seen from the bow.  We were lucky.  The sky was leaden, as was the reflecting sea.  The air, however, was crystal clear.  For us, Elephant Island rose straight out of the sea, its black, austere cliffs etched by a recent snowfall, every crack and crevice adding to the dramatic impact.

Elephant Island has a prominent place in the history of Antarctic exploration.  It was here that Ernest Shackleton’s expedition made its first landfall after some 16 months of survival against all odds.  If you are unfamiliar with the story, I cannot recommend highly enough that you learn a bit about it.  It is an astonishing story of human survival, of almost unbelievable courage and tenacity, and of truly remarkable leadership.

We lingered off Point Wild for awhile, the second landing site and the one which was home to most of the expedition for four months.  Named after Shackleton’s second in command, Frank Wild, the Point treated us to a site rarely seen – the memorial to Luis Pardo, the captain of the harbor tug from Punta Arenas that sailed back to Elephant Island with Shackleton to rescue his men.

Elephant Island

As we continued to sail around the island, past Cape Valentine, the first but ultimately untenable landing site, the clouds lifted, the sun came out, and the massive face of mile-long Endurance Glacier sparkled.  A cloud bank literally roiled above the peaks, cotton in motion.

The second day dawned again with a leaden sky.  This time, however, we were not quite so lucky.  Wind, sea, ice, snow – all conspired to keep us out of Hope Bay and Esperanza Station.  We headed, instead, to our second planned stop of the day – Admiralty Bay.  We arrived well ahead of schedule, but winds forced us to delay our entry into the bay.  Finally the weather cooperated, somewhat begrudgingly, and we entered the bay and headed toward our goal, the Arctowski Polish Research Station.

Arctowski Research Station

In service since the 1970s, Arctowski is a year round station specializing in marine research.  Our purpose here was to board several of the researchers who were returning home to Poland.  They were accompanied by some colleagues who gave a short presentation on their work and the rigors of wintering in Antarctica.  After the presentation, those scientists who were remaining at the station made their way back to shore, carrying a welcome supply of fresh fruits and vegetables.  Choppy seas and quiet snow falling from a heavy sky foretold what lay ahead.  Ours was the last ship they will see until the return of Spring, eight months away.

Gerlache Strait

On the third day we entered Gerlache Strait, a body of water defined by the islands of the Palmer Archipelago on one side and the Antarctic mainland on the other.  The sky was still overcast, but not pressing down on us.  The view, however, was overwhelming, majestic, indescribably beautiful.  The ship was much closer to the islands, their peaks towering over the ship.  People literally gasped as they came out on deck and took it all in.

We continued sailing south along the Strait for several hours, the clouds gradually clearing until we reached our turning point, the furthest south we were to go.

Gerlache Strait

Snow-covered peaks glistened in the sun.  Huge, billowy clouds crowned the land.  Our course was to take us around Wiencke Island and into the Neumayer Channel, exiting at the north end back into Gerlache Strait.  As we approached, however, a katabatic wind came roaring down one of the glaciers.  Wind speed went almost instantaneously from 5 knots to 80 knots.  Entering the narrower Neumayer Channel was out of the question.  With difficulty, the ship was turned around and we headed back up the Gerlache Strait.  We retraced our path through the Strait, this time in brilliant sunshine.  The beauty  of that passage is seared into my mind.

Neptune's Bellows, Deception Island

Our fourth and last day found us at Deception Island.  The day was gray, stern, austere.  The island rose dark out of the sullen sea, its bleak rock dusted with snow.  The name of the island derives from the secret it holds.  It appears to be much like many islands in this part of the world.  It’s only when one comes upon the break in the coastline that it becomes clear that this is no ordinary island.  It is, in fact, the flooded caldera of a volcano, one that is still active.  It lasted vented its displeasure in a major way as recently as 1969, destroying two Chilean research stations in the process.

The opening, known as Neptune’s Bellows, grants entrance to one of the largest natural harbors in the world.  The Star Princess was too big to enter, but smaller expedition vessels can, giving their passengers the amazing opportunity to swim in Antarctica – in water warmed by volcanic activity.

Snow Island

As we headed north we passed a large penguin colony on the island’s eastern shore, as if bidding us farewell.  Snow Island, hazy and ethereal in the distance, was the last land we saw in the Antarctic region.

No related posts.