March 11, 2008

We’re in Port Stanley, the Falklands — arrived yesterday morning and spent the day visiting two islands off the western island and this morning arrived in Stanley (the largest city). This is actually our third visit to Stanley so we opted out of the tour and instead spent the afternoon walking around town. We had a Guinness at the Liberty Bar (thought we’d branch out — we usually go to the Globe) and decided not to have the fish and chips since they’re really not that good (the fish is most likely frozen fish fingers shipped in from Chile). It was 65 degrees, sunny and not even windy (not typical Falklands weather). We brought cold weather clothing but I doubt we’ll be wearing it unless the weather radically changes in South Georgia — which it easily could. It was raining the first night in Santiago, which was lovely since they’re at the end of a long summer and really needed the moisture. That part of Chile feels very much like Southern California — mountains, vineyards, dry and smoggy. Ushuaia was overcast but warm enough that we didn’t need a sweater. After South Georgia we’ll be in heading toward the equator so we’ll certainly be packing away all the fleece. 

This is a striated kara kara, one of perhaps 1,000 breeding pairs in the world, 99% live here in the Falklands. They’re huge, curious, mischievous and I think very beautiful. The locals call them “Johnny Rook” and think of them as pests (what do they know!!).

This is a three-month old black browed albatross fledging. After shedding the downy feathers in about three more weeks, he will take to the skies for perhaps 3 to 4 years before coming back to this colony to breed. They are completely waterproof and will rest on the ocean even if they don’t come back to land.

March 30, 2008

“Nowhere else than upon the sea do the days, weeks and months fall quicker into the past. They seem to be left astern as easily as the light air-bubbles in the swirls of the ship’s wake.”  Joseph Conrad

The days are flying by along with the fish — yes, in these brilliant blue waters, much warmer than in the south, there is actually very little life. One of the few fish in these waters are flying fish. They’re small, only getting to a length of about 6 inches, so they are frequently eaten. There defense is to literally fly out of the water, spreading their wings (yes, they have wings) and using their stiff tails as rudders, they skip along the water in a zigzag for up to fifty feet.

On Friday, we spent the day in St. Helena, an island probably most famous for being the final place of Napoleon’s (Groiny Boney) exile. Since we’re in the tropics and closing in on the equator soon, the temperatures are much warmer, even the air conditioning on the ship has struggled with the high humidity. (At this point, I’m never sure if it’s really hot or if I’m just having a constant hot flash.) Hundreds of miles from any other inhabited islands and over a thousand miles from Africa, St. Helena’s population (the Saints) long for an airport, tourists, more jobs — sounds like Idyllwild doesn’t it? It’s fascinating visiting these islands and talking to the locals — St. Helena is so different from Tristan, and sadly doesn’t have the wealth of fish like the Falklands. In the 17th century, when sailing ships were going around to India and China from Europe, St. Helena was an important stopover for resupplying in the tropics (there’s not much wind so ships would really slow down). The population has declined steadily since but Saints are still very friendly and we were giving a royal welcome.

March 24, 2008

I spent the afternoon in the lounge trying to write, but got so much attention from my shipmates that I wasn’t able to complete a sentence. Even though this is a very sophisticated group, they’re curious and want to look at my cute computer. Than one thing leads to another — especially since I have this love/hate thing with Apple Computers (and I’m a born salesman). This is what it decays into:

Jennifer is a retired staff writer for National Geographic and delightful traveling companion. (This photo is before we discovered Mai Tais  were the drink of the day. And no, I didn’t have that many.) The Potato Latitudes are when you’re on a long trip in the middle of a huge ocean and there are no resupply opportunities. Today at lunch we had potatoes made three ways, we had other things, but make no mistake — we are in the Potato Latitudes!

For our last penguin shot of the trip — we have the Tristan Rockhopper which is probably the most outrageous of all. Sadly, we were not able to land on Nightingale Island (there are three islands in the Tristan group: Tristan, Nightingale and Inaccessible) to visit the colony so I had to take photos from the Zodiac. They have red eyes, pink feet and the bright yellow feathers on their heads, and since the Tristanians like to steal their eggs — are probably not very friendly to humans.

Now that we’re approaching the Tropics, all the polar fleece and long johns are packed away. We had a barbecue dinner on the deck tonight. Everyone saw the green flash at sunset. Our next stop is St. Helena — another extremely isolated island but nothing like Tristan.

We’ve left South Georgia and our now on our way to Tristan de Cunha, an island that’s almost as isolated as South Georgia. Our last two days in South Georgia were incredible. I know I’ve sent a lot of penguin photos but I can’t help myself. Yesterday we got up at 5:30 am to watch the sunrise over a beach that is surrounded by mountains and glaciers. (Okay there’s no bad scenery in S.G.) Molting elephant seals are fond of this particular beach — they’re fascinating to watch even though they’ll mostly sleeping. When one does make a move it upsets the whole mound and frequently ends up in a short-lived battle where they rise up, mouths gaping and growling, and knock each other until they grow tired and settle back down into the pile. During the breeding season the battles aren’t short-lived and are often to the death. I’m glad we don’t have to see that. The males are enormous, the females a tenth of their size. I don’t know how those little girls don’t get crushed by those beasts.

Then there are the penguins. You can’t tell a male from a female — even the experts can’t unless they see them breed. They share in all of the responsibilities equally: egg-sitting and food gathering. They mate for life and they seem to be very affectionate (I know I’m probably being silly but wait until you see my photos and how they preen each other and cuddle). If penguins seem awkward  on land, though they have no trouble climbing steep cliffs to their nests, they are truly “sea birds” and are elegant ballerinas in the water.

South Georgia is home to more breeding pairs of wandering albatross than anywhere in the world, giant petrels abound, actually several varieties of birds like petrels, shags, sheathbills, prions, and skuas, but nothing is more fun to watch than the penguins. Since they have no land predators, they have no fear of people so they pose happily even if you take 200 photographs in two hours like me.

Barnaby played the organ in the little church in Grytviken delighting our fellow passengers.  Grytviken is the center of what little government there is in South Georgia (and where Ernest Shackleton is buried). In its day, it was a prosperous whaling station, happily closed down since 1966 (the whales have not made a comeback). Since our ship isn’t full and is the last tourist ship to visit this season, we invited all of the government employees (all 19) on board for dinner and cocktails. I was so surprised when a very young (and good-looking) group arrived. I don’t know why I thought they would be crusty old men, I couldn’t have been more wrong. The “boatman”, an adorable young man from Guernsey, joined our table and very politely answered all of our questions — even the personal ones Americans are so fond of asking.

Yesterday afternoon we sailed up a gorgeous fjord — our last stop in South Georgia. Now we’re in the open ocean and anyone that may suffer from seasickness has retreated to their cabin. It seems like a pretty hardy group as there weren’t many empty seats at dinner. The captain changed course a few hours ago to veer away from the storm because we weren’t making much progress headed into such strong winds. We had a lecture this afternoon on wind, the Beaufort Scale, and waves. We’re in a gale: “moderately high and long waves. Crests break into spin drift, blowing foam in well-marked streaks.” That translates to about 42 mph winds. It’s about 40 degrees and raining. The captain promises better weather tomorrow. We all walk like we’ve had far too much wine with dinner.

We sure miss everyone. Wish you were here with us…….