Some Places You Go

 Are you tiring of the South Georgia memories?

Gold Harbour

For all the months when we were slowly getting used to the idea of going to South Georgia, those months when possibility was turning into plan, Elias was bugging us to go to the very south end of the island, where we might, among other delights, have a chance of seeing Weddell seals.

I always assumed there was little chance of us making it there.  I wasn't too sure about the anchorages on the south end.  And the stories that you hear about the weather really are atrocious.

But then we got that ten-day period of settled high pressure right in the middle of our visit.  And suddenly everything was easy.

So, on the day that we pulled into Gold Harbour (above) and I wasn't all that excited for the beach landing, even though it looked doable, I had a great backup plan to offer to the fam.

Why not head all the way down to Drygalski Fjord, at the uttermost southern end of South Georgia, instead?

Cold traveling

Which we did.

Drygalski Fjord

Alisa and I have been to a lot of very wonderful high-latitude places.  But there is very little in our combined experience that could match Drygalksi in terms of a very evocative, I-can't-believe-we're-here beauty, combined with a feeling of extreme remoteness.

It helped very much that there weren't any other vessels around during our visit.

And, in the best tradition of Antarctic wildlife, seeing Weddell Seals was no effort at all.  We saw ten or so of the beasts, scattered about our anchorage in Larsen Harbour.

They're wonderfully fat animals, adapted for a life of deep deep cold.

The southernmost mammal in the world - barring Homo sapiens

Future explorer and present larrikin, Larsen Harbour

The anchorage info that we had warned that Larsen funnels westerly winds to the degree that it can become untenable.  As in, you could get blown out of the anchorage.

Being on a lucky streak, we found a millpond.

Galactic in Larsen Harbour.  Cloudy but dead dead calm

Chinstraps on an iceberg

Antarctic icebergs were grounded all around the mouth of Drygalski, which didn't do anything to take away from the end of the world ambience.

 Some places you go leave you wishing for absolutely nothing more.

With a French accent: "It was my dream!"

As a bonus, we got yet another perfectly calm night at Cobbler's Cove, a somewhat exposed anchorage also on the south end of the island.  That'll be for next time...

A Hundred Thousand Penguins

We thought about going to South Georgia for years.  And for years we were sure we wouldn't do it.  For a family crew, the trip just felt too much like putting our necks on the block.

But of course we did go, and everything went smoothly.

Perhaps it is true that fortune favors the bold.  I do not know.

But by going to South Georgia, and I suppose by putting in the time and effort and apprenticeship to be adequately prepared, we set ourselves up for some experiences that were like nothing else we've come across in the eight years and ten months since we left Kodiak.

All of these pictures from the beach were taken within about an hour and a half of each other.  The dinghy landing at St. Andrews Bay is extremely weather-dependent, and when we had the perfect day in hand we decided to use it there, even though we had to steam for a big chunk of the day to get there, and had little time left for hanging around.

So our time was short.  But that didn't detract from the experience.  It might have made it more precious.

We went through all the practical details of anchoring Galactic and getting Smooches in the water and   sussing out the landing and then getting ashore and pulling the dinghy up the beach...

...and then we all four of us just stopped.

We sank down on the black sand beach and willed ourselves to take in the moment.  There are at least a hundred thousand king penguins at the St. Andrews Bay colony.  We heard second-hand from a reliable source that there might be a half million.

In the best tradition of Antarctic wildlife, they are completely unafraid of people.

Even though we landed far out on the edges of the colony, we were immediately surrounded by these giant, beautiful, fearless birds that evolution has changed into something so very un-bird-like, calmly checking us out or ignoring us completely.

We had only our family to share the moment with, the sun was shining, and our home was anchored just offshore, waiting for us.

It was a Garden of Eden moment, a taste of the prelapsarian world that we all dream of somehow.

I loved getting close enough to see that king penguins have this little streak of iridescence on the tops of their heads.  They looked just like smudges of pollen on penguins that were trying out being hummingbirds for a while, or some little mark of religious affiliation shared by them all

Not a great photo, but what a moment.  Elias and Eric realized that the penguins would follow them around.  They're taking little baby steps while this group of penguins shuffles after them, keeping a steady meter and a half away.  The boys have this hunch-shouldered posture of delight, barely daring to look back at the penguins behind them, for fear that looking might puncture the balloon of this waking dream.

A hundred thousand penguins.  There are drifts of penguin feathers for miles and miles off shore of the beach.

We eventually roused ourselves from the waking dream of the scene around our dinghy and took a walk on the beach.  The weather went from perfect to better.  And these scenes kept playing out over and over, of odd little moments that seemed almost like communication with these birds that refused to be afraid of us, and gave every indication of curiosity.

All too soon it was time to return to the dinghy.  We had to impose every measure of self will to get ourselves back to Galactic with enough time in hand to reach our anchorage for the night.

One of these pictures will end up printed and framed and hanging on the wall in Kodiak after we return

The Mothership

 We reached the excellent anchorage at Ocean Harbour just as the day was failing.

The next post will feature the other-worldly south end of the island...

But Wait...

...there's more!

After a bit of a jaunt down-country, we find ourselves once again in Puerto Williams, tied up to the Micalvi (the Uttermost Yacht Club in the World).

The pace of the summer season is gaining steam, with the million-dollar, Antarctic-going charter yachts awake and beginning to do their thing.

Next to us is a Big Green Sled that has been chartered as support vessel for some guy who is famous from the America's Cup (Never heard of him.  Barely heard of it.) who is going to be the First Person In The World To Sail A Tiny Little Hydrofoiling Catamaran Around Cape Horn.

(To which we think: that's nothin'.  Our five-year-old did it in his PJs.)

We haven't met him, but the Lucky Winner of the contest put on by the Sponsoring Sunglass Company, who is going to accompany the Famous America's Cup Guy on the Hydrofoiling Catamaran - we did meet him.  Lovely guy, from "Southern Bavaria" (is there any other kind?), who seemed to learn quite serviceable Spanish just for the trip.  He helped Elias and me launch our dinghy.

The crew of the Green Sled are from Tassie, and know some of our peeps.  Plus the Famous Guy and his support team are all French, which gives the Bold Endeavor just enough of Je ne sais quoi to keep it from being laughable.

We're starting to see what all the old Patagonia hands were saying back in July and August when they explained how much more they like winter...

But anyway!  We're enjoying the energy.  And now that we're back in internet world I can finish up with our calendar-worthy photos from our month in the Beagle Channel.

So, we pick up the narrative after the sensory delights of Seno Pia, east arm, and find the Galactics in the west arm, where the skies are grey and the sunshine is interrupted by a surprising amount of SNOW.

The boys love shoveling the decks.

But I wonder if they'll still love it in Alaska, when it's an everyday thing?

We finally got to use the ski goggles that we've been
carrying around...just the thing for keeping watch
in the driving snow...

Captain and cabin boy getting a line ashore, Estero Coloane.

I think that's a look that says he's happy to see beaver sign
- the fresh woodchips on the ground.

Family-friendly terrain in Coloane.

Eric!  It's right over there...

Magellanic horned owl!

Elias afterwards: Can you see how nervous I was in the picture?

Family and glacier snout.

The sun finds us again.

It was such a nice day that we are dinner in the cockpit for the first time
in a long, long time.

Estero Fouque.

Caleta Nutria, Estero Fouque.  An all-time favorite.

We got the perfect hiking day.  Alisa and Eric went up the hill partway.

Elias and I kept going up the ridge behind the anchorage. 
He was over the moon at all the icefall that we saw.

He's a great hiking companion.  We saw four "lifers" (new bird species) on this day, including the seed snipe he was gunning for.  You have no idea of the excitement.

Our high point.  Galactic is way down there in the lower right.

At the high point.

The Mothership

The next day in Estero Fouque.  This is the same shot that everyone gets.  But I'm glad we got it, too.

Shortly after this picture was taken, the crocodile went overboard.
Recovery was successful.

And, that was more or less our month in the Beagle.

Being distracted now both by the question of how we are riding against the Big Green Sled in the gale that has visited the anchorage, and the long list of tasks that awaits before we leave Chile, I think I'll let the pics speak for themselves.