by Sue Ellis

We passed a day at sea before reaching the U.K. Overseas Territory of South Georgia, a crescent shaped island stretching over 100miles in length and 24 miles at its greatest width. It lies 900 miles south east of the Falkland Islands, which together in 1982 were illegally occupied by Argentineans laying claim to the territories. However the history of South Georgia is more notably one of sealing, whaling, research and fisheries. Now tourism is being added to the list. Smaller cruise ships and icebreaker expedition ships anchor in bays bringing tourists to wonder at the unbelievable beauty of the flora, fauna and geology and be fascinated by the human history. Today there is an attempt to restore the island to its natural self, reversing the impact of animals and vegetation brought in by earlier visitors. So while at sea we had another vacuuming session and learnt the rules. We must check our gear to ensure we do not take rodents ashore, seeds that might grow, or litter. We are honor bound to live by the rules. We signed our names to it. This isn't about holidaymakers taking advantage of beautiful scenery. This is about trying to ensure the reclaiming of pristine worlds to which sealers and whalers brought cats and dandelions and rats. Norwegians brought herds of reindeer amongst other animals for meat. Today some small areas have been deemed rodent free but the enlarging herds of reindeer are eating away the precious grass. We continued east.

That night I went on the bridge and watched the huge spotlights meet in front of the bow. Radar showed icebergs lurking in the darkness. A trust in the skills of the officer keeping watch was needed. I climbed onto the upper deck where no lights lit the way. The wind tore at my woolly touk. I held onto to the railings tightly as the ship lurched and rolled. I had come for some precious moments alone. Yet not alone. The Southern Cross showed me direction and a veil of light from the Milky Way stretched over me. Me and the universe. Each star was rushing away from the centre infinitely. And I on my planet rushing with the rest, interconnected, not separate but bound together by the invisible thread of the source, the spirit, and the whole. In that moment of clarity I felt the melting away of separation. How could there be a "them and us?" How could there be an opposite of what is? It wasn't about intellectualizing the concept; it was about being it. Being present; bonded to the whole. Understanding that many light years had past since that silver light above me shone. Today it may no longer exist as light. Indeed I may have been its last witness. I am comfortable in this moment of unpredictability; I can live with the sense of impermanence. Only as a cold shiver ran through my body was I brought back to a physical plain. My hands were freezing, my eyes watering. I came back to identify with my body. I came back to my warm cabin forever changed. How could I not be different when my consciousness had been taken to a new level? The stardust within my physical reunited, for an instant, with its source.

Excitement was welling up on seeing the silhouette on the horizon grow clearer, closer. High mountains, grey cliffs and green slopes. We sailed into Cooper’s Bay and anchored in calm waters. The wind was not biting; a sense of gentleness pervading. We disembarked from our zodiacs onto a pebbled beach welcomed by fur seals and Gentoo penguins.

Each young adventurous seal pup wanted to get a piece of us. With hand clapping we kept them at bay. We climbed to the top of the tussock grass covered cliff. We were grateful for our rubber boots as we squelched through mud, passing nursing seals and much barking from others. Finally we reached a colony of Macaroni Penguins, scruffy bundles of black and white feathers, many forlornly molting.

This was our first sighting of penguins with a comb of spaghetti like yellow spikes anchored between the eyes and falling backwards over the crown. They lived in a muddy world requiring long walks down to the sea and the source of their food. But the molters would have to wait for the change of feathers before deciding for a swim. From the cliffs I looked down on the island-strewn bay, the M/V Polar Star peacefully at anchor.

Wildlife flew, jumped, swam, slid and waddled all around. There was far more “action” than seen at Brown Bluff. Except for the curious seal pups – who investigated anything that moved – we were ignored while keeping our distance. This led one to feel a part of the scene. As I retraced my steps down the stony slope, which had been etched by descending water, a group of Gentoo made a similar descent close by. This was the reason I had made this trip. I needed to return to the Antarctic region to tangibly feel its world. On reboarding our ship the South Georgia mud was removed during our ritual hose down. The day had been perfect. But it was not over. We sailed on to Gold Harbour for a magical visit.