By

Susan Ellis

In 2006 I had sailed into Ushuaia for the afternoon on board a huge cruise ship, Holland America’s Rotterdam. While there I took an excursion on a small boat witnessing islands in the Beagle Channel. The light was enchanting. It created vibrant patterns in sky sea and land; it accentuated the magnificence of mountains and sky; it allowed for the drying and basking of cormorants and seals on rocky islands.

I was aware of that same light again in 2008. The vessel this time was a converted icebreaker.

So this second time I left Ushuaia with blue skies and a gentle breeze. I suppose many a seafaring tale has begun with those words. But the reality recorded by others would not impact on me as my experience. As we distanced ourselves from Ushuaia with its backdrop of Patagonian Mountains, the M/V Polar Star glided where Magelenic penguins swam and black-browed albatrosses and Southern Giant Petrels acted as escorts. The sun softening as we moved to nightfall.

The Beagle canal would take us to the sea and the Drake Passage would take us 2 days to cross. The Drake Passage is over 600miles of open water bounded by the jagged rocks of Cape Horn to the north and the South Shetland Islands to the south. It provides the Southern Ocean with its narrowest stretch of water. This ocean circumnavigates the globe unimpeded by land. The water sent eternally in an easterly direction.

A strange awareness enters consciousness. Drop a corked bottle into any other ocean and eventually the current and wind will drive it to shore. But conceivably drop the same bottle in this ocean and it could travel forever. I feel the concept of “endless.” Endless and timeless are very much part of the universe’s story, not the world I have just left behind. It will be another 18 days before my ship is held firm to a jetty with ropes, a prisoner. But for the next 18 days it will mimic the movement of the water on which it rides and it will try to hold its position fleetingly as anchor grasps submarine land.

On this voyage the Drake Passage is sometimes grey, sometimes blue water.   Sometimes white capped, sometimes white sprayed; Sometimes devoid of visible life, but more often witness to gliding birds – flocks of painted petrels, or more solitary albatross and storm petrels. The further south we travel, the higher the waves and stronger the wind. Rather than cutting through the water our icebreaker moves with it. I sense we move somewhat like a floating bathtub would.

In those two days we learn much from lectures about wild life and some history of the area. We learned the procedures for landing, using zodiacs boats. We chose the rubber boots we will use for our “wet landings.” We vacuumed out all debris that might be lurking in pockets, packsacks or on Velcro tapes. When we go ashore we must take nothing with us that might get left behind. There is an almost holy awareness that this is the last chance for humanity to get it right. New land to claim in the past by colonizing nations was a land to be raped, pillaged and stolen from those who inhabited it first. That was the level of consciousness greed-driven humanity had reached. But here was an area minimally damaged by human invasion. It is true that those who came first left their trash and sent their cast offs to the bottom of the ocean. But today the internationally agreed rules state that everything brought in must be taken away including human waste. This is the last place on earth that could stay whole. Have we learned enough from the past to make the effort? How we treat this area of the world will indicate whether we have a desire to save Gaia upon which humans can dwell. She will continue in some form, no matter what we do. The Gaia of the future may not be life sustaining for the human race, but other life will survive. We may be seeing species becoming extinct but we are quite aware of new virus and bacteria being created to replace them. Gaia will live on, but we will not if we are unable to change our behaviour.

Perhaps Antarctica and the sub Antarctic islands are our last hope. It is the field upon which to play the last game of our life. If history is to repeat itself we will destroy Antarctica. Have we evolved sufficiently to learn how to co-exist, compromise, belong, share, give and love? Those are mature traits, hopefully not too advanced a concept for the infantile human race to offer.

Before dawn on the second day at sea we had sailed through the Antarctic convergence and by noon under blue skies we felt the effects of force 7 winds and 15ft high waves. The Antarctic Convergence or Polar Front is a moving band of water circling the globe between 50-60 degrees south. Here the colder, denser less saline waters of the Antarctic meet the warmer more saline tropical waters from the north. A band of fog often defines the meeting point and the cold waters continue north sinking to great depths.  The meeting of the waters provides a perfect environment for plankton to grow for a thriving food chain.

Before dawn on the third day M/V Polar Star entered the Cauldron of Deception Island in the South Shetlands and we stepped ashore on the black earth within a sunken volcano. It was crunchy black sand that my rubber boots stepped into below the water. I splashed ashore for the first time. A small wave rose up the sides of the rubber boots and I felt my left foot dampened. It was shortly after 6am. Hints of pale pink would appear as the sun rose higher above the horizon. Our mission was to climb Cross Hill 496 ft (152m) above Telephon Bay to view the fascinating landscape. We soon were aware a strong wind was blowing. A new snowfall etched the contours of the land. It was a black and white landscape. I climbed to a ridge, perhaps half way to the top. Walking against strong winds is for me arduous not pleasurable. Also I was now getting used to handling my photographic gear while wearing mittens, getting used to climbing and walking in the Wellington boots and assessing how many pairs of socks were needed for real comfort. I was learning how many layers of clothes were really needed to stay warm and discovering what happens when a foot gets wet.

It was also the first time we had been through the landing routine where upon arrival at the beach one removed the lifejacket and stowed it in a large bag. On returning to the beach one picked up another life jacket before boarding the next zodiac. It is by this counting method that the expedition crew know when all life jackets have gone it means no one is left ashore.

We returned to the ship in time for breakfast.