I cannot say that that was a good night’s sleep, but it was quite a night. The weather was good for most of the evening. As one of the few with the foresight to sneak some whiskey onto the island, our sleeping areas became the party spot. One of our colleagues is with the U.S. Green Building Council; he is also a professional opera singer. He entertained us with arias under the moon. That was great, but then others thought it would be a great idea to jump in with off-key renditions of bad songs. The large Weddell seal who had been sleeping all day about 50 feet from us immediately got up and shuffled another 50 feet away.
It was quite warm in the sleeping bag, but sometime in the middle of the night the wind shifted and it got damn cold. Wind has a way of getting through almost anything, and the combination of no pillow and cold made for less than a sound sleep.
In the middle of the night, one of the guides starting running through the camp banging two shovels together. Two seals decided they needed a closer look and starting pushing a few sleeping-bagged people around until he scared them off.
We got up before dawn and broke camp. The ship, after dropping us off close enough for a zodiac trip left the bay and went 30 miles out to avoid icebergs. I think the real reason was so the crew could have a huge party with all of us gone without us hearing the music. They did seem a little hung over this morning. Before leaving, a few of us (for me in honor of my yogi wife) did some “snow-ga” on the ice. It did warm us up.
Back on the ship, had some breakfast, and looking forward to a shower before heading ashore again.
We made our last trip ashore the Continent proper. Another Gentoo colony and a hike to a high vantage point to watch a calving glacier. Perhaps the most spectacular spot we have been yet, we watched small “calves” while waiting for an enormous piece of teetering glacier to drop. We waited and waited, but we had to get back to the ship for a truly insane activity – swimming.
Unfortunately, a tradition of these expeditions is a “polar plunge”. While not mandatory, it was frowned upon to not walk out on the back of the deck of the ship in sub-freezing temperatures in your bathing with entire crew watching, to be fitted with a harness (so you can be retrieved in event of shock, I suppose) and to plunge into the frigid water. The first guy to go set an undesirable precedent of diving and then swimming 30 yards or so to the nearest iceberg (which was moving away from the boat) to touch it before swimming back. I was second and cannot begin to tell you how damn cold that water was as I swam at Olympic speed to touch that goddamn hunk of ice and back.
It was quite warm in the sleeping bag, but sometime in the middle of the night the wind shifted and it got damn cold. Wind has a way of getting through almost anything, and the combination of no pillow and cold made for less than a sound sleep.
In the middle of the night, one of the guides starting running through the camp banging two shovels together. Two seals decided they needed a closer look and starting pushing a few sleeping-bagged people around until he scared them off.
We got up before dawn and broke camp. The ship, after dropping us off close enough for a zodiac trip left the bay and went 30 miles out to avoid icebergs. I think the real reason was so the crew could have a huge party with all of us gone without us hearing the music. They did seem a little hung over this morning. Before leaving, a few of us (for me in honor of my yogi wife) did some “snow-ga” on the ice. It did warm us up.
Back on the ship, had some breakfast, and looking forward to a shower before heading ashore again.
We made our last trip ashore the Continent proper. Another Gentoo colony and a hike to a high vantage point to watch a calving glacier. Perhaps the most spectacular spot we have been yet, we watched small “calves” while waiting for an enormous piece of teetering glacier to drop. We waited and waited, but we had to get back to the ship for a truly insane activity – swimming.
Unfortunately, a tradition of these expeditions is a “polar plunge”. While not mandatory, it was frowned upon to not walk out on the back of the deck of the ship in sub-freezing temperatures in your bathing with entire crew watching, to be fitted with a harness (so you can be retrieved in event of shock, I suppose) and to plunge into the frigid water. The first guy to go set an undesirable precedent of diving and then swimming 30 yards or so to the nearest iceberg (which was moving away from the boat) to touch it before swimming back. I was second and cannot begin to tell you how damn cold that water was as I swam at Olympic speed to touch that goddamn hunk of ice and back.
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