Gold Harbour, South Georgia
An astonishing day. Dawn found us holding off Gold Harbour, and after a quick coffee and rushed snack, many of us went ashore by Zodiac at 5:30 in the morning to catch the sunrise on the beach. The panorama that welcomed us was nothing short of staggering. The beach, some two miles long in a wide black arc, was so smothered in Elephant Seals that it was not easy to find a place to land. Just a few yards from the landing, huge “beachmaster” bulls defended their territory through bluff, bravado – but also violence: many of us witnessed bloody battles between rival males, some of which left the vanquished animals beaten and torn.
Then, behind the beach, were the king penguins – some twenty five thousand or more in a teeming, trumpeting mass. There were huddles of molting adults, many looking tattered and miserable as they waited for their old feathers to fall off, and there were the chicks, the “Oakum Boys,” huddled together like so many over-stuffed laundry bags waiting for pickup. Standing on this beach since they hatched some eight months ago, most have done nothing but get fed and grow fatter; they seemed fascinated by our arrival and ran over to see what we were all about. (Or maybe they just hoped we had brought them something to eat.)
And did I mention the scenery? All this chaos and conflict on the beach was set against a backdrop of rugged mountains, and the tumbling icefalls of the Bertrab Glacier. The dawn light on the ice and rock was breathtaking, as was the enormous chunk of ice-- bigger than the National Geographic Endeavour -- that broke loose across the valley and thundered down the cliff in a billowing white cloud.
As the morning wore on, a bank of fog crept in, leaving the magical scene on the beach bathed in mist and mystery. Finally, we tore ourselves away, some after six uninterrupted hours ashore, for a welcoming meal and rest.
In the late afternoon, we anchored in tidy, peaceful Godthul – “Good Harbor” in Norwegian – the site of a small whaling station in the early 1900’s. Here, kayakers explored the kelp-lined shores and a Zodiac cruise offered views of large reindeer herds and groups of gentoo penguins, returning to their nests after a day at sea.
All in all, a thrilling, happily exhausting day!
An astonishing day. Dawn found us holding off Gold Harbour, and after a quick coffee and rushed snack, many of us went ashore by Zodiac at 5:30 in the morning to catch the sunrise on the beach. The panorama that welcomed us was nothing short of staggering. The beach, some two miles long in a wide black arc, was so smothered in Elephant Seals that it was not easy to find a place to land. Just a few yards from the landing, huge “beachmaster” bulls defended their territory through bluff, bravado – but also violence: many of us witnessed bloody battles between rival males, some of which left the vanquished animals beaten and torn.
Then, behind the beach, were the king penguins – some twenty five thousand or more in a teeming, trumpeting mass. There were huddles of molting adults, many looking tattered and miserable as they waited for their old feathers to fall off, and there were the chicks, the “Oakum Boys,” huddled together like so many over-stuffed laundry bags waiting for pickup. Standing on this beach since they hatched some eight months ago, most have done nothing but get fed and grow fatter; they seemed fascinated by our arrival and ran over to see what we were all about. (Or maybe they just hoped we had brought them something to eat.)
And did I mention the scenery? All this chaos and conflict on the beach was set against a backdrop of rugged mountains, and the tumbling icefalls of the Bertrab Glacier. The dawn light on the ice and rock was breathtaking, as was the enormous chunk of ice-- bigger than the National Geographic Endeavour -- that broke loose across the valley and thundered down the cliff in a billowing white cloud.
As the morning wore on, a bank of fog crept in, leaving the magical scene on the beach bathed in mist and mystery. Finally, we tore ourselves away, some after six uninterrupted hours ashore, for a welcoming meal and rest.
In the late afternoon, we anchored in tidy, peaceful Godthul – “Good Harbor” in Norwegian – the site of a small whaling station in the early 1900’s. Here, kayakers explored the kelp-lined shores and a Zodiac cruise offered views of large reindeer herds and groups of gentoo penguins, returning to their nests after a day at sea.
All in all, a thrilling, happily exhausting day!
