A shades of gray world greeted our eyes as we inched our way from the Neumayer Channel into the protected harbor of Port Lockroy. Hints of pale blue could be seen in the fractured glacier faces. A tiny gap in the clouds released just enough of the rays of the sun to paint the water near shore a subtle gold that rapidly faded to pewter. Our eyes searched for hints of color, finally settling on a speck of orange in the distance all but invisible to the naked eye.
The land seemed so vast and empty. Mountains rose on all sides. Tongues of ice poured from their flanks and where they met the sea, scoops had been removed, creating a scalloped surface. We were not the first to lay eyes upon tiny Goudier Island, nestled in Wiencke Island’s embracing arms. Whalers of long ago seemed to have found every protected nook and cranny in the islands and peninsula of Antarctica. Here they spent the summer harvesting whales to meet the demands of the settled world. Whale bones still litter the sea floor and peek above the snow pack where gentoo penguins nest. But no one stayed for long until 1944. The world was at war. How did the men of Operation Tabarin feel when they laid eyes upon the tiny snippet of rock that was to become their base? Did they feel alone in the immensity or overjoyed by the beauty around? Did the scientists and researchers who followed behind wrestle with the same emotions?
Today we sampled their lives with a round robin of activities. Wintertime brings fast ice to the bay, linking Goudier Island to the surrounding shores. Suddenly there must have been freedom for the occupants of the rock with sleds and skis and snowshoes in great demand. With National Geographic Explorer firmly “parked” into a remnant of remaining ice, we too could walk across the sea into a magic frozen world stretching all around. At Jougla Point we tested the blast of cold winds that rapidly reddened our cheeks. The local inhabitants, gentoo penguins and blue-eyed shags, hunkered down, backs to the gusts and heads tucked in as they incubated their precious eggs. Bransfield Hut was a welcome sight, its jaunty black and orange colors mimicking that of the penguins nesting outside. The Union Jack flapped proudly in their midst. Inside a cozy kitchen was still stocked with months of supplies. The cookbook open upon the stove gave us cause to pause. “Chapter VI – Cooking Penguin.” Hmmm, would this have been a tasty treat? If so, the larder was just outside with penguin nests lining the steps. There was space for work, space to live and space for entertainment too. Although all seemed comfortable, we decided not to stay. After a flurry of Christmas shopping we decided to return to our luxurious floating abode.
Dallmann Bay was demure for most of the afternoon hiding behind a veil of snow and fog. If there was any wildlife there she held them close to her chest, away from our searching eyes. Finally, tucked in a quiet cove, we found the view again where glaciers formed the boundary of a silken sea.
Pointing north we prepare ourselves to say goodbye to Antarctica and to face the Drake again. In celebration of all we’ve seen and all we’ve learned, the lounge vibrates with the sounds of the “Spice Boys,” the ship’s talented band.
