Thursday, January 23rd, 2025

It was another night with the curtains closed, with the additional bonus of being parked or, as those nautical types preferred to say, “anchored”, in a quiet bay.

Once again, I slept very deeply and that meant I became fully rested. For that reason, I jumped awake, shortly before 04:00 when our elusive Russian captain pulled up the anchor chain (not a quiet process). This was so that we could take a leisurely meander down to the site of our first bit of fun of the day – the “Zodiac cruise”.

Because I was well rested, I only dozed after that and so, when Lucie stirred, I was in a position to immediately spring into action !

Our cabin was on the Port side (to the left of the sharp bit * at the front, landlubbers !) which meant that, as we were going south, the sun was shining into our window when we opened the curtains. Gentleman that I am, I went up to the lounge to get Lucie an espresso. The same sun was glinting off of the peaks of South Georgia, away to Starboard, but the lower reaches were invisible in mist or fog. It was all so lovely. It made a nice picture once it began to clear.

* I have just received an email from Oceanwide Expeditions, requesting me not to refer to “the sharp bit”. It seems that, somewhere in the small print of our booking agreement is the proviso that I am contractually obligated to call it “the bow” !

The Plancius dropped anchor again (which was even more noisy than pulling it up) in Hercules Bay, just as we were hastening to an early breakfast. It was my lucky day ! After my Weetabix, the slot machine of breakfast turned up a true “Jackpot” line of bacon, fried eggs, beans, potato waffles and toast. In your face, Las Vegas, THIS was better than any prize-winning line that you could offer !

Almost reluctantly, I allowed Lucie to drag me back to our cabin to “suit up”, which was exactly the same procedure as for our previous trips, even though we would not be going ashore.

Hercules Bay

According to the ship’s log, our position was 54°05.7’S / 36°40.8’W

We descended into our Zodiac, which was driven by Martin, my birth almost-neighbour. Martin immediately showed his craft and professionalism by ramming the next Zodiac in line ! Ooops! Luckily, there was no need to cry “Man overboard” – which was just as well because, statistically, it would have been me ….

Drama over, we began a leisurely chug around the bay, focusing initially on the previously elusive Macaroni penguins which had some colonies there. There were, indeed, quite a large number. Some were so high on the cliffs, that you just had to wonder how on earth they ever got up there. This was not to mention their constant need to descend and ascend again every time they went fishing.

Oddly, the Macaroni lays two eggs, but as soon as the second one appears, the first is abandoned and the second gets the incubation and there is a single chick. Luckily, the ever prowling skuas and Giant petrels like omelettes.

Up close, the Macaronis did all the funny stuff that penguins do. I have to admit that all penguins are very endearing. Penguins do need fresh water and, in one crevice in the rocks where water was tumbling from above, one appeared to be taking a shower, whilst others waited their turn.

There was, inevitably, a bit of moving around to get a good shot. We were not allowed to stand, just sit or kneel and, in a Zodiac, even that seemed to cause a little instability.

Unbidden, the words of an old song by the Hues Corporation appeared, as if by magic, in the juke-box of my mind ….

“Rock the boat, don’t tip the boat over,
Rock the boat, don’t rock the boat baby ...”
…. and so on …..

As it seemed to be, wherever we went, there was a plethora of wildlife that just seemed to ignore us and go about its daily business. There were two other types of penguin, Kings and Gentoos, Fur seals, female and juvenile Elephant seals, together with the ubiquitous skuas.

The expedition staff went to great lengths to show us the less common things as well. One of these was a white bird hopping around the cliffs. This was the Southern Sheathbill which rejoices in the dreadful local title of “shit chicken”. Sadly, the name is horribly accurate. Up close, it did look like a chicken and, for some hellish reason, its diet is almost totally composed of the droppings of other creatures, even its own compatriots ….

There was also the local, South Georgia Pintail duck, swimming here and there. This duck is actually omnivorous and will happily scavenge and eat the flesh of things that die … There were also Kelp gulls and even an Antarctic tern which almost landed in the boat. The ride was beautiful, the sea was clear and kelp forests could be seen several meters below the surface. There were even some small, but elegant jellyfish in the water. It was, apparently, quite unusual to see those.

The star of the show was the nest of a Light Mantled Sooty albatross. It was hard to spot, but Lucie guessed where it must be. The adult, which had a chick, obligingly stuck its head up about ten seconds later. It was almost impossible to photograph with our camera from about a quarter of a mile (British Protectorate) away. Of course, Martin caught it nicely, but his lens that was so long that the bird could practically peck it. Almost unbelievably, Wanda waved her iPhone in its general direction at the precise microsecond that the adult stood up – and managed a good photo. Taken at such a distance, it would not stand much magnification, but a clear snap it remained, nonetheless. The “birders” were practically in a state of delirium when they saw it and, had it been permitted, would surely have been dancing in the Zodiac.

The only bird we could not locate was the South Georgia pipit, which is a small, brown, errr, pipit. It is the only real perching bird to be found on these islands and they should have been visible foraging in the kelp at the tide-line. To the chagrin of the so recently Terpsichorean birders, not a single one was seen.

We did spot a dandelion, though, on a ledge high up on a near-vertical cliff….. Eradicate that !

The previous day, Lucie had noticed that her foot was a little damp and, whilst on the Zodiac, we noticed a split in one of her rubber boots. Back on board we were able to swap them for the very last pair in the same size.

During lunch which, with the growing familiarity amongst what I can only call “our little cabal”, was quite a merry affair, the Plancius set out to cover the relatively short distance to Grytviken. Despite having no permanent residents and hardly any houses, it is the Capital of South Georgia.

We soon saw the long line of the Allardyce mountain range and the towering peak of Mount Paget which, at about nine thousand feet, is the highest point in South Georgia. It was wreathed in clouds. In the water, icebergs could be seen in many places.

Grytviken

What Ali called the “navigation” into Cumberland bay, where Grytviken is situated, was extremely picturesque. A cross, erected by the crew of Sir Earnest Shackleton’s ship “Quest”, stood white against the cliffs to the right of the bay’s entrance. Shackleton died of a heart attack on the island in 1922 and his wife arranged for him to be buried there. The cross was backed, somewhat incongruously, by the new buildings of the British Antarctic Survey.

At the head of the bay lay the rusting remains of the old whaling station, a white church and a few administration buildings for the temporary residents. To the left side lay the remnants of two fishing boats, sunk, some years ago, in the same violent winter storm.

The South Georgia authorities came onboard to stamp our passports and also carried out the promised rigorous inspection of a number of passengers. They did find a few blades of grass on one poor soul, but apparently that was not enough to earn us censure and the Plancius still carries its 100% rating.

It did not pay to banter with Ali, but I did – so I got a “personal” extra inspection …. She claimed she found a grain of sand in my boot logo – but, as Lucie and I had both given the logos the paperclip treatment, we felt she might have been playacting to encourage, as it were, the others …

For once, we were amongst the last to disembark and we took a swift journey across the bluey-green waters to a point just below the cemetery. Naturally, as soon as Lucie put her foot into the water, she discovered that her new, new rubber boots also leaked ! Luckily, the perambulations around Grytviken were all dry.

We visited Shackleton’s grave, where whisky to toast him was offered. We cannot drink whisky, so I contented myself with giving the great man the thumbs-up. His right hand man, Frank Wild, is also commemorated with a (far smaller) grave nearby. This was marked with an engraved stone, as opposed to a column.

There was very little to actually do in Grytviken. At its height, with the whaling industry in full swing, it was probably very busy. At the same time it must also have been a smoky, smelly, hell-hole. Whaling was outlawed in nineteen sixty-six and actually ceased in Grytviken two seasons prior to that. Everywhere it looked as if a siren sounded and the workers just simply stopped what they were doing – and left forever.

A guide from the museum took us around the abandoned and rusting structures that, during their period of service accounted for the lives of over one hundred and seventy-five thousand whales. The whole process was barbaric, from the exploding harpoon right up to the grinding of the bones for fertiliser. The more than slightly harrowing sequence was explained to us in some detail by the guide. At first, ONLY the blubber was cut off and the carcass was then towed back into the bay to rot and be consumed by scavengers. Later, the quest for ever more profit led to everything being used. I bet that pleased the whales.

At times, both the Fur and the Elephant seals were also hunted for their blubber, which was rendered to oil in the now rusting cauldrons that were still scattered here and there. If you consider how unafraid of humans those creatures are, it must have been horrifyingly simple. Walk along until you find a seal, kill it, lob it into the cauldron, repeat. The fur seal was almost hunted out of existence – but has recovered very rapidly since hunting was finally outlawed.

We visited the Post Office, sent cards to people who had requested it and again took a photo as proof of posting. Bearing in mind how remote the box was, we wondered how long they would take to be received – but they were in the system …. (these were actually delivered in only thirty days).

We visited the museum, which had rooms devoted to various individuals that have impacted South Georgia’s history. Unsurprisingly, Shackleton figured strongly. He was, I think, truly a hero of the old school. His exploits may have sounded fictional, but they were for real.

That was about it. As I said, Grytviken did not really have a lot to pique the interest. There were seals and penguins at every turn and, perhaps more importantly, a rusting history to remind us how to behave in a better way to the natural world around us. We made a donation towards the process of preservation that will ensure it remains as a salutary lesson for those to come. Then we jumped into the Zodiac and returned to the Plancius.

Lucie swapped her boots, yet again, we checked them for leaks and we returned to our cabin. A shower, whilst we were not under way, was so much easier.

The briefing for the following day promised a visit to a King penguin colony with over half a million breeding pairs, yes, you did read that right. That sounded beyond belief and I was guessing that the stench would also be off of any known scale. The wind, the next day, we were told, would be very cold indeed. I hoped it would also be very strong as I would happily have swapped a splashy landing for some fresh air. The afternoon would offer the possibility of what was described as “a fairly stiff hike”, I could not wait to do that in wellies !

For some odd reason, the evening meal was a barbecue, served on the rear deck …… The food was up to the customary mark, but in a brisk, cold, wind, Lucie and I soon retreated inside. The bread and butter pudding, which Lucie kindly fetched me from outside was sublime – so I retired to bed a happy man !