Ocean Harbor, South Georgia Island
Before we left home for our journey to South Georgia, all of us carefully selected and packed our warmest cold-weather gear. We brought woolen and fleece hats, neck gaiters and hip waders, long underwear and gloves to spare. And why not? After all, we would be venturing beneath the dreaded Antarctic convergence, a resolute barrier to all things warm. Not only that, we were due to arrive not in the height of the astral summer, but in spring, when temperatures would surely remind us more of the winters we left behind.
Alas, things are not always so predictable here at one of the far-off corners of the world. For after two days in South Georgia, a polar paradise to be sure, we find ourselves enjoying near balmy conditions. Our day bestowed us with clear skies, blinding sun, and waters calm enough to allow mere novices such as ourselves to explore one of South Georgia’s more notorious harbors under our own paddle-power in kayaks. That’s right…kayaks!
After a morning visiting some 200,000 of our newest friends, the king penguins of St. Andrews Bay, we set sail for the seldom visited Ocean Harbor, a site that has seen it’s share of South Georgian history. The kelp-filled harbor is home to a former whaling station, and though it doesn’t contain as many remnants of those busy times as Stromness or Grytviken, it does hold it more than its fair share of notable memorabilia and historic footnotes. For instance, the harbor was home to the first ten reindeer introduced to South Georgia. Those animals later combined with another group brought down in 1925 and have reached a thriving current population of around 2000. A herd of at least 60 could be seen grazing on the tussock grass as we paddled along the shores. The oldest graves found on South Georgia are those simple memorials to sealers and whalers bunched up on the hillsides just above the few remaining structures of the old station. But the most striking reminder of the harbor’s former life has to be the wreck of the old iron ship, the Bayard.
Built by a Liverpool shipyard in 1864, the ship met its premature end in 1911 when hurricane force winds ripped the vessel from her moorings at the station dock and drove her onto the rocks across the bay, where she remains today. Now a home to a number of nesting shags and kelp gulls, the ship serves as a stark reminder to the powerful storms that plague the Southern Ocean, a fact that today, at least, seemed almost hard to believe when contemplated is such perfect conditions.
Before we left home for our journey to South Georgia, all of us carefully selected and packed our warmest cold-weather gear. We brought woolen and fleece hats, neck gaiters and hip waders, long underwear and gloves to spare. And why not? After all, we would be venturing beneath the dreaded Antarctic convergence, a resolute barrier to all things warm. Not only that, we were due to arrive not in the height of the astral summer, but in spring, when temperatures would surely remind us more of the winters we left behind.
Alas, things are not always so predictable here at one of the far-off corners of the world. For after two days in South Georgia, a polar paradise to be sure, we find ourselves enjoying near balmy conditions. Our day bestowed us with clear skies, blinding sun, and waters calm enough to allow mere novices such as ourselves to explore one of South Georgia’s more notorious harbors under our own paddle-power in kayaks. That’s right…kayaks!
After a morning visiting some 200,000 of our newest friends, the king penguins of St. Andrews Bay, we set sail for the seldom visited Ocean Harbor, a site that has seen it’s share of South Georgian history. The kelp-filled harbor is home to a former whaling station, and though it doesn’t contain as many remnants of those busy times as Stromness or Grytviken, it does hold it more than its fair share of notable memorabilia and historic footnotes. For instance, the harbor was home to the first ten reindeer introduced to South Georgia. Those animals later combined with another group brought down in 1925 and have reached a thriving current population of around 2000. A herd of at least 60 could be seen grazing on the tussock grass as we paddled along the shores. The oldest graves found on South Georgia are those simple memorials to sealers and whalers bunched up on the hillsides just above the few remaining structures of the old station. But the most striking reminder of the harbor’s former life has to be the wreck of the old iron ship, the Bayard.
Built by a Liverpool shipyard in 1864, the ship met its premature end in 1911 when hurricane force winds ripped the vessel from her moorings at the station dock and drove her onto the rocks across the bay, where she remains today. Now a home to a number of nesting shags and kelp gulls, the ship serves as a stark reminder to the powerful storms that plague the Southern Ocean, a fact that today, at least, seemed almost hard to believe when contemplated is such perfect conditions.
