Drake Passage & Beagle Channel
Despite today being the austral solstice (the longest day of the year in the southern hemisphere) our northbound approach to Cape Horn has heralded the first sliver of darkness we have seen in eight days. By leaving the latitudinal/biological confines of the southern ocean, we have regained our nights and left behind those disorienting sunbursts that lure us out of bed at unspeakably early hours… not that our eight days of perpetual light will be completely missed, nor will the smell of fresh penguin guano be quickly put out of our minds, as one might suspect. No, as a matter of fact, many of our Antarctic companions will not soon be forgotten and may well inspire some of us to return to see them again.
How can one forget weaving through 70,000+ Chinstrap penguins only to follow it up the next day with 100,000+ Adelie penguins all crammed onto one small island at the boundaries of the Weddell Sea?
And the marine mammals! Though fleeting at times, our looks at Humpback and Minke whales, and Leopard, Weddell and Crab eater Seals have certainly been captured in pixels if nothing else.
And the ice. What’s to block the memory of countless islands of drifting ice back-dropped by an entire continent of the stuff? A sea of white crystals you can drive a ship through as easily as walk upon.
And of course our flying friends… From the ubiquitous Petrels, Sheathbills and Shags to the Royal Albatross we can see now, in these waning hours of the trip. Calm seas have graced our return north through the Drake Passage and, as Cape Horn comes into view, our friend and historian Eduardo Shaw announces our return with a poem, an ode really, to the legacy of this incredible place and the unique people it has beckoned over the year:
I am the albatross who awaits you
At the end of the earth.
I am the forgotten soul of the dead mariners
who rounded Cape Horn
from all the seas of the world.
But they did not perish
In the furious waves.
Today they fly on my wings
For all eternity
in the ultimate embrace
of the Antarctic winds.
- Sara Vial, December 1992
Despite today being the austral solstice (the longest day of the year in the southern hemisphere) our northbound approach to Cape Horn has heralded the first sliver of darkness we have seen in eight days. By leaving the latitudinal/biological confines of the southern ocean, we have regained our nights and left behind those disorienting sunbursts that lure us out of bed at unspeakably early hours… not that our eight days of perpetual light will be completely missed, nor will the smell of fresh penguin guano be quickly put out of our minds, as one might suspect. No, as a matter of fact, many of our Antarctic companions will not soon be forgotten and may well inspire some of us to return to see them again.
How can one forget weaving through 70,000+ Chinstrap penguins only to follow it up the next day with 100,000+ Adelie penguins all crammed onto one small island at the boundaries of the Weddell Sea?
And the marine mammals! Though fleeting at times, our looks at Humpback and Minke whales, and Leopard, Weddell and Crab eater Seals have certainly been captured in pixels if nothing else.
And the ice. What’s to block the memory of countless islands of drifting ice back-dropped by an entire continent of the stuff? A sea of white crystals you can drive a ship through as easily as walk upon.
And of course our flying friends… From the ubiquitous Petrels, Sheathbills and Shags to the Royal Albatross we can see now, in these waning hours of the trip. Calm seas have graced our return north through the Drake Passage and, as Cape Horn comes into view, our friend and historian Eduardo Shaw announces our return with a poem, an ode really, to the legacy of this incredible place and the unique people it has beckoned over the year:
I am the albatross who awaits you
At the end of the earth.
I am the forgotten soul of the dead mariners
who rounded Cape Horn
from all the seas of the world.
But they did not perish
In the furious waves.
Today they fly on my wings
For all eternity
in the ultimate embrace
of the Antarctic winds.
- Sara Vial, December 1992
