Deception Island, Bailey Head
Thick fog kept the National Geographic Explorer in a grey, silent world of its own this morning as we arrived in the South Shetland Islands. The bridge assured us that there was, in fact, land out there we just couldn’t see it. It made the anticipation of our first landing all the more intense. We prepared for our first steps in the Antarctic by cleaning our boots and outerwear. Decontamination keeps us from introducing foreign flora to the shore. Lisa informs us over the P.A that we expect to arrive around one o’clock this afternoon to the site of our first landing. The anticipation builds.
The anchor chain was finally heard, rattling down, during lunch. Before long we were all donning our outdoor gear and headed for the mudroom. Zodiacs were already waiting and everyone climbed in. Welcome to Antarctica. Penguins leapt out of the water around us, zooming towards the beach in large groups. Everyone was prepped for the stern landings the Zodiacs were making. When we surfed backwards to the beach our boats were safely hauled up by the hardworking shore-men. Struggling up the steep slope away from the surf, we finally made it to the life-jacket bags and our first steps on Antarctic shores. All gazed in wonder at the sights surrounding them; jet black sand, shiny white penguin bellies, brown fur seals, a cacophony of sounds from thousands of chin-strap penguins going to and fro. Walking back along the base of the cliff of Bailey Head, we soon rounded a corner and were blown away by the sheer numbers of penguins nesting in an enormous amphitheatre. Every slope and hillside for quite a distance was covered by the black and white dots of penguins seen from afar. It smelled horrible. For once in our lives we didn’t really care. The lure of adorable penguin chicks running after parents for food was more than enough to keep our minds off the stench.
Before long, it was time to return to the ship, so back through the surf we went. The National Geographic Explorer turned a corner around Deception Island and made her way through Neptune’s Bellows, the narrow entrance into the caldera of Port Foster. Here we viewed the remains of the whaling station and former British base in Whaler’s Bay. The Captain brought the ship much closer than anyone ever imagined possible. Huge rusty oil tanks sat half sunk in the black sand and grey wooden buildings stood open to the harsh Antarctic winds. A slow tour around the bay and we were making our way back out through the Bellows again. Time to head south and see where our next day’s adventures will take us.
