At Sea between South Georgia & The Falkland Islands
The dream ended and my arm was asleep. A good dream, nothing was chasing me, but I was forgetting it already. The cabin was bright, but that means little this close to the pole, it could be 4AM. From the bed I look out the portal: a slight fog and a smooth, long swell and dark specks cavorting! No clock in the cabin, but it cannot be too early, those are fur seals, all females, going almost as fast as the National Geographic Explorer and lots of them… must be heading where we are, somewhere nearby. Better and better, while this is the first of two days at sea on our way to the Falklands we have a pre-breakfast appointment with some rocks in the middle of nowhere!
Last night I had asked my colleague, Tom Smith, how pelagic were the fur seals, how far would they travel from land and could they really be serious competitors with whales for krill. Their populations at South Georgia continue to explode and the moms are out on multi-day foraging raids to feed their ‘Oh, too cute little black pups.’ So I guess that question has been answered simply by looking… moms will swim at least 150 miles out to the Shag Rocks in search of krill and fish!
I roll out of my bunk, carefully as it is five feet above the deck, get some coffee and wander up to the sun deck at the aft end of the ship, bright but no sun and water all around. The water still has that somewhat milky look I associate with the cold Southern Ocean, probably 29 degrees still. Lots of porpoising fur seals about and a nice mix of curious/hopeful sea birds following the ship, more than I would expect in the middle of nowhere. Ergo, it is not the ‘middle of nowhere,’ which means I should go to the Bridge to find out where we are and perhaps what time it is.
Out on deck, walking towards the Bridge, I notice that my personal, as well as the more public fog is dissipating and I can see several snaggletooth islands up ahead, the Shag Rocks, so named not because they are fuzzy or a good place to party, but because of the Shags that live on this mammal-free piece of ground with a view.
Lots of natural history staff are on the Bridge, as well as the Captain, so it is probably not 4AM, but more like seven, exactly as planned. Everyone, but me, has binoculars and they are scanning the rocks ahead with an intensity that I find vaguely disquieting. “What? Is one of them missing?” I do not say this out loud, they all look very serious and I know they are looking for the whales we hope to find here. Nothing like a big bump on the ocean floor to make things more exciting on the surface! Especially a big bump in what would otherwise be the middle of nowhere.
Yup, and there it is, right on schedule, the wide, distinctly V-shaped blow of the southern right whale. I move to the port Bridge wing so I am not crushed by the excited binocular wielding hoard! More people are on deck now, as Matt, our Expedition Leader has made a general announcement. From the wing, I gaze at the rocks, wondering about their geology. They look like the tilted sedimentary rock we saw at South Georgia, but they are modestly cloaked with guano and most of the details are hidden. Then I glance down at the water, maybe 50 feet below me, there is a whale and a rainbow spray of fetid breath, right next to the ship! This I did mention as I quickly escaped to the open deck before being trampled and a good time was had by all: breathing and flying, looking and filming… a great start to a peaceful day at sea, a surprising blip in the middle of nowhere, like a pleasant snooze, then a dream where nothing is chasing you.
As we left, maybe an hour later, I glanced at the rocks and the sea, noted the birds and the fur seals and wondered what it would be like to dive in this wild place. Probably a lot like South Georgia, so that is where these pictures are from, my recent last two dives at that wild place! Oh yes, and the very experienced and observant Pete Puleston agrees, tilted sedimentary rock, just like western South Georgia.
The dream ended and my arm was asleep. A good dream, nothing was chasing me, but I was forgetting it already. The cabin was bright, but that means little this close to the pole, it could be 4AM. From the bed I look out the portal: a slight fog and a smooth, long swell and dark specks cavorting! No clock in the cabin, but it cannot be too early, those are fur seals, all females, going almost as fast as the National Geographic Explorer and lots of them… must be heading where we are, somewhere nearby. Better and better, while this is the first of two days at sea on our way to the Falklands we have a pre-breakfast appointment with some rocks in the middle of nowhere!
Last night I had asked my colleague, Tom Smith, how pelagic were the fur seals, how far would they travel from land and could they really be serious competitors with whales for krill. Their populations at South Georgia continue to explode and the moms are out on multi-day foraging raids to feed their ‘Oh, too cute little black pups.’ So I guess that question has been answered simply by looking… moms will swim at least 150 miles out to the Shag Rocks in search of krill and fish!
I roll out of my bunk, carefully as it is five feet above the deck, get some coffee and wander up to the sun deck at the aft end of the ship, bright but no sun and water all around. The water still has that somewhat milky look I associate with the cold Southern Ocean, probably 29 degrees still. Lots of porpoising fur seals about and a nice mix of curious/hopeful sea birds following the ship, more than I would expect in the middle of nowhere. Ergo, it is not the ‘middle of nowhere,’ which means I should go to the Bridge to find out where we are and perhaps what time it is.
Out on deck, walking towards the Bridge, I notice that my personal, as well as the more public fog is dissipating and I can see several snaggletooth islands up ahead, the Shag Rocks, so named not because they are fuzzy or a good place to party, but because of the Shags that live on this mammal-free piece of ground with a view.
Lots of natural history staff are on the Bridge, as well as the Captain, so it is probably not 4AM, but more like seven, exactly as planned. Everyone, but me, has binoculars and they are scanning the rocks ahead with an intensity that I find vaguely disquieting. “What? Is one of them missing?” I do not say this out loud, they all look very serious and I know they are looking for the whales we hope to find here. Nothing like a big bump on the ocean floor to make things more exciting on the surface! Especially a big bump in what would otherwise be the middle of nowhere.
Yup, and there it is, right on schedule, the wide, distinctly V-shaped blow of the southern right whale. I move to the port Bridge wing so I am not crushed by the excited binocular wielding hoard! More people are on deck now, as Matt, our Expedition Leader has made a general announcement. From the wing, I gaze at the rocks, wondering about their geology. They look like the tilted sedimentary rock we saw at South Georgia, but they are modestly cloaked with guano and most of the details are hidden. Then I glance down at the water, maybe 50 feet below me, there is a whale and a rainbow spray of fetid breath, right next to the ship! This I did mention as I quickly escaped to the open deck before being trampled and a good time was had by all: breathing and flying, looking and filming… a great start to a peaceful day at sea, a surprising blip in the middle of nowhere, like a pleasant snooze, then a dream where nothing is chasing you.
As we left, maybe an hour later, I glanced at the rocks and the sea, noted the birds and the fur seals and wondered what it would be like to dive in this wild place. Probably a lot like South Georgia, so that is where these pictures are from, my recent last two dives at that wild place! Oh yes, and the very experienced and observant Pete Puleston agrees, tilted sedimentary rock, just like western South Georgia.
