Paradise Bay, Cuverville Island and Piccard Cove, Antarctica
It’s not all about penguins, but who can resist their strutting style and comic antics. It’s not about ice either, but shutters click a thousand times around each sculpted form. What is this place that has us so enthralled, this place Antarctica?
Paradise Bay. The words, rolled about on your tongue and bounced from neuron to neuron in your brain conjure up images of warm sandy beaches and palm trees. Or at least they did for many of us until today. Paradise Bay now evokes a picture of sharp mountain peaks and massive glaciers tumbling to the sea. Icebergs stretch their fluted roots into the briny deep while on the surface of the sea their white and polished crowns appear in many shapes and forms. Folded and molded rocky layers tipped up vertically into lithesome curves. On their surface turquoise malachite or orange and yellow lichens painted abstract scenes. Pot like nests of blue-eyed shags were purposefully placed as if to ornament a ledge. Sinuous counter-shaded necks bowed in greeting to their mates dancing as gracefully as flower-stalks in a gentle breeze. Breeding season has just begun and if food is plentiful a month from now hungry mouths will cry for food. Antarctic terns lilted by on bouncing delicate wings. From high on the cliff above the silent structures of Argentina’s Almirante Brown Station we looked out upon this frozen land and then with shrieks of laughter tobogganed downhill upon our waterproofed bottoms. Paradise must be the sense of joy and happiness found in this expansive and beautiful place.
From the snow-covered shoulder of Cuverville Island one could see half a dozen or more communities. Each had much the same circular design with a major thoroughfare leading to the sea. Traffic was light in both directions but in spite of that occasional bottlenecks did occur for the narrow path was only one penguin girth in width. Coming and going these gentle gentoos would stand red beak to crimson one until a passing strategy could be decided on or until one would strike out cross country, its solitary stocky body becoming a tiny speck on a steep and empty hill. On land they march on short sturdy legs but in the water they fly fast and torpedo like. Fresh and clean, in gangs, they shoot onto the cobble shore from whence they commence their long hike home.
We had an inkling that Wilhelimina Bay might be a special place so we cruised its shores in late afternoon and just as dinner commenced parked the ship in Piccard Bay. Valet service shuttled us fifty feet to shore and then the party began. The bar was flowing freely and happy clusters gathered round. As is so often the case with any great beach festival, spontaneous sporting events erupted. Ship pulling was popular although no one could make the Endeavour budge from its berth. Soccer drew the biggest crowd. But everyone looked alike and it was never clear what team was which or whether anyone could score in either goal. As the light grew dimmer and weariness appeared, reality reminded us that instead of sand beneath our feet our beach was thick fast ice.
Each day we build upon our picture of this land. We meet new species and see new sights. We quietly contemplate and laughingly play. We drink in the freshness of the air, whether sharp and cold or tinged with the odor of penguin guano. Antarctica is beyond our vocabulary and beyond our photographs. It is an indescribable place.
It’s not all about penguins, but who can resist their strutting style and comic antics. It’s not about ice either, but shutters click a thousand times around each sculpted form. What is this place that has us so enthralled, this place Antarctica?
Paradise Bay. The words, rolled about on your tongue and bounced from neuron to neuron in your brain conjure up images of warm sandy beaches and palm trees. Or at least they did for many of us until today. Paradise Bay now evokes a picture of sharp mountain peaks and massive glaciers tumbling to the sea. Icebergs stretch their fluted roots into the briny deep while on the surface of the sea their white and polished crowns appear in many shapes and forms. Folded and molded rocky layers tipped up vertically into lithesome curves. On their surface turquoise malachite or orange and yellow lichens painted abstract scenes. Pot like nests of blue-eyed shags were purposefully placed as if to ornament a ledge. Sinuous counter-shaded necks bowed in greeting to their mates dancing as gracefully as flower-stalks in a gentle breeze. Breeding season has just begun and if food is plentiful a month from now hungry mouths will cry for food. Antarctic terns lilted by on bouncing delicate wings. From high on the cliff above the silent structures of Argentina’s Almirante Brown Station we looked out upon this frozen land and then with shrieks of laughter tobogganed downhill upon our waterproofed bottoms. Paradise must be the sense of joy and happiness found in this expansive and beautiful place.
From the snow-covered shoulder of Cuverville Island one could see half a dozen or more communities. Each had much the same circular design with a major thoroughfare leading to the sea. Traffic was light in both directions but in spite of that occasional bottlenecks did occur for the narrow path was only one penguin girth in width. Coming and going these gentle gentoos would stand red beak to crimson one until a passing strategy could be decided on or until one would strike out cross country, its solitary stocky body becoming a tiny speck on a steep and empty hill. On land they march on short sturdy legs but in the water they fly fast and torpedo like. Fresh and clean, in gangs, they shoot onto the cobble shore from whence they commence their long hike home.
We had an inkling that Wilhelimina Bay might be a special place so we cruised its shores in late afternoon and just as dinner commenced parked the ship in Piccard Bay. Valet service shuttled us fifty feet to shore and then the party began. The bar was flowing freely and happy clusters gathered round. As is so often the case with any great beach festival, spontaneous sporting events erupted. Ship pulling was popular although no one could make the Endeavour budge from its berth. Soccer drew the biggest crowd. But everyone looked alike and it was never clear what team was which or whether anyone could score in either goal. As the light grew dimmer and weariness appeared, reality reminded us that instead of sand beneath our feet our beach was thick fast ice.
Each day we build upon our picture of this land. We meet new species and see new sights. We quietly contemplate and laughingly play. We drink in the freshness of the air, whether sharp and cold or tinged with the odor of penguin guano. Antarctica is beyond our vocabulary and beyond our photographs. It is an indescribable place.
