Antarctica, Paradise Bay & Continent
Day 5, zodiac cruise 2: Paradise Bay
After lunch we set out to cruise in Paradise Harbour, a sheltered area named by early whalers. The Argentinian station in the distance was the only splash of bright colour (aside from our Gore-texes and life-jackets) and the place was utterly peaceful. The grind and crunch of the zodiac pushing slowly through loose ice abruptly vanished when Arjen (our boat driver on this occasion) turned off the engine and we coasted to a stop in complete silence face-to-face with a group of Weddell seals. The clicking of shutters on our part was answered by snorts of hot seal breath and the odd toothy yawn.
As we drifted away, admiring the tall mountains behind, a sudden avalanche fell. It dissipated in a cloud of snow hundreds of feet above our heads but was still a good reminder how essentially wild and inhospitable this continent is.
Day 5, landing 3: on the Antarctic continent
Evidently having seen enough, Rolf's call came over the radio: "All zodiacs proceed now to the landing site". We pulled up the boats and crowded together on a narrow, unremarkable strip of rock. For many of us setting out on the trip, planting our feet on the actual continent of Antarctica had been a major goal. Now we were here, of course it was nice to say we'd done it, but suddenly the act didn't seem nearly so important; a mere semantic achievement compared with the amazing wildlife and scenery we'd witnessed at our other landing sites. Mentally, if not geographically, we'd been on Antarctica for several days already, breathing the clean, cold air; listening to the ice crack and the penguins bray.
Still, it was an occasion for celebration since we'd come so far. The British contingent pipped the Americans to claiming the new continent, pictures were taken and flags planted - for Curaçao by Rens and Rhodesia by Lewis.
Unfortunately the group photo had some gaps. Sergey's zodiac had been missing for some time, dropping a couple of people back to the ship who'd got too cold - and when the call to land came out, he mistook the directions and went instead to a site they'd used on a previous trip. After the broken motor of the day before, Sergey really wasn't having much luck and the situation rapidly deteriorated into a farce as his boat could be seen determinedly speeding away from us, repeated radio calls in Russian and English failing to turn him around.
