Bailey Head, Deception Island: 62° 58' South, 60° 30' West
The days have been getting noticeably longer as we head ever southward. The sun rose at 2:53 AM and set after 11:00 PM. Its gentle arc below the horizon prevents true night from enveloping this part of the Antarctic, the South Shetland Islands, during the height of summer. That means we can be almost as busy as the wondrous wildlife living here, as they squeeze their reproductive cycles into the narrow window that is a polar summer.
After cruising all morning, passing King George and Livingston islands and briefly encountering a pod of killer whales (the second or our trip!), we spied Deception Island on the southern horizon. A smoothly textured sky, painted with soft cirrus clouds, filled the dome above us and calm seas paved a trouble-free path right to our anchorage at Bailey Head on the outer, northern shore of Deception. The beach landing here is notorious for its dangerous swell but this afternoon it was the most welcoming we’ve ever seen it. Soon, everyone was ashore only to find themselves in the midst of busy chinstrap penguin metropolis.
Two steady streams of chinstraps toddled along the edge of a melt-water river emerging from the hills: one of weary, hungry and dirty birds who had been tending the nest and were now heading towards the ocean. And one of smart, dapper birds, tummies full of krill, heading inland to relieve their mates. The photo shows a group of the latter birds, chests gleaming white and a certain bounce to their step, on their way to one of as many as 100,000 nest sites spread across the slopes of a large amphitheater just around the corner.
It was after 6:30 PM by the time we were all back on board but our day was far from over. Sailing just a short distance from Bailey Head we approached and passed through Neptune’s Bellows, a slot of missing shoreline that has allowed ships access to a miniature, inland sea since the first sealers entered in 1820 – for Deception Island is a volcanic island whose center has collapsed and been flooded by ocean water. On a stretch of inner shore known as Port Foster sit the rusting remains of a shore-based whaling station built in 1911. After dinner we ventured ashore and explored along a beach strewn with history, whale bones, and penguin tracks. Snow flakes swirled even as steam rose like smoke from warm black sands at the tide line and some guests decided that was enough of an invitation to dig a shallow pool and “go swimming” in Antarctica.
By sunset we were all once again safely aboard, secure in the sauna or visiting in the lounge, while penguins porpoised through icy waters just outside our windows.
The days have been getting noticeably longer as we head ever southward. The sun rose at 2:53 AM and set after 11:00 PM. Its gentle arc below the horizon prevents true night from enveloping this part of the Antarctic, the South Shetland Islands, during the height of summer. That means we can be almost as busy as the wondrous wildlife living here, as they squeeze their reproductive cycles into the narrow window that is a polar summer.
After cruising all morning, passing King George and Livingston islands and briefly encountering a pod of killer whales (the second or our trip!), we spied Deception Island on the southern horizon. A smoothly textured sky, painted with soft cirrus clouds, filled the dome above us and calm seas paved a trouble-free path right to our anchorage at Bailey Head on the outer, northern shore of Deception. The beach landing here is notorious for its dangerous swell but this afternoon it was the most welcoming we’ve ever seen it. Soon, everyone was ashore only to find themselves in the midst of busy chinstrap penguin metropolis.
Two steady streams of chinstraps toddled along the edge of a melt-water river emerging from the hills: one of weary, hungry and dirty birds who had been tending the nest and were now heading towards the ocean. And one of smart, dapper birds, tummies full of krill, heading inland to relieve their mates. The photo shows a group of the latter birds, chests gleaming white and a certain bounce to their step, on their way to one of as many as 100,000 nest sites spread across the slopes of a large amphitheater just around the corner.
It was after 6:30 PM by the time we were all back on board but our day was far from over. Sailing just a short distance from Bailey Head we approached and passed through Neptune’s Bellows, a slot of missing shoreline that has allowed ships access to a miniature, inland sea since the first sealers entered in 1820 – for Deception Island is a volcanic island whose center has collapsed and been flooded by ocean water. On a stretch of inner shore known as Port Foster sit the rusting remains of a shore-based whaling station built in 1911. After dinner we ventured ashore and explored along a beach strewn with history, whale bones, and penguin tracks. Snow flakes swirled even as steam rose like smoke from warm black sands at the tide line and some guests decided that was enough of an invitation to dig a shallow pool and “go swimming” in Antarctica.
By sunset we were all once again safely aboard, secure in the sauna or visiting in the lounge, while penguins porpoised through icy waters just outside our windows.
