Ain’t no mountain

I woke up this morning with a feeling that something was wrong. It took a few minutes for me to realise that the ship was no longer rocking from side to side, and it appeared we were no longer moving.  I hopped out of bed, opened the curtains and was met with a most impressive scene of calm seas dotted with dozens of icebergs  of varying sizes and shapes. We were officially in Antarctica, and the sheer beauty of it led me to shed a tear or two.

Today was “mountaineering” day on Danco, part of the Antarctic peninsula.  Well, I say mountaineering because that is what Oceanwide Expeditions call it, but a more accurate description might be “climbing a steep, snow covered hill without the use of crampons, ice picks or anything requiring a carabiner clip”. Regardless, the 20 people who had signed up for this met after breakfast and got kitted out with climbing harnesses.  It is unclear if these were to make us feel more adventurous than we actually are or if they were genuinely for potential mountain climbing use. I was ridiculously nervous that I would not be able to keep up and I would hold everyone back. 

Fully kitted out with harness, life jacket, spare socks and walking poles, we boarded our designated zodiac, an inflatable motorised boat that is our transportation between Plancius and land. My fellow mountaineers were strangely silent, taking in the magnificence of the scenery and possibly trying not to give into the fear. We landed on a rocky beach and left our life jackets in a bit plastic bin.  Anything that touches Antarctic soil/snow must be thoroughly inspected for potential biohazards                           and disinfected so we can’t put anything directly on the ground. We were also fitted out with snow shoes, without which the climb would have been impossible. We then struck out in two groups of ten people each with a mountaineering guide.  Any worries I had about keeping up vanished.  The pace was relatively slow and everyone really looked out for everyone else.  I was far from the slowest climber. The climb was not particularly strenuous, and as we reached our approximate halfway point, the fog lifted and I swear I could hear angels singing as I viewed the extraordinary view both above and below us. We carried on up whilst all my fellow climbers silently took in what is as close to celestial beauty as we are ever likely to encounter.    The silence was broken on several occasions by the sounds of large explosions. These were caused when icebergs had “calls” break off to form new, smaller bergs. We also heard an even louder noice caused by a distant avalanche. It’s all go,go,go herein Antarctica. There are mountains everywhere, covered in pristine white snow. These mountains go all the way down to the sea where the mutated icebergs seemed to bow in reverence to their older and larger siblings. The colour palette is black and white with splashes of minty blue that appear that way for good scientific reasons of colder fresh water mixed with warmer saltwater, but I prefer simply to think of that icy blue as nothing short of magic.  The blue reminds me of those clear blue boiled sweets, that I think are called, appropriately, glacier mints. When we reached the summit, the human silence was broken  by the sound of some of our party bursting into song - in this case an old Indian folk song praising nature and the gods that made it.  We then all began to dance in our snowshoes, celebrating our ridiculous good fortune for being where we were.  Every last one of us spoke of the enormous privilege for which we are truly grateful.  The descent was significantly more challenging than the ascent, and I was very grateful for the walking pole that I had brought with me (I actually brought two, but there was a woman in our group with greater need, so I loaned her one of mine).  Upon our return to the ship, ‘ we thoroughly disinfected anything that had touched the ground and took a moment to appreciate what we had just experienced.  If I ever start believing in god, I’m pretty sure this was as good a sign of divinity as any.  

After lunch, we didn’t have long to wait for our next activity. Even if you aren’t doing mountaineering, kayaking or camping, there are two zodiac trips a day, each taking you to a different location to have a walk, check out the wildlife and appreciate the breathtaking scenery. This afternoon we went to Orne Island where there are numerous gentoo and chinstrap penguin colonies.  This is nesting time, with chicks expected at any moment. Penguins may be the ultimate comedy animal, and they resemble nothing so much as grumpy old men and they pace between nests and the sea to find food.  They build “penguin highways” to make that journey easier, and we were coached never to get in the way of a penguin travelling down their highway. It’s very clear that this is their home, not ours.  We spent a long time just watching them nest, travel for food and join together to fend off the predator skua birds trying to steal their eggs.  If I listened carefully, I could just about hear David Attenburgh providing the narration.