Kayak is the same backward and forwards

 

Yesterday morning we had a zodiac landing for a walk around Planeau.  There were penguins aplenty, all of the gentoo variety.  Many were nesting, and I had the great privilege of seeing a chick for a very brief moment.  The challenge in Antarctica is to not become blasé about what we see everyday. Each penguin colony, each oddly constructed iceberg and each whale sighting should be treated as the wondrous experience that they are. I refuse to let familiarity breed contempt. 

After lunch, 12 of us were summonsed to the “boot room” to collect our kayaking clothes - wet suit, booties, jacket and special life vest.  We returned to our cabins to get dressed (base layers under and fleece over wetsuits) plus hats, gloves, etc.  The weather had been excellent for previous excursions, although Sadie’s group had encountered a bit of wind and wave.  I confided to Nick, our fearless kayaking guide, that I was actually terrified. He did a great job of reassuring me, so my anxiety levels were downgraded from terrified to slightly nauseous.  We all piled into the zodiac that was towing the 7 kayaks behind us.  Most of my fellow paddlers were travelling either as a couple or a parent and child, but Sadie and I had agreed from the beginning that it was not wise for us to kayak together if any semblance of civil relationship was to survive.  I was therefore paired with Deb (not her real name), an American who had never kayaked before and who felt compelled to give a running monologue throughout the entire experience.  The seas were considerably rougher than they had been on previous days, but Nick reassured us that we could easily make it to more sheltered bays.  For once, I was not the heavy person who needs to sit at the back, a fact that gave me immense pleasure. Well, it did until I discovered that Deb couldn’t really get the hang of either steering or paddling but still approached the whole thing with great enthusiasm.  After a few minutes, my anxiety disappeared as I realised that I would be both steering and paddling and that if I needed Deb to do something, I just shouted “paddle left” or similar and 7 times out of 10 she seemed to comply.   It was great seeing the penguins swimming by and the icebergs up close and personal.  It was even better spotting whales at eye level less than 20 meters away.  Silence would have been amazing, but Deb felt compelled to give voice to every singly thought that entered her head.  By the end, I was ready to capsize simply to escape.  But I digress.  During the first 90 minutes, we did sprints into the wind to make it to each new sheltered bay. We had to paddle like Vikings each sprint for about 300 meters, but it was hugely rewarding to accomplish it. We made it most of the way round the island we were hugging when the wind really picked up, the waves started splashing over the kayaks and Nick took the wise call to head back.  About halfway back, the wind completely shifted and we were again having to paddle straight into it. Like an Escher print, it was possible to be paddling into the wind whatever direction we headed.  I was paddling as hard and fast as I could possibly manage, giving thanks to all those strength and conditioning classes I’ve done at the gym for the last year.  My kayaking colleagues were all doing the same but none of us were making any headway except for the superhuman, maintain climbing couple who made their effort look like a simple rowboat on the Serpentine in Hyde Park.  The rest of us were pushed up against the rocks, completely unable to move any further.   It’s never a good thing to see your kayak guide looking concerned, but bless him, he paddled over to us, and one by one tethered his kayak to ours and helped up paddle free of the gale that was keeping us in kayak prison.  We managed to get back to the zodiac all in one piece, although I’m pretty sure my hair is now completely grey underneath the dye. Once we were safely back on Plancius, NIck admitted that had he known what the conditions would be, he never would have taken us out.  The forecast had been for relative calm which just shows how quickly things can change down here.  I’m sure one day I will find the humour in the whole experience, but I’m not there yet.  Deb appeared to be delighted with the whole adventure, but then again, she wasn’t the one paddling like a demon up front.  She did announce this morning, however, how sore she was from all the exercise. I’m happy to report that I feel just fine.

Last night, I indulged in my first on-board cocktail just to calm my nerves.  After days of a pretty calm sea, the ship started pitching and listing with the wind so I decided to apply another seasick patch. I fell into bed at 9 PM and slept like the dead until 7.  This morning, we had a zodiac cruise around Paradise Bay.  It was the richest wildlife trip yet. We saw 3 different types of penguins (gentoo, Adelie, and chinstrap), several Wendell seals and whales who were breaching less than 10 meters away. It was a spectacular morning on the water.

This afternoon, I received the sad news that the friend who was to join me after the Antarctica adventure to travel in Argentina and Uruguay is now unable to come due to a family crisis. I feel so bad for her as she will be unable to claim the not inexpensive trip on her insurance, but I completely understand and appreciate her decision.  My trip will not be the same without her, but I will do my best to make the most of solo travelling. I just feel so sad that she will be missing out.