Pegging out in South Georgia

The last two days have been absolutely incredible. The James Clark Ross arrived at South Georgia on Saturday morning, with glorious blue skies and wisps of cloud wreathing the mountain tops. King Edward Point- the BAS research station that we were visiting- lies at the entrance of Cumberland East Bay encircled by a ring of snow encrusted mountains. Grytviken, the old Norwegian whaling station, lies at the foot of the mountains and somehow the sight of these now abandoned industrial remains add a poignancy to the place. More prosaically it’s now a heritage site with a museum (and shop!) that’s open for six months of the year to take advantage of the increased summer traffic.

The Pharos pulling out from Cumberland East Bay

KEP Research Station

 The government officer came aboard and spoke to us about the importance of biosecurity. We were advised to use the boot scrub and the mini vacuum cleaners to clean ourselves of any soil or bits of plant matter; in particular he became very enthusiastic about what we should do if we saw rats anywhere. I think he’s got some traps stockpiled that he’s itching to use!  “Do you feel lucky punk? Well do ya?”

And that was it! We were free to roam. I raced up and downstairs (nearly forgetting money and then how would I have shopped?) but finally escaped and marched around the bay, leaving elephant seals at a very respectful distance. The beaches were littered with the recumbent forms of elephant seals; the males in particular were enormous and they stared with mournful, liquid brown eyes as we passed. If they felt that they were being approached too closely, they reared up, which seemed to require vast amounts of energy from the poor loves, and made loud honking noises.

Elephant seal in the foreground

My goal, however was to make it to Shackleton’s grave. We passed through the whaling station remains and past some King Penguins (I just want to have one, can I have one?) before arriving at Grytviken cemetery. It’s very well maintained; the fence is kept painted and the grave stones are clearly regularly ground but for all that it’s rather a sad place. It’s a monument to men who pursued a very dangerous trade (whaling) and all too often died very young. I think the youngest person in there was just 19 years old when he died. Shackleton’s grave lies at the back of the cemetery and there is a handsome granite headstone marking the site. On the back of the stone are carved lines by Robert Browning “I hold that a man should strive to the uttermost for his life’s set prize.” It’s all very glorious.

Off to Shackleton’s right lie the ashes of Frank Wild who was the man who remained at Elephant Island in charge of 22 men whilst Shackleton sailed for South Georgia in the hopes of bringing back rescue. The fact that those 22 men survived in such a desolate place is testament to Frank Wild’s leadership and he is one of the few men to receive the Polar Medal with four bars.

So, out came the bottle of brandy that my lovely other half had purchased for me “just in case it gets cold” and we toasted men who were clearly absolutely nuts but heroic with it. And then we did explorer poses.

Just before brandy...

It’s possible to scramble up the hillside behind the cemetery to a reservoir which at this point in the year is still mostly frozen over. I regret to say that childishness ensued. Snowballs were thrown; naturally the boys started the hostilities. Kerri and I maintained an alliance and at one point there was a male-female cold war that developed. I armed up- simply to maintain the peace and be ready should I be attacked- at which point both the boys started making more snowballs. Kerri began stockpiling hers so that if we were attacked we would have a supply of armaments. And then I went for a pre-emptive strike on the grounds that if it’s good enough for all world leaders...it’s good enough for me!

Pre-emptive strike- honest, it's for defence!

 Regrettably I took a snowball to the face, but not before exhibiting some kung fu dodges that would have made Neo proud. Snow angels and sledding on coats happened; I haven’t been this childish in years and it was fantastic! Even if I did have a very wet and cold bottom for the rest of the day.

The Childish Ones; Paul, Kerri, me, Tom

King Penguin

Eventually, hysteria over, we wandered down the hillside to the old whaling station. This time we actually took in the explanatory signs rather than galloping past. Grytviken, at its height, was killing more than 30 whales per day! At the beginning, the whalers didn’t even need to go out in ships, whales inhabited the bay so thickly that they simply shot them from the beach with canons and dragged them ashore. Once on the “plan” the gruesome work of dismembering the carcass would start. Using flensing knives (which look rather like ice hockey sticks) the skin and blubber would be cut away from the whale until hooks and winches could be attached to the blubber. The winches would then pull the blubber from the whale’s body so that it could be rendered down and made into all manner of useful things- like lamp oil or margarine in World War II. The meat was utilised as meal to feed cattle and dogs and whale bone was used much in the way that plastics are used now; ladies wore whalebone corsets, men wore it in collar stays. It was even used in type writers.

Flensing Knives

By the end of the whaling period at Grytviken in the 1960s, the bay was stained with blood and effluent from the whales. It took years for the waters of the bay to return to the peaceful blue that they are today. The whale stocks still haven’t recovered.

So in a rather pensive frame of mind, I wandered about the museum until the spirit of commerce captured me and I plunged into the shop. I’m now the proud possessor of a South Georgia hoodie (no hugs please, David Cameron) and postcards featuring pictures from the Shackleton expedition. I was given tea and cake by the rather lovely lady who runs the museum and shop and met the boating officer from the research station. I have to admit to being slightly disappointed; despite winter having only just finished he didn’t have a wide-eyed thousand yard stare or an enormous beard. He seemed terribly normal in fact! But I was reassured by him that even in winter South Georgia still has ships coming in every six weeks and so they haven’t been totally isolated.

My new hoodie! Commerce achieved!

We had a lovely evening; we hosted the men and women of the research station aboard the JCR and then, whilst I was receiving a tour of the station from my opposite number, the party moved to the bar of King Edward Point. There was some crazy dancing, strobe lighting and earnest chatting. I had a wonderful time and then a Cinderella moment as I suddenly realised that it was about 4am and I was the last person from the boat still at the KEP bar and they were trying to clear up...I slunk back to the ship, pegged in (ship’s peg board to say who’s aboard) and pegged out.