Ice Breaking!

The James Clark Ross went into the pack ice surrounding Adelaide Island this morning. I woke up at 07.00 to feel the engines starting to throb and murmur rather more intently than they did when they were holding position off the pack ice. Peering out my window (if you look under the life boat you can just about see whether you’re in the ice or not) I saw that we had started into the ice. I threw on my outdoor gear (I say that in such a casual way- like it isn't hard work every time!) and flung myself up the stairs leading to Monkey Island. The ship was shuddering beneath my feet; the engines working hard to power our way through the ice.

Pack ice up close

 

The JCR breaking ice

It was fantastic. The pack ice appears deceptively solid with only slow undulations making it clear that water lies beneath the surface. The JCR crunched her way through with a noise like soft thunder, shoving the ice aside. Ahead of us lay cliffs of white, as the bigger icebergs hove into view. Despite sunglasses, the light was brilliant as it was reflected off the ice. Only after some time were my eyes able to pick up the different shades within the white; the hidden blues and greys.

Icebergs lurking in the pack ice

The ice was peppered with different forms of Antarctic wildlife. Up until now, the birds have been the most constant presence. But here on the pack ice the seals predominated. They rest on the bigger slabs of ice, safe for the time being from the predations of killer whales and leopard seals.

Crab Eater Seals looking alarmed by our presence

Crab Eater Seal

I was lucky enough to see a group of Adelie penguins clustering around a hole in the ice. Adelies are appealing, even for penguins. They have a distinctive white ring around the margin of the eye and are considerably smaller than the King and Emperor penguins. Apsley Cherry- Garrard described them as being “...extraordinarily like children. These little people of the Antarctic world.” Apsley appears to have been rather enamoured of the Adelies, and described them as having great individuality. Others have commented on the absurd curiosity of these little birds. In the days of sled dogs this curiosity often lead to a sad reduction in penguin numbers as they waddled forward to investigate the barking, growling, salivating dogs! Cherry-Garrard describes the indignation displayed by one of the little penguins on being rescued from imminent death. The penguin allegedly buffeted his rescuer’s legs with his wings and clung to his trouser legs with his beak.

Adelie Penguins

The Adelies are in the middle of their mating season at the moment. The penguins will take it in turns to sit on the stone nests, incubating the eggs whilst their partners go off to sea. The eggs hatch after 32-34 days and the chicks then stay in the nest for a further 22 days. They will then be left in crèches whilst both the adults hunt.

Adelie Penguins

The findings of George Murray Levick, scientist and surgeon with Scott’s Terra Nova expedition are particularly interesting with regards to the Adelies. His findings were considered so shocking that they were not published with the rest of the scientific papers from the expedition and have only recently come to light. (Thanks to Douglas Russell of the Natural History Museum.) Levick witnessed young male penguins attempting to mate with dead female penguins, engaging in autoerotic behaviour, sexually coercing females and chicks and occasionally killing young chicks in front of their parents. Latter day scientists have confirmed Levick’s findings but suggest that the behaviour results not from the “depravity” of young “penguin hooligans” (Seriously? I love this) but from the fact that young Adelies do not receive much in the way of socialisation before their first mating season. With a limited window in which to find a partner and mate, young Adelies apparently misread cues. And thus a dead female lying on her stomach, appears similar to the position adopted by a sexually available female penguin. Isn’t nature delightful?

Sadly, after about an hour of steaming into the pack ice, we were forced to turn back. Ice was rapidly oozing back into the wake left behind the JCR which indicated that the surrounding ice was under high pressure. It was possible to see red paint left behind on the ice as we cut our way through.

Our wake closes swiftly behind us...

Whilst the JCR is ice strengthened, had we become stuck fast in the ice we might then have been carried onto the rocks that litter the coastline of Adelaide Island. The decision has therefore been taken to head back towards Stanley and unload our scientists and operations personnel. The resupply of Rothera has been pushed back to January, after the next science cruise finishes. It's disappointing, but in the words of Shackleton “better a live donkey than a dead lion.”

Adelaide Island and the Sea Ice

The James Clark Ross is sitting at the edge of the sea ice that wraps around Adelaide Island like a chilly blanket. We arrived this evening two days after (for those geographically minded souls)sailing past Elephant Island and into the Bransfield Straits. 

Icebergs in the Bransfield Straits

King George Island and the Bransfield Straits

 The end goal of course being Adelaide Island and the station which lies on Rothera Point facing into the western side of the Antarctic peninsula. For now, however, we’re waiting for the new day before starting the push into the sea ice.

Adelaide Island and the sea ice

Adelaide Island and the sea ice

The atmosphere on board ship is one of deep excitement. It’s been a slow two weeks for most of our passengers and the relief of Signy feels like a very long time ago. This evening, the last on board for many, seemed filled with a special significance. Everyone dressed up for dinner and it’s amazing how swanky and stylish everyone suddenly became! It felt bizarre though. After two months of wearing jeans and a t-shirt, I felt like a child let loose in her mother’s wardrobe because I was wearing a dress and boots. Not, I hasten to add, my steelies, but rather my cowboy boots. Which are obviously much more lady-like. I’m just keeping my fingers tightly crossed that we don’t have many more fancy dinners or it will rapidly become apparent that I only brought the one dress with me. Maybe I could make some sort of a toga from a bed sheet and tell everyone that I’m going as King Herod...very seasonal that.

Ironically, given that it’s just started snowing this evening, it had escaped my notice that the festive season is nearly upon us. Then I heard “Do they know it’s Christmas time” playing on the radio in the galley and it suddenly dawned on me that it’s the end of November! Part of this confusion is down to the fact that as an early-December baby I refuse to accept the festive spirit (in a very Grinch-ish fashion) until after my birthday. The other reason is that life on the ship seems to follow its own time scale. Jobs at sea still have to be done regardless of whether or not it’s a weekend and so there is little in the way of external markers to indicate the passage of time. Rather than thinking in terms of weeks or months I find myself thinking of “around the time we were at Signy” or “when I was allowed to steer the boat...”

That’s right children! Mama got to steer the boat! Admittedly it was for about 15 seconds, with an engineer ready to shove me out the way lest I make a hash of it. But who cares about such pernickety little details? I want a badge saying “helmswoman extraordinaire!” I was told by our first mate that there was an engineering drill and that I should get involved if I could. So at 14.00 this afternoon I trotted down to the main control room and endeavoured to look attentive and like the kind of person who understands what words like “solenoid” mean.

The purpose of the drill was to see if the engineers can take control of the ship, should the bridge no longer be able to control propulsion or steering. It was brilliant. Alarms that sounded like old fashioned school bells were ringing and the chief engineer relayed information that he had received over a phone line from the bridge. It felt just like a scene from “Sink the Bismark” and I kept expecting everyone to call their colleagues Mr... and shake hands and light pipes at the end.

The Main Control Room of the JCR

The engineers responded to commands issued by the watchman on the bridge and set the speed of the ship using a giant lever. The lever looks rather like something that Willie Wonka would have had on his boiled sweet boat. I really wanted to have a go but sadly the cadet pipped me to the post (Pick me sir, pick me!) and had fun playing. But then, after descending deeper into the belly of the ship, we reached the steering compartment. The world’s smallest steering wheel is mounted there, facing dials that show the direction that has been achieved by turning the wheel to the port or starboard side. I nearly squealed with excitement when the chief engineer asked me if I’d like to have a go. For a couple of minutes I lived a heady dream as the chief engineer called out “10 degrees port... 10 degrees starboard...midships...20 degrees starboard.” And then I very reluctantly ceded my place to the engineers.

The steering compartment of the JCR from the tour on the first cruise

I feel that I need to provide some clarity with regards to a previous post. One of the scientists on board has pointed out that my last post sounded slightly like I had bullied a crew member into providing a comedy show aboard the JCR and then encouraged him to strip off in the conference room! We were watching a comedy DVD showcasing the talents of comedian Phil Nicholls who was not actually on board the ship. My apologies to BAS lest they’ve been coming under fire for funding a party ship down on the Southern Ocean...

 

Still Bobbing About

Welcome to the Drake Passage! To the North is the southernmost tip of the Americas, to the South, the Antarctic peninsula curling up towards the ship like a beckoning finger. And to either side, there are grumpy scientists wondering why the deuce they can’t hold the boat steady because all the waves are making the science difficult! My eyes did widen a little bit when I heard this last but years of hospital medicine and the intriguing stories that people tell to explain why the bottle caps ended up precisely where they did, stood me in good stead. I only let loose a tiny guffaw. Miniscule in fact. And I would like to say, right now, that the rather unkind rumour circulating the ship that the doc’s laugh and voice is so loud that she can be heard three decks up is nothing but vicious lies.

The James Clark Ross is supposed to arrive at Rothera station on Sunday although this is naturally dependent on the state of the ice. I’ve been told that this is the earliest that the ship has attempted to get into Rothera for 15 years. Apparently the last time the ice was so thick that the ship had to turn back rather than get stuck! It seems from the satellite pictures, however, that the ice is at last starting to break up. My opposite numbers in Rothera, Tom and Jenny, assure me that they can see leads in the ice forming already so I’m looking forward to a little bit of ice breaking over the next few days!

 When we’re at Rothera we will be resupplying the station with all the goodies that they may have been running low on throughout the winter. Many of those goodies include food and gear- such as a water vapour spreader that will reduce dust on the runway- but we’re also bringing in a healthy supply of new personnel. On board at the moment we have the dive master, a builder, a plumber and a wealth of scientists all of whom are desperate to get there and see their new home. I really feel for them at the moment because they’re passengers on the ship and as such don’t have specific duties. They do an hour of “gash” each day (That means all the horrible jobs aboard ship like cleaning the toilets. I really hope it’s an acronym for something...) but otherwise have to entertain themselves. This probably explains why there are never any biscuits in the bar!

In view of the forced inactivity various things have been trialled to keep everyone entertained. Our purser, Rich, is a cruel and evil fitness fanatic who runs a circuits class down in the hold on a Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Doing burpees on a moving platform is definitely a novel experience! The sit ups have a certain comedic value too; sitting up when the ship is climbing up a wave is a lot harder than when it’s sliding down the other side. It’s wise to time things well! I’ve learned that the kitchen staff have a hitherto unsuspected streak of cruelty. Just after completing this gruelling and savage workout I got to the duty mess to try and force some food into my debilitated frame. Only to find a tray of beautiful looking pastry and cream slices laid out which quickly made a mockery of any calories I may have burned.

But we need the fat this far South, right? Am I right?

I’ve carried on with the quiz nights and last night introduced a comedy DVD night. This was not an unqualified success. I’ve seen a certain comedian live in Cardiff where he was absolutely hysterical. But I hadn’t quite remembered that I had been warmed up by the two previous acts. The DVD started with him explaining that he bit his girlfriend’s bunion and somehow evolved into him undressing on stage and dancing before us all. Well done sir. You played Antarctica- not many comedians can say that! But now I’m concerned that many of my fellow ship-mates are looking somewhat askance at me!

Fortuitously naked nature was far better than comedians talking about threatening neo-Nazis whilst in the nuddy. We had a fantastic show yesterday.

I believe this is a giant petrel- feelings?

Three times during the day whales were spotted. I’m reliably informed that these are fin whales because they have a dorsal fin that “you would want to toboggan down.” Er...really? Apparently it meets the back at a lovely angle that could be sledged down whereas the Sei whales have a more vertical fin. We’ve acquired a new group of sea birds too. I’ve spent a lot of time trying to capture them on camera. Regrettably they’re fairly uncooperative – something of a recurrent theme- and I’ve deleted most of the images that I took. But I did get some shots of what I think is a giant petrel and some cape petrels but I would appreciate it if any clever birdy people out there could confirm or refute this!

And possibly a cape petrel?

Bobbing about on the waves whilst we're on station

That’s it for now my lovelies! Next stop Rothera.

Clumsy landings

Not sure who this one is!

Things that Mother Failed to Mention

When my parents waved me off to sea (figuratively speaking- they weren’t really perched up on a hillside in red flannel dresses waving white hankies like forlorn extras from the Railway Children. At least I hope not.) my mother gave me a wealth of good advice. Chief amongst her concerns seems to have been that I should avoid getting trolls on my blog. I was uncertain as to how to follow this excellent advice other than to take heart from my relative anonymity. You’d have to be a fairly dedicated troll to search out unknown BAS employees. Surely it would be speedier just to abuse people appearing in your dog-eared copy of NOW magazine. (Who knows, I may have just encouraged a volley of abuse. Please be nice guys.) But there were things that she unaccountably failed to mention.

1. It’s dry down South. Dessicatingly dry. Your lips will peel despite repeated applications of chapstick and eventually you’ll look like a slightly deranged Hannibal Lecter, constantly chewing on your lips and pulling great chunks of skin off. When you finally look properly at your legs for the first time in days (rather than the glances in the shower) you realise that the skin is so dry that it looks faintly like the Gobi desert after a really parched year- cracked and flaky. Lovely eh? And then of course there is the static. It’s so dry down here that sparks are created by the smallest amount of friction on any surface. Walking the foot to my bathroom door this morning meant that I lost enough electrons to generate a wee arc as my hand reached out for the metal door handle. Ouch. Noses bleed, heels crack and all the rough tough sailors have their own favourite brands of body butter. The reason for this dryness? The icebergs suck the moisture out of the atmosphere.
2. Sleeping at night will be a problem. Your body rolls about constantly on the mattress unless you assume the superman-in-freefall position. And then dig your toenails in. As Mike, our radio officer, points out on his website (check it out if you haven’t already- gm0hcq into google) all the little things in your cabin will start rattling at night- they were silent in the day. But now, as you try to drift off...they come out to play. I’ve just been initiated into one of the glorious mysteries of sleeping at sea though. Wedge your sea-survival suit under the outer side of the mattress and it creates a valley between the wall and the elevated side of the mattress. You can snuggle down into that space and barely move as the ship decides to do the nautical equivalent of a triple pike somersault on the beam with dismount. Smug faced.
3. The toilets. For those that dislike reference to bodily functions; I suggest that you look away. The toilets are suction based which means that there are a series of rather stern instructions on the inside of the toilet door demanding that you flush with the lid down (I really want to know what happens if you don’t- does the ship turn inside out?) and certainly don’t flush whilst sitting on the toilet. Because, and I quote “serious injury may result.”
   
   Visions of prolapsed bowels dancing through my head at this point... The other source of dismay is the ghosts of toilet visits past. Normally, when at home, I don’t worry about where the toilet paper ends up as long as it's within the bowl! I simply flush (sometimes with the lid up- crazy shit) and the toilet paper goes away. Not so with the suction toilet. Your paper must be appropriately placed or it will not be sucked down into the nether regions of the ship. And then when you lift the lid later in the day, there will be your toilet paper. Bearing mute witness to micturitions past and glaring accusingly at you.

4. A total loss of any sense of proportion. We live in a microcosm floating about on the Southern Ocean. The population of my little town varies from 50-70 people and the outside world is very far away. My bosses have referred to this as the “goldfish bowl” where suddenly tiny slights- real or imagined- assume titanic proportions and you realise that you’re raging down the phone to your long suffering other half about the cereals at breakfast with no sense that there are things going on in the real world. There was an American presidential election- and I think some people may have been hard put to decide which was more important- the state of the Nutella stocks on board or the election. Naturally I knew which was more important. Nutella is a thing of beauty and joy forever whereas American presidents come and go in a mere four years. Silly question really.

5. You will get bored. Most of the time the whole thing is crazy and exhilarating. It’s wonderful to be doing my job and getting to see a part of the world that very few people will ever get to visit.

More of Signy 2016

Signy 2016

Signy 2016- I am phenomenally lucky!

 But every so often, when you’ve been sailing for days with nothing really to look at other than more water...no-one is poorly...you’ve checked all the first aid kits several times...emailed everyone you know...knitted and read for several hours...you start to ponder strange things like how many custard creams will fit in your mouth at once or whether or not X-Raying your whole body is a good idea. Answer; it’s not.

6. The universal and immutable law that says as soon as I put my thermals on, followed by my clothes, followed by my sexy reflective overalls, followed by my fleece, and then my coat and then my hat and then my gloves...I will realise that I need to pee. Badly.

The look of vague anxiety due to wondering how long it will take to peel off all these layers....

Anyway, I have to go and reapply my handcream, so I shall speak to you all anon. Hope you’re all having a lovely and moisturised day!

(NB My mother is a wonderful person who sends me lots of chocolate. I love her dearly.)

The Relief of Signy

Well, and what a wonderful couple of days my shipmates and I have been having! The seas have been gloriously rough which has meant that most people have started to look a trifle pale and peaky. I’ve been handing out so much sea sickness medication that I think I’m developing a repetitive strain injury. Fortuitously I haven’t succumbed as yet, but I’m assured that the seas get worse, so I shall wait untiI I disembark in May before feeling incurably smug! I can only imagine my immunity thus far is due to my haunting of the local theme park after school- going on the tea cups twenty times after cinnamon donuts seems like an excellent way to prime the inner ear for the abuse that will be thrown at it in later life.

Sleeping is still a bit of a struggle in this weather. It’s almost impossible to relax without being flung out of the bunk, which makes falling asleep rather tricky. I think I managed the cruel trick of sleeping but dreaming that I was awake two nights ago. This seemed like a form of cruel psychological torture and I woke up in a foul mood!

The upside to this weather has been the gratifyingly macho sensation of looking out of the windows and seeing the walkways and railings covered in icicles.

Brrrr!

The spray hits the cold metal and freezes over instantly. This has led to a great deal of personal enjoyment as I’ve told people all about the TV programme “Deadliest Catch.” This was about King Crab fishermen off the coast of Alaska and apparently they regularly have to smash the ice off the surface of their vessels lest they become top heavy and flip over. Aren’t I a nasty little soul?

We arrived at Signy yesterday morning, much to the relief of all of my patients. They were instantly transformed from wan faced, shaky individuals to models gracing the covers of a Boden catalogue. Regrettably I didn’t get to go ashore yesterday but I did take a lot of photos of Signy slowly appearing out of the cloud and mist that enveloped her.

Snow Falling over the South Orkneys

I promise, the icebergs really are this blue! No filter!

This research station is only open during the summer months and is relatively small, having only 7-8 members of staff. It’s quite a bleak place, but has a severe beauty to it. The palette is very muted; the colours are mainly grey, green, black and white. The Union Jack that hangs above the door of the station is the brightest splash of colour in the place.

Signy Research Station

I'll get you, my pretties...

This isn’t to say that there isn’t plenty of life at Signy; the ubiquitous elephant seals are here, as are gentoo penguins. A major part of the relief has been the erection of the seal proof fence to enable the researchers to get to and fro the buildings of the station. Any fence that can keep a 3000kg elephant seal from going exactly where it wants to, must be fairly sturdy!

My role in the relief of Signy yesterday was rather dull. I’m afraid I just got my boiler suit on and helped shift boxes out of the hold. They were then craned into the cargo tender (the jetty is too short at Signy for the JCR to use it) and transferred across to the base. But today things were a lot more exciting. Today was MY day. I had to restock the first aid areas in Signy which was good nerdy fun. There is a little part of me that desperately wants to be tidy and I only let it out on special occasions like this. I even alphabetised their antibiotics!

I then got involved in putting the food stuffs away in the tops stores. Some of the crates were pretty hefty and it was nice to work up a bit of a sweat getting things put away. I was faintly disturbed to see how much cereal people will apparently consume over 6 months. I was even more disturbed to find spam, corned beef and tinned hot dogs! Signy and KEP are two of the stations where the staff cook for themselves rather than having dedicated cooks which I think is probably very nice and likely fosters a spirit of community.

The last part of the day was probably the best. Station Leader Matt told me that the refuge hut, which is just around the headland, contains medical supplies which also need checking over. This hut is the oldest man made structure on the island, and is a relic from the days of the old whaling station. The whalers used to store their explosives in it, but BAS now store their supplies in case of a disaster at the base. I spent a happy hour checking the correct kit was in the back up boxes whilst listening to the energetic roars and farts of an elephant seal somewhere on the rocks below me.

Boids! (Fill me in if you know what this chap is)

Glaciers

 Eventually, a trifle stiff and chilly, I tidied away and managed to get some photos of the JCR as she sat out in the bay- hidden from the view of the station. And then with a start I realised that the cargo tender was heading back towards Signy, and hurried back to the base.

Just...beautiful

"The Ship Captain's Medical Guide" and Carrot Sticks

Once again, the goodship James Clark Ross is at sea! We left the Falklands this morning after refuelling at Mare Harbour and I have to admit that it’s a pleasure to feel the ship moving under my feet again. She feels very subdued when we’re in port, and whilst it’s very nice to get off the ship and go for long walks, it feels rather strange after six weeks of the ship rocking and rolling.

One of the best things about having been at the Falklands is that, for now at least, the ship has a stock of fresh fruit and vegetables. I’m relatively healthy (but not zealously so) at home so I really didn’t realise how I would crave the crunch of fresh vegetables in my diet. Eating cucumber and salad today was almost a religious experience! The cook definitely gave me funny looks after I raved at him. I think he imagined that I was mocking him rather than genuinely excited by carrot sticks!

I have an entirely new set of crew and officers now which means an entirely new set of medicals. Something to fill the time and I know that they look forward to it too! I have a series of increasingly menacing posters that I will put up around the ship encouraging people to attend. Next week I move into lines from the film Taken- “I will find you and I will...medical...you.” Too much? Impossible.

I’ve been lent an utterly fantastic book by the ship’s new purser called “The Ship Captain’s Medical Guide” published in 1918. This thing is absolute gold; subjects such as fireman’s cramp, dropsy, dribbling of urine and malingering are covered in great detail. Most intriguing is the chapter titled “Rupture”. Rupture of what is unclear and I look forward to sharing the various things that Charles Burland MD, FRGS thought might sputter and go “ping” whilst at sea. I thought starting the discussion with a brief foray into the chapter on “Venereal Disease” (subtitled pox or clap) might whet the appetite. Old Charles seems to have thought these diseases were the bane of the merchant navy and has a host of advice for such. Apparently a “certain continental military authority” issued instructions to its soldiers suggesting that they applied calomel ointment to their genitalia prior to...ahem...extreme socialising “by which means the danger of contracting syphilis is greatly lessened.” The US Navy apparently went one step further and offered every man returning from shore leave the option of a genital toileting “of which Mercurial inunction of the glans forms an important part.” I don’t know what inunction is, but I’m fairly confident that sounds unpleasant.

We’re due to arrive at Signy on Saturday which should mean a lot of hard work for everyone. Signy station isn’t occupied over the winter so a lot has to be done to make it habitable for the team of 7-8 people who inhabit it over the summer months. Snow has to shovelled away from outside of the buildings, ice may need to be removed from the insides if there has been water ingress, fresh water needs to be plumbed in and the generator needs to be started up. In addition to all of this, there’s the entirety of the summer’s supplies to be delivered, either by our cargo tender boat or across the sea ice if Signy’s harbour is still iced over. I’m keeping my fingers crossed for a speedy relief though, with plenty of time for exploring!

Kerri and I exploring in South Georgia

More South Georgia fun

Penguin post! (You have been warned. Cuteness will happen.)

On this dark and tragic day for the world (if it’s not bad for you, I can only believe that you haven’t seen the news yet) I thought I should try to cheer myself up by talking about penguins which are always wonderful. I believe that I left you last with over-excited squeals of joy on spotting a solo Magellanic penguin. Imagine, therefore, my transports on being taken to see not one but three colonies of penguins on Sunday! I was so high pitched that only dogs could hear me. One of the stewards is a Falklander and he very kindly arranged a tour for us out to Volunteer Point. This is a projection out into the Atlantic Ocean from one of the most North-easterly points of the Falkland Islands and is well known for its bird life...and sheep! That’s possibly one of the more engagingly surreal parts of the whole thing; squatting down and frantically taking photos of every single King Penguin, only for a ewe and its lamb to trot past.

Sheep and Penguins!

To see all of this, we first had to get there. At 8.30 in the morning we were picked up by our redoubtable guide and his wife in land rovers and driven for an hour along dusty gravel roads. As I’ve mentioned previously, the roads are not well travelled so the tarmac ends shortly after leaving Stanley! The first clue that another vehicle was approaching was the cloud of dust, followed by little pinging noises as stones decimated the paintwork of the land rover. It was fun though; the interior of the Falklands looks rather like Dartmoor; mostly shrubs and grass, no trees really because of the high winds. Every so often peaks of granite thrust their way roughly out of the soil and topple onto their sides. We drove past two downed Argentine helicopters which felt rather sad; all that’s left of them is rusting propeller blades. Our vehicles went up past Estancia, Green Patch and Port Louis until we reached Johnson’s Harbour where the road just...sort of...runs out. We carried on, off roading in our land rovers, for a further hour and a half until we reached Volunteer Point. It’s possible to rent land rovers on the Falklands and do this drive solo but it’s incredibly fortunate that we didn’t! There’s no track at all and our guides were clearly very skilled at off roading. We were picking our way through bog, with deep pools lying serenely to either side of the route. We would have been stuck in no time at all, a very long way from the road and any help. As it was, the girl car was extremely noisy; we cheered our driver on enthusiastically with every ridge that was crested and every boggy patch narrowly avoided!

Volunteer Point itself was wonderful. It’s extremely windy (seems to be something of a Falklands theme) so I was very grateful for all my layers but there were thousands of penguins. And I would face a lot more than a bit of a breeze for a chance to see penguins! They are without a doubt one of the world’s more entrancing creatures. Possibly the stiff breeze actually helps them to be more appealing as there isn’t a doubt that they’re also smelly little souls. The Point is home to magellanic, gentoo and king penguins which surprised me rather, as I thought it would be unusual to see so many species occupying the same evolutionary niche.

I love the way that this king is looking at me. "What the hell is she doing?"

It’s impossible not to anthropomorphise penguins. I spent the majority of the day trying to work out what they remind me of and I came to the conclusion that they look like a strange cross between a school boy in an overly long sleeved jumper and drunken elderly statesman. They have the same broad based lurching gait that very young children have, but combined with a certain sense of dignified purpose.

And we're lurching

The gentoo penguins are the little chaps that have the spray of white starting just behind their eyes and extending over the top of their heads, which makes them look a little bit like they’re all wearing tiaras.

Gentoos and their tiaras

They’re apparently the speediest penguins in the water, managing speeds of up to 36km/h which is clearly much faster than I can mange! They also seem to be much more purposeful and business like on land than the kings who amble around in a fairly relaxed fashion. The magellanics look perpetually dazed and confused when ashore, which is fairly adorable. We didn’t see any of the gentoo chicks or eggs which I think means that they haven’t started breeding yet. They like to make their nests from piles of circular stones and according to Wikipedia (which never gets anything wrong) they will squabble and bicker over stones with males often receiving favours from females by dint of offering her a particular lovely stone.

The king penguins were guarding their chicks when we were there. The chicks were in the process of moulting and losing their brown down. The year old kings seem to moult at the same time which gives them a very disreputable appearance and the surrounding area was so thickly covered in feathers that it looked like the inside of a snow globe.

Doesn't he look grumpy? Moulting chicks

Moulting adult king penguins

My favourite moment is when the kings extend their wings; I feel like they’re asking me for a hug. (Obviously I don’t do that; hugging penguins is BAD and WRONG.)

I’ve spent the rest of my morning imagining what the penguins would be saying in these photos. Please feel free to offer suggestions!

"I love you more" "No, I love you more..."

"You are not going out until you clean up that pig-sty you call a room. Are you listening to me?"

"What happens on tour...stays on tour."

"Guys...wait up...seriously...wait up!"

Stanley and the Falklands!

Welcome to the Falklands and quite possibly the friendliest people ever! We made port at Stanley on Thursday morning. It was a beautiful day, with the sky a bright blue over Stanley and the morning sunlight picking out the orange roofs of the city. (I’m reliably informed that it is, in fact, a city and not a town because it has a cathedral.)

Entering Stanley

Leaving Stanley

The scientists were regrettably busy with writing up their cruise reports and packing away their equipment, but as soon as the gangway was down I was off the ship like a greyhound from the trap! We proceeded along the shoreline from the harbour with the wind whipping our hair into snarls and bringing colour to our cheeks and marched into Shorty’s Diner which is apparently a Stanley institution. It was so exciting. After six weeks of having food provided, the luxury of being able to select food from a menu and pay for it was giddying. I had a chocolate milkshake and it tasted like liberty!

After these gastronomic transports we moseyed into Stanley itself and explored the city. It reminds me very strongly of American fishing towns on the east coast. The buildings are predominantly one or two storey clap-board, painted in bright colours. The traffic is so minimal that it’s easy enough for persons just off the ship to start ambling into the street and realise with a start that a land rover is attempting to acquire them as a hood ornament. The focal point of the city seems to be the West Store where most things can be purchased. It feels a bit like frontier life with one shop supplying most needs although I imagine that a lot of internet shopping happens these days.

 On the other end of the spectrum there are a multitude of tourist shops supplying everything penguin orientated that could ever be needed (or wanted). Naturally I now have a penguin t-shirt and a penguin mug. Opportunities for commerce should never be spurned! In the spirit of lavishly splashing money about I went into the Waterfront cafe and had my first latte in six weeks. It was accompanied with a piece of chocolate pie roughly the size of my pillow and led to me bounding about Stanley like a puppy on springs.

We visited the Historic Dockyard Museum which was fantastic. It discusses the history of the islands from Darwin’s rather damning assessment (until he found some exciting rocks- then he was totally pro-Falklands) of the islands as rather miserable windswept lumps of rock in the southern Atlantic right up until the Falklands War. That part of the museum was particularly well done. I knew very little about those 74 days in 1982 and I found it extremely moving. The museum curators have created a movie narrated by people who were children in 1982 and there were a few minutes when I definitely had some dust in my eyes! One woman was evacuated out of Stanley to the north of the island, where her father was located. She said that “the dads were there and we knew that it would be ok then. We would be safe.” There’s something about the innocence of childhood that is deeply heartbreaking; I can only imagine how helpless and frightened her father must have felt.

Still others talked about sitting at breakfast and seeing Argentine tanks rolling up the streets. Suddenly the vast numbers of British flags visible in Stanley started to make sense. It’s easy to dismiss patriotism when you’ve never felt under threat. There’s a bust of Margaret Thatcher looking out over the Atlantic from the comfort of Thatcher Drive and it becomes apparent that for these people she is not the author of unemployment and broken cities; she is the woman who drove the Argentines back into the sea. Whatever your opinion of Thatcher, and I don’t think it can be denied that she was incredibly divisive, the Falklanders see her as a hero.

The Bust of Thatcher

I went for a glorious walk to Gypsy Cove this afternoon. It took just over an hour to reach it from the ship’s berth, due in most part to the strong winds plastering us to the rocks. It was worth every bit of wind burn though!

The wreck of the Lady Elizabeth

Hatchlings!

 The sand was pure white, and the seas a delicate aquamarine shade. The hills leading down to the cove were covered in a kind of prickly gorse bush thickly coated with brilliant yellow flowers.

Gypsy Cove

The Magellanic Penguin

Gypsy Cove is a popular walking destination because once the summer is in full swing, the beaches are covered in penguins. We saw one Magellanic penguin (I have been informed), clearly getting his beach towel out early. The hillsides have a few ominous signs present warning about the possible presence of landmines which effectively did away with any interest I might have had in going for a paddle!

That's slightly unnerving!

On our way back to Stanley and the ship, we waved at a driver to check that we were heading the right way along the road. Bless her, she opened her window with the words “Do you want a lift? Where are you headed?” We didn’t need asking twice and shot into the back of her car. There was blissful warmth and the wind had gone! I thought that was a wonderful sign of a more trusting world where people are happy to offer and accept help although more prosaically we may have looked too exhausted to do any harm!

Arriving back at the ship I found that a parcel had arrived for me! My lovely parents have sent me emergency supplies of chocolate, books and bias binding for the quilt. All that remains is to see if I can actually restrain myself and not devour all the chocolate over the next two days before we sail for Signy and Rothera. Next stop Antarctica!

My parents are wonderful!