Video Diary: To Jump Or Not To Jump?

When people ask me about Antarctica, questions on penguins and ice come up a lot, so it is only apt to write a blog post about both of them together. Indeed, this had to be one of my top highlights. It happened towards the end of the expedition, with only a couple of days before we were home bound, so seeing this really made my day and flushed out all the start-of-the-end-of-a-holiday blues.

You often find groups of penguins hanging out on bergs, especially big ones. My guess is they needed a solid platform in the open sea to rest overnight; or to avoid leopard seals that wanted a penguin meal, the little fellas needed somewhere to camp out. Or maybe, they were just chilling out for the weekend, have a nice sun bathe. I prefer the latter, it's cuter. Whatever the reason though, there they were, two groups of gentoos on a horseshoe shaped berg (two seemingly distinct icebergs above water but actually connected underneath).

I don't think they were the biggest fan of boats or humans though.

The group that was camping on the larger but thinner berg was already on the way down to the bottom of the ridge ready to go fishing again, but they spotted us as we approached and made a very quick collective decision - head back up the ridge as fast as they could. In fact it was probably one penguin's decision and everyone else just followed. Penguins are very much like sheep in this respect.

And so they ran and scrambled and jumped and flapped and crawled. Part of me felt a bit bad - our presence was clearly disturbing their peace - but it was also very comical. Oh well, they have their revenge on me every time I get their shit on my boots and clothes and have to scrub it off! The closest we got was when we sailed in between the horseshoe, by which point the gentoos decided it was best to stay put to see what would happen next.

The Fleece circled the berg a couple of times and every time we sailed to the other side of the berg, our little friends would run in the opposite direction, up and down the ice ridge. They did take the opportunity to jump into the water eventually, when our attention turned to the group on the smaller but flatter berg...

There was only about 6 or 7 fellas left on this berg by the time we closed in on them (for no other purpose but to shoot, photos that is). As they got to the edge which was about 2m high, you could see the leader's brain ticking, quickly assessing the situation, the risks and all the possible outcomes of the decision he's about to make or not make.

He looked back at the group, perhaps for a democratic vote, or an approval, but more likely to see if they had any alternative suggestions. Then, as if they conferred telepathically (there definitely wasn't any open debate), the leader walked up to the edge and jumped, followed by the second, the third, the fourth...

Finally, the fella at the back of the queue walked up to the edge, looked down into the water and stopped. It's too high, he said. Now it was me who was having a telepathic conversation with him. He turned back and walked away from the edge. For a long time he was walking around all by himself, and his friends long gone.

Eric Carmen's All By Myself came to mind...

Sailing in the rough Antarctic waters

Here are some notes I took whist sailing on the Golden Fleece for 4 weeks in the sub-Antarctic regions: 

• You have to sit down in the toilet whether you're a guy or girl, whether you're doing a number one or number two.
• If you leave anything lying around unsecured, whether it's your lunch, cup of tea, Macbook Pro, or even yourself, be prepared for it to fly off.
• Water is magical:

• We spent 5 days crossing the Scotia Sea and another 4 days crossing the Drake Passage. And they were rough, with swells over 8 metres. Some days I spent more than 20 hours in bed. At its worst I hardly ate (no appetite) or drank (fearing the need to get up to go to the loo). It was so bad I actually wanted the drip. Even the combination of Scopoderm patches, Stugeron tablets and sea sickness wristbands didn't work. What was reassuring though, was that even Captain Jerome (who's done this for 30+ years) had to lie down every now and again. Here's a peek of what it was like, but no videos can do it justice, it just had to be experienced...

• Having spent more than 3 weeks with James, my fellow traveller, on the same boat, I realised he's actually mad:

• Always have your jacket and camera to hand, ready for the unexpected awesome icebergs or whale to appear around the corner (see upcoming blog posts for these!)
• Exercise regimes don't work, so don't bother:

• Be prepared to get wet during dinghy landings, even if you have knee high wellies on.
• Making sure all penguin and seal shit have been scrubbed off before stepping inside.
• Always have some entertainment ready, especially when you're spending days on end at sea. Over 4 weeks I watched at least 15 films, played lots of scrabble (achieving my PB of 121 points on one word, but still lost that game!) and card games like shit head and wist.

On Board the Golden Fleece

 

So this is for real. I was actually going to set off, and wouldn't see any land for at least 4 days. This was pretty hard core for someone whose only sailing experiences were the Thames Clipper and Hong Kong's Star Ferry, neither of which lasts for more than 15 minutes. Rumour has it that the Southern Ocean has the strongest currents and the biggest swells in the world. Without any land breaking things up a little, I'd say that's more fact than rumour. Not being able to swim didn't really bother me either - it wouldn't make much difference if one was to fall overboard in this part of the world.

Customs, check (oh yes, another stamp in my passport); Captains briefing, check; last dinner without any rocking, check. By 2200 FLST Feb 9th 2013 we were finally off, after months of preparation and anticipation. The Golden Fleece departed Stanley harbour and was set on a course for South Georgia and ultimately, Antarctica. A mix of excitement and apprehension ran through me throughout the evening.

I slept pretty badly on the first night. There's no where on the boat to escape the engine noise, there's definitely no where on the boat to escape the swaying and rocking, but I did learn to get used to both over time. I shared my cabin with Simon, with him taking the upper berth. This really worked out in my favour actually - climbing into bed proved quite an exercise on some days when the boat was riding 8m swells (climbing out was even more of a challenge). The berth itself is quite narrow as you are trapped by a plank of wood. The crew explained that narrower is better, as there is less chance of rolling off when it got rough. Fair play, I wasn't going to argue, and I soon found he was quite right.

Apart from the cabins below the deck, there are also the lounge, the kitchen, the engine room and the crew's cabin. The lounge had two fairly comprehensive shelves full of books of Antarctica and photo albums, as well as a TV, and cupboards full of wine, liqueur and whiskey. Over the course of the four weeks I would come to realise that the books were either written/co-authored by the Captain's family, or were given to him by the people he took to South Georgia and Antarctica, including Sir David Attenborough, the BBC crews that were sent to film for Planet Earth and Frozen Planet, and numerous wildlife researchers and specialists.

 

On board the Fleece were Simon, Andy, Eric, James, Achut (all fellow explorers), Jerome (Captain), Fabian (Jerome's brother), Charlotte (Fabian's wife, our cook) and Yohan (a young Frenchman). All amazing people with incredible stories, the Captain and the crew really deserve a whole chapter to themselves.
 

Some house (or boat) rules: 

1. Clean and wash up after yourself, especially the breadcrumbs left on the oil stove after you've made toast. There's a "crumbwing" that is made from what appeared to be a South American tern, to be used for brushing crumbs off the stove. Offenders (i.e. forgetful slackers) dealt with severely. Don't say you haven't been warned.
2. Pull the toilet lever at least 15 times whether you had a number 1 or 2 (it works on a vacuum system.
3. Conserve water. Jerome suggested taking a shower once every 2-3 days; my initial reaction was year right, it's going to be max 2 days; it ended up being on average every 4 days, with the longest being 6 days. 
4. Oh and close and lock all the cupboards after each use, so things like knives don't go flying when the boat starts rocking. Easy.

  
One rule I learned quite quickly (in fact only day 3 into the charter): don't break any of the mugs (as there are only a limited number), even if you're diligently taking it back to the kitchen to wash up, losing balance on the way and performing a full body slam sideways against the guy sat on the other side of the lounge (sorry Eric, again). Not so easy.

Living on the Fleece was definitely an experience I'm not going to forget any time soon. When I saw the Hans Hansson prior to departure, I actually (and stupidly) thought I was cut a raw deal - the Hans was a lot more spacious, looked a lot cleaner and more modern. Again, how wrong was I. The Fleece, as I came to learn over 4 weeks, is a beautiful ship. It is much more homely, has a lot more character and has many more stories to tell. The lesser space also worked well when the sea was rough, and the two masts and sails are just beautiful. Sailing in a smaller boat and having fewer passengers (compared not only to the Hans but also to the standard cruise ships) meant one thing: we were far more flexible and had opportunities that most Antarctic visitors didn't (again, these highlights deserve another chapter in their own right!)

Going to Antarctica was a trip of a lifetime, but to have Jerome as the Captain and sailing there in the Fleece was truly an exceptional opportunity that doesn't come by every day. It definitely added a whole new dimension to the expedition which certainly will not be forgotten (except for not showering for 6 days).

The Golden Fleece