Thursday, December 31, 2009

The Last Day of Antarctica

Maybe it was because I was tired. Or maybe it was because of the weather. Or maybe it was truly the "crappiest" (pun intended) excursion ever, but yesterday's visit to the research center was my least favorite excursion of the entire trip. I can say that because today's also the last day we are in Antarctica. It's bittersweet really. We are heading north as we speak, heading back to the infamous Drake Passage.

Today was my favorite day, hands down. The reason today was the crown jewel? I loved both landing sites. This morning was a visit to Whalers' Bay. Whaler's bay happens to be an active volcanoes crater, filled in with sea water. Within this bay, there are no penguin rookeries, and the beach is a soft gravel. The landscape is different than every other place we've seen. No jagged cliffs, just boulders of volcanic rock... To one side of the crater, an opening overlooks the outer waters. This vantage point is known as Neptune's Window. In the opposite direction, the remains of buildings, metal silos, and whaling boats slowly deteriorate into the beach. It whispers of times past, when man hunted the largest mammals of the sea.





All in all, I really enjoyed it. While walking the beach, I found the peace and quiet I had wanted in the crater of this volcano. It was simply a nice change of scenery that the previous three days.


Ok, ok... there is one other reason that I will always remember Whalers' Bay. It's the site where I froze, then boiled, my body. What am I talking about? The Polar Plunge is what I'm talking about. Me and 40 something other people voluntarily stripped down to swimming suits, and dashed into the frigid waters. (Even Rupert did it.) After standing up in shock, we rushed back to the water's edge, which held a little surprise for us. The water was hot. Yes, hot. Due to the geothermal energy in the volcano's crater, it heated the water's edge, providing a natural hot spring for the polar plungers. Then as quick as we could, we got dressed again, and rushed off in the zodiacs to the ship, where a warm, adult beverage awaited us.

I don't have any pictures of my dip... However, I do have video. If I can figure out to embed it into this blog, I will. Otherwise, you'll have to go to my picasa site to view it. I also have a friend who took some pictures, so I will try to get copies from him. I have to warn you though -- it may look like I'm wearing a flesh colored inner tube around my waste, but it's actually me. Livin' the life of leisure has been a little too good to me. ;-)


After defrosting from our dip with warm clothes and hot food, we moved onto our final destination, Half Moon Island. It was fitting that we ended at a chinstrap rookery since the first penguins I had seen were chinstraps. But as an added surprise, I also got to three seals (two weddells and one elephant I think) up close and personal. It was just a joy to sit and watch the wildlife. Once again, the beach was different... at this site, there were rounded stones rather than hard edged boulders. These stones poised a different type of terrain to the chinstraps... much hopping was required. Plus, it seemed the chinstraps seem to have more of an energetic personality than the gentoos. They would wander the beach, play follow the leader, and take their own polar plunges. They just seemed to be more light hearted I guess.




Although I'm sad to leave, I am very glad to have come, and to have my last excursions of visiting Antarctica be two of my favorites (camping is in there too). I'm sure that as I begin to go through my pictures and process the entire experience in the next couple days, I'll have some additional things to add. But for now, I'll just cherish in the gladness of being able to visit, and dwell in the sadness of having to leave.


Updated: Here's a video clip of the penguins "hoppin' and a skippin'". I apologize for the shakiness -- this video recording in a new thing for me.


Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Introducing Tucker!

To interrupt this regularly schedule Antarctic broadcast, I'm proud to announce that I'm first time dog owner/"dad"! (Well, I have been for the past 10 days.)



This is Tucker. He's a Shiba Inu puppy and a great one at that. Tuck is 10 weeks old, weighs 9 lbs, and loves to sniff, play, sleep, and wrastle (intentionally spelled with an "a").

Anyway, here are some pics for your enjoyment... I took them a few days ago, and he's already looking bigger now than he was then. They grow up so fast! ;-)







Camping in Antarctica

Updated: I've added a couple of video clips below for both places.

A question that I was often asked before I left for this trip was: What are you going to do in Antarctica? Aside from my usual answers of "look at icebergs" or "see penguins", my often third answer was "camping". Yes, I can proudly say that as of last night, I have camped overnight in Antarctica. However, it was not nearly as extreme as it sounds.

Thirty of us adventurous/brave/stupid/insane people signed up to experience what it would be like to camp in an Antarctic summer. I believe most of us were hoping for clear skies, peace and quiet void of the ship's engines, and a pause to the endless rocking that goes with sleeping aboard a cruise liner. Well, one in three (no more boat rocking) ain't bad.

We were zodiac'ed to a tiny island in a little harbor surrounded by vast glaciers. Once we landed, tents, sleeping bags, and sleeping pads, were distributed, and we were left to set up our tents whereever we wished. In teams of four, we searched for the perfect site. My team decided we would venture a bit farther from the rest of the group, and set up camp so we could overlook the water and glaciers' edge.








Setting up the tents went quickly. That was good thing too, since it started to drizzle as we assembled the poles. Then it started to rain. By the time we were able to get our gear in the tent, some of it was damp. But our spirits were high, and we mulled around the camp, taking pictures, and chatting with the other inhabitants of "Tent Island" (I have no idea what the real name of the island was.) Finally, around midnight, we decided to try to get some sleep. "Try" being the key word.





As we settled in to our bags, the wind began to pick up. The rain began to beat harder against the tent. Explosions like gunshots from the glacier breaking up could be heard at sporadic times. If we wanted peace and quiet, we got the exact opposite. Oh, also, since we were so far south, darkness never fell. There was light at all hours of the evening. But nonetheless, my tentmate Greg and I managed to sleep for a few hours as the wind whipped at the walls of our nylon shelter.


 (Photo courtesy of G.Zimlich)

Wake up was early - 5:45 am. After getting dressed, stuffing away our sleeping bags and rolling up our mats, I unzipped the tent door. Looking over to our neighboring tent, I was surprised to see they had already collapsed it. Apparently though, after chatting with them, it turned out they themselves had not done collapsed it; rather, the mighty winds from the night before had done the job for them. The gusts were so great that it snapped two of the support poles. And even more impressive was they were not the only ones to suffer this mishap. Three tents in total succombed to Mother Nature's fury.

Having said all of that, I loved the camping. I wanted to experience what it was like to sleep in the natural enviroment of Antarctica. I loved looking over our little island and seeing a dozen tents pitched, each with people who were looking to try something a little different. In a strange way, the rain and wind made the experience even more authentic.




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Although not as blustery and wet as camping last night, the rest of today was not exactly a pristine day. So much in fact, this afternoon's excursion was cancelled due to weather issues. This was probably for the best -- after getting only three hours of sleep last night, it was nice to relax in the ship. But I am getting ahead of myself. We did have a landing this morning at Waterboat Island. At this location, there happens to be a Chilean research station. A small group of military men man the post, conducting weather research and counting the wildlife population. Sounds like a pretty nice gig, right? Nope. At this station, there also happens to be a penguin rookerly. Remember how a couple posts ago I had given the definition of rookery? Well, Waterboat Island takes the cake. It was the muddiest, filthiest, pile of penguin guano we had seen yet. I'm not sure what the soldiers did to tick off there superiors, but it must have been awful.







Having said all that, I'm still glad we went. Even with the muckiness of the site, it provided another glimpse into what makes Antarctica Antarctica. It's a wild place. And wild places do not always look pristine. The snow isn't always white, the skies always blue. By seeing Antarctica for it's pros and cons, I can honestly say that it's still pretty fantastic.

Other than that, I don't really have much left to say about the topic. I'll let the pictures do the talking for me.

Tuesday, December 29, 2009

The Best Day Yet

After Danco Island yesterday, we made our way south, heading through the Lemiere Channel. In Antarctic tourism circles, the Lemiere is known to be one of the most picturesque channels in the region. For this reason, every passenger aboard the Orlova was outside on deck, gazing in awe, and trying desperately to capture the scene with their cameras. It was an effort in futility. No matter how many pictures we took, the scene is infinitely greater in person. Black cliffs covered in white snow lined the edges of the water. Overcast skies cast a silvery shimmer over the water, only to be interrupted on occasion by blue skies.



Our first excursion of the day was Plemeau Bay. Kara, our expedition leader, stated the bay often trapped icebergs, making it a place where "icebergs came to die", making it an ideal location for our next zodiac tour.

She was right (that's why she's the leader). This "iceberg graveyard" was full of floating ice-- each one with its own unique attributes. Sizes ranged from baseballs to volkwagens to castles. Each had textures I had never seen before in ice. And of course the colors. I mentioned blue ice in yesterday's post, but it was here at Plemeau Bay that I saw royal blues, emerald greens and luminescent teals. For many who come to the Antarctic, the colors of the region are what sucks them in. Prior to coming on the trip, I was occassionally asked what there was to see in Antarctica besides ice. Well, if those people could see the spectrum of the colors, they would be more than satisfied with "just" ice.






The second destination of the day was Peterman Island. Like Danco Island, gentoo penguins had settled here as well. Intersperced among them were a second variety -- adelie penguins. It was easy to distinguish between the two -- gentoos have reddish beaks, orange feet and white facial markings. The adelies are smaller, with an all black head, blue eyes, and what seemed to be additionally "bumblely" (not sure if that is a word, but they seemed to bumble around more than their gentoo cousins).

In thinking about this visit, one thing will forever stick in my mind. Gentoo penguins build their nests out of stone. They will hunt for rocks they can carry in their beaks, and march them back to the homestead. The funny part of this entire process though is they don't care where they get the stones. It can be in the snow, the mud, or stolen from a neighboring nest. At no other rookery was this more evident that Peterman Island. There was very dutiful husband, who commuted between his mate's nest and the neighbors across the snow patch. He would waddle down with purpose over the snow, go to specific next, steal a pebble, then waddle back up to companion. With pride he would drop the stone in the next, and open his mouth as to say "Look what I found. Be grateful.". And then he would start again, marching back to the opposing nest, and taking another stone. (By the way, the neighboring penguin did care that her nest was being looted. However, since she was incubating eggs, all she could really do was squak and peck. It had no consequence to the determined male.)





I must have watched this rock-gatherer-penguin for 30 minutes.... It just so happened the snow patch that he crossed was where us humans would walk. So every now-and-then when he'd be blocked by the annoying, twol-legged giants, he would stop, look side to side, cock his head, and try to figure out how to reach his destination. If the humans moved, he would continue forward with a quickened pace. If they didn't, he would eventually decide to take the long way around. Either way, he would not be denied.



Which leads to the question: Why did the penguin cross the snow? To give his girl a rock. Now get out of his way!

Monday, December 28, 2009

Land Ho!

Since booking my trip almost 11 months, my time of stepping foot in Antarctica has come today. While we all were anxious to walk on actual land, our first exursion off the ship was a zodiac tour of the Melchior Islands. The weather resembled an average Seattle winter day. Grey and drizzle. I felt like I was home.


On the tour, our driver drove us in the nimble zodiacs for nearly an hour around the waters that surrounded the ship. The boat tours were a good way to see the area -- icebergs were abundant, birds in flight, and seals were lounging about. We saw our first penguins (chinstraps) and seal. (The seal lounged in the center of a bowl shaped iceberg, as a person would lie in their own backyard pool.)



During this time, we also came into close proximity with the magical colorings of blue ice. They seemed to radiate coolness, as if the typical clear translucence of icewas not chilling enough. I wish I could tell you why they're blue, but I don't have an answer for you right now. The geologist on board gave an explanation, something having to do with blue-eyed ice worms. I think it was the twinkle in his eyes, because I don't put much stock into his answer. ;-)


After taking our morning cruise, we returned to the ship for lunch and to prepare for our first landing. The touchdown was on Danco Island where we saw our first penguin rookery. There are 17 species of penguins in the world, and a high majority live in the southern ocean. Specifically on Danco Island, the Gentoo variety has taken residence upon the rocks. (On this trip we only saw 3 types. But of the 3 we must have seen hundeds, if not thousands of the little flightless birds.)

Watching penguins is both hypnotic and humorous. In water, they fly through the water like tuxedoed torpedos. On land, however, the pipsqueaks waddle, hop, belly slide, faceplant, and do whaterver they can to get from point to point. It's a combination of grace and clumsiness mixed up in a black and white package.

If you're reading this blog, you will see many photographs of penguins, However, one aspect that I cannot convey in my posts is the assault on the senses when visiting a penguin rookery. Aside from the multitude of birds themselves, the snowy scene is painted pink with guano, brown from mud, and/or lime green algea. (When I say painted, I really mean COVERED.) Pardon my language, but the definition of rookery is a really large, muddy sh*t hole. Seriously. The smell of the poo can be smothering, and the screeching and trumpting of the penguin calls shatters what would be an otherwise peaceful scene. Nonetheless, as a visitor, you accept all of it, understanding that it is a integral part of the Antarctic landscape.




So there you have it. My first impressions of Antarctica. It was a fantastic introduction to the great, white, south, and I am looking forward to what the next three day holds.

Sunday, December 27, 2009

Day 2 of the Drake

It's the second day of cruising through the Drake Passage. So far the seas have been pretty calm. The Orlova rocks from side to side, but we have not experienced the infamy that are the Drake Shakes. (Knock on wood.) For most of us, it's been an uneventful cruise so far. If anything, it's been sleepy -- there's been a lot of napping, but we can't tell if it's from the sea sickness pills/patches, rocking of the boat, or the 3 square meals plus afternoon tea. Whatever it is though, it's been very restful.

The one exception to has been Ronaldo... he's been waylaid by the Drake. Fortunately it hasn't been violent upheaval of food or anything, but he's been in bed more often than out of it for the past couple days. I feel bad for him, but am hopeful that once we hit land his symptoms will disappear.

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I've never been much of a bird watcher. Sure, I have taken pictures of them from time to time, but it's not the norm. However, onboard the Orlova is a ornitholigist, aka the "Bird Man". His excitement is highest when sharing his knowledge about these winged animals, whether in lecture, on the stern, or in the lounge. His expertise is quite handy -- I can usually tell the difference between an albatross and petrel, but David is the resident expert on the topic, and I look to him to name the species of birds that have been gliding around our vessel.

In the past, I rarely took pictures of birds, but I've come to enjoy it. I think the reason is that it's a new skill in photography for me. Birds glide, dash, cut, dive -- These actions, intertwined with the rolling of the Orlova, require as much fast reaction time and luck as it does camera skill to get a shot. To compensate for this, on my camera, I've been shooting pictures in the high speed continuous option, with the full expection that I might only get 1 out of 10 images. Since I'm using a digital SLR, I have no regrets about shooting in excess. It allows me to pick and choose the best later, and concentrate on the subject at hand.





Another thing that I was able to photograph today was our first iceberg. After the expedition leader annouced it over the intercom, many of us quickly headed up to the bow to see iceberg numero uno in person. The iceberg was a bit of let down (it was tiny) -- just a small chunk of ice floating in the middle of nowhere. But it reminded us that soon we'd be entering waters where many more icebergs would be seen, and that Antarctica was drawing closer minute by minute.



The reason I bring all this up is because photography from the outside decks have been one of the pasttimes we have here on the ship. Life on the boat for the past couple days has been slow. People are anxious and impatient -- we all want to disembark ASAP. But like most things in life, we are required to be patient. So we wait, knowing that the time is coming. (It just so happens the time is tomorrow, mid morning.)

Saturday, December 26, 2009

My Big 5Six Pictures Are Up

Hi All,

I've posted my Buenos Aires and Antarctica pictures. Check them out here:

Buenos Aires: http://picasaweb.google.com/photography.spencerchan/BuenosAires#
Antarctica: http://picasaweb.google.com/photography.spencerchan/Antarctica#

Life at Sea

When we departed from Ushuaia at 6pm local time yesterday, we were still in the Beagle Channel. In fact, it took 6 hours before we arrived at the Drake Passage. It is this body of water where east meets west: the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans collide, often creating notoriously choppy seas.



So with that in mind, one of the most popular topics onboard so far has revolved around seasickness. Many are pro-medication for prevention of seasickness, of which I am a badge (or in the case a patch) wearing member. There are also the folks who would rather not take medication unless they need it. And finally there are the people who would like to expereince it (Ronaldo). My choice is #1. I've been seasick before, and I would much rather skip the entire fiasco entirely. So I stuck my patch behind my ear, and so far the only symptom I think I am experienced is dry mouth. Dry mouth I can handle, vomitting, nausea I can not.

Today and tomorrow will be spent solely at sea. It takes two full days of sailing before we will see land again. So what do we do to pass the time? Aside from meals, there are numerous lectures teaching about different aspects of Antartica. For example, today's lectures were about the birds we will see, a historical lecture of the first people, a geology presentation, and the foodweb of the region. Each lecture is taught by extremely knowledgeable staff members who have a passion for their area(s) of expertise. But if education isn't your cup of tea, then you can start a card game, read a book, go to the deck and watch the birds float upon the winds, or simply sleep. Whatever you end up doing, be prepared to be patient for the next two days. Otherwise, it will be the longest 48 hours you've ever waited.




Since we've been in the Drake since midnight, the Orlvoa has been swaying in the rolling waves. Personally, it hasn't been unpleasant. It does make walking a concentrated effort and showering "entertaining". Even something like brushing your teeth takes some getting used to. I found that if I planted my feet shoulder width apart in the direction of the motion, I can counter balance quite effectively. The questions I'm currently wondering are how long it takes to get sea legs, and if I'll be walking differently once I set foot on solid ground. Guess I'll find out in a couple days.

After breakfast this morning, I walked outside on deck, and stood silently for a while, watching the birds follow the ship. There are black and white cape petrols, skimming along the water's edge, cutting in and out of the crashing waves. There are magestic wandering albatrosses, gliding on the breeze, whose wing spans can grow to be 12 feet wide. There was something relaxing, hypnotic about the entire scene. Of course, I haven't seen the big, burley seas yet. Life probably won't be so enjoyable then.






Friday, December 25, 2009

Merry Christmas!

Hi Everybody- Just wanted to wish you the merriest of Christmases. May your time be blessed with family and friends!

Thursday, December 24, 2009

Embarking from Tierra del Fuego

Today was a day filled with two major events. The first was exploring (via bus) the National Park (albiet short) here in Tierra del Fuego ("The Land of Fire", named so when the explorers that "discovered" the area saw all the fires lit by the local natives), which is the southern tip of Argentina. And the second was to board the ship and finally embark for ANTARCTICA.

At 9am local time, about 30 of us boarded a tour bus. Winding through Ushuaia, we learned about the history of the area, the growing community, the skyrocketing property prices, and the difference in wealth between neighbors. Soon however, the landscaped morphed from homes and building to be replaced by trees, rivers, and Condor Mt.



As the bus rolled on, the tour guide explained the ecology of the area was out of balance due to the introduction of exotic fauna to the area. Rabbits, beavers and gray foxes, none of which are native to the Tierra del Fuego, have grown in abundance since there are no natural predators for this species. Now much time is spent by the park rangers trying to control the impact by hunting the beasts and destroying the beaver dams. The purpose for the latter is the top soil layer in the region is notoriously thin, creating a shallow root structure for the trees. When the beaver dams are built, the water backs up, creating a lagoon of sorts, and killing the trees.


Ok, enough downer talk. The area is beautiful -- similiar to Seattle in climate, geology, and lushness. I can see why the Tierra del Fuego is a popular destination in Patagonia. Even with the intrusion of introduced species, there is much life here, and now with little invasion by human hands.



The final stop we made on the tour was the "end of the road". It is the southernmost point in which you can drive a vehicle. From here on, you need to travel by an alternative if you want to continue moving. For me, it seemed appropriate. After all, this very afternoon, we were going to step foot onto a ship and set sail south for two days.



Upon returning to Ushuaia and eating lunch, the time came (FINALLY!) to board the ship that would be "home" for the next 12 days. The Russian ship is named Lyubov Orlova, after an actress. In Russian, Lyubov also means "love", so therefore we are traveling on the "Love Boat". As we boarded the ship, the sunshine burst through the clouds, eveloping the ship with bright rays of sunshine. As we pushed off the dock, a pack of seagulls, began to fly along the Orlova. It was as if they wishing us fond farewell for our grand voyage. At least, that's what I like to think.

Ronaldo and my cabin is a cozy, double room with a single port window. Both of us feel very fortunate for having it, since we both paid the price for triple occupancy. For reasons unknown (we think it's because they were able to sell all the spots on the ship), Quark Expeditions upgraded us to a double cabin for free. Score! The ship itself hold roughly 120 passengers, but doesn't feel too crowded.



I know I mentioned a bit on the people in my last post, but I thought I would try to go into it some more. There's a sense to me that it's a bit like an "international camp". Everybody is polite and social, but small social groups have already started to form. Most often they are between people who are traveling together (our Seattle crew for example). Nevertheless, I am trying to make a concious effort to meet some new people. I find that it's part of the fun of this type of trip.

So what did we do with our first afternoon aboard? We had a bunch of free time, and were welcome to explore the ship. We did have a couple mandatory activites -- one, a lifeboat drill, and second, a medical/health briefing. Other than that, we were left to our own devices.