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!