Conditions: Intermittent snow
Air Temp: Cold
Sea Temp: Colder
Wind: Light
Sea State: Calm
Visibility: Poor
Barometer: 976mb and rising
Sunday January 14th, 2001
This morning found Seamaster with a thick covering of snow. Visibility was very poor in the heavy continuing snow showers and the wind was rising - so after talking to the meteorologist at Esperanza base we decided to stay put for the day. But it certainly has not been a lost day… quite the opposite.
Most onboard were late arising - the anchor watch had been quite active due to bergy bits and ice floes bumping up alongside and needing a shove away with a boathook, not that this did much good. The size of some of the ice that took a liking to Seamaster was impressive, sometimes as high as our decks, but with long turquoise spurs reaching out horizontally below the water that could easily snag one of our rudders or centreboards. Not that they would have much affect, as all these items are extremely strong on Seamaster. If we had been a fancy, painted yacht we would have been very concerned, but with Seamaster’s massive structure, they ended up going on their way with maybe only the occasional patch of blue bottom paint on the hard white ice to show for the connection. However, the first few that thumped us hard in the current had us with eyes wide.
We decided to complete some of the filming sequences from yesterday, so loaded the dinghies, changed into our survival suits, and went ashore. We were met by the many Adelie penguins going about their daily business of heading out to sea, or returning with full stomachs for their young. And the young were certainly hungry, relentlessly chasing their parents with pitiful cries until fed. The little bundles of dark grey fluff are in many cases as big as their parents - some so fat that their stomachs almost touched the ground as they waddled across the steep and rock-strewn shale, like mountainside that reaches down to near the water’s edge.
The leopard seal of yesterday was not there this morning, but the penguins were still very uneasy about entering the water and going out for food. They would make their way from their nest sites high above the beach, probably taking an hour or more, to stand in an increasingly bigger group on the sea’s edge, watching the surge come back and forth, watching for the tell-tale signs of danger lurking. Then, as though someone had fired a starters gun in a race, they would all be off - straight out towards the many small icebergs littering the outer limits of the bay here on the edge of Antarctic Sound. The same sequence was repeated by the next group that built over the following 15 minutes or so. The returning birds all made high speed approaches to the gravely shore, getting almost frantic just as they about to exit the water, then visibly relaxing once safe back on the pebbles. Many obviously haven’t made it. The bottom is littered with skeletons and pieces of the unfortunate ones, those that have fallen prey to the killing machines often stationed just off the beach, the leopard seals. This is life and death. This is basic nature. Survival of the fittest. In one of the most remote parts of the world, where there is no-one to care what happens either way.
Sir Peter Blake
"Having vision is not enough. Change comes through realising the vision and turning it into a reality. It is easy to espouse worthy goals, values and policies; the hard part is implementation."
Learn about Sir Peter Blake and his journeys around the globe
