Home » Antarctica » At a Glacial Pace January 11, 2004

Neko Harbor was our final landing and the second one on the peninsula. Had a little bit of wildlife -- a small Gentoo rookery, a couple Crab-Eater seals on icebergs, and some Skua nests.

At a Glacial Pace January 11, 2004

Ttrealtravels
2005-12-24 23:45:18

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Neko Harbor was our final landing and the second one on the peninsula. Had a little bit of wildlife -- a small Gentoo rookery, a couple Crab-Eater seals on icebergs, and some Skua nests.

But the real attractions were the glaciers, both the one precariously edging the harbor and the one we could hike up and slide down on our bums.

First, we sat on a very high, rocky ridge, perhaps 1,000 feet up, to see the calving glacier. Of course, a watched glacier never calves, as granny used to say back in her Antarctic exploring days (note: not my granny! that was Alex's silly joke). A fair chunk did fall before our eyes, but only once.

Then we lined up for the slide. It was almost twice as long as the one at Paradise Bay and much steeper. Great fun! Though this time, I got snow up my butt, as it were. Snow soaked my pants, got under my jacket, up my sleeves, and in my boots, even though I'd tucked and tightened it all beforehand. As Frankie would say, it's not easy having a good time.

Though a Glass Brightly

Neko Harbor was enchanting. The waters have a fine mirror finish, lightly flecked with bergy bits. Black granite towers shoot from the shore, and filigree-cracked glaciers ponder whether or not to release their precious edges into the sea. The mountains of madness rise into the distance, wreathed in wispy clouds that occasionally obscure the brilliant sun. Blue ocean reflects blue sky, and only the presence of the ship indicates the right way round. The few sounds are the squawk and honk of penguins, the shuffle and soft chatter of tourists, and the random rumble of impending calving or distant avalanches.

This world is pristine, but not preserved under glass. Animals make their marks, and the weather and movements of the earth change the landscape both swiftly and at a glacial pace. Enormous birds use the fast-rising winds like elevator shafts to soar across sea and cliff. Sleek fat penguins dart through the crystal icy waters, arching like tiny monochrome porpoises. Blubbery seals lumber ungainly across ice floes, but slip gracefully into the ocean. Shy whales sporadically break the surface with a plume of spray or a glimpse of fluke.

All this sits on active tectonic plates that rain fiery volcanoes and deep earthquakes every so often. Massive layers of compacted ice slowly creep along the bedrock to carve mountains and valleys. The hands of the old gods have worked this land well, and the terrible beauty and fierce majesty are almost enough to inspire belief in divine creators. Something truly awesome built this place. Something that demands respect and gathers tributes at will. It is both insanely cunning to create this and a capricious beast to throw severe winds and weather at it constantly. The force is Mother Nature, whose presence you can feel intimately here. Antarctica is her playground.