Erebus and Terror Gulf
Ice! Maybe that was why some of us were drawn to this land. Maybe too, it was the vastness, the open spaces and the unknown that brought us here. But no matter our original goal, today ice captured our souls and inspired our imaginations.
Overhead the sky was a patchwork of grays. Lenticular clouds piled upon themselves like the medusa of jellyfish ready to bud, their edges dark, outlined by a child's crayon. They floated within a soft pale blanket that was rift periodically revealing a sapphire sky. The rays of the sun seemed to choose first one, then another beautifully sculpted form to train their spotlight upon. Giant tabular masses, their edges sharpened by shadow and light, mingled with delicate colorless jewels or abstract forms that seemed to mimic the mountains behind. The wind churned the charcoal water into a white froth which mixed with the glistening frozen array.
Paulet Island loomed from the sea, like a giant chocolate kiss. We landed upon its cobbled shores. The ice docked and separated from its edges like commuter trains delivering tuxedo clad figures that scurried towards their mates and homes. The world of an Adelie penguin seemed to be one of the hustle and bustle of city life. Hundreds of thousands of pairs were packed together in condos and apartment houses. Tiny chicks peeked from beneath the parent left at home. Returning mates squirted from the sea propelled by an invisible giant spring. Landing gracefully (or not), they came and went persistently.
Back on board our southward passage continued. We stood alone or gathered in knots here and there, our minds collecting the images, the shapes and forms of ice on water, ice on mountains and even the icy bite of the wind that no one seemed to really mind. We are here in the land of ice and snow, of black and white, of sun and cloud watching spring become summer.
And summer it seemed as we landed on the barren shores of Snow Hill, an island strangely devoid of the frozen moisture it had derived its name from. But the ice had not left. It floated below us on a liquid that had become as reflective as a mercuric pool.
As the sun descended towards the horizon painting the platter-like flows a delicate pink and the water baby blue, the ice delivered us a prize - two emperor penguins standing tall!
Ice! Maybe that was why some of us were drawn to this land. Maybe too, it was the vastness, the open spaces and the unknown that brought us here. But no matter our original goal, today ice captured our souls and inspired our imaginations.
Overhead the sky was a patchwork of grays. Lenticular clouds piled upon themselves like the medusa of jellyfish ready to bud, their edges dark, outlined by a child's crayon. They floated within a soft pale blanket that was rift periodically revealing a sapphire sky. The rays of the sun seemed to choose first one, then another beautifully sculpted form to train their spotlight upon. Giant tabular masses, their edges sharpened by shadow and light, mingled with delicate colorless jewels or abstract forms that seemed to mimic the mountains behind. The wind churned the charcoal water into a white froth which mixed with the glistening frozen array.
Paulet Island loomed from the sea, like a giant chocolate kiss. We landed upon its cobbled shores. The ice docked and separated from its edges like commuter trains delivering tuxedo clad figures that scurried towards their mates and homes. The world of an Adelie penguin seemed to be one of the hustle and bustle of city life. Hundreds of thousands of pairs were packed together in condos and apartment houses. Tiny chicks peeked from beneath the parent left at home. Returning mates squirted from the sea propelled by an invisible giant spring. Landing gracefully (or not), they came and went persistently.
Back on board our southward passage continued. We stood alone or gathered in knots here and there, our minds collecting the images, the shapes and forms of ice on water, ice on mountains and even the icy bite of the wind that no one seemed to really mind. We are here in the land of ice and snow, of black and white, of sun and cloud watching spring become summer.
And summer it seemed as we landed on the barren shores of Snow Hill, an island strangely devoid of the frozen moisture it had derived its name from. But the ice had not left. It floated below us on a liquid that had become as reflective as a mercuric pool.
As the sun descended towards the horizon painting the platter-like flows a delicate pink and the water baby blue, the ice delivered us a prize - two emperor penguins standing tall!
