Gold Harbour, Cooper Bay and Drygalski Fjord, South Georgia
0400. Our trusty mother ship lies silhouetted by a band of gold on the horizon. We come ashore, like the penguins, in waves. Ready to be repulsed by the local fur seal militia, we are bewildered by the lack of any organised resistance. No fur seals! Instead, locals lie sprawled all over the beach like the comatose survivors of an all-night party. Roly-poly pups open huge liquid eyes to gaze at us. Huge bull elephant seals slumber on, oblivious to our passage. King penguin couples ignore us as they make their stately promenade up the beach. Indeed, the entire fraternity of kings, gentoos, seals, skuas and sheathbills exude a Zen-like serenity; it is a South Georgian equivalent of Shangri-la, that magical kingdom where all is peace and harmony. We kneel in the sand: seal pups squirm eagerly over to us, suckling boots and rainpants in the quest for milk, each inviting adoption. The kings are courting, females stride out with their taller consorts two paces behind, eligible bachelors trumpet loftily and last years chicks, like chubby chestnut furballs, accost each new surfer with pitiful whistles. All this inside an amphitheatre of soaring glacial peaks, as the first clear beams of sunlight turn our wilderness harbour golden.
In Cooper Bay we take to our Zodiacs to explore the bays, lagoons and rocky reefs at the southeast tip of the island. Russet streamers of giant kelp in the shallows, Antarctic terns like silver southern swallows overhead, and the plaintive “pee-aw” of courting sooty albatrosses from the cliffs ashore. Sleek macaroni penguins leap from the swells, to begin the steep trek up into the tussock hinterland. As we approach the sheltered beaches, the raw musk of the fur seal suburbs hits our noses. Yelping, snuffing, barking mayhem on the beach as jousting bulls career wildly over hapless females and their dusky pups. Skuas and giant petrels squabble like vultures over afterbirth.. What a cacophony after the cloistered calm of Gold Harbour!
We take our leave of South Georgia at the rock and ice fortress of Drygalski Fjord, where a giant glacier has carved a frozen canyon through ancient rocks. Wintry waterfalls spray from the rock walls, and despite a freezing wind at the head of the fjord, a whirling flock of terns and snow petrels are plundering plankton from the turquoise waters.
In just four days we have seen some of the greatest wildlife concentrations on the planet. It has been a huge privilege to stroll unchallenged through such teeming multitudes and watch exotic lives unfold, utterly untroubled by our enthralled presence.
0400. Our trusty mother ship lies silhouetted by a band of gold on the horizon. We come ashore, like the penguins, in waves. Ready to be repulsed by the local fur seal militia, we are bewildered by the lack of any organised resistance. No fur seals! Instead, locals lie sprawled all over the beach like the comatose survivors of an all-night party. Roly-poly pups open huge liquid eyes to gaze at us. Huge bull elephant seals slumber on, oblivious to our passage. King penguin couples ignore us as they make their stately promenade up the beach. Indeed, the entire fraternity of kings, gentoos, seals, skuas and sheathbills exude a Zen-like serenity; it is a South Georgian equivalent of Shangri-la, that magical kingdom where all is peace and harmony. We kneel in the sand: seal pups squirm eagerly over to us, suckling boots and rainpants in the quest for milk, each inviting adoption. The kings are courting, females stride out with their taller consorts two paces behind, eligible bachelors trumpet loftily and last years chicks, like chubby chestnut furballs, accost each new surfer with pitiful whistles. All this inside an amphitheatre of soaring glacial peaks, as the first clear beams of sunlight turn our wilderness harbour golden.
In Cooper Bay we take to our Zodiacs to explore the bays, lagoons and rocky reefs at the southeast tip of the island. Russet streamers of giant kelp in the shallows, Antarctic terns like silver southern swallows overhead, and the plaintive “pee-aw” of courting sooty albatrosses from the cliffs ashore. Sleek macaroni penguins leap from the swells, to begin the steep trek up into the tussock hinterland. As we approach the sheltered beaches, the raw musk of the fur seal suburbs hits our noses. Yelping, snuffing, barking mayhem on the beach as jousting bulls career wildly over hapless females and their dusky pups. Skuas and giant petrels squabble like vultures over afterbirth.. What a cacophony after the cloistered calm of Gold Harbour!
We take our leave of South Georgia at the rock and ice fortress of Drygalski Fjord, where a giant glacier has carved a frozen canyon through ancient rocks. Wintry waterfalls spray from the rock walls, and despite a freezing wind at the head of the fjord, a whirling flock of terns and snow petrels are plundering plankton from the turquoise waters.
In just four days we have seen some of the greatest wildlife concentrations on the planet. It has been a huge privilege to stroll unchallenged through such teeming multitudes and watch exotic lives unfold, utterly untroubled by our enthralled presence.
