Steeple Jason and West Point Islands
While we often lament those days where seemingly everything that could go wrong, does go wrong, do we remember and rejoice in those few that come along when everything goes right? For most of us, those days might feel too few and far between. However they DO happen, those perfect days, and most often when we least expect them. Today was one of those special events for those of us here on board the National Geographic Endeavour.
We have traveled from all over the globe to see this wild region of our planet in person. We have read all the information we could glean from the internet, guide books, historical novels, and other such sources of knowledge on the region; many of which are filled with tales of woe and despair from this generally most inhospitable corner of the world. The weather is among the foulest on earth. The seas are littered with the remains of vessels deemed unworthy of Poseidon’s mercy. And the isolation here could drive even the most stalwart of independent persons to long for the crowded thoroughfares of New York or London. We came to this place perhaps expecting some measure of those hardships and yet probably hopeful for less than the region’s worst. However since we have begun our journey, the skies have been clear, the seas have been mild, and we have shared in the company of fellow travelers. Good fortune seems to have found its way on board with us for this journey to Antarctica, and its presence could not have been felt more keenly than today.
We landed at Steeple Jason Island this morning shortly after breakfast. It is perhaps the most spectacular island in the Jason group; a group of the westernmost isles in the Falklands archipelago and among the most windswept and tide-washed anywhere on earth. It is a landing that is often wished-for, but seldom granted. And yet, there we were, almost every last soul on board, walking among the gentoos, the caracaras, the rock hoppers, the tussac grass, and finally…the largest colony of black-browed albatross on earth. These beautiful birds make their home here precisely because of the very winds that keep most visitors away. And they do so in incredible numbers; over 150,000 breeding pairs have been reported, though when the colony stretches out over some 3 miles of coastline at a width of over 200 meters, it would be tough to say if a dozen or so were missing today!
Thanks to the abundant and head-high clumps of tussac grass, we were able to make our way to within mere feet of the colony. There we watched in wonder as some pairs went about their courtship displays while others swooped overhead, searching for a nest site of their own. It was a sight to inspire and treasure, both for its beauty and for its staggering scope. And as we left the island and started for our afternoon landing at West Point Island (yes, there was still much more in store for us this day), we counted ourselves extremely lucky to have been able to visit and experience one of the Falklands’ most well-guarded treasures.
While we often lament those days where seemingly everything that could go wrong, does go wrong, do we remember and rejoice in those few that come along when everything goes right? For most of us, those days might feel too few and far between. However they DO happen, those perfect days, and most often when we least expect them. Today was one of those special events for those of us here on board the National Geographic Endeavour.
We have traveled from all over the globe to see this wild region of our planet in person. We have read all the information we could glean from the internet, guide books, historical novels, and other such sources of knowledge on the region; many of which are filled with tales of woe and despair from this generally most inhospitable corner of the world. The weather is among the foulest on earth. The seas are littered with the remains of vessels deemed unworthy of Poseidon’s mercy. And the isolation here could drive even the most stalwart of independent persons to long for the crowded thoroughfares of New York or London. We came to this place perhaps expecting some measure of those hardships and yet probably hopeful for less than the region’s worst. However since we have begun our journey, the skies have been clear, the seas have been mild, and we have shared in the company of fellow travelers. Good fortune seems to have found its way on board with us for this journey to Antarctica, and its presence could not have been felt more keenly than today.
We landed at Steeple Jason Island this morning shortly after breakfast. It is perhaps the most spectacular island in the Jason group; a group of the westernmost isles in the Falklands archipelago and among the most windswept and tide-washed anywhere on earth. It is a landing that is often wished-for, but seldom granted. And yet, there we were, almost every last soul on board, walking among the gentoos, the caracaras, the rock hoppers, the tussac grass, and finally…the largest colony of black-browed albatross on earth. These beautiful birds make their home here precisely because of the very winds that keep most visitors away. And they do so in incredible numbers; over 150,000 breeding pairs have been reported, though when the colony stretches out over some 3 miles of coastline at a width of over 200 meters, it would be tough to say if a dozen or so were missing today!
Thanks to the abundant and head-high clumps of tussac grass, we were able to make our way to within mere feet of the colony. There we watched in wonder as some pairs went about their courtship displays while others swooped overhead, searching for a nest site of their own. It was a sight to inspire and treasure, both for its beauty and for its staggering scope. And as we left the island and started for our afternoon landing at West Point Island (yes, there was still much more in store for us this day), we counted ourselves extremely lucky to have been able to visit and experience one of the Falklands’ most well-guarded treasures.
