South Georgia has a moody soul. Isolated in the Southern Ocean at the edge of the polar sea she is lashed by gales of the “furious fifties” and dashed by its crashing waves. Katabatic winds pour off her glaciers as she pushes back against the surf. Snow and sleet pummel the peaks and yet, away from the shore, one can discover her warm and nurturing heart. Abundant wildlife seeking shelter or simply a seasonal home find a safe haven here.
Rain and sleet and snow cannot dampen our enthusiasm. In fact the weather was simply the backdrop to our day. We could easily ignore it when all our senses were at play experiencing the sights, sounds, and smells of nearly four hundred thousand king penguins. They flowed from inland as a river meandering from glacial meltwater lakes to St. Andrew’s Bay. They melded together in a golden haze carpeting the beaches, white bellies shining and black backs glistening. But at a distance our eyes only seemed to register their golden chests and brilliant auricular patches. The shaggy brown of near grown chicks created patterns here and there. The adults entered and exited the sea easily through the crashing waves and gathered offshore in huge bathing parties. Fur seal pups too played in the surf or lounged on the outwash plain. The winds built and the ship’s horn blew. And with an adrenaline surge we joined our intrepid seamen and trusty Zodiacs that carried us safely back to our marvelous and steady National Geographic Orion.
It was so easy to disregard the anemometer that insisted the winds were strong. On board it seemed that we were barely moving. But, it was prudent to seek out a sheltered bay from which to launch our afternoon excursions. Godthul was just that, a tiny cove embraced by tussac-covered slopes that stepped up to tall mountain peaks. Here past history was vividly portrayed. Rusting barrels were tucked against the shore along with rotting remnants of a wooden boat. Amongst colorful kelp in the intertidal zone were thousands of bones of whales. But, once again it was wildlife that stole the show. Elephant seals lounged partially submerged. Fur seal pups were everywhere, some with their protective mothers, but most alone or hanging with pals playing hide and seek with us as we ventured uphill between the pedestals of tussac grass. Away from the edges, the vegetation changed with mosses and rushes dominating. Waterfalls tumbled from high above and the still deep waters of a glacial tarn cast back our reflections as we strolled around its edges. Immense boulders dotted the plateau, not cast by giants but transported and deposited by glacial ice some time ago. What goes up must come down and once again we ran the fur seal gauntlet to rejoin those of us who chose to use a Zodiac to explore the edges of the bay.
