Our approach to Brown Bluff took us across a broad sound complete with blue sky and many scenic bergs, then into a thick fog bank as we left the sound and entered a narrower passage with clouds and cold air pouring down to the water from the glaciers on each side (glaciers make their own weather).

Tabular iceberg in the Antarctic Sound. Image ID: 24783   Location: Antarctic Sound, Antarctic Peninsula, Antarctica

Tabular iceberg in the Antarctic Sound. Image ID: 24784   Location: Antarctic Sound, Antarctic Peninsula, Antarctica

Brown Bluff, an aptly named large rock promontory situated between two glaciers, appeared before us as we approached through a clearing in the fog. Many small bergs were floating just offshore of the bluff, so the big boat was anchored a ways off and we accessed the bluff and its cobblestone beaches with a half mile zodiac run. Several types of penguins nest below the bluff, and are constantly leaving and arriving via the beach. I headed away from the penguins and people to a swath of beach that fronted a long, rolling edge of an ice field.

Brown Bluff, the eroded remains of an extinct volcanic structure, below which many penguins and seabirds nest. Image ID: 24809   Location: Antarctic Sound, Antarctic Peninsula, Antarctica

Horizontal striations and layers in packed snow, melting and overhanging, seen from the edge of the snowpack, along a rocky beach. Image ID: 24782   Location: Brown Bluff, Antarctic Peninsula, Antarctica

The 30’ ice field ended abruptly almost at the water, leaving a strip of about 50’ of cobblestone beach upon which to walk. The edge of the ice revealed horizontal striations about a foot apart. Were they created by seasonal accumulations of dark dirt blown on top of white snow, or where they perhaps picked from the soil below? I think this interesting “wave” of ice overhanging the beach was the edge of an icefield, rather than a glacier proper, but am not sure. I set about trying to photograph it with my widest lens, contrasting the undulating striations in the wall of ice against the more uniform dark of the beach and the water. It grew cloudy. Water dripped off the ice, wetting the cobbles that would otherwise be dry. I waded out into the water to inspect a few small bergs that had grounded on the shore. Penguins would occasionally swim by me, nearly bumping my legs as they zoomed through the shallows to exit the water onto the beach. Sometimes one would notice me and stop, sticking its head above water and giving me a look-over, swimming about my legs once before moving on its way. Curious little guys.

Adelie penguin on an iceberg. Image ID: 25006   Species: Adelie Penguin, Pygoscelis adeliae Location: Brown Bluff, Antarctic Peninsula, Antarctica

Adelie penguins walking on a stone beach. Image ID: 25012   Species: Adelie Penguin, Pygoscelis adeliae Location: Brown Bluff, Antarctic Peninsula, Antarctica

After scrambling over the rocks to get back to the landing site, I rejoined some others and looked about the bluff area to get a sense of all the different bird activity that was happening. Vic was lying down on the cobbles, allowing groups of penguins to pass him by as they walked along the beach. I joined him and soon had a group of 20 or so birds approach far too close for me to take any pictures. They chose a spot 3’ in front of me to make their mad dash into the water. I did not see any leopard seals so I think their concern – and their panicky group entrance into the ocean – was unwarranted, but they must use that method always out of habit or instinct.

Adelie penguins leaping into the ocean from an iceberg. Image ID: 25005   Species: Adelie Penguin, Pygoscelis adeliae Location: Brown Bluff, Antarctic Peninsula, Antarctica

Icicles and melting ice, hanging from the edge of an blue iceberg. Is this the result of climate change and global warming?. Image ID: 24803   Location: Brown Bluff, Antarctic Peninsula, Antarctica

Later we hopped in a zodiac with Hugh and cruised around among the bergs. This was the highlight of the day. Hugh managed to find a group of Adelie penguins (Pygoscelis adeliae) that were diving into the water from a sloping edge of a berg, and we got some nice shots. He then topped that with a group of 14 birds on an even-more-scenic berg, all of whom entered the water from a 5’ ledge. Some of the photos that others (with widers lenses than I) got in that instance were stunning, really suitable for fine art. I got a couple keepers too. Finally he drove our boat into the basin of a hand-shaped berg, with all five fingers protuding 10-20’ out of the water. A 50’ wide basin about 10’ deep was formed between the fingers, large enough for us to take the boat into and slowly maneuver. The whole thing glowed with that cool iceberg blue glow. It sounds simple and unremarkable but the colors were simply out of this world and everyone in our little group was moved by how stunning the color and shape of this berg was. By now the fog had returned and we could see neither beach, nor boat. We were zipping on grey water upon which no horizon could be discerned, between white and blue bergs. Eventually we found the big boat, and the landing, and reclaimed our stuff from the beach before returning to the big boat for dinner.

Visitors enjoy an inflatable ride through the strange environs of a bizarrely-shaped iceberg, on a cloudy day. Image ID: 24995   Location: Brown Bluff, Antarctic Peninsula, Antarctica

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Arriving at Devil Island, the morning presented the most spectacular blue-sky weather we experienced during our entire voyage. Devil Island rose above us after we anchored, twin peaks about 800’ high framing a saddle about half that. On the slope of the island before us was a broad colony of penguins. Many grounded small bergs were nestled up against the side of the island, having become caught there at a previous low tide and remaining trapped. Some were cracking and breaking under their own weight as the tide dropped through the morning, producing occasional loud popping sounds following by waves radiating out from the busted up piece of ice.

Adelie penguins at the nest, part of the large nesting colony of penguins that resides along the lower slopes of Devil Island. Image ID: 25013   Species: Adelie Penguin, Pygoscelis adeliae Location: Devil Island, Antarctic Peninsula, Antarctica

Adelie penguin. Image ID: 25044   Species: Adelie Penguin, Pygoscelis adeliae Location: Devil Island, Antarctic Peninsula, Antarctica

I elected to hike to the summit of the Devil Island, foregoing any time in a zodiac, since I figured the view was too good to pass up and I wanted to bag a new peak. I shot some great video of the colony on the shoulder of the island, and then followed Ted, Ross, Markus and Jo up to the top. Many others got up there too. The view from the top of the right horn of the island was superb, a full 360 degrees including the channel separating Devil Island from the Antarctic continent on one side, and clear across the Gerlache Strait on the other side. Nothing but blue sky and sun, finally, after weeks of crap weather. It was warm, only the thinnest fleece was required, and sunglasses and sunscreen the order of the day. Not much to say beyond that. I spent as much time at the top as I could, watching the tiny zodiacs far below slowly circumnavigate Devil Island, dodging bergs as they did so. In many places, one could see down through the clear, still water to the ocean bottom below. This would definitely have been a good place to hop in the water with drysuit and camera housing for some u/w shots of bergs, but that will have to wait for next trip. About lunch time we left Devil Island in our wake, motoring further down the channel for our first step on the continent proper at Brown Bluff.

Adelie penguin, adults feeding chicks, part of the large nesting colony of penguins that resides along the lower slopes of Devil Island. Image ID: 25042   Species: Adelie Penguin, Pygoscelis adeliae Location: Devil Island, Antarctic Peninsula, Antarctica

Ice, ocean, clouds and sun, Antarctica. Image ID: 24814   Location: Antarctic Sound, Antarctic Peninsula, Antarctica

Summit of Devil Island with portions of the Erebus and Terror Gulf region of the Weddell Sea in the background. Image ID: 24816   Location: Devil Island, Antarctic Peninsula, Antarctica

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I was able to spend quite a bit of time sightseeing and photographing from a Zodiac (inflatable) while in Antarctica. These hours were some of the most special of the trip. In some ways, one has more freedom of movement while in a zodiac than one does on land in Antarctica. Certainly the perspective one gains, while moving about at the water’s edge, is appealing. After spending the day ashore at Paulet Island, I elected to join Hugh Rose and Patrick Endres in a zodiac that they were driving, to look for penguins on small icebergs and just enjoy the surroundings before we departed that evening. We came upon some beautiful small bergs that afternoon, the most interesting of which was this pockmarked chunk:

Iceberg with scalloped erosion. The eroded indentations on this iceberg were melted when this portion of the iceberg was underwater. As it melted, the iceberg grew topheavy, eventually flipping and exposing this interesting surface. Image ID: 24789   Location: Paulet Island, Antarctic Peninsula, Antarctica

Later, we had the very good fortune to raft up alongside an iceberg that was carrying some inquisitive Adelie penguins, who immediately walked across the berg to meet us and seemed as if they wanted to hop in our boat! (See my blog entry about the penguin encounter.) The sun cleared some clouds and cast low, warm, flat light on the little birds, while the clouds in the distance remained dark — a photographer’s dream. I was able to shoot some fun images of them, including the one below as well as one that became the recent cover of Nature’s Best Magazine.

A curious Adelie penguin, standing at the edge of an iceberg, looks over the photographer. Image ID: 25015   Species: Adelie Penguin, Pygoscelis adeliae Location: Paulet Island, Antarctic Peninsula, Antarctica

Patrick was keen on photographing the ice, so the rest of us in the boat took notice (at least I did) and made some photos too. It is just like photographing snowflakes, no two views are alike. I knew I was never going to be able to photograph even a tiny fraction of the beautiful Antarctic ice that surrounded us, and resigned myself to just trying to make a few good ones.

Photographer Patrick Endres works alongside an iceberg near Paulet Island. Image ID: 24996   Location: Paulet Island, Antarctic Peninsula, Antarctica

Iceberg detail. Image ID: 24900   Location: Paulet Island, Antarctic Peninsula, Antarctica

After we returned to the icebreaker M/V Polar Star, the captain took us on a long cruise through some nearby channels, offering us sunset views that I will never forget. I lashed one of my cameras to the ship’s wheel house and shot a cool timelapse of our sunset cruise.

Tabular iceberg, Antarctic Peninsula, near Paulet Island, sunset. Image ID: 24778   Location: Paulet Island, Antarctic Peninsula, Antarctica

The edge of the fast ice along the shore, near Paulet Island. Image ID: 24788   Location: Paulet Island, Antarctic Peninsula, Antarctica

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September 1994. Our early expeditionary trips to Guadalupe Island on the Horizon were wild affairs. Each year Skip assembled a superb mix of skilled spearfishermen looking for giant tuna and intrepid SCUBA divers seeking to explore the scarcely seen underwater environment of remote Guadalupe Island. We would dine al fresco each evening on grilled tuna that had been swimming in the ocean that same afternoon, sipping award winning homemade beers and wine, and sleep well in anticipation of the next day’s adventures. Our diving decisions were guided largely by the weather and our interest in seeing sections of island we had not dived before. Over the years our groups had a few encounters with sharks, but this was long before before the cage-diving trips and we were not eager to see them more than necessary.

After 30 hours of travel, we have reached Guadalupe Island. We spent most of yesterday’s travel fishing, reading, relaxing and talking about what we might find while diving. Would the sharks show up when we entered the water? Anticipation is high. Our first anchorage lies on the east side of Isla Afuera, a spectacular and imposing volcanic plug a few miles south of Isla Guadalupe. The water below our liveaboard dive boat Horizon is so clear it appears almost purple. I hop in, drop underwater and swim over to the wall. A mild current has glassed off the surface above me so that I can see the vertical wall of Afuera from its base some 60′ below me to its towering summit several hundred feet above the water. A group of sea lions which had been perched on a ledge when we anchored swims toward me. I can see their approach from well over a hundred feet away and realize that this is the probably clearest water I have ever experienced. A mild current tugs at the several species of kelp that cover the rock bottom here. Looking about under the kelp I find calico bass, lobster, a few abalone and occasional bat rays. The calicos are large and dark brown, evidence that they are mature adults who may have lived here for 25 years or more.

California sea lion underwater, with the 700′ eastern face of Isla Afuera in the background. Image ID: 00260   Species: California sea lion, Zalophus californianus Location: Guadalupe Island (Isla Guadalupe), Baja California, Mexico

Schools of perch and chubb swim just above the kelp. With my back to the wall I look out into the blue, wondering what might appear. This water is oceanic, without a hint of any coastal influence. I am struck by how alone and how far from my daily routine I am at this moment. If the current were to take me from here my next stop would be Tahiti, a sobering thought indeed. Small jellies float by as if suspended in air. Periodically a group of heavy yellowtail jacks appear from the open ocean, cruising along the wall and frightening the reef fish into their holes before sweeping back out to sea. These yellowtail are big fish, world record size in some cases, and along with yellowfin and bluefin are one of the reasons were are here, so I am pleased to see them swim by. After a while, sea lions have gathered in the shallows above me, frolicking with one another along the wall. Frequently one or two of them descend and approach me closely, always hanging upside down, and we eye each other for a time. Other than the few local hookah divers that work the island, these sea lions do not see many people. Most are juveniles and naturally curious, so there is no shortage of photo ops. I love to photograph with available light only and the conditions here are ideal: plenty of sunlight, clear water, and inquisitive pinnipeds. I drain my tank, staying with the sea lions as long as possible, and finally head back to the boat already thinking about how soon I can hop back in.

Palm kelp, Isla Afuera. Image ID: 01287   Species: Southern sea palm, Eisenia arborea Location: Guadalupe Island (Isla Guadalupe), Baja California, Mexico

Isla Afuera is a volcanic plug towering 700 feet above the ocean near the south end of Guadalupe Island. Its steep cliffs extend underwater hundreds of feet offering spectacular wall diving and submarine topography. Image ID: 09753   Location: Guadalupe Island (Isla Guadalupe), Baja California, Mexico

Kelp frond showing pneumatocysts. Image ID: 00627   Species: Giant kelp, Macrocystis pyrifera Location: San Clemente Island, California, USA

About the International Conservation Photography Awards: Known for his passionate advocacy of the environment, nature photographer Art Wolfe created a conservation-themed photo contest in 1997 as “an event for the advancement of photography as a unique medium capable of bringing awareness and preservation to our environment through art.” The 2010 International Conservation Photography Awards is a continuation of Art Wolfe’s vision and has become a biennial (every two years) international event. Each year the ICP Awards strives to increase its reach and influence to photographers from around the world as well as to diverse audiences who will be inspired by the work. More than just a competition, 75+ of the juried photographs will be exhibited in 2010 via a new partnership with The Burke Museum of Natural History and Culture, a development that continues to raise the bar for this program. ICP Awards organizers are also exploring ways to travel the exhibit in the interim year before the next program in 2012 – please let us know if you have ideas about venues that would be interested in hosting the exhibit during the 2011 year. The ICP Awards are open to all photographers worldwide.

We arrive early in the morning at Paulet Island, our first taste of the Antarctic Peninsula. As we navigate our approach through ice-filled channels around the island, large groups of Adelie penguins (Pygoscelis adeliae) are seen swimming in the water and gathered on the edges of bergs and fast ice. While the day dawns cloudy, it will clear periodically later today, with broken clouds and beautiful Antarctic weather on and off. Strong currents roil the waters about the Paulet Island, moving bergs and brash ice constantly. It takes the captain of the icebreaker M/V Polar Star some time to make a firm anchor.

Icebergs floating in the ocean near Paulet Island. Image ID: 24834   Location: Paulet Island, Antarctic Peninsula, Antarctica

When the boat is securely anchored, we venture out in zodiacs for some cruising among the ice. Adelie penguins abound. The island is literally covered with Adelies and their curious stone nests, while groups of them are found on the beautifully sculpted ice everywhere we look. When they leave their ice perches and take to the water, their porpoising across the glassy sea is marvelous to watch. They are like small speedy footballs leaping out of the water, only to disappear and reappear again every few seconds as their sturdy wings propel them forward. They are nearly impossible to photograph while porpoising, for me at least, and I resign myself to admiring them and trying to photograph the ones standing still on the ice. Simple photos for simple photographers.

Adelie penguins, in a line, standing on an iceberg. Image ID: 25018   Species: Adelie Penguin, Pygoscelis adeliae Location: Paulet Island, Antarctic Peninsula, Antarctica

Paulet Island, near the Antarctic Peninsula, is a cinder cone flanked by lava flows on which thousands of Adelie Penguins nest. Image ID: 24824   Location: Paulet Island, Antarctic Peninsula, Antarctica

Enormous colony of Adelie penguins covers the hillsides of Paulet Island. Image ID: 24836   Species: Adelie Penguin, Pygoscelis adeliae Location: Paulet Island, Antarctic Peninsula, Antarctica

After returning to the big boat, I gather my gear and take a second zodiac ride to land ashore on Paulet Island. It is still morning, but I decide in advance to skip lunch and just stay onshore all day, knowing that each hour with my feet on the ground in Antarctica is exceptionally valuable and is my motivation for making this journey. What a place, so much life here! A cacophony of penguin sounds fills the air, for the many hours that I am ashore. The colony sections themselves are so dense and vast that we stay along the perimeters, in the thin strip of ice- and boulder-covered beach the penguins traverse as they make their way between the ocean and their nests. In the colony itself, the birds are spaced in a highly-regular fashion, with their nests just a few feet apart from one another. I am struck by this aspect of the colony, having seen it earlier in the trip at the phenomenal black-browed albatross colony at Steeple Jason in the Falkland Islands. It seems that each member of the species has exactly the same tolerance for others of its kind, needs exactly the same room to maintain its sanity, leading to the spatial pattern before me that is repeated as far into the colony as one can see. Indeed, when viewed from the boat, the colony takes on an almost abstract look. Mother Nature employs her wonderful mathematics again, producing yet another example of regularity and order out of the chaos that is Life.

Adelie penguins, nesting, part of the enormous colony on Paulet Island, with the tall ramparts of the island and clouds seen in the background. Adelie penguins nest on open ground and assemble nests made of hundreds of small stones. Image ID: 25024   Species: Adelie Penguin, Pygoscelis adeliae Location: Paulet Island, Antarctic Peninsula, Antarctica

Melting ice along the shore of Paulet Island. Image ID: 24833   Location: Paulet Island, Antarctic Peninsula, Antarctica

I move to the edge of the island to watch the penguins that are departing to forage at sea. They are not unlike a little river: birds constantly “flowing” from their nesting areas on the plateau above down into the water. Hanging over the cobblestone beach on which I sit is a small cliff of melting ice. Every 30 seconds or so a group of penguins approaches along the edge of this ice, using well-worn paths left behind by thousands of small feet, until they reach a gap in the ice cliff through which they can jump down onto the cobblestone. From there they gather at the water’s edge into nervous groups of 10 to 50 before rushing en masse into the water, strategically using their numbers to foil any predatory leopard seal that may be waiting underwater. I setup my camera and tripod in a location where I am sure the penguins will come by. I then move away, and wait. Soon a curious group gathers around the camera, looking at it inquisitively, clucking softly and gently pecking at it to discover what it might be. As they do so, I use my wireless trigger ($20 on Ebay) to take a few pictures of them — from 50′ away. The camera is set to operate as silently as possible to avoid startling the little birds, and the technique works great. When the penguins finally leave, I am able to go inspect my camera and see the images I got; a few look like keepers. I try my remote-cam technique a few more times and am happy with the results. Here are a couple examples; I could have been sipping a margarita in a beach chair while taking these, if it were not so cold:

Adelie penguins navigate a steep dropoff, to get from their nests down to a rocky beach, in order to go to sea to forage for food. Image ID: 25020   Species: Adelie Penguin, Pygoscelis adeliae Location: Paulet Island, Antarctic Peninsula, Antarctica

A group of Adelie penguins, on packed snow. Image ID: 25021   Species: Adelie Penguin, Pygoscelis adeliae Location: Paulet Island, Antarctic Peninsula, Antarctica

As the day passes, I realize that the movement of the penguins here cannot be conveyed in a single image. So I spend my last two hours on shore arranging several time-lapse sequences, composed of hundreds of photos that together are arranged into a short movie. One never really knows how the result of a time-lapse effort will appear until the final product is finished on the computer. I did not finally see the result of these efforts until now, some six months after my day on Paulet Island:

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Adelie Penguin, Antarctica, Nature's Best Photography Spring/Summer 2010. Click to see more images from Antarctica

The photo also appears in the interior of the issue, since it was fortunate to be given an honorable mention in this years Ocean Views photography contest.

Adelie Penguins, Antarctica, Nature's Best Photography Ocean Views 2010

This image was taken at Paulet Island on the Antarctic Peninsula, made with a Canon 5D Mark II camera and 24-105mm f/4 lens (at 24mm), from a zodiac as we were idle alongside an iceberg. If you want to see what the situation was like when I took this shot — and you should, since it will make you want to visit Antarctica yourself! — see my blog post about this encounter from earlier this year. Several Adelie penguins (Pygoscelis adeliae) walked to the edge of an berg to get a good look at us as we cruised around Paulet Island at sunset, and allowed me to rattle off a series of “close/wide” images of them. Honestly, while the encounter was one of the most special moments of the trip for me, Adelie penguins are so numerous and inquisitive that I think situations like this — and photos like the above — are probably rather common in Antarctica. It is one of the reasons I intend to return as soon as I can.

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The Racetrack is an ancient dry lake bed in Death Valley, famous for its sailing stones. Located between the Last Chance Mountains and the Cottonwood Mountains, the Racetrack Playa lies at 3600′ above sea level, is about 3 miles long by 1 mile wide in size, and appears almost perfectly flat. Much of the year the Racetrack lakebed is totally dessicated and covered with small hexagonal mud patterns, although during the two rainy seasons that Death Valley experiences the playa becomes muddy and is sometimes “underwater”. At the south end of the Racetrack Playa are found the Racetrack’s famous “sailing stones”. Typically about the size of a shoe box or larger, the stones mysteriously move about the playa leaving trails behind them. Noone has actually observed any of the stones moving. One theory about their locomotion suggests that a combination of wet mud (during the winter rainy season) and high winds, perhaps combined with a thin layer of ice atop the mud, allows the stones to slide. Evidence indicates that the rocks move once every few years, and that tracks last only 4-5 years. My hunch is the occasions of the stones’ movement is a function of seasonal weather patterns and the presence or absence of sufficient water, wind and ice to trigger the sailing phenomenon. The sailing stones originate on the slope of a hill that rises above the south end of the playa. Many of the stones have moved hundreds of yards from their source, out toward the center of the lake bed, each leaving a striated channel behind it in the mud, like the wake of a boat.

Sunset over the Racetrack Playa. The Cottonwood Mountains rise above the flat, dry, ancient lake bed. Image ID: 25265   Location: Racetrack Playa, Death Valley National Park, California, USA

Racetrack Playa, an ancient lake now dried and covered with dessicated mud. Image ID: 25315

The Grandstand, standing above dried mud flats, on the Racetrack Playa in Death Valley. Image ID: 25318

A sliding rock of the Racetrack Playa. The sliding rocks, or sailing stones, move across the mud flats of the Racetrack Playa, leaving trails behind in the mud. The explanation for their movement is not known with certainty, but many believe wind pushes the rocks over wet and perhaps icy mud in winter. Image ID: 25243   Location: Racetrack Playa, Death Valley National Park, California, USA

Sailing stone on the Death Valley Racetrack playa. The sliding rocks, or sailing stones, move across the mud flats of the Racetrack Playa, leaving trails behind in the mud. The explanation for their movement is not known with certainty, but many believe wind pushes the rocks over wet and perhaps icy mud in winter. Image ID: 25333

At the north end of the Racetrack is found the “Grandstand”, an assemblage of giant round boulders stacked in the middle of the playa. In the olden days**, miners would gather on the Grandstand to stage and watch horse races on the playa.

Our visit: After we left the Eureka Valley Sand Dunes, we drove on some long but easy dirt roads to Scotty’s Castle where we stopped for lunch and to stretch our legs. We saw some great expanses of flowers along the way, evidence that the wildflower bloom comes later to the higher-altitude reaches of Death Valley. After Scotty’s Castle, we drove to the Racetrack via the notorious Uhebehebe-Crater-to-Racetrack-Road, a 27-mile-long dirt road that is famous for its tire-piercing ability and funky Teakettle Junction at which a photo must be taken. (Yes, those are actual teakettles hanging from the Teakettle Junction sign.) 4WD is not required for this drive but the suspensions that 4WD vehicles typically have are helpful for the washboard track. Sturdy tires with sidewall puncture resistant are also helpful. I have experienced a flat tire on this road in the past and it was a bummer, but on this visit we were in a well-equipped off-road vehicle and the road was in super shape so we made it to the Racetrack in about 45 minutes with no drama. We spent one sunset admiring the sailing stones, then shot some night sky photos and milky way timelapse video while camping at the primitive campground beyond the Racetrack. We returned to look at the rocks again at sunrise the next morning, then climbed to the top of the Grandstand on our way back out to Uhebehebe Crater. We saw one car in the distance while we were at the playa, but never actually enountered another person the entire time we were there. It was great.

I wish Leonard Nimoy would produce an episode of “In Search Of” about these uber-curious stones since it is my theory that, while they are interesting to landscape photographers, the mud tracks are actually landing strips left behind by tiny alien spacecraft. I discovered another Alien Spaceport in California some years ago. I now believe there is a network of these facilities, with the Racetrack being just one example. I will continue my investigations in this regard.

**Olden days (n): a technical term referring to a vague period in history that occurred sometime before I was alive and about which I know virtually nothing.

One of the goals of our recent Death Valley trip was to reach the wonderful Eureka Valley Sand Dunes. At almost 700′ tall, these dunes are some of the tallest in the United States (and are the tallest in California). The Eureka Valley lies in the northern reaches of Death Valley National Park, and became an official part of the Death Valley National Park in 1994 with the passage of the Desert Protection Act. The Eureka dune field is approximately 3 miles long and one mile wide, with the tallest dunes being at the north end. The Eureka Valley is geologically impressive, with the Last Chance Mountain Range rising 5500′ above the valley floor on the north and east and the Saline Mountains rising in the west. We reached the Eureka Valley via the Big Pine Road from Highway 395, spent a night at the primitive campground, and left via the Big Pine Road for the Racetrack. Conditions were ideal when we were there, with cool and calm weather and absolutely clear skies with a new moon that made a great night to photograph the Milky Way. We were also treated to a fly-by of the International Space Station in the northern sky just after sunset. I managed to shoot an interesting time lapse movie of the Milky Way rising above the southern horizon. Walking about the dunes, we came across the endangered Eureka Valley Dune Grass, and witnessed the strange phenomenon of “singing sands”. When a sand slope of just the right size and inclination was disturbed, the moving sand produced a deep thrumming that sounded just like a distant airplane. In the morning we found blooming wildflowers in the dessicated mud fields at the foot of the dunes, including the endangered Eureka Valley Evening Primrose and a little wildflower I have yet to identify. Our quick visit was nearly perfect — my one regret is not hiking all the way to the summit of the tallest dune. I am eager to return, and in the future I may skip the southern end of the park entirely and split my time between the Eureka Valley and the White Mountains (bristlecones!). If I do, the first order of business will be to ascend straight to the top of the tallest dune and hoist a cold one.

Eureka Dunes. The Eureka Valley Sand Dunes are California’s tallest sand dunes, and one of the tallest in the United States. Rising 680′ above the floor of the Eureka Valley, the Eureka sand dunes are home to several endangered species, as well as “singing sand” that makes strange sounds when it shifts. Located in the remote northern portion of Death Valley National Park, the Eureka Dunes see very few visitors. Image ID: 25250   Location: Eureka Dunes, Death Valley National Park, California, USA

Eureka Valley Sand Dunes. Image ID: 25249

Sunset on the Last Chance Mountain Range, seen from Eureka Valley Sand Dunes. Image ID: 25238

Eureka Dunes. The Eureka Dunes are California’s tallest sand dunes, and one of the tallest in the United States. Rising 680′ above the floor of the Eureka Valley, the Eureka sand dunes are home to several endangered species, as well as “singing sand” that makes strange sounds when it shifts. Image ID: 25251

Eureka Sand Dunes, infrared black and white. Image ID: 25376

The Eureka Valley Sand Dunes are home to a few notable and imperiled plant species, which I blogged about recently: the Eureka Valley Evening Primrose (Oenothera californica eurekensis) and Eureka Valley Dune Grass (Swallenia alexandrae)

The Eureka Valley Dune Grass (Swallenia alexandrae) is a federally endangered grass found only in the Eureka Valley, in the far northern reaches of Death Valley National Park. Swallenia is a monotypic genus, consisting only of the one species alexandrae. The grass is a rhizome, forming horizontal stems that spread laterally underneath the sand, producing new roots and shoots that lead to a tufted aggregation of the plant. This perennial grass grows on the slopes of the Eureka Valley Sand Dunes. In the past its survival was threatened by off-road vehicles, which were prohibited by BLM in the Eureka Valley in 1976 with enforcement effectively beginning in 1980. The area became part of Death Valley National Park in 1994. We found a number of small tufts of Eureka Valley Dune Grass on the dunes. This one depicts the Last Chance Mountain Range in the background, viewed from the north end of the dunes.

Eureka dune grass, and rare and federally endangered species of grass endemic to the Eureka Valley and Eureka Sand Dunes. The Last Chance mountains, lit by sunset, as visible in the distance. Swallenia alexandrae, a perennial grass, grows only in the southern portion of Eureka Valley Sand Dunes, in Inyo County, California. Image ID: 25358   Species: Eureka Valley dune grass, Eureka dunegrass, Swallenia alexandrae Location: Eureka Dunes, Death Valley National Park, California, USA

The Eureka Valley Sand Dunes are home to another notable and imperiled plant species, which I blogged about recently: the Eureka Valley Evening Primrose (Oenothera californica eurekensis)

The Eureka Valley Evening Primrose (Oenothera californica eurekensis) is a federally endangered wildflower found only on and near the sand dune habitat of the Eureka Valley, in the far northern reaches of Death Valley National Park. Observed primarily at the Eureka Sand Dunes, it is also found on the nearby Saline Spur Dunes and Marble Canyon Dunes. According to a 2007 review of the 1982 recovery plan for the species, the Eureka Valley Evening Primrose is “a subspecies with a moderate degree of threat and a high recovery potential.” During spring and fall seasons that have enough rainfall, the plant blooms (typically April through June) with large white flowers that turn red as they age. As soon as I saw the first one, it instantly reminded me of its close cousin, the Dune Evening Primrose that I have seen in Anza Borrego. I am intrigued at how severely ecologically isolated the Eureka Valley Evening Primrose is, existing on just three sets of sand dunes. Sort of like a plant found on only a tiny atoll in the middle of the ocean, but this is the desert. Because of its rare nature and the wherethehellamI habitat in which it resides, it is now one of my favorite flowers.

Eureka Valley Dune Evening Primrose. A federally endangered plant, Oenothera californica eurekensis is a perennial herb that produces white flowers from April to June. These flowers turn red as they age. The Eureka Dunes evening-primrose is found only in the southern portion of Eureka Valley Sand Dunes system in Indigo County, California. Image ID: 25237   Species: Oenothera californica eurekensis Location: Eureka Dunes, Death Valley National Park, California, USA

Image ID: 25267

I recently made a short visit to the Eureka Dunes with my photographer friends Garry McCarthy and John Moore. We were on a sort of banzai run**, trying to cover Eureka Dunes, the Racetrack and Badwater Salt Flats in 3 days. We definitely were not looking for wildflowers, so we were fortunate to find a few Eureka Valley Evening Primroses along the outskirts of the dunes. Our visit took place in mid-May, and heading into Death Valley I figured the wildflowers were past peak and would be burnt to a crisp by the harsh conditions. Indeed, in the lower regions of the park, wildflowers that presented such an excellent display earlier in the spring were long gone. However, the floor of the Eureka Valley is at an elevation of 2800′, where conditions are much cooler. In fact, as we approached Eureka Valley, and especially on the dirt roads between Eureka Valley and Death Valley at altitudes between 2000′ and 4000′, I was surprised by the richness and variety of the wildflower displays. It really was superb, and I might consider that region for a wildflower trip in future years since it offers a ton of solitude and some awesome vistas.

The Eureka Valley Sand Dunes are home to another endangered plant species: the Eureka Valley Dune Grass, Swallenia alexandrae.

**banzai photographer (n): (1) a photographer with a working spouse and multiple kids each of whom has lots of activities that require driving all over the place during the week, help with homework in the evenings, and then driving all over the place on the weekends; (2) a photographer who crams five days of photography into a single weekend; (3) a photographer with a banzai attitude about life; (4) a photographer who photographs banzai trees.

I’ve been diving in the kelp forest for about 20 years, yet have never been able to get a decent photo of a leopard shark (Triakis semifasciata) in the wild. I’ve seen them many times, but never had a good opportunity for a photo. Leopard sharks are relatively harmless coastal sharks, often found in shallow water in kelp forests or over sand flats. They exhibit a beautiful spotted pattern which provides excellent camoflage, in seaweed especially. However, leopard sharks are timid, and do not typically approach people or divers. The best place that I know of to see leopard sharks is directly in front of the Marine Room restaurant in La Jolla, in shallow water (4′-8′ deep), in summer, since they congregate there en masse. I take my daughters there sometimes to snorkel and look at the leopard sharks. But the water clarity there is poor, making good picture taking difficult. Another good place is the front side of Catalina Island, in summer, in coves and shallow areas.

Monday, about an hour before we had to leave San Clemente Island and return home, I had a 4′ long leopard shark surprise me by appearing out of nowhere and swimming right in front of my camera. I didn’t have to do a thing except depress the shutter. Click. Finally got a shot of a leopard shark. This was only about 2-3′ deep, and was shot with a 15mm fisheye lens with the shark about 18″ away from the camera.

A leopard shark, swimming through the shallows waters of a California reef, underwater. Image ID: 25417   Species: Leopard shark, Triakis semifasciata Location: San Clemente Island, California, USA

In the past I have shot some nice portraits of leopard sharks, but in a tank so its not quite the same thing!

Leopard shark swims through a kelp forest. Image ID: 14028   Species: Leopard shark, Triakis semifasciata

Leopard shark swims through a kelp forest. Image ID: 14932   Species: Leopard shark, Triakis semifasciata

I spent three days diving at one of my favorite spots on Earth: San Clemente Island. The island, about 60 miles offshore of southern California, is home to some of the world’s most beautiful kelp forests. Swimming through these kelp forests is akin to flying through a forest of towering redwoods. Below the tall kelp plants are rocky reefs where gorgonians, also known as sea fans, anchor themselves. Gorgonians are filter feeders, and spread their long slender arms out into the currents where individual polyps will catch and eat organic debris and plankton that floats by in the current. I have a few favorite reefs at San Clemente Island where I know I will always find magnificent examples of gorgonians, several feet in diameter and exhibiting healthy polyps and rich colors. My goal on this trip was to shoot a few good images of the several species that are commonly found at San Clemente Island: red gorgonian (Lophogorgia chilensis), California golden gorgonian (Muricea californica), and brown gorgonian (Muricea fruticosa).

Red gorgonian on rocky reef, below kelp forest, underwater. The red gorgonian is a filter-feeding temperate colonial species that lives on the rocky bottom at depths between 50 to 200 feet deep. Gorgonians are oriented at right angles to prevailing water currents to capture plankton drifting by. Image ID: 25393   Species: Red gorgonian, Lophogorgia chilensis

A large bryozoan cluster grows on a red gorgonian. Image ID: 25395   Species: Red gorgonian, Lophogorgia chilensis

California golden gorgonian on rocky reef, underwater. Image ID: 25397   Species: California golden gorgonian, Muricea californica

Brown gorgonians on rocky reef, below kelp forest, underwater. Image ID: 25398   Species: Brown gorgonian, Muricea fruticosa

Red gorgonian. Image ID: 25394   Species: Red gorgonian, Lophogorgia chilensis

A few photographic notes: these images were all shot with a 15mm fisheye lens and two submersible lights. Certain colors, suchs as reds, oranges and yellows, effectively disappear below about 10′ deep. Submersible lights are used to bring out the color and detail in these gorgonians, which in the available light would appear colorless and drab at these depths. The water in California tends to have particles floating in it and consequently is not as clear as water in the tropics. To minimize the degree to which poor water clarity adversely impacts the photograph, I get as close as possible to my subject. In these photos, my camera is only about 6-10 inches from the gorgonians, so a very wide lens is required in order to depict the entire sea fans. These images were taken at depths from about 45′ to 70′, all of them at the southern end of San Clemente Island. In all of them, the camera is pointed almost straight up toward the surface, so that some of the sunlight and kelp forest that rises above these gorgonians can be depicted. I hold my breath to make sure my bubbles don’t get in the photo.

Wind becoming warm
Traffic building, Del Mar soon
Summer near, all good

I am readying gear for a bit of diving, so I had to drag the camera out of deep storage and call upon one of my two favorite fitness models for a few test shots. Summer is almost here. I can tell by watching my girls. One was on the beach playing a volleyball tournament today, the other swimming in the pool. Life is good.

(Note to photographers: I am again reminded today that Canon’s 15mm fisheye is the sharpest lens for underwater purposes I have ever used. Due to its curved-field nature, and the fact that a camera behind a spherical dome underwater is forced to focus on a curved-field virtual image, a good fisheye lens holds sharpness further into the corners while flat field lenses break down and go soft. I have been a sucker for very wide lenses since I first picked up a camera — why the hell would anyone waste their time on macro when the big picture is out there waiting to be told? — and the Canon 15mm and Nikon 16mm fisheye lenses are two of my favorites.)

Can you blow a perfect bubble ring underwater? I can. That’s right. This is a bubble that I made, like a smoke ring, except I blew it underwater. There’s a trick to making them, a way to snap your lips in a snarky, La-Jolla-socialite sort of way while exhaling that results in the bubble organizing itself into a ring. Once in a while I get a really perfect ring, a thing of beauty. A bubble ring is a stable toroidal air pocket that maintains its shape — even growing in diameter and rotating along its axis — as it ascends to the surface.

Underwater bubble ring, a stable toroidal pocket of air. Image ID: 25282

“The Weddell Sea is, according to the testimony of all who have sailed through its berg-filled waters, the most treacherous and dismal region on earth.” – from The White Continent by Thomas R. Henry (1950).

This morning finds us on the northern edge of the Weddell Sea, approaching the northern tip of the Antarctic Peninsula from the northeast. We had been told that these waters can be choked with ice. The ice originates in the Weddell Sea, where enormous ice shelves produce tabular icebergs which in turn break apart into vast spreads of ice pieces. I wake up about 5am and peek outside the window and see nothing but ice. Big chunks, small chunks, periodic chunks big enough to be called bergs, and a few huge distant tabular bergs. I have waited a long time to see a seascape like this, and the sight of this much ice is awesome.

Pack ice, a combination of sea ice and pieces of icebergs. A larger tabular iceberg is visible on the horizon. Weddell Sea. Image ID: 25025   Location: Weddell Sea, Southern Ocean

I go out on deck. It is quite cold. I walk up to the bow and take some fisheye photos, and shoot some video clips, including a time lapse of the boat pushing through the ice. (The resulting video is interesting but if watched too many times the novelty wears thin and the jitteriness becomes irritating.) We are moving somewhat more slowly than yesterday, but nevertheless the icebreaker M/V Polar Star is able to push aside or split the ice pieces easily, and it seems to me that we make good progress through the morning.

However, we have a long way to go yet before reaching Paulet Island in the Weddell Sea, and the captain decides to speed our passage by avoiding the pack ice, changing course to take us through the Antarctic Sound to reach Paulet from the west (rather than the more direct approach through the Weddell Sea from the northeast). Eventually our course change takes us out of the pack ice and our speed increases. We continue to see occasional tabular bergs, along with a few whales including two orca. Albatross sightings are now on the wane, and we won’t see many more until the Drake Passage at the end of the trip.

Next: Nature’s Best Photography Cover Shot
Previous: Shingle Cove, Coronation Island, South Orkneys
Trip Index: Cheesemans Antarctica, Falklands and South Georgia
All “Southern Ocean” entries

Midway through our crossing from South Georgia Island to Antarctica we pass the South Orkney Islands, a small group of islands that lie almost exactly between South Georgia and the Antarctic Peninsula, making them a natural place to pause during our crossing and make a landing to stretch our legs a little. After our sunrise approach to Coronation Island, the icebreaker ship M/V Polar Star anchors and we go ashore at Shingle Cove to visit a colony of Adelie penguins (Pygoscelis adeliae). The colony is set atop a bluff above the ocean, subject to blasting wind and snow. The wind is so strong that it knocks a chick over now and then.

Adelie penguin chicks, huddle together in a snowstorm for warmth and protection. This group of chicks is known as a creche. Image ID: 25026   Species: Adelie Penguin, Pygoscelis adeliae Location: Shingle Cove, Coronation Island, South Orkney Islands, Southern Ocean

Many of the chicks are huddled together for warmth in creches. Adjacent to the bluff is a snow covered slope that the penguins descend to reach a cobblestone beach. The thousands of birds in the colony have worn dirty winding poop-covered paths in the snow. I spend most of my time on the cobblestones, watching the penguins pass back and forth. Entering the water is a dangerous proposition for a penguin, since leopard seals often patrol the shallows waiting to strike.

Adelie penguins rush into the water en masse, from the cobblestone beach at Shingle Cove on Coronation Island. Image ID: 25028   Species: Adelie Penguin, Pygoscelis adeliae

So the penguins gather in nervous groups at the water’s edge, making a few false starts before one of the braver individuals finally commits and dives in. Immediately the rest of the group follows suit, rushing into the water in a chaotic sprint. As the waves washing in and out are hard to judge, some penguins mistime their dives and land head first on the rocks, only to pop back up quickly and try again. In a few seconds it is over – the rocks are empty. The departing penguins can now be seen porpoising at great speed out to sea to spend time foraging for food. Penguins returning to shore arrive in smaller groups or individually, but speed through the water in the same nervous way, ending their swim with a leap and an agile stand-up landing onto the rocks.

Southern elephant seal, juvenile. The southern elephant seal is the largest pinniped, and the largest member of order Carnivora, ever to have existed. It gets its name from the large proboscis (nose) it has when it has grown to adulthood. Image ID: 25029   Species: Southern elephant seal, Mirounga leonina

After a while I spot an elephant seal lounging in a pool on rocky reef. I spend some time laying on the rocks (uncomfortable) trying to photograph it at its eye level. I’m not sure I succeeded. After that, a visit to the nesting area is in order, to see the chicks and especially the adults feeding their young. On the snowy slope between the beach and the rookery I witness a southern giant petrel’s attack on a chick that ventured too far from the nest. The result is gory and tough to watch. The giant petrel does not dispatch its catch quickly. It takes about 10 minutes for the chick to die, during which time the skua consumes a good part of it.

Southern giant petrel kills and eats an Adelie penguin chick, Shingle Cove. Image ID: 25027   Species: Southern giant petrel, Macronectes giganteus

Afterward, all that is left is a tattered penguin carcass lying on the dirty snow and a blood-covered skua guarding its kill. The scene is not enjoyable to watch, but I do feel privileged to have witnessed it. It drives home the fact that the dramatic wildlife spectacles we are here to observe are a perpetual and unforgiving struggle for the participants. We leave Shingle Cove about midday, sailing along the South Orkney Islands for a while. Icebergs large and small pass by, set against the snow covered mountains of Coronation Island. One tabular berg that we encounter is measured by the ship’s radar at over 3 miles long. The thing is so large that it takes much longer to reach that expected, distance and size being quite difficult to judge in the clear dry air.

Adelie penguin, adult feeding chick by regurgitating partially digested food into the chick’s mouth. The pink food bolus, probably consisting of krill and marine invertebrates, can be seen being between the adult and chick’s beaks. Image ID: 25008   Species: Adelie Penguin, Pygoscelis adeliae

Next: Pack Ice at the Edge of the Weddell Sea
Previous: Coronation Island, South Orkney Islands
Trip Index: Cheesemans Antarctica, Falklands and South Georgia
All “Southern Ocean” entries

We arrive at Coronation Island, the largest of the South Orkney Islands, around dawn. This is our first opportunity to really see some impressive icebergs at close range. While we are here to visit Shingle Cove, the approach to the island on its own is magnificent. Coronation Island is largely covered in snow and glaciers, with mountainous slopes and jagged peaks, reaching 4,153′ above sea levels at its summit. It is really a rugged place.

Coronation Island, is the largest of the South Orkney Islands, reaching 4,153′ (1,266m) above sea level. While it is largely covered by ice, Coronation Island also is home to some tundra habitat, and is inhabited by many seals, penguins and seabirds. Image ID: 24850   Location: Coronation Island, South Orkney Islands, Southern Ocean

Iceberg, ocean, light and clouds. Light plays over icebergs and the ocean near Coronation Island. Image ID: 24779

Iceberg detail, at sea among the South Orkney Islands. Image ID: 24794

Two icebergs, South Orkney Islands. The foreground berg is a tabular iceberg, canted with a slight angle, showing the characteristic flat top and sheer sides of tabular icebergs. Image ID: 24795

Dawn in the South Orkney Islands. Sunlight breaks through clouds to light up icebergs and the moutainous southern coast of Coronation Island. Image ID: 24796

Next: Shingle Cove, Coronation Island, South Orkney Islands
Previous: Scotia Sea, En Route to South Orkney Islands
Trip Index: Cheesemans Antarctica, Falklands and South Georgia
All “Southern Ocean” entries

Soon after ending our land visit at Cooper Bay, we leave South Georgia Island in our wake and begin sailing southwest towards the Antarctic Peninsula and the Weddell Sea. I am somewhat melancholy. South Georgia Island is fantastic, rich with wildlife and spectacular terrain, surrounded by open ocean on all sides, and so remote. I will return. There is so much I have not seen here that I am already thinking about when I can schedule the time for another trip out to this remarkable island.

Our next destination is the South Orkney Islands, a natural stopping point since it is almost directly inline with our route to Antarctica and roughly halfway. We should be there in about 36 hours. As we sail, we are passing through some significant open ocean weather, which means clouds! There are beautiful, ever-changing cloud formations on all points of the compass, some dark, ominous and threatening. We also begin to see our first icebergs of the trip, massive tabular bergs that hint at the riot of ice that is to come as we make our way south in the days ahead. I spend much of my time on deck, bundled up against the wind and increasing chilly weather, trying to make appealing photographs of the clouds, icebergs, sea and sky.

Clouds, weather and light mix in neverending forms over the open ocean of Scotia Sea, in the Southern Ocean. Image ID: 24758   Location: Scotia Sea, Southern Ocean

Tabular iceberg. The edge of a huge tabular iceberg. Tabular icebergs can be dozens or hundreds of miles in size, have flat tops and sheer sides. Scotia Sea, Southern Ocean. Image ID: 24793

Iceberg and clouds, Scotia Sea, Southern Ocean. Image ID: 24756

Oceanic weather, Scotia Sea, Southern Ocean. Image ID: 24757

Icebergs, about to collide, Scotia Sea, Southern Ocean. Image ID: 24848

Next: Coronation Island, South Orkney Islands
Previous: Cooper Bay, South Georgia Island
Trip Index: Cheesemans Antarctica, Falklands and South Georgia
All “Southern Ocean” entries

This morning we are again presented with difficult weather. Our plans had originally been to visit Gold Harbor or St. Andrews Bay, two of the most notable and popular locations on South Georgia Island, but these locations are exposed to open ocean wave energy and we are thwarted by rough seas. Ultimately will not see either one this trip, but not for lack of trying. The staff makes the decision to try for Cooper Bay. Conditions are marginal, but because they know how disappointed we are at missing Gold Harbor and St. Andrews, the staff and crew work very hard, coping with large swells at the gangway, to ferry those who wish to go ashore. Some choose not to make the landing, staying onboard for the morning. I know that I will probably not see anything this morning that I have not already seen elsewhere on the island, and there is a good chance it will be too snowy and wet for me to do any meaningful photography. I will not pass up this landing, or any landing on this trip, as the exhiliration of simply being ashore in such a wild and remote place is too good to pass up. I love being on this island, and only wish we had more time here. After a bumpy and very wet zodiac ride, we arrive in a pocket cove protected by rocky outcroppings and covered with cobblestones. Wave energy surges into the cove so timing the landing of the zodiac is important, and we quickly scramble out of the inflatable before the next wave arrives. The shore and slopes of Cooper Bay are covered with snow. It is beautiful. It is snowing, a wet and heavy snow, and it is cold.

Snow covers tussock grass and macaroni penguins, above Cooper Bay. Image ID: 24695   Species: Macaroni penguin, Eudyptes chrysolophus Location: Cooper Bay, South Georgia Island

Macaroni penguin, amid tall tussock grass, Cooper Bay, South Georgia Island. Image ID: 24733   Species: Macaroni penguin, Eudyptes chrysolophus Location: Cooper Bay, South Georgia Island

We make a short hike to a bluff-top colony of Macaroni Penguins (Eudyptes chrysolophus). The birds are preening and resting, singly or in pairs. They are nestled in — what else? –waist-high tussac grass. I do not see any nests or chicks and suspect they are hidden by the snow and grass. We are on a shoulder of the island, looking down at the colony below. Beyond the penguins and grass is a rocky promontory covered with many more macaroni penguins that overlooks the sea. M/V Polar Star is anchored a ways out, and periodically a zodiac passes between the landing cove and the big boat. The inflatables sure look small in these conditions. This is a short visit since the weather continues to worsen, and I am thankful we came ashore when we did or we may have had no opportunity to visit here at all today. When I return to the beach to return my gear back into my dry bag, I find a fur seal pup lying atop it. The tiny furball, which looks like a sweet little stuffed animal, may grow into a big gnarly bull one day. Once back onboard, the staff decides to leave South Georgia. It is not clear that we will gain any additional time on the Antarctica Peninsula by leaving South Georgia early, but the weather is such that there is no point is staying the remainder of the day. So off we go, heading south for our long-awaited introduction to Antarctica.

Next: Scotia Sea, En Route to South Orkney Islands
Previous: Drygalski Fjord, South Georgia Island
Trip Index: Cheesemans Antarctica, Falklands and South Georgia
All “Southern Ocean” entries

Hammerhead shark cover photo, Physiological and Biochemical Zoology, March/April 2010

See lots more scalloped hammerhead photos (Sphyrna lewini). The above photograph was taken underwater at Wolf Island in the Galapagos Islands, Ecuador, one of the finest places in the world to see scalloped hammerhead sharks.

The weather today continued to turn for the worse after we departed Godthul, so a decision was made to travel to Drygalski Fjord at the south end of South Georgia Island in lieu of an afternoon land visit. So, after lunch and a few few hours of travel down the coast of the island, we found ourselves sailing into the narrow gorge that is Drygalski Fjord. The fjord pierces the island dramatically, cutting deep into the interior. High peaks, of which we could occasionally get glimpses through the heavily overcast skies, tower above. As we approached the terminus of the fjord, we found the water clogged with brash ice. Occasional small chunks would calve from Risting Glacier, the obvious source of all the floating ice. It was beautiful. At one point a “shooter” broke the surface with a big splash, and its wave cleared an opening in the brash ice. A “shooter” is a chunk of ice calved off the submarine portion of the glacier, sometimes very deep, which then accelerates as it floats upward to the surface. By its very nature, a shooter is a complete surprise and can easily damage a boat, so the captain kept a safe distance from the Risting Glacier.

M/V Polar Star approaches the glacier at the end of Drygalski Fjord. Image ID: 24688

Drygalski Fjord, passengers on icebreak M/V Polar Star. The water is packed with brash ice which has broken away from the glacier at the end of the narrow fjord. Image ID: 24684

Drygalski Fjord, packed with brash ice which has broken away from Risting Glacier at the end of the narrow fjord. Image ID: 24743

Next: Cooper Bay, South Georgia Island
Previous: Godthul, South Georgia Island
Trip Index: Cheesemans Antarctica, Falklands and South Georgia
All “Southern Ocean” entries

With Amanda and Tracy in Kansas City at a Volleyball National Qualifier tournament, Sarah and I had the weekend to ourselves — with absolutely nothing planned. This is unprecedented. We took advantage of it by making a quickie road trip to the Antelope Valley Poppy Preserve, in Lancaster, California. Poppies don’t open up until the sun has had a chance to warm them, so we were in no hurry, stopping for mandatory roadtrip breakfast at Denny’s on the way. Sarah particularly liked the surprise I had waiting for her: a brand new iPad with a couple of her favorite movies already on it, along with an eBook (she had to read for 30 minutes for each hour of movie watching). We reached Lancaster about 9am and went straight to the Reserve. We saw bugs, live lizards, dead lizards and more California poppies than you can shake a stick at. No snakes! After the Reserve we did a bit of exploring on the dirt roads around Lancaster, going in a ways from the paved roads and crowds, looking for that perfect field of poppies through which we could frolick and sing “The hills are alive, with the Sound of Music…” in our lederhosen and brilliant Austrian smiles. We met up with old diving and photography friends, Bruce and Jo, who were making a similar loop as we but in the opposite direction. (Bruce’s great advice the week before about where to look for the thickest poppy areas was part of the reason we decided to make the trip to Lancaster in the first place — thanks Bruce!). Following lunch in Gorman, we made our way into Hollywood for a stop at the grandparents for some gelato and a chance to make our own Avatar photos at the movie theatre. Home by 7pm, Leucadia Pizzeria delivery, crashola.

California poppies, wildflowers blooming in huge swaths of spring color in Antelope Valley. Image ID: 25223

California poppies, hillside of brilliant orange color, Lancaster, CA. Image ID: 25228

Me in a field of poppies, confused, trying to figure out which one to put in the center of my photograph, Lancaster, CA; photo by Bruce Wight

Camo for my next photo assignment on planet Pandora.

Our plans to visit St. Andrews Bay this morning are scuttled. There is a strong SE wind that is sending big waves onto the beach at St. Andrews making a landing ill-advised. We move north a short ways to Godthul and find the conditions are calm enough to land, so after breakfast we do. Godthul, named “Good Hollow” by the Norwegian whalers who once anchored here, is a well protected bay surrounded on several sides by steep grassy slopes and the omnipresent South Georgia snow-covered mountains. There are kelp beds along some of the shoreline. We land at a derelict old whaling facility. There some small old buildings, in, on and under which fur seals are lounging — they appear to have reclaimed this area now that the whalers who used to maintain a floating processing platform here in the early 1900’s have long since departed.

View of Godthul, from the grassy slopes of South Georgia. The name Godthul, or “Good Hollow”, dates back to Norwegian whalers who used this bay as a anchorage. Image ID: 24745

The beach here is narrow and long, littered with decaying old whale bones, and is populated by Southern Elephant Seals (Mirounga leonina), King Penguins (Aptenodytes patagonicus) and Antarctic Fur Seals (Arctocephalus gazella). There are enough elephant seals and fur seals to make walking the length of the beach difficult, so after a short while I elect to head up the bluff to see the plateau above. The bluff is choked with tussac grass, and many fur seals, so many that finding a path through the waist-high grass without getting bitten is a challenge. I take it slow, making sure there is no fur seal laying under a tuft of grass where I am about to step. After some time I am through the tussac grass maze and onto the higher ground, which is clear and easy walking. Some Gentoo Penguins (Pygoscelis papua) are descending from the plateau, a clue that there must be a colony above.

Gentoo penguin stealing nesting material, moving it from one nest (hidden behind the clump on the left) to its nest on the right. Snow falling. Image ID: 24721

Gentoo penguin, walking through tall grass, snow falling. Image ID: 24722

I go higher and as the terrain begins to flatten, sure enough I find the first of several gentoo colonies, set on a spectacular expanse of open land, with broad views of the ocean and bay below and mountains above. The colony is totally exposed to weather but high enough above the beach that there is no risk to the gentoos from aggressive fur seals. I think I can hear the sharp calls of terns echoing off the sides of the mountains, and see some small white birds flittering about in the distance. I walk further until the land crests to a plateau and am pleased to find a lake set below the steep snow-covered flanks of the peaks above. The lake is wide and appears shallow and has several small groups of gentoos nesting around it, and swimming in it. Then gentoos enter the water dirty and emerge clean and white. Beyond the lake the mountains rise steeply, and a waterfall of perhaps 400-500’ drops from the cloud-strewn heights. I settle down beside one gentoo colony for 90 minutes or so, laying in the grass and watching their activities at the nest. There are some courtship displays (I think that’s what I am observing) and there is much nest building and tending. Some penguins walk to and from the lake, while others head off down the hills to the ocean. A few gentoos stay beside their humble nests and then, when noone else is looking, brazenly steal nesting material from their colony-mates and add it to their own nest. I realize this is one of those seminal moments were all have when travelling: here I am, laying down in soaking wet grass, freezing my ass off, thousands of miles from home, trying to make photos with wet gear, laughing at the seemingly comic behaviors of the stout little penguins that are going about their business as if I am not even there. I attempt to videotape the scene but not sure whether I succeeded, the sound of wind and snow is filling the microphone. The weather is now pretty grim again, but not yet harsh enough that we must leave. The wind blows snow sideways one minute, then abates letting the snow fall softly the next. After some time my fingers are too cold to operate my camera. I pack up my gear and head down to the beach, choosing the wrong path several times before finally finding the route that has few enough fur seals that I can get back to the zodiac. I’m the last passenger on board, ready for lunch.

Gentoo penguins, calling, heads raised. Image ID: 24690

Previous: Prion Island, South Georgia Island
Trip Index: Cheesemans Antarctica, Falklands and South Georgia
All “Southern Ocean” entries

We wait out the bad weather that arrived while we were on Salisbury Plain on the icebreaker M/V Polar Star, which is anchored in the lee of a nearby small island. Although the weather is cold, dark and snowing, it is also gradually improving. A warm and hearty lunch, and some time reading a book, recharges me after the cold morning and I am hopeful we make another landing today in spite of the weather. After dinner, Ted Cheeseman makes the decision to go ashore at Prion Island to see nesting Wandering Albatross (Diomedea exulans).

Wandering albatross, on its nest at the Prion Island colony. The wandering albatross has the largest wingspan of any living bird, with the wingspan between, up to 12′ from wingtip to wingtip. It can soar on the open ocean for hours at a time, riding the updrafts from individual swells, with a glide ratio of 22 units of distance for every unit of drop. The wandering albatross can live up to 23 years. They hunt at night on the open ocean for cephalopods, small fish, and crustaceans. The survival of the species is at risk due to mortality from long-line fishing gear. Image ID: 24428   Species: Wandering albatross, Diomedea exulans Location: Prion Island, South Georgia Island

We had seen Wandering Albatross in flight over the open ocean when we made our crossing from the Falklands to South Georgia, but since then I had not seen one. Wanderers have the greatest wingspan of any bird, up to 12′ from wing tip to wing tip. They are at their most impressive when in flight. The birders on the trip are eager to see more of them, and consider the Wandering Albatross a very special bird. Only small groups of visitors are permitted, and only on a restricted walking path, to avoid disturbing these highly endangered birds. It is dark, and stormy looking, but the seas are reasonably calm and we experience an easy zodiac ride and landing. Once ashore, a short walk amid fur seals brings us to the summit of the small island. A dozen or so nesting albatrosses are seen, including one which is only about 10’ from the walkway. My long lens, brought in anticipation of more distant nests, is overkill but at least I get some tight portraits of the huge, snow-white seabird. In spite of being in the presence of these noble albatrosses, the condition make Prion Island seem forlorn to me right now. Snow patches surround the albatrosses, wet snow falls occasionally, the wind is blowing and the skies are dark and ominous. If I had to stay here with the gear I have with me I would die in a few days. These elegant birds are incredibly hardy.

Next: Godthul, South Georgia Island
Previous: Salisbury Plain, South Georgia Island
Trip Index: Cheesemans Antarctica, Falklands and South Georgia
All “Southern Ocean” entries

The Prelude: After a full swim workout, one’s heart is tick-tick-ticking away with optimal performance, and one’s body is piqued and in a elevated state. That is a perfect time to practice relaxation and breath control. My swim today is an example. I swam, pulled and kicked about 2800 yards, which took me about 45-50 minutes. My hunch is that my heart rate neared its peak after about 8 minutes or so, and that it stayed there through the rest of the swim. After about 12 minutes I really felt “in the zone”, and I stayed there the rest of the way. By the time I finished my heart and breathing were really going. Being able to have some control over them at that point is similar to being able to control them in a stressful situation in the ocean.

The Exercise: Once I’m done with my workout, I hang motionless on the side of the pool and relax for about 2 minutes, staring at the tiles on the edge of the pool. I try to mentally eliminate any distrations and concentrate on lowering my breathing and heart rates. It sounds funny but I honestly feel that I can lower my heartrate just by thinking about it. After a couple minutes of relaxing this way, I will then swim a series of five to eight breathhold cycles (25 yards out, turn, 25 yards back). I will swim out, turn, and swim as far back as is comfortable underwater before rising for a first breath. I then swim the remainder of the cycle slowly on the surface, as relaxed as possible and breathing deeply and easily. I think about my heartrate the whole time, focusing on keeping it slow and easy, and on keeping my entire body relaxed and streamlined. I should stress that I try to remain comfortable doing this. I do not want to push the breath holding too far while swimming underwater, for fear of blacking out and drowning.

Bubble ring. Image ID: 06998

I first came up with this technique about 14 years ago, in preparation for a photography assignment where I had keep up with world class swimmers and wild dolphins in open water. These expeditions were repeated about 6 times, plus Skip and I had a series of whale filming and photography shoots during those years as well, so once I started these breathholding exercises I just never stopped. I have kept them essentially unchanged since 1998. I carry out this exercise at the end of all of my swim workouts. While some days I feel and swim better than others, just about every time I practice it I find that on each successive breathhold cycle I can swim further underwater than the cycle before. The entire exercise takes about 8 minutes to complete. My heart rate feels lower each cycle, and my breathing definitely relaxes and slows during the course of the exercise. By the time I get out of the pool, I am very relaxed.

The Payoff: This exercise has a direct application when I am in the water shooting photos. Whether I am in large surf, strong currents, surrounded by a lot of animals, getting bumped or inspected by some big or gnarly animals, or am just in some generally stressful situation, as a result of my pool exercises I am better able to regain my focus, guide my body into a more relaxed state, lower my breathing and heartrate, function more efficiently and with fewer errors, and increase my margin of safely. All of these things also increase the odds that I will emerge from the situation with a good photograph.

Plus it helps you blow good bubble rings underwater.

Usually I am somewhat reserved in my written descriptions of places and things. In the following post, I am sure I have failed to communicate the profound depth of emotion that I experienced standing beside the King Penguin colony at Salisbury Plain. At times it was just overwhelming for me, all I could do was stand, watch, listen and soak it in. I tried to burn what I saw into my mind, because I realized at the time that what I was seeing was really special, and I did not want to ever forget it. I’ve seen a lot of fantastic natural history in my 20 years as a professional photographer, so when I say that something is a “must see” spectacle I do not say it lightly. Suffice it to say that Salisbury Plain is one of the must-see wildlife spectacles. I can’t wait to return.

This morning the weather is overcast but calm. The light is beautiful. The water is glass smooth and small waves lap along the edges of the Bay of Isles in which we are anchored. Snow-covered mountains line the horizon in almost every direction. We are offshore the long sand beach that fronts famous Salisbury Plain, site of one of the world’s major King Penguin (Aptenodytes patagonicus) colonies. To the left of the plain is Lucas Glacier, to the right Grace Glacier. A quarter of a million king penguins occupy Salisbury Plain, in various stages of nesting, molting, preening and egg laying. There is a constant flow of penguins into and out of the water. A broad plain extends in from the beach on which penguins and fur seals reside. While the fur seals and elephant seals are here in large numbers too, they are simply overwhelmed by the teeming masses of penguins. The king penguin colony itself seems to have fairly distinct margins that can be easily seen from afar, but as one nears the colony the boundary is less easily discerned.

Panoramic Photo of Salisbury Plain, Bay of Isles, South Georgia Island Image ID: 24682   Location: Salisbury Plain, South Georgia Island

We make a 6am landing and walk across the grassy plain toward the colony. The beach itself is so densely covered with animals that we cannot traverse far on the sand. As we approach the mass of penguins, we take a winding path to avoid the many single and small groups of animals, penguins and seals, that are scattered widely on the fringe of the main colony. There is a deep buzzing sound, separate from the sounds of the individual animals near us. The buzzing is the cacophony of the colony itself, and grows louder as we grow closer. Eventually we find the edge of the colony, and view it from the perimeter, standing in tussoc grass.

King penguin colony. Over 100,000 pairs of king penguins nest at Salisbury Plain, laying eggs in December and February, then alternating roles between foraging for food and caring for the egg or chick. Image ID: 24388   Species: King penguin, Aptenodytes patagonicus

Icebreaker M/V Polar Star anchored in the Bay of Isles,offshore of the vast king penguin colony at Salisbury Plain. Image ID: 24397   Species: King penguin, Aptenodytes patagonicus

It is a sea of penguins. Adults sitting on eggs (the eggs are not often visible, tucked below the penguin for protection from the cold), adults and juveniles moving toward to the beach or returning to find their spot in the colony after a foraging session at sea, and “oakum boys”, the yearlings that are covered in a thick, light brown plumage that clearly distinguishes them from the adults. The colony occupies a vast area of the plain and also extends up the shoulder of an adjacent hill. I walk to the back of the hill and hike up to the top. I had read that the climb through tussac grass was treacherous and tiring, but in truth the effort is not difficult and I reach the top in 20 minutes or so. The tussac grass on the steeper areas is actually helpful, providing a handhold for balance.

King penguin colony and the Bay of Isles on the northern coast of South Georgia Island. Over 100,000 nesting pairs of king penguins reside here. Dark patches in the colony are groups of juveniles with fluffy brown plumage. The icebreaker M/V Polar Star lies at anchor. Image ID: 24402   Species: King penguin, Aptenodytes patagonicus

King penguin, mated pair courting, displaying courtship behavior including mutual preening. Image ID: 24438   Species: King penguin, Aptenodytes patagonicus

On the summit, the view is astounding. I can see the entire colony from above. While individual penguins can be discerned in the mass, the impression from here is abstract, a canvas of silver, black and white penguins edged with green tussac grass. Veins of brown flow randomly through the expanse – these are oakum boys congregating in groups distinct from the adults. The Polar Star lies at anchor offshore. I shoot some photos and a few videos. It is now about 9am and the wind has started in earnest. I move to a few different vantages atop the hill to see the colony and surrounding bay and mountains from different angles. The wind increases and snow begins to fall. I’m glad I skipped breakfast and made the early landing, since from the whitecaps in the bay it is clear the visit may be terminated early due to the declining weather. I make my way down to the plain and again stop alongside the colony, listening to the buzzing. I’ve taken plenty of photos, and prefer to just stand here and admire the scene.

Oakum boy, juvenile king penguins at Salisbury Plain, South Georgia Island. Named ‘oakum boys’ by sailors for the resemblance of their brown fluffy plumage to the color of oakum used to caulk timbers on sailing ships, these year-old penguins will soon shed their fluffy brown plumage and adopt the colors of an adult. Image ID: 24405   Species: King penguin, Aptenodytes patagonicus

Image ID: 24406   Species: King penguin, Aptenodytes patagonicus

Oakum boys and juveniles are curious and often approach within a few feet, standing next to me and looking me over. A couple even give me a soft tap on the leg, flap their wings and cluck softly. I doubt they understand the difficult life that they will undertake soon. I feel priviledged to simply have them appraise me and find me interesting enough to occupy their attention and warrant their approach. By midday it is time to return to the landing. Snow is blowing horizontally and covering my camera to the point I can no longer see through the viewfinder. The staff is challenged to get everyone into zodiacs and through the waves to the boat. It is a wet ride and we take a wave or two over the bow of the small inflatable, but no real danger. Back on board I dry my cameras off and warm up with a hot lunch. It continues to snow, although the wind has lessened. Our afternoon visit to see Wandering Albatross at nearby Prion Island is looking iffy. The serious birders on the trip consider seeing Wanderers a high priority and will be disappointed if we have to scrub it. Perhaps we can go ashore after dinner if the weather improves. All I can say is that the weather here is changeable. We’ll see.

Next: Prion Island, South Georgia Island
Previous: Grytviken, South Georgia Island
Trip Index: Cheesemans Antarctica, Falklands and South Georgia
All “Southern Ocean” entries

Following our morning at Hercules Bay, we motor during lunch to Cumberland Bay and the whaling settlement of Grytviken. Grytviken lies below – you guessed it – scenic mountains that rise almost straight up. It is insanely windy at times today, and snow flurries fall on and off all afternoon. A visit to the remains of the whaling town, and the museum, is interesting. I finally have a chance to set up my first time lapse shoot of the trip, of clouds moving over the mountains across Cumberland Bay. I find a spot out of the wind in the lee of an overturned boat on the beach, and walk away from my camera as it click-click-clicks away every five seconds. Back in the comfort of the boat, I enjoy a glass of wine with Doug Cheeseman while my camera stays outside in the cold and does it work. We enjoy a fine barbeque on deck tonight. A small group of Grytviken residents, including researchers from the British Antarctic Survey who offered a short presentation earlier in the day, join us. After dark I fetch my camera. The computer stays up all night processing the 2000 images into a short video. It turns out pretty neat!

Mountains, glaciers and ocean, the rugged and beautiful topography of South Georgia Island. Image ID: 24580

Antarctic fur seals, on tussock grass slopes near Grytviken. Image ID: 24414   Species: Antarctic Fur Seal, Arctocephalus gazella

Grytviken Chapel, at the old whaling station of Grytviken, South Georgia Island. Image ID: 24415

Grytviken whale station, abandoned storage tanks. Image ID: 24464

Next: Salisbury Plain, South Georgia Island
Previous: Hercules Bay, South Georgia Island
Trip Index: Cheesemans Antarctica, Falklands and South Georgia
All “Southern Ocean” entries

It is snowing this morning. We are anchored at Stromness but can hardly see the mountains over which we hiked yesterday. The M/V Polar Star is covered with snow. The beaches surrounding our anchorage are dusted with snow and look cold. During breakfast we slowly motor north to Hercules Bay, anchor and prepare for a look at more penguins and seals. Hercules Bay is a spectacular cirque, a snow-topped bowl that rises on three sides of us. A waterfall drops hundreds of feet to a narrow cobblestone beach on which king penguins, fur seals and elephant seals reside.

Macaroni penguins, on the rocky shoreline of Hercules Bay, South Georgia Island. One of the crested penguin species, the macaroni penguin bears a distinctive yellow crest on its head. They grow to be about 12 lb and 28″ high. Macaroni penguins eat primarily krill and other crustaceans, small fishes and cephalopods. Image ID: 24390   Species: Macaroni penguin, Eudyptes chrysolophus

Macaroni penguins and Hercules Bay, South Georgia Island. Image ID: 24391   Species: Macaroni penguin, Eudyptes chrysolophus

It continues to snow as we motor in the zodiacs. As we arrive in a small rocky cove, the stench of bird guano and pinniped poop is stunningly strong, a bracing waft of lung-shaking malodorous fumes. Nothing like a group of elephant seals lying in puddles of their own making to open up one’s sinuses. Everyone winces. Ahhh, to be alive on South Georgia Island! Indeed, this is the smell we traveled halfway around the world to experience. For a hour or so we watch Macaroni penguins (Eudyptes chrysolophus) as they walk to and fro from their nests in the tussac grass on bluffs overlooking the bay down to rocks at the water’s edge. As we do, we must avoid Antarctic fur seals and elephant seals resting on the rocks. Two lone chinstrap penguins are hassled by the larger macaronis, which we now realize are nothing more than 24” bullying avian thugs. Clouds break and the sun begins to light the beach. The air is actually fairly warm now yet snow still falls. What a morning! It is beautiful here, wow.

Hercules Bay, with the steep mountains and narrow waterfalls of South Georgia Island rising above. Image ID: 24417

Antarctic fur seal, adult male (bull). Image ID: 24569   Species: Antarctic Fur Seal, Arctocephalus gazella

King penguins gather in a steam to molt, below a waterfall on a cobblestone beach at Hercules Bay. Image ID: 24557   Species: King penguin, Aptenodytes patagonicus

After an hour we move by zodiac to another cove a short distance away, the one we saw earlier with a waterfall dropping into it. On a small cobblestone beach with mountains rising high above us, a group of about 100 molting King penguins (Aptenodytes patagonicus) are standing in the fresh water as it flows the short distance from the cliff to the ocean. A few young fur seals move about the edge of the king penguin group. Feathers dropped during the penguin’s molt gather in clumps in the stream, and blow about in the air when a breeze rises. They are very photogenic and cooperative. Besides the photos I take of them, I shoot a video to show my kids later, hoping that the audio track captures the croaking of the penguins, barking of the fur seals and elephant seals and the soft tap-tap-tap of the still-falling snow. Eventually it is time to leave Hercules Bay and the staff gathers the zodiacs back on board. As we motor away toward Grytviken, the skies open up and show us how really gorgeous this bay is.

Next: Grytviken, South Georgia Island
Previous: Stromness Harbour and Shackleton Hike, South Georgia Island
Trip Index: Cheesemans Antarctica, Falklands and South Georgia
All “Southern Ocean” entries

After lunch on the boat we return to the far side of Fortuna Bay to set out on a 3.5m hike over a mountain pass to Stromness. This hike will follow the final leg in Ernest Shackleton’s heroic journey from Elephant Island to South Georgia Island. As Shackleton crossed over South Georgia Island, his goal was Stromness Harbour where he knew he could find help from the whaling station there. However, he mistakenly descended into Fortuna Bay. Upon realizing this, he made for Stromness Harbour by the most direct route, over a low pass. Our hike today is a reenactment of that final short traverse, one that he performed in winter. Thanks to the forgiving weather, our walk turns out to be fun and easy, but the thought of hiking up on the mountains above in winter as Shackleton did holds no appeal.

Walking up the slopes of South Georgia Island above Fortuna Bay. Image ID: 24591

Crean Lake near the pass over South Georgia Island between Fortuna Bay and Stromness Harbour. Image ID: 24589   Location: South Georgia Island

We leave from – what else – a small cobblestone beach with fur seals and elephant seals. The initial ascent is steep but simple, with open views of still-overcast Fortuna Bay below. The route (not a trail) is a over some type of slate scree, a fascinating debris that must be revealing the geologic history of the rock below but which I can’t read. I just like the footing it offers, and I can travel easily and quickly. On the way to the top of the saddle I pass a stream and several small lakes, and patches of snow. It is drizzling lightly. Once over the pass I see my first views of Stromness Harbour and the whaling station there. Several glaciers in the surrounding basin feed into the stream that winds across a wide flat alluvial flood plain below. A steep snow patch blocks the way – nothing to do but descend. Others who have gone before me have slid down on their butts but I left my foul weather pants on the boat so decide to schuss-ski the 300 yards run on my feet. It’s really fun. Below the snow I find Shackleton’s Falls (not sure what the actual name of this waterfall is), dropping in several parts nearly all the way to the flood plain. I shoot a few photos and a video, then head off across the wet plain alongside the stream. From this point a hill blocks Stromness Harbour from sight, so that one must either go over or around. I go up and over. Atop the hill there are a few colonies of gentoo penguins (why so far inland and high up?), skuas laying in grass, and lichen-covered ancient-looking rock formations. The drizzle now changes to snow, and I am forced to put my jacket on. Reindeer are running over the grassy hills a half mile away across a gap, travelling up the mountainside as far as the lower reaches of snow. More waterfalls can be seen from the top of this hill, each descending to the flood plain and into the bay at Stromness. The abandoned whaling station at Stromness can be seen clearly from atop this hill. It is a decrepit wreck of rusting metal, docks, cranes, barrels and old roads. I descend through beautiful spreads of tall tussock and mounds of short grasses to the beach below, passing by bachelor fur seals and gentoos walking from the water to their hilltop colonies.

Hiker looks down on Stromness Harbour from the pass high above. Image ID: 24582

Shackleton Falls, named for explorer Sir Ernest Shackleton, formed from glacial meltwaters, near Stromness Harbour. Image ID: 24636

Glacial melt waters, runoff, flows across an alluvial flood plain between mountains, on its way to Stromness Harbour. Image ID: 24587   Location: Stromness Harbour, South Georgia Island

Gentoo penguins, permanent nesting colony in grassy hills about a mile inland from the ocean, near Stromness Harbour, South Georgia Island. Image ID: 24635   Species: Gentoo penguin, Pygoscelis papua Location: Stromness Harbour, South Georgia Island

Next: Hercules Bay, South Georgia Island
Previous: Fortuna Bay, South Georgia Island
Trip Index: Cheesemans Antarctica, Falklands and South Georgia
All “Southern Ocean” entries

Fortuna Bay, with icebreaker M/V Polar Star at anchor. Image ID: 24593

This morning we awake anchored in Fortuna Bay. Some early birds opt for a 6am landing, while others wait until after breakfast to go ashore. I go early. The beach has many fur seals and king penguins, more broadly spread about than what we saw yesterday. It is very overcast, and the light is low. The animals are soaking wet, as is the grass in which the fur seals bed down. I decide to shoot portraits, using as much lens as I have. My goal is to illustrate the long whiskers that are characteristic of Antarctic fur seals. The fur seals use these whiskers when foraging for food, although the exact sense that the whiskers provide is not yet fully known. The whiskers may serve as a crude form of close-proximity radar at depths so great there is no light, providing exceptionally sensitive touch for sensing vibration in the water caused by their prey: squid and fish.

Antarctic fur seal, adult male (bull), showing distinctive pointed snout and long whiskers that are typical of many fur seal species. The long whiskers are exceptionally sensitive and are believed to help the fur seal find food in the ocean by sensing vibration and movement of nearby fish and squid. Image ID: 24632   Species: Antarctic Fur Seal, Arctocephalus gazella

Most of the group arrives after breakfast by which time the fog is lifting and it is getting brighter. Above us, on the lower slopes of the mountains that tower above Fortuna Bay, is a small herd of reindeer and an area with nesting terns. I hike about 300-400’ up to see the reindeer, and am surprised to find many fur seals that have settled down on the grassy slopes high above the beach. Why do they feel the need to climb so high? It must be for the view. After returning down to the beach I sit down to watch a group of king penguins, several of whom approach me so closely I can photograph a single king penguin’s head full-frame. Their plumage is really something to behold. What great birds. There are fur seal pups scattered among the tussock grass and playing in small pockets of water on the beach. I find one leucistic antarctic fur seal pup, so lacking in pigmentation that it appears blond. We will ony see a few leucistic fur seals then entire trip, they are quite uncommon.

King penguin, showing ornate and distinctive neck, breast and head plumage and orange beak. Image ID: 24581   Species: King penguin, Aptenodytes patagonicus

Antarctic fur seal, on grass slopes high above Fortuna Bay. Image ID: 24583   Species: Antarctic Fur Seal, Arctocephalus gazella

An antarctic fur seal pup plays in the water. Image ID: 24605   Species: Antarctic Fur Seal, Arctocephalus gazella

Next: Stromness Harbour and Shackleton Hike, South Georgia Island
Previous: Right Whale Bay, South Georgia Island
Trip Index: Cheesemans Antarctica, Falklands and South Georgia
All “Southern Ocean” entries

California poppies cover the hillsides in bright orange, just months after the area was devastated by wildfires. Image: 20497   Species: Eschscholzia californica

California poppy plants viewed from the perspective of a bug walking below the bright orange blooms. Image ID: 20539   Species: California poppy, Eschscholzia californica

California poppies cover the hillsides in bright orange, just months after the area was devastated by wildfires. Image ID: 20499   Species: California poppy, Eschscholzia californica

California poppies bloom amidst rock boulders. Image ID: 20520   Species: California poppy, Eschscholzia californica

California poppies cover the hillsides in bright orange, just months after the area was devastated by wildfires. Image ID: 20540   Species: California poppy, Eschscholzia californica

See lots more California poppy photos as well as photos of Eschscholzia californica.

Antarctic fur seal colony, on a sand beach alongside Right Whale Bay, with the mountains of South Georgia Island in the background, sunset. Image ID: 24315   Species: Antarctic Fur Seal, Arctocephalus gazella Location: Right Whale Bay, South Georgia Island

Upon reaching South Georgia Island late in the day today, we made straight for Elsehul, a small bay at the north end of the island. The island is rugged, with sea cliffs rising almost vertically from the ocean. The peaks above, some of which are hidden in clouds, rise to over 9,000′. They are covered in snow and glaciers. Glaciers lead from the peaks down almost to sea level and are clearly what has formed the many bays, inlets and notches to define the coastline. Gray-headed albatrosses are seen here, the first I have seen of them on the trip, flying alongside the boat and about the cliffs at Elsehul upon which they nest. Antarctic fur seals are swimming in the waters of the bay. Using binoculors one can easily see that the beaches at Elsehul, however, are so plugged with fur seals that a landing is untenable, so we move down the coast to Right Whale Bay. After dinner the staff surveyed the beaches within Right Whale Bay and decided that there was room for us to land without disturbing the inhabitants, so at 7:30 pm we made for shore. Antarctic fur seals (Arctocephalus gazella) cover this beach too (a common theme for the trip, as we shall see). At our landing spot there are many bull fur seals (adult males) managing their harems of females. Occasionally a bachelor male will move too close to a harem, perhaps hoping to pick off one of the females on the outskirts and and try for a quick opportunity at mating, but usually the harem’s bull will quickly chase the interloper away.

Antarctic fur seals, adult male bull and female, illustrating extreme sexual dimorphism common among pinnipeds (seals, sea lions and fur seals). Image ID: 24324   Species: Antarctic Fur Seal, Arctocephalus gazella Location: Right Whale Bay, South Georgia Island

Pups are literally strewn about on the sand, small and black, some near there mothers while others gather in small groups a few yards away from the adults. About 100 yards in from the ocean the sand beach transitions to a gravel alluvial flood plain created by streams leading down from the mountains that rise so quickly above us. King penguins (Aptenodytes patagonicus) occupy much of the plain — singletons, small groups and gatherings of hundreds and thousands. Dead fur seals lie in the stream, testament to the difficulty of survival here. Giant petrels and skuas bury their heads deep into the carcasses, emerging with blood covered beaks draped with bits of entrails. Dominant skuas chase away lesser competitors from some of the better carcasses. We walk along the outskirts of the fur seal colony, watching them and taking photographs. The sun is behind the mountains already and it is growing dark. About the time we must depart the beach and return by zodiac to the big boat for the night, we receive a final surprise: the clouds above catch their last sunlight of the day, lighting up with pink and orange. Awesome!

M/V Polar Star, an icebreaker expedition ship, lies at anchor in Right Whale Bay, South Georgia Island. Antarctic fur seals on the beach, and the rugged South Georgia Island mountains in the distance. Sunset, dusk. Image ID: 24318   Species: Antarctic Fur Seal, Arctocephalus gazella Location: Right Whale Bay, South Georgia Island

Next: Fortuna Bay, South Georgia Island
Previous: Approaching South Georgia Island
Trip Index: Cheesemans Antarctica, Falklands and South Georgia
All “Southern Ocean” entries

Stern of the M/V Polar Star, foggy weather, sea birds flying in the wake of the ship, at sea. Image ID: 24137   Location: Southern Ocean

This was our third day sailing for South Georgia Island. We are fortunate to have had calm seas the entire time. Today I woke up at 5am, hoping to see Shag Rock which we were estimated to pass at about 5:30am. However, it was heavily overcast and drizzly. We never saw Shag Rock which is not surprising since, if I were the captain in this weather, I would have steered clear of that hazard by several miles. The water is a different color now, steel gray or sometimes black depending on the light. We crossed the Antarctic Convergence Line sometime during the night, and were now officially in “southern waters”. Crossing the convergence line, a transition which can be a brief as 100 yards, led us into water that was only 1’C, about 3-4 degrees colder than yesterday. The air is noticeably colder too, so I put on my heaviest sweater and jacket, gloves and an ugly woolen hat. No more flipflops now (well, until we get to Antarctica that is).

Before industrial whaling, the waters below our ship were teeming with behemoth blue whales, right whales, fins, humpback whales and sperm whales. In the depths over which we are now sailing whalers plyed their bloody trade, taking hundreds of thousands of whales. In terms of biomass, whale hunting in the Southern Ocean, which is still ongoing, is arguably the greatest killing spree mankind has ever embarked upon, more than any of humanity’s wars. South Georgia whalers were a major part of that gruesome machine. The whaling station at Grytviken, which we will visit in a few days, was active into the 1960s and took more whales than any other station in the Atlantic. It is a somber thought. We see no blows today.

Icebreaker M/V Polar Star approaches Elsehul harbor on South Georgia Island. Image ID: 24323   Location: South Georgia Island

For much of the day I assumed a spot on the back deck hoping to see more albatross. Since we were now only about 150nm from South Georgia, today figured to be a better day for bird sightings than yesterday. Albatrosses – black-browed, gray-headed and occasional wandering – could be seen soaring through the troughs and over the peaks of waves, riding the updrafts of the wind that was following us, but they were hard to see. The looked like ghosts as they appeared along the edge of the fog surrounding us. Prions and other small seabirds flitted about the boat throughout the day and I tried to photograph them. Epic fail. They are too damn small and fast. I could not track them they moved so quickly and erraticly. Big, slow birds are what I prefer. I take very few photos today, instead listening to Mark Isham’s Vapor Drawings on my iPod and staring out to sea. Chill. We are scheduled to arrive at South Georgia Island about 6pm hoping to make a evening visit at Elsehul (Else’s Bay) after dinner. The visit may morph into a Zodiac ride along the shore if there are too many Antarctic fur seals on shore. It is mating season for fur seals. They come ashore in such vast numbers, and are so stoked up on hormones, territoriality and sex, that it may be impossible for us to traverse the beach at Elsehul. A few hours before we sight the island, we began to see Antarctic fur seals swimming in groups in the open ocean. The fog lifts occasionally letting the sun through, then it settles in again around the boat. It feels very “South”, quite different than the balmy temperatures and sunny skies we experienced in the Falklands. This is the weather I expected.

South Georgia Island coastline, showing the island’s characteristic rugged topography. 56% of the island is covered by 161 glaciers, which have created numerous large bays and inlets that provide excellent habitat for marine animals and seabirds. Mountains meet the sea in steep-sided seacliffs covered with sparse vegetation. The highest point on South Georgia Island is Mt. Paget at 2,915m. Image ID: 24317   Location: South Georgia Island

Finally, after three days of quite comfortable and uneventful sailing, we make our first sighting of South Georgia Island. As we approach, the island rises steeply out of the ocean. A brief clearing of blue sky closes out and we find ourselves below the cloud layer that envelops the island. It is ominious and exciting. The island is imposing. Tortured earth. I wonder about the geologic tale of upheaval and torment that is written in the rocky seacliffs that burst from the depths and reach hundreds of feet into the air. This island was once part of the Andes Mountains. I would love to see the eons-long time lapse movie illustrating the tumultuous forces that parted this island from it’s mother South America, leaving it so distant, rugged and alone. I really look forward to going ashore.

Next: Right Whale Bay, South Georgia Island
Previous: En Route to South Georgia Island
Trip Index: Cheesemans Antarctica, Falklands and South Georgia
All “Southern Ocean” entries

I made a sunrise visit to Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, my first visit this spring. By 9am I had seen enough to know there was no further point in staying, and the light had grown harsh. There is some good news and bad news — bad news first.

Bad: Since I have been monitoring reports from other photographers for the past month, especially Ron Niebrugge’s, I had a reasonable idea of what to expect. Nonetheless, I was surprised and deeply disappointed by the extent to which invasive Sarahan mustard has overrun some of the best and most accessible wildflower areas of past years. Everyone who has visited Anza-Borrego for wildflowers is probably familiar with the alluvial flood area that descends from Coyote Canyon, and is bordered by DiGorgio Road on the west, Henderson Canyon Road on the south, and mountains to the east. My fear is that that entire area will never again produce the gorgeous expanses of Dune Evening Primrose and Sand Verbena that is has in the past. Currently, it is totally overrun and choked by saharan mustard. In theory this year’s timing of rain and warm spells should have produced a fantastic bloom in that area right about now, peaking in the next 10 days or so. Well, that won’t be happening. I did not even bother to get my camera out as I made a few stops on Henderson Canyon Road and past the end of DiGiorgio Road; I had a hard time even finding patches of verbena to look at. With some walking way in from the road, one can find patches of sand verbena (Abronia villosa) but honestly they are just nothing like in past years. While there are desert lilies about, they are overshadowed by the taller, engulfing mustard. My favorite desert flower, the dune evening primrose (Oenothera deltoides), is just not happening this season; the few that are blooming are being smothered. To the east of Borrego Springs, on S22 out toward the Fonts Point and Arroyo Salado turnoffs, past years have often had large swaths of sand verbena. That’s not happening in those areas right now, and probably won’t this year. Mustard is starting to appear in those areas as well, unfortunately.

I hate to say it, but my sense is that this year’s flower bloom in Anza-Borrego will be (is?) sub-par. The same may hold true for the Coachella Valley. We saw virtually no color on the western flanks of the Coachella Valley, including almost no brittlebush, as we left Palm Desert and drove up into the mountains today.

Good: I think this may be a super year for cactus blooms. I went to a couple of my favorite canyons and found thousands of cacti, including large red barrel cactus (Ferocactus cylindraceus), looking healthy, in bud stage or just beginning to bloom. They look great. I plan to come back in a couple weeks to see how they have progressed. Brittlebush is beginning to bloom now, and looks very good in some areas, including Borrego Palm Canyon (near the visitor center), where it can be seen growing alongside the short-lived stream that is still flowing (video). While the brittlebush (Encelia farinosa) is sparse relative to past years, it provides the best opportunities for color. I am hopeful the brittlebush fills out and covers the western flanks of the Anza-Borrego basin in yellow as it has in the past. If it does, it will probably take at least another week or two to develop that way.

I will return in another week or so for the cactus, ocotillo, agave and brittlebush, but with little hope for the flowers.

Update 1: Micheal Gordon posted his observations (similar to mine). Many have commented on the Carol Leigh’s Calphoto wildflower sheet, also with some dour news about the mustard

Update 2: I was pleased to see water in Palm Canyon, so I shot and posted a little video of the stream flowing past brittlebush.

Update 3: Oh, yeah, here is a shameless plug: Borrego Springs House for Sale! A family member is selling a home in Borrego Springs. It is a beautiful, custom, single-level high-end home with interior pool and courtyard on a large quiet lot. Let me know if you are interested.

Below are some photos I got this morning between sunrise and 9am.

Brittlebush blooms in spring, Palm Canyon, Anza Borrego Desert State Park. Image ID: 24304   Species: Brittlebush, Encelia farinosa Location: Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, Anza Borrego, California, USA

Red barrel cactus, Glorietta Canyon, Anza-Borrego Desert State Park. Image ID: 24302   Species: Red barrel cactus, Ferocactus cylindraceus Location: Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, Anza Borrego, California, USA

Cholla cactus, sunrise, dawn, Palm Canyon, Anza-Borrego Desert State Park. Image ID: 24305   Species: Cholla cactus, Opuntia Location: Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, Anza Borrego, California, USA

Red barrel flower bloom, cactus detail, spines and flower on top of the cactus, Glorietta Canyon, Anza-Borrego Desert State Park. Image ID: 24309   Species: Red barrel cactus, Ferocactus cylindraceus Location: Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, Anza Borrego, California, USA

Sunset clouds create a colorful arch, spanning the heavens from horizon to horizon, over the open sea between the Falkland Islands and South Georgia Island. Image ID: 24073

It is a three day sail from the Falkland Islands to South Georgia Island. Day 1 dawned with leaden gray skies that soon clear, at which time the weather can only be described as great, with following seas, light winds and very little swell. I spent the day on deck trying to photograph and identify seabirds and spot whales. Sunset was stunning, with an arch of red and orange clouds that required a 180-degree fisheye lens to capture in its entirety. Day 2 brings my first Wandering Albatross (Diomedea exulans), enormous and elegant birds that soar over the open ocean swells, arcing and diving to take full advantage of the updraft created by each passing wave.

Wandering albatross in flight, over the open sea. The wandering albatross has the largest wingspan of any living bird, with the wingspan between, up to 12′ from wingtip to wingtip. It can soar on the open ocean for hours at a time, riding the updrafts from individual swells, with a glide ratio of 22 units of distance for every unit of drop. The wandering albatross can live up to 23 years. They hunt at night on the open ocean for cephalopods, small fish, and crustaceans. The survival of the species is at risk due to mortality from long-line fishing gear. Image ID: 24071   Species: Wandering albatross, Diomedea exulans

Wandering albatross have the largest wingspan of any living species of bird, over 11 feet from tip to tip. When one wandering albatross passed alongside the boat very close I was able to hear the wind as it parted and passed over the wings of this magnificent bird. The wandering albatrosses glide almost the entire time they are in sight; their aerodynamics are so remarkably efficient they rarely need to flap their wings. Most excellent. I am glad to have been able to see this species of albatross out here in the middle of the ocean, where it is so obviously at home and I am so obviously not. The oft-quoted ornithologist Robert Cushman Murphy said it well upon sighting his first Wandering Albatross in 1912: I now belong to a higher cult of mortals, for I have seen the albatross!

Sunset viewed through the window of my cabin on the M/V Polar Star, somewhere between Falkland Islands and South Georgia Island. Image ID: 24097

At one point a storm of prions and other small seabirds gather aloft behind the boat, dipping the beaks into the water as they flit and hover above the ocean’s surface. It seems to me they are feeding. Simultaneously we spot our first whales. The fact the two species are present here is no coincidence — we must be in an area of food, perhaps krill. Much guessing among my shipmates ensues as to what species of whales they are. I refuse to speculate early on, as I have learned from many hours spotting whales that I need to see at least the dorsal ridge or fluke, preferably both, to hazard a guess. Gradually I decide that they are all fin whales, based on the manner of their round out and dive, the shape and color of their rostrums and their dorsal fins, and their blows. The flock of small birds and our whale sightings eventually lessen, indicating we are leaving the feeding zone (if that is indeed what it was). As the day wears on, periodic individual wandering albatrosses are seen soaring around the M/V Polar Star, always angling and turning to best use the updrafts of the swells to glide. Since the wandering albatrosses tend to stay at a distance from the boat, I needed my longest lens and a teleconverter (500+1.4x), a heavy combination to handhold on the deck a rolling boat. I took a lot of photos and was lucky to manage a few sharp images. I go to bed wondering what South Georgia Island will look like when we arrive tomorrow.

Image ID: 24092   Species: Wandering albatross, Diomedea exulans

Next: Approaching South Georgia Island
Previous: Steeple Jason, West Falklands
Trip Index: Cheesemans Antarctica, Falklands and South Georgia
All “Southern Ocean” entries

Steeple Jason, one of the Jason group of islands, is to be our only landing today. There has been quite a bit of anticipation for this visit. It is considered one of the major landings of the trip, the location of one of the world’s finest natural spectacles. Lots of mention has been made already of how superlative this place is. A couple people who have been here before suggest that it is one of the world’s “top 10” wildlife scenes. Morning dawns for us on the southwest side of the island, with myriad birds flying about and cacophonous sounds — an enormous bird rookery — coming from the island about half mile away. The breeze brings with it the scent of the colony. I love that scent! To my dying day, the distinctive briny odor of a shore covered in centuries of guano, borne on a fresh ocean breeze, is something I will always associate with remoteness, wildness and the sea. It is the smell of a vast number of seabirds. I have smelled it in the Galapagos Islands, at tiny Rose Atoll, at Cocos Island, in the Sea of Cortez and now in the West Falklands. It is the smell of life, huge amounts of life, life that is intrinsically bound to sea and air.

Black-browed albatross in flight, against a blue sky. Black-browed albatrosses have a wingspan reaching up to 8′, weigh up to 10 lbs and can live 70 years. They roam the open ocean for food and return to remote islands for mating and rearing their chicks. Image ID: 24145   Species: Black-browed albatross, Thalassarche melanophrys

Steeple Jason is steep and rugged, with jutting serrated seacliffs that raise the ramparts of the island high above the ocean. Sections of lush green tussock grass are mixed with broad areas of reddish brown, shorter vegetation. Around much of the island’s western perimeter a white collar marks the seabird colony that lines the coast. Surf pounds the edge of the island, tossing spray high in the air. With a little tectonic nudge, Steeple Jason could easily be two islands. As it is today, the north and south portions are linked by a thin, lowlying isthmus that offers two landing sites, one on each side.

Straited caracara, a bird of prey found throughout the Falkland Islands. The striated caracara is an opportunistic feeder, often scavenging for carrion but also known to attack weak or injured birds. Image ID: 24125   Species: Striated caracara, Phalcoboenus australis

Soon after dawn the freshening wind and swells cause us to move to the other side of the island where we will land at the more sheltered of the two locations, one with thick stands of bull kelp and macrocystis kelp. I admire the lush kelp forest lining the shore and wish I could dive here. In spite of some trepidation on the part of the staff responsible for getting us safely onto the slippery rocks, the landing is not a problem. Within minutes after starting to hike around the north half of the island I see a caracara take a penguin chick. I feel like Marlin Perkins.

Striated caracara feeds upon a gentoo penguin chick it has just killed. Image ID: 24086   Species: Striated caracara, Gentoo penguin, Phalcoboenus australis, Pygoscelis papua

I have switched from my waterproof muck boots to my hiking shoes for the easy one-mile walk to the colony of black-browed albatross (Thalassarche melanophrys). It is warm and sunny, with a few clouds - a great morning for a walk. The trail is several hundred feet above the ocean, which boils down below along the rocky coast. I pass a pair of striated caracaras on some rocks. They are comfortable with my presence so I sit and watch them closely. This seems unusual for raptors.

Black-browed albatross colony on Steeple Jason Island in the Falklands. This is the largest breeding colony of black-browed albatrosses in the world, numbering in the hundreds of thousands of breeding pairs. The albatrosses lay eggs in September and October, and tend a single chick that will fledge in about 120 days. Image ID: 24078   Species: Black-browed albatross, Thalassarche melanophrys

After a short while I reach my first view of the colony. It is a fantastic assemblage of black-browed albatross extending along several miles of coast, ringed by tussock grass and shadowed by a lush green ridge above. It is the principle black-browed albatross colony in all the world. Light winds are fostering much flight activity this morning as parents leave or return to the nest, taking turns caring for their chick and foraging at sea. Constant and loud — but not unpleasant — albatross vocalizations are heard, a mix of croaking, high-pitched screeching and subtle clucking. Some of the larger chicks are left alone. Striated caracaras are constantly on the prowl for such easy prey and over the course of a few hours relaxing at the colony’s edge I see a couple of caracaras carrying away a meal. Eventually, most of our group makes the hike and arrives along the edge of the colony. We all stand in the waist high tussock, enjoying the incredible array of life spread out before us. Eventually I have had enough sun and feel it is time to hike back around towards the island’s isthmus where we landed, to see what else there is to find. In a cove there is a constant stream of gentoos returning from the sea (and some departing), leaping out of the water onto rocks. Back at the gentoo colony that I saw first this morning, the parent of the same dead chick still guards her offspring, keening occasionally and charging the caracara that continues to try to pick off a piece of the chick’s carcass. It is a sad scene. The fortitude of the gentoo in the face of such inevitable and foregone tragedy is astonishing.

After some hours ashore I am now pretty hungry, and eat three sandwiches that the crew has brought ashore to the landing as I sit beside the ocean and realize how fortunate I am to be on this spectacular island. I shoot some videos of the rocky coastline before returning to the boat. I realize that, photographically, Steeple Jason is one of the richest settings I have ever seen. I could easily have used every lens I own, from 15mm fisheye to my longest telephoto. As the M/V Polar Star motors away from the island, black-browed albatrosses and giant petrels fly alongside. After sunset I stand on the deck and photograph them with a flash, making some interesting images. We are now on our way to South Georgia Island, a three day sail.

All of my photography from the trip is linked to the location where the images were taken. If you have Google Earth, you can see all of my photos from Steeple Jason overlaid at the exact location they were taken.

Next: En Route to South Georgia Island
Previous: Carcass Island, Falkland Islands
Trip Index: Cheesemans Antarctica, Falklands and South Georgia
All “Southern Ocean” entries

Following our cloudy, drizzly, wet morning on the highlands of Westpoint Island, the weather transitioned to sunny, breezy and warm as the M/V Polar Star made its way to Carcass Island. I was curious about the ominous-sounding name, envisioning dead animals and stench. In fact, the island is named for the HMS Carcass which surveyed the island in 1766. (Why that ship was named for a dead body is beyond me.) We landed in Dyke Bay, across from the island’s only settlement which we could just see in the distance. Our direction, however, was the opposite way, across a low-lying isthmus to Leopard Beach. We walked perhaps a third of a mile across the isthmus, passing several ponds (brackish? salt water?) alongside which upland geese (Chloephaga picta) were meandering.

Upland goose, male, beside pond in the interior of Carcass Island near Dyke Bay. Image ID: 24011   Species: Upland goose, Chloephaga picta Location: Carcass Island, Falkland Islands, United Kingdom

Reaching a sand dune rise on the far side of the isthmus and looking over the top, we were greeted with the beautiful sight of long Leopard Beach below. The waters fronting the beach looked tropical, with light emerald shallows and deep green water further offshore.

Visitors watch gentoo and Magellanic penguins on beautiful Leopard Beach, coming ashore after they have foraged at sea. Image ID: 23973   Location: Carcass Island, Falkland Islands, United Kingdom

This gorgeous beach, one of several we were fortunate to visit in the Falklands, was host to throngs of Magellanic penguins (Spheniscus magellanicus) and Gentoo penguins (Pygoscelis papua) which were coming from and going to sea. The Magellanic penguins gather in burrowing colonies, living underground in what looked like big gopher holes. The gentoos, on the other hand, gathered in exposed circular colonies made of small pebbles, set a few hundred yards in the interior of the island. A long sand dune, covered in tussock grass, offered some small protection from onshore winds, but really what it constituted was something of a barrier to the penguins as they walked to and fro between the ocean and their colonies. Paths through the tall (overhead to the penguins) tussock grass were obvious, testament to the continual passing of the penguins.

Gentoo penguins walk through tussock grass. After foraging in the ocean for food, the penguins make their way to the interior of the island to rest at their colony. Image ID: 23970   Species: Gentoo penguin, Pygoscelis papua Location: Carcass Island, Falkland Islands, United Kingdom

Eventually I made my way down to the sand to admire the penguins coming ashore. I spotted a Magellanic oystercatcher (Haematopus leucopodus), some Steamer ducks and kelp geese (Chloephaga hybrida), and on the way back to the boat, one of the many LBB’s I failed to identify on the trip.

Magellanic penguin, juvenile, coming ashore on a sand beach after foraging at sea. Image ID: 23969   Species: Magellanic penguin, Spheniscus magellanicus Location: Carcass Island, Falkland Islands, United Kingdom

All of my photography from the trip is linked to the location where the images were taken. If you have Google Earth, you can see all of my photos from Carcass Island overlaid at the exact location they were taken.

Next: Steeple Jason, West Falklands
Previous: Westpoint Island, Falkland Islands
Trip Index: Cheesemans Antarctica, Falklands and South Georgia
All “Southern Ocean” entries