It was all thanks to Captain Leonid Sazonov that we have just made the journey of a lifetime through the Lemaire Channel. Ice coverage was about 70-80% so an experienced ice captain was required. Only two ships have got through this year, one a full ice-breaker. Bill woke us all at 6.20 to get on deck for the first view of sea-ice which looked pretty impenetrable to the untrained eye but oh-so-stunning between two chains of peaks, one basking in early light, the other shrouded in mist. Seals and penguins littered the floes, and many scuttled off as we approached, calculating that discretion is the better part of valour, and even if it isn’t, they don’t know what the hell we are! Six hours later at 1-4 mph we lie in relatively open water by a Ukrainian research base. In 1997 it was the Faraday base, where the hole in the ozone layer was discovered but UK sold it for £1! (Brokered by John Towers, the guy who sold Rover Group for the same sum?)
Evening
Yesterday, I mused, “How white can a Christmas get?” I know now that the answer was: “A lot more.” It is almost 2200, and it is hailing. The wind on the starboard side is ferocious and the decks are glazed. We are in the French Passage where the sea ice is 10/10ths, and we are making tough progress at under 1 mph. Bill Davis, the expedition leader says that in 100 trips to Antarctica, this counts as one of his Top 5 days, and he’s never seen conditions here this bad. Or good, depending on your perspective. It’s easy to see how the early explorers got stuck, using only wind power, in the pack ice: once you stop and lose inertia, breaking through is impossible, especially as the wind and currents press the floes against the ship. But I rush ahead.
After a desultory but calm, bright, warm cruise in the Zodiacs, we swapped with the other half to visit Base Akademik Vernadsky. Adrian boggled at the primitive electronics, still used by the Ukrainians, but left by the British, to monitor the ozone layer. About 25 men staff the base, and they opened a Post Office for us to have our cards stamped (I think we may have brought them back onto the ship, in fact). We had free run of the base, and spotted the girly pics in the gym (with climbing holds on the ceiling…) and the laundry room. Extreme ironers would have been jealous of the blue floral board cover and the geographical location. Their mess, the ‘Faraday Bar’ is a fine contender for Watering Hole at the End of the Universe. At 65°/5’S/64°/6’W, we’re unlikely to beat it. Their homemade vodka at US$1 a shot with free snacks was relished and the pool table (it came with the £1) admired. We made hurried purchases in ‘The Most Southerly Souvenir Shop in the World’ of two penguins and a badge, before being chivvied at unaccustomed speed onto the pier. We (SWAB) gave out Toblerones as gifts for sharing and took our place at the rear of the queue. Dutch (the group leader) was getting agitated and despatched a batch of twelve passengers with alacrity, leaving the two of us, three crew, five kayaks and a pile of cargo. Briefly considering abandoning the kayak, but being more anxious about the consequences on the pay packet, he ordered the stowage of them across the Zodiac, scrambled the packages and squeezed the passengers in the back. Over the radio we could hear Bill describing the problem as we protected the captain’s food processor (or whatever was in the box marked ‘cucina electronica’) from damage.
The ice really was closing in, and the three expedition crew made very sure we sat very still between the kayaks. As a display of ice-speed-driving, it was hard to beat: at one point where it seemed there was no sea to be had, Dutch powered the RIB through a crack in the ice, skidding on the rigid hull with only the outboard motor in the water. Classy.
The captain had been pushing the Vavilov against the ice sideways to keep a channel open to the gangplank, and immediately we were on board, did a 3-point turn to get out of water that by then was only two metres deep below the hull. Now, we are making very slow progress, spending as much time going backwards as forwards, in order to break the ice ahead. Talk of a three month delay in getting back is flippant – I hope!
PS - Snippets
At the entrance to the Lemaire Channel is an unusual twin-peaked mountain called Cap Renard. In Port Stanley, there is apparently a very obliging barmaid called Una who is the solace and comfort of many a returning or transient seaman. This well-watched pair is colloquially called, in honour of Una’s endowment, Una’s Tits. When there is snow, she is wearing her bra. Prosaically, these sharp peaks are volcanic plugs, creating a very Gothic atmosphere, especially in the fog.
The ice in the Lemaire is one-year ice, unlike the Arctic, where multi-year ice results from it never thawing.