“Justine, Justine”, a quiet voice jolts me awake from just the other
side of the curtain. I’m cosy in my bunk, snuggled into my fluffy
sleeping bag, swaying gently with the motion of the yacht. It’s dark and
cold outside, it’s 2am, but I must drag myself out of bed to go up on
deck for my 3-hour watch. Under the command of an experienced ‘watch
leader’, we keep an eye out for ice bergs and ships and trim and change
sails when needed. 3 hours on, 6 hours off. It’s our routine for the 5
days that it takes us to sail 760 nautical miles from Stanley in the
Falkland islands to South Georgia. When we’re off, we’re sleeping,
eating, reading, chatting or sleeping some more.
Day 1 starts pretty calmly, we are wishing for more wind so we can go
faster. A 1-meter swell and 15 knots of wind nudges us along and a few
petrels and albatrosses occasionally cruise overhead. We adjust from
solid ground to swaying ocean, 2 people struggle to acclimatise and one
feeds the fish on day 1 but gets her sea legs by the 2nd day. By day 3,
we have 30knots of wind and are bouncing and surfing along at 8-10
knots. It’s humbling to think we are hundreds of miles from land,
totally on our own, being pushed along by a swelling, white-capped sea,
totally reliant on the yacht to keep us safe. In reality, she copes with
the rough stuff much better than we do.
On day 5, South Georgia draws closer on the GPS but clouds and then
darkness shroud her in a mysterious cloak, does the mountainous island
in the middle of nowhere really exist at all?
At midnight we creep into Right Whale Bay. Bergy bits glint in the
moonlight. Snow covers the land in a blanket. We put the sails away,
anchor and enjoy a celebratory drink, crackers and cheese. Our bunks
welcome us back at 2am.
After bacon and eggs breakfast, we wipe the snow off the kayaks and get
them ready for their first outing at this Sub-Antarctic island. While
South Georgia is much further north than Antarctica at 54 degree
latitude, the ocean is just as cold due to the near freezing circumpolar
current that flows here from the frozen continent. Cold water supports
much more life than warm water and so South Georgia is full of wildlife,
all feeding on the krill or phytoplankton, or penguins! We paddle around
Right Whale Bay poking our bows into every nook and cranny, getting a
feel for this new abundant place. Donna excitedly points to the nearby
shore, I just see rocks until I realise that the biggest rock of all is
a giant elephant seal, slumped on the snow, motionless, his deformed
snout pressed into the ground below 2 closed eyes. We spot a handful of
fur seals next, a few metres away from the elephant seal, the first of 5
million who will arrive in South Georgia to breed over the next 6weeks.
A pintail sits quietly on the rocks, king penguins porpoise past us to
the beach. We land and walk along the beach watching the king penguins
sitting around, waddling along in the snow, and cautiously walking past
a harem of elephant seals. A few young pups suckle from mum who
contentedly lies there feeding her new infant. One female starts to
wander away from the group and the large male who claims this harem
chases after her, clumsily but hurriedly catching the much smaller
female and cajoling her back to the cluster. A few other large males
linger on the outskirts, waiting for an opportunity to move in on the
ladies. A bloody nose and cut neck on one suggests he may have already
tried, and failed, to stake his claim.
We get back in the kayaks and paddle around the rest of the bay. Brown
fluffy King Penguin chicks stand around in large groups. More elephant
seals and fur seals. A big brown bird glides straight towards me, no
more than a metre above the sea. I gaze at it’s graceful flight and pink
beak before the Southern Giant Petrel veers off a the last minute and
does a fly by. Colourful cape petrels skim the water with their wings.
We get out again at a colony of smaller gentoo penguins, and watch in
delight as a cavalry of the birds porpoise straight towards the beach
and all jump out onto the cobbles in a line, staggering up the short
steep slope onto the snow covered tussock grass.
The wind picks up on our paddle back to the yacht, a steady 15 knot
headwind, with 20-25 knot gusts. We pull the kayaks up onto the yacht,
and go inside for warmth, appies and dinner. The wind has now picked up
to 60 knot gusts funneling out of the valley, the yacht is shaking but
the anchor is holding. We are happy to be in this cosy haven for the
night and will soon go to bed dreaming of tomorrow’s adventure. Being
here clears your mind of everything else–