Waking up to find the volcano still intact, our day started on a pretty good note. Our first stop inside Deception Island was to see a crater for some “volcano appreciation” as Laura said. Some of us stayed on the beach to walk along the steaming water, with weddell seals and Gentoo penguins for company.
The rest of us hiked up along the rim of the volcanic crater. The landscape near the volcanic crater was positively lunar; soft volcanic dirt colored in dark black and rusted red hues, sometimes saturated with fresh water running from the glaciers, large chunks of black porous rock scattered all around from the last time the volcano erupted.
After spending some time appreciating the volcano, it was on to our next adventure.
Watching from the deck as we approached Whaler’s Bay I was filled with bitter-sweet feelings. We wandered through the hundred year old pressure cookers, rusted holding tanks, and homes. There was a landing strip and the leveler that helped build it, pieces of industrial machinery, and cloth still intact inside the rundown buildings.
Seeing these familiar human objects in the midst of the harsh Antarctic climate (inside a volcano, no less) reminds you of the strength of the human spirit. But, knowing how this was the epicenter of the whaling industry, and before that fur seals, one couldn’t help but think of how close we came to entirely wiping out these magnificent animals. All of this for some oil and fur.
The real goal of the day was for us to hike up and over the rim of the volcano to see Bailey’s Head, the third largest chinstrap colony in the world. I looked up… and up… and up some more, this might be a little more than I had bargained for. Grandma Donna was oh so quick to insist she would stay in. Half-way through the hike I was wishing I had joined her. We walked over slippery ice, inched around steep outcroppings of rock, and trudged through knee high snow which felt endless.
Though it was all worth it when we came up over the final ridge to a spectacular view of a sloping natural amphitheater, positively overflowing with chinstrap penguins. I was quickly shamed for my complaining about the hike by the tiny penguins climbing and hopping their way past me, up higher even than we had walked.
Their nests are built unbelievably high out of the water; a long walk home well worth it for the safety their rocky landing offers. And safety they needed. Predatory skuas swooped low over the colony turning penguin heads and inciting loud squaking every time they got close. The diligent parents crouched over their tiny grey chicks or yet to hatch eggs. The times when parents traded places over their nests, leaving the chicks exposed, were particularly tense.
We all have animal names on the ship, and while I did not particularly want to see a chick snatched from its nest, I had to root for the skuas just a little bit as they are my Antarctic spirit animal. We didn’t actually get to see a skua have any success, but it somehow felt like I was in cahoots with them! Every time I pointed, “look, an egg” or “see how small that chick is” a skua would immediately swoop down right where my finger indicated. I guess my spirit animal just gets me.
Even the penguins thought I was a skua! I was sitting, observing the penguins, when a skua landed next to me, less than a meter away. ‘Cool’, I thought just chilling with the skua, when I hear a penguin coming at us quick. He pecked and yelled at the skua until it flew away, then he turned his sights toward me. Never have I been so scared of a bird in my life. He had fire in his eyes, and he kept coming at me even when I stood up. I booked it out of there quicker than you can say “humpback whale!” Luckily, I made it back unscathed and overjoyed to have been able to visit such a beautiful place.
To top it all off, Friday’s are pizza night on the Ocean Tramp
