Part 2: Antarctic Peninsula & South Georgia
Reflecting on a place locked away by a pandemic —and what tourism means for the region in the first place. Photos from February-March 2020.
Click on images to expand. Scroll to bottom for South Georgia photos.
King Penguins at Salisbury Plains, South Georgia.
I have struggled to express my feelings since I left the southern polar region in March, 2020.
My thoughts as I was leaving were all on the tourism industry and it’s rapid growth in the region. I was worried about an industry launching 30+ new purpose built ice class ships over the next couple years. Carrying an additional 100-500 people each, I wondered if they’d overrun the Antarctic Peninsula entirely (behind the scenes, scheduling is already a challenge for the 20-30 ships bringing 70,000+ people a year to Antarctica).
Antarctic Peninsula
The walk from the runway on King George Island, to Maxwell Bay. The ship waits out of sight.
Plenneau Bay.
Blake goes for the ice cream headache.
Looking back towards the Lemaire Channel.
I was also concerned by the industries growing environmental impact —especially when it’s touted as a brand of environmental tourism. The British Antarctic Survey estimates a trip to Antarctica for one person emits roughly the same amount of CO2 as the average British person emits at home over an entire year.
But I was most puzzled about the shifting attitude in environmental tourism.
The old whale oil tanks at Deception Island.
The old British survey airplane hangar.
Young gentoo chicks learning the ropes.
A skua comes in to land on the black volcanic rock of Deception Island.
Most people fit roughly into one of four categories for why they wanted to visit Antarctica. One: a lifelong dream —fair enough. Two: a friend had recommended it or inspiration had struck while watch BBC’s Planet Earth or March of the Penguins. Three: it was on a bucket list. Four: it’s just what you do, and after all, it would be the 7th continent visited that year, or in a lifetime.
To me, it feels like the latter two categories are becoming the dominant reasons for a visit to Antarctica. The hype machine is working, and the industry — an industry that is often the byproduct of well meaning conservation campaigns to save areas from resource exploration, development, hunting etc. — is booming.
A huge gentoo colony has taken residence on an iceberg. A first for me.
A huge gentoo colony has taken residence on an iceberg.
A huge gentoo colony has taken residence on an iceberg.
Moody clouds.
Night watch —the ship cruises huge distances while guests sleep.
What this means, as more people pursue environmental tourism, is that the industry is getting competitive. With so many operators, advertising shifts from the adventure to the amenities offered. And with increasing amenities, comes an increased environmental impact and experiential irrelevance. After all, why choose a company that asks passengers to share a cabin when another offers a king size bed, hot showers, skiing, saunas, kayaking, and champagne toasts from the hot tub on the top deck.
Salp populations exploded this year, something scientists are still working on deciphering.
Scale in an iceberg graveyard.
A rare blond fur seal. One in one thousand.
Gentoo penguins swim beneath the surface as the trip transits the Lemaire Channel.
This competition feeds on itself as operators compete for dominance, or at least relevance. And with great profundity, environmental tourism consumers choose their experience based upon the size of the bed.
And all of this concerned me deeply.
But then, the pandemic shut it down.
For the 2020-21 season, the vast majority of the Antarctic tourism industry will be on pause.
Looking north through the Lemaire Channel.
Anchored beside Palmer Station.
Fierce katabatic winds shut down operations temporarily.
So instead of kicking it when it’s down, I’ll leave it there. And leave you with a question, and an ask for the future.
Why do you want to go?
And, next time you go somewhere, choose to offset it. Or, even more bold, I dare you to give the same amount you spend on the trip to a local charity; your choice which one.
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A large crack shows in an iceberg.
Algae tints the snow red.
Two skuas show off.
Deep in the channels of Spert Island —a zodiac drivers playground.
Scale in an iceberg graveyard.
Large arches form in icebergs when they’re grounded as the tide and sun sculpt them.
The old supplies from a long ago age of British Exploration and Wordie House in the Argentine Islands.
A young leopard seal harasses the boat and looks to take a bite out of the pontoons. They’ve been increasingly taking nibbles.
A skeleton beneath the surface —evidence of a leopard seal at work.
A lone iceberg on the horizon at sunset.
Marieke keeps an eye out for wildlife.
Vernadsky Station, a Ukranian scientist keeps watch over the bar.
A humpback whale places with surface ice in Charlotte Bay.
An officer of the bridge at work —editing and adding points of interest to the charts.
A young gentoo chick shelters beneath its parent in a nest of rocks and feathers.
Foretelling bad weather to come, a cloud peels over the backside of a mountain behind the ship at anchor.
Zodiac tour.
Passing Orne Harbour headed to Neko Harbour.
The best polar plunge of the whole trip.
Expedition leader David Berg takes a contemplative moment while studying the ice in the Lemaire Channel with Captain Alexei.
A young gentoo penguin at Port Lockroy.
Ships of all sizes continue to ply the Antarctic Peninsula.
Crab eater seals lounge on a grounded iceberg in an iceberg graveyard.
The jet heads home to South America. It’s by ship from here to South Georgia, and then back to Argentina.
South Georgia
The entire southern ocean passage to South Georgia occurred in little to no visibility.
Elephant Island.
Point Wild, where Shacklton’s men spent 4-months surviving.
St. Andrew’s Bay, South Georgia —our first king penguins and green growth in over a month.
A hapless chick is pushed away from the colony.
Looking over the colony of tens of thousands.
King penguins.
King penguins.
King penguins.
Launching zodiacs in swell is a practiced art. Here we wait for a big swell to float the boat again before pushing it out in waders.
Grytviken, the cemetery to the right of the waterfall is where Shackleton lies.
An elephant seal pup and a fur seal pup check each other out.
A fur seal pup rests on the ancient bones of one of the whales that was hunted here.
An elephant seal pup takes a nap in the grass.
A king penguin explores the leftovers of the whaling community and museum at Grytviken.
Old chain for anchoring, and others for hauling whales.
Abandoned whaling ships.
My favourite photo of the whole trip —after so long without plant life, it makes a great impression on you.
The abandoned whaling ships at Grytviken, South Georgia.
Guests hike down the valley after traversing a section of South Georgia, following the path of Shackleton and his men past now named Shackleton Falls.
Jamie proposed to Marieke, and she said yes! We then left them on the beach alone for a while to have a moment.
Feeling altogether different than Antarctica, South Georgia in late season felt wonderfully green.
Hercules Bay and a waterfall.
Macaroni penguin.
A giant petrel gives the camera an evil glance.
Prion Island.
Prion Island for sunrise.
A baby fur seal pup pokes its head up from the grass of Prion Island.
A wandering albatross wheels across the sky —Prion Island is a nesting ground and some sat there on their eggs.
A wandering albatross wheels across the sky —Prion Island is a nesting ground and some sat there on their eggs.
Dianna Galimbertti, the woman who started it all and got A21 off the ground.
Curious king penguins at Salisbury Plains.
Very curious king penguins at Salisbury Plains.
A king penguin sits on an egg as a sudden snow squall blows through.
King penguins by the dozen.
Expedition leader Cheli Larsen in her element, giving us the lowdown on this unlucky king penguin.
A guest gets really invested in ‘getting the shot.’
Leaving South Georgia slowly, and begrudgingly.
A sooty albatross wheels across the sky.
The Magellan Explorer tucked away at anchor.
Grasses blowing in the wind.
A young fur seal pup playing with kelp has got himself in a temporary predicament.
Shag rocks.
Thousands of shags investigating the ship from their rock.
A day’s travel from South Georgia by ship, Shag Rocks are a strange place to call home. This is also when we got the news that the whole world had been shut down by a pandemic while we’d been away —getting home from a ship at the bottom of the world was not going to be easy.