New Zealanders have an attraction for Antarctica that is
almost genetic and we have all heard of Shackleton and his epic journey to South
Georgia. We arrived at Fortuna Bay on South Georgia on a small cruise ship, MV
Polar Star, seasick and lethargic from two days of Force 8 or 9 winds that
battered us from the side with giant waves. 
We had sailed from Ushuaia, at the tip of South America and visited the Antarctic Peninsula and from there followed the trail of Shackleton out across the Weddell Sea – filled with sea ice and gigantic tabular icebergs. The Captain and Officers were clever at negotiating the path with least resistance though occasionally a bump and a lurch sideways came when we hit smaller pieces of ice. The sea was quite calm here and a perfect half moon rose from the horizon to add a silvery light to the sea and the icebergs surrounding us.
As we passed the South Orkney Islands,
the gale came down on us, pushing the sea swells to six or eight metres high.
The waves crashed over the bow and spray blurred the vision from the bridge. The
portholes lower down were ravaged by menacing, swirling dark water. Tossed about
in our bunks, we didn’t sleep but dozed
fitfully trying different strategies of staying in bed. The ship shuddered and
rolled under the incessant pressure, the passengers and crew alike moved
cautiously. Our ship was 86metres long and we were tossed about like a cork.
Shackleton’s boat, the James Caird, was barely seven metres long with a
few tiny sails and it seemed incredible to us that the six explorers had
survived let alone been able to navigate.
The day was crisp and clear when we arrived at South Georgia, the fresh snow whitening the mountaintops and the glaciers, the sea and sky a cheerful blue. The crew took us ashore in the zodiacs, large rubber dinghies, and we joined the fur seals and elephant seals on the beach. In 1916, Shackleton had sailed in a zigzag way up the west coast before landing and trekking for over 30 hours across the mountain ranges and glaciers to the spot where we now stood. We looked across the bay where the three had climbed down through one of the icefalls. It was probably here where Shackleton, Worsley and Crean heard the morning siren from the whaling station of Stromness and knew they were going to make it.
For us, it was time to follow in the footsteps of that last trudge up through the green tussock grass and out onto rocky slopes, and over a low pass with glaciers and rugged mountain peaks around us. The wind whirled dry snow around us as we climbed higher.
We came over the pass to see Stromness in the valley below us. The whaling station, 100 years on, is a rusty red collection of oil holding tanks, buildings and machinery, but even so these signs of civilisation were somewhat reassuring. We stayed for a while drinking in the views from this height, reluctant to go down just yet. The descent was a steep scree slope that Shackleton had found very differently – an ice-clad mountainside. They chose an icy cold “waterfall down which we lowered with rope”. Not such a tricky maneuver for us but definitely precipitous all the same.
We tramped across the last boggy valley where Gentoo penguins had made their breeding colony and where reindeer enjoyed the lush vegetation. As we approached the empty and ghostly settlement, the fur seals crooned and wailed, hissed and growled. A few King penguins strode up in a mayoral group to officially welcome us but the elephant seals either weren’t aware of our presence or couldn’t care less. The sun lowered behind the steep mountains and the day cooled quickly. Our trek had been an unhurried afternoon but now we were pleased to see our ship, which had cruised around into Stromness Bay and was ready to transport us onward to new adventures.
That evening we had a talk from a passenger, John Peacock, who had been part of the first British climbing team, who, 45 years ago, had traced and attempted to verify Shackleton’s route over the South Georgian mountains. He spoke of terrible winds and days on end when their tents were buried in snow. Peacock was convinced that Shackleton had at last had good luck with the weather when the three men set off on the final leg of the journey. We were certainly lucky to have encountered such a wonderful day for our expedition. Return to Home
