WHERE PENGUINS PROVIDE BOTH GREAT CHAOS AND ENTERTAINMENT
They, along with sea lions, are the main reasons to come to this wilderness preserve
Postmedia columnist Daphne Bramham crosses the notoriously rough Drake Passage from the Falkland Islands to South Georgia — known as the Serengeti of the Southern Ocean — to Antarctica. Her daily reports from the 18-day expedition will cover issues from climate change and micro plastics in the ocean to Japan’s continuing whale hunt, the antics of penguins and the world’s wild race to tour, and exploit, this last frontier.
SEA LION ISLAND, FALKLAND ISLANDS
Mickey Reeves barely has time to talk, which is a bit of a surprise since this really is pretty close to the end of the Earth and only two families live here.
Reeves is a third-generation Falklander on one side of his family; four on the other.
Like all the islanders, he finished his schooling in Britain and his children are there now.
But like most islanders, Reeves came home. He has worked at a number of jobs, but six months ago took over the Sea Lion Wilderness Lodge.
This is one of the more than 700 islands in the archipelago and it’s 17 kilometres south of the main island of East Falkland.
Today, it’s a veritable circus. A British naval helicopter touched down only long enough to disgorge some troops for exercises. Then, a small fixed-wing plane brought some guests to Reeves’ lodge.
Those guests had to find their way past a neat picket fence and passengers from the One Ocean Expedition’s ship, Akademik Ioffe. We had stopped by for a cuppa and crumpets en route to see the elephant seals lolling on the shore, having already snapped about a million photos of Magellanic and gentoo penguins not only along the shore, but nesting in flat, sandy patches near the lodge.
Another plane was on its way. And, if all that weren’t enough, it was only two days ago that a hurricane blew through.
Penguins and, unsurprisingly, sea lions are the reasons to come to this wilderness preserve. And it’s worth the trouble to get here.
As we disembarked from our Zodiac, several hundred gentoos all dressed up in their tuxedos were there to meet us, and it seemed every one had an opinion about something.
It’s getting late in the southern summer, so most of the penguin chicks are either shedding their fuzz or have already grown up enough to start fending for themselves. Once they hit the water, gentoos are speedsters, reaching up to 35 kilometres an hour. They leap in the air like porpoises.
The weather is unseasonably warm, so the penguins on land have their heads back, mouths open, panting to try to cool their bodies. Or alternately, they lie on their stomachs to cool off.
Amid one of the colonies is a single king penguin. They are the classic penguins and second largest. But they normally don’t show up here — it’s too warm even when it’s cool.
Farther along, giant elephant seals loll on the rocks, grunting, sneezing and yawning. They are moulting and seem very unhappy.
During a few hours on this island and at our next stop on Bleaker Island, the naturalists with us identified 42 species of birds.
Among them were striated caracaras, giant cormorants, flightless steamer ducks, Magellanic snipes, skuas, several different kinds of shearwaters, and even some turkey vultures.
Then, it was off to Bleaker Island to see the extraordinary rockhopper penguins. If Happy Feet made you smile, these guys will make you laugh out loud, again and again.
It’s not just their punky looking, Mohawk-styled plumage, brilliant red beaks and yellow eyebrows. They’re called rockhoppers because that’s what they do. They nest on the cliffs and every day the parents make their way down to the sea and out to fish, leaving the chicks behind to fend for themselves when the caracaras come flying in looking for prey to feed their chicks.
And, as with the gentoos on Sea Lion Island, there are a few strays in the crowd. And there’s a lone macaroni penguin — a slightly bigger version of the rockhoppers with brighter yellow eyebrows. By late afternoon, there is chaos at the top of the cliffs. The adults use their claws to get up out of the water and are met by a raucous group of starving chicks (which soon will have to find their own food).
The chicks, who haven’t yet matured enough to have the spiky plumage, assault any adult that has hopped up the cliff. They squall, cry, scream and chase the adults who are desperately searching to feed their own chicks. They hop and waddle. Even the chicks chase after each other in this weirdly wonderful dance. Of course, if you live here, and even if you run a wilderness lodge, Reeves admits he gets a bit blase about all these birds and sea mammals. But he knows the name of every species that shows up on the island’s shores.
“That’s why I’m here,” he said simply, rushing off to meet the next plane and get resupplied.
After the two shore expeditions, the Akademik Ioffe’s anchor was weighed. With nearly three days at sea ahead of us, we will arrive at the South Georgia archipelago.
As we left the Falklands, Peale’s dolphins danced off the bow, Magellanic penguins leaped and frolicked like porpoises, and a pod of sei whales were seen off in the distance.
Even at night, there was some excitement. A British navy helicopter buzzed us with red and blue lights flashing and its spotlight trained on the ship. It was a search-and-rescue training mission. That is comforting to know as we head farther and farther south.
If Happy Feet made you smile, these guys will make you laugh out loud, again and again.