ICE MAKES FROZEN CONTINENT UNFORGETTABLE EXPERIENCE
Global warming from climate change resulting in the collapse of glaciers
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 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.
Wind and current have created an iceberg graveyard here. The ice groans and sighs. The icebergs crackle and sparkle, buck and roll in the brilliant sunlight, reflecting every shade of blue.
They ride great swells. Water washed up and over one massive piece of sculptured ice sending cascades of watery fireworks.
They are anything but static. Next to it, another iceberg seemed on the verge of rolling over. With each wave, the front edge nearly disappeared before soaring up again to full height.
Icebergs do roll occasionally, setting off mini-tsunamis. It happens if the balance is disturbed either by the iceberg striking the bottom and getting hung up or by a substantial chunk above the water breaking off. But it didn’t happen on this particular day.
We crunched through shattered seasonal ice and bergy bits with the Zodiac’s propeller acting like a giant blender.
It’s here that only a few weeks ago whale researcher Ari Friedlaender managed a world first. He attached a suction-cupped transmitter to a minke and collected data that should help give a better understanding of this little-studied whale.
Among the bergy bits, a female humpback whale and her calf were “logging” (sleeping) at the surface. A few hundred metres away, two minke whales cruised slowly along feeding on the abundant krill that starts its life on the underside of the sea ice. Then, a pack of seals hurried by.
After several failed attempts at mounting a tabular ’berg, a crabeater seal finally timed the swell perfectly, flying up onto the ice and promptly settling down for a nap.
Sculpted by water, wind and waves, it’s easy to imagine that there are giant dragons, tortoises, loon, preening seals and a beached whale floating by.
Onshore, the ice cap drapes smoothly over mountains in some places. In others, crevasses and cracks glow in azure or turquoise, and rocks and dirt from previous slides mar the whiteness.
Earlier, in the aptly named Paradise Bay, minke whales surfaced close enough to the Zodiac that we could almost have reached out and touched them. A humpback breached in the distance and a leopard seal — the most dangerous of the predators here — yawned as we drifted by, bearing his sharp teeth in a ghoulish grin.
Going through the narrow Lemaire Channel with its steep, rock walls and icebergs, we were accompanied by more minke whales with Gentoos porpoising ahead of the ship.
But in all its colours and forms, it is ice that makes Antarctica unforgettable. And, it is ice that makes it possible for penguins, whales, seals and seabirds to make the frozen continent their home.
We have had the good fortune to see Antarctica in its sunny splendour. We’ve mostly been spared high winds, fog, snow and rain. At every location, the fog lifted and the sky cleared to give us a rather skewed view of the coldest continent.
As spectacular as it is to witness this place on a cloudless day, it’s also a reminder that the climate here is changing faster than almost anywhere else on the continent and many other places on Earth.
The very ice that makes life possible for the smallest organisms to the great whales, is disappearing at unprecedented rates as the climate warms faster than ever before due to human intervention and the increased carbon dioxide in the atmosphere.
Six ice shelves on the Antarctic Peninsula have collapsed or are on the verge of collapsing, speeding the decline of glaciers that were held back by the floating ice.
Petermann Bay was our last stop in Antarctica. As we left it behind, clouds rolled in and a thick fog hugged the ship.
A few hours later, we’d left the protection of the Antarctic Peninsula and headed out to sea and the infamous Drake Passage. At dinner, several plates crashed to the floor from an unsteady hand. When one of the Russian staff dodged and wove her way to the table without spilling a drop of soup, a great cheer went up.
On Sunday, our numbers at mealtime were diminished. Seasickness bags decorate the railings on the stairs leading to the upper decks as we rock and roll toward Cape Horn and Ushuaia, homeward bound.
Six ice shelves on the Antarctic Peninsula have collapsed or are on the verge of collapsing, speeding the decline of glaciers that were held back by the floating ice.