Over recent weeks frequent visitors to this site will have noticed a lack of new posts to the our online journal. During this period our efforts have been focused on gathering and organizing photos into galleries that will eventually appear online. Steve Mlodinow, who has been a regular contributor to this journal, is among those who are supplying us with photos for our future online galleries. While sorting and loading some of his images, I found a picture of an interesting female Eurasian Green-winged Teal (see below) in a collection of photos that he took during a May 2009 visit to Adak Island in the Aleutian Island chain off the mainland of southwest Alaska.

Note the apparent difference in color between the blue inner most secondaries of the left wing and the green inner secondaries on the right wing. This female Eurasian Green-winged Teal was photographed at Adak Island, Alaska in May 2009 (photo by Steve Mlodinow).

Though a bit out of focus, the image above serves to remind us that the colors we think we are seeing can be both subjective and/or misleading. At first glance, the mis-matched colors in the wings of this female teal are a bit confusing. However, there is a rather simple explanation for why one wing appears to have a green speculum while the speculum on the opposite wing looks blue.

First, it is important to understand how the colors we see in a bird’s plumage are produced. Plumage coloration is produced one of two ways. Like human skin, most bird feathers contain pigments that give each feather color. These pigments result in the blacks, browns, reds, oranges, and yellows that we see in the plumages of many bird species (www.ducks.org/DU_Magazine 2007). Though changes in light angle and intensity will cause some variation in the lightness or darkness of the color our brain perceives, the actual feather color is to some degree constant.

It should be noted that feather wear and sun bleaching often cause pigmented feathers to fade as they age. Most of us have seen gulls with bleached-out flight feathers in the summer months. At that time of year, the flight feathers of a gull are nearly a full year old. Most birds, including gulls, replace their flight feathers just once a year during a prebasic molt that usually occurs during the summer and fall months. During this molt, retained flight feathers will generally show worn and tattered edges and appear much paler than newly grown feathers in the same feather tract. In some cases, the old feathers will be so worn that they appear to be little more than quills.

This first-cycle Glaucous Gull, photographed at San Francisco, California on 7 May 2009, offers a classic example of a gull with plumage (particularly flight feathers) that is both very worn and sun-bleached. Its flight feathers would have been acquired during late summer or early fall of 2008, meaning that they were nearly a year old at the time this image was captured and due to be replaced during its next prebasic molt. (photo by Dave Irons)

In addition to colors that result from pigmentation, we also perceive colors that are created by light refracting off of the minute structural components of a feather (www.birds.cornell.edu/allaboutbirds). These structural characteristics cause light to refract (bend or change direction) in ways that, depending on the angle of incoming (incident) light and our viewing angle, may cause us to see several colors reflected from a single feather. Colors resulting from this type of refraction are often iridescent. The gorget color of a hummingbird and the speculum (wing patch) color of many dabbling ducks result from light refraction and not pigmentation. Depending on the reflection of incident light, such feathers may appear highly colorful or black. When the feathers look black, little or no light is being reflected off the feather surface back to our eyes. Instead the light is being absorbed (www.birds.cornell.edu/allaboutbirds). When we are seeing an array of highly iridescent colors, lots of light is being reflected off of the feather surface back to our eyes.

More often than not, when one sees a Double-crested Cormorant, its plumage looks mostly black or very dark brown. However, when lighting conditions and the viewing angle are just right, as was the case when this cormorant was photographed at Estero San Jose, Baja California Sur, Mexico on 8 January 2009, various green, bronze, and even purplish hues become apparent. (photo by Dave Irons)

After all this explanation, we are still left to wonder, “why are the specula of the teal in the picture above two different colors?” It would seem highly unlikely that there would be a difference in pigmentation in the two wings. More importantly, it has been determined that blue coloration in feathers results from light being scattered by small barbs in the feather rather than pigmentation (http://www.birds.cornell.edu/allaboutbirds). It is also pretty safe to assume that the structural characteristics of the individual wing feathers should be the same in both wings. What is different in this case is that the wings are not being held at the same exact angle in relation to the light source . Also, our viewing angle of the two wings is slightly different as well. These two factors cause light to refract through the feather and reflect back to eyes in ways that cause us to see color differences between the two wing patches.

As you look at birds and try to quantify plumage colors, it is important to recognize that lighting conditions and viewing angle play a significant role in producing the colors your brain tells you that you are seeing. Further, if colors appear iridescent, be assured that what you are seeing is the product of refraction and not actual pigment in the feathers.

Literature Cited:

http://www.birds.cornell.edu/allaboutbirds/studying/feathers/color/document_view

http://www.ducks.org/DU_Magazine/DUMagazineNovemberDecember2007

January 23: Day 2 of the Drake Passage

The day started with the Polar Star pounding into seven-meter swells. Our passage was made tolerable due in large part to the deft handling of the boat by our captain. He seemed to choose the optimal angle of attack as we plowed through heavy seas.  The bridge and wings on either side were crowded all morning, as many of our passengers gathered there to get photos of spray over the bow, which sometimes covered the entire deck. 

As we made our way north, there were expected transitions in the species of birds that we were seeing. Slender-billed Prions replaced Antarctic Prions and Blue Petrels filled the void when we stopped seeing Snow Petrels before they, too, disappeared. During the afternoon, albatross numbers increased and I saw my first two Northern Royal Albatrosses of the trip. The second day on the Drake seems to be where we most often encounter this species. We were surprised to get brief looks at a probable Buller’s Albatross that cruised in front of the Polar Star. Unfortunately, it disappeared in the haze before we could make a positive ID.  I've not seen this species since I saw many off Vina del  Mar (central Chile) in the 1980s.  

Gray-headed Albatrosses, like the one pictured above, were plentiful as we sailed the Drake Passage.

Gray-headed and Black-browed albatrosses became more numerous as we neared Cape Horn. I had mixed emotions as we saw two "Big A's" (Southern Royal Albatrosses), our last of the trip. It is always exciting to see this massive albatross, but I was wondering..."would I ever see this magnificent bird again?" The reappearance of Sooty Shearwaters signified that we were returning to more temperate waters. 

Our last day on board concluded with a busy evening of social events – our Antarctica digital image viewing, dinner,  the captain’s toast and introduction/appreciation of Polar Star crew and Cheesemans’ staff.  The final activity was our auction to raise money for the "Save the Albatross" campaign. Past auctions have raised, on average, about $5,500 from the sale of products, photos, and drawings that staff and passengers have donated. This year's highly-successful event raised another $5,700 in support of this worthy cause. Thanks go to Craig Poore, who did masterful job in orchestrating this event!

With disembarkation looming the following morning, the evening ended with a fevered round of luggage packing and contact information sharing. The seas became increasingly calm as we entered the Beagle Channel. Ultimately, it felt like we were cruising on glass. The morning found us docking at the pier at Ushuaia – another highly successful, rewarding, exhausting, wet, fantastic, fun trip to the Great White South completed. Would I ever see it again? I certainly hope I do since there is no place like it on earth.

Memories of the breathtaking scenery one sees in Antarctica (above) and South Georgia (below) will surely tug at my heart for the rest of my days.

I leave this cruise with vivid recollections of penguin-filled beaches, lunge-feeding whales, the grandeur of iceberg filled bays, graceful albatrosses on the wing and on nests with young, multitudes of feeding seabirds, extraordinary Minke Whales under my zodiac,  growling fur seals, glissading down snow fields, the splendor of snow-capped mountains, and the broad smiling faces of enthralled passengers. I hope that I’ll have the opportunity to visit again since the Antarctic isn’t just a place, it’s a state of mind – an unparalleled experience that defies words – a place that will forever be calling me back. My sincerest thanks to the Cheesemans--Doug and Gail and Ted-- and the entire staff for making this yet another great trip! 

All photos by Jim Danzenbaker

January 22: Day 1 on the Drake Passage

A fairly slow day today.  In my experience the Drake Passage is never loaded with birds.  Today was no exception. Southern Giant-Petrels patrolled behind the ship all morning and Gail Cheeseman saw a Light-mantled Sooty Albatross just before we entered a pesky fog bank that cut visibility for a while.  Since there were few birds to watch, we were able to give our full attention to Doug Cheeseman,  Ted Cheeseman, Hugh Rose, and Patrick Endres, who all gave excellent presentations. I updated my program on birding in Panama, which I would present later in the day.

The soft, velvety look of Light-mantled Sooty Albatross makes it one of the world's most beautiful seabirds.

My day was marked by, horror of horrors, a crashed computer drive! Needless to say, this provided just a tad more than a minor distraction for the remainder of the day. From the afternoon on into the evening hours, the seas kept building. By 9pm we were watching water occasionally pouring over the bow. Getting to sleep was accompanied by the additional challenge of figuring out how to avoid getting rolled out of bed.

Photo by Jim Danzenbaker

January 21: Hannah Point – Our last day on shore

One look out the cabin window caused me to wonder whether we could conduct the last landing of the trip. The winds had ramped up about 5:30am, generating some big swells and a nasty wind chop – not the best conditions for launching zodiacs! However, as we drew closer to Livingston Island in the South Shetlands, the waters settled enough for us to consider going for it. Launching the zodiacs proved less difficult than expected so we managed to get everyone ashore in a mostly dry state.

In general, penguins seem to be almost as interested in humans as we are about them. This adult Chinstrap Penguin eyeballs the photographer while getting its portrait taken.

Gail Cheeseman and I immediately started to mark routes from the beach. Our chosen path weaved through Chinstrap and Gentoo penguin colonies and ended up on a beach with cavorting Elephant Seals. Along the route, clusters of Antarctic Hairgrass and Antarctic Pearlwart were evident. The Chinstraps appeared to be thriving with young in most nests. The adults were, as usual, very noisy whether it be defending a territory, advertising for a mate, or renewing pair bonds. Their chest muscles clearly expanded and contracted as they belted out their calls. By contrast, the calls of the Gentoo Penguins were more subdued - softer in tone although no less effort made.

The Gentoo chicks were looking very healthy at this colony – some approaching the size of the adults and already molting their juvenile down. Unlike previous years, there were not many Gentoo chick chases – an indication that the nesting season may have been delayed by a week or so. As usual, the Elephant Seal wallows were putrid. There were about 20 molting animals lined up like huge snorting  sausages. Farther along, another  group of Elephant Seals featured occasional sparring matches. Southern Giant Petrels were nesting on the ridge behind the penguins. We had to assume that the giant petrels were brooding a single chick, though our viewing angle prevented us from seeing into their nests.

This warty-faced Sheathbill, which is seemingly half chicken and half tubenose, is not likely to land a spot on anyone's list of the most photogenic birds.

Most passengers returned to the Polar Star for lunch, but about 20 remained ashore to capture some last moments with the Antarctic wildlife. I served as ballast (can I put this on a resume'?) for Rod Planck’s zodiac as we ferried passengers back to shore after lunch – a wet proposition since the wind was still gusty and the seas remained agitated. During the afternoon we were overcome with the realization that we counting down our last minutes with the Elephant Seals, Gentoos, Chinstraps, Kelp Gulls,  Sheathbills,  skuas and giant petrels. After nearly a month of being immersed in this alternate reality, I found myself with a heavy heart as we left the landing for the last time. I hope that I will have the  opportunity to visit Antarctica again, but not knowing when that might occur brought on a wave of emotions. There was palpable sadness as anchor of the Polar Star was pulled for the last time.

As we commenced our long homeward leg of the trip, we headed west along the southern edge of Livingston Island before turning north to the Drake Passage. All on board hoped that we would somehow side-step the predicted storm that was being predicted for our second day on the Drake. Ten-meter swells and 45 knot winds would be extremely uncomfortable at best. 

All photos by Jim Danzenbaker

January 20: Paradise Bay, Neko Harbor – Humpback Whales!
 
After several fairly gray days we were relieved to see that the cloud ceiling was higher and that there were slivers of blue sky this morning. The crew had dropped anchor in Paradise Bay overnight after our late passage through the Lemaire Channel. Paradise Bay is mesmerizing in its beauty. It features a panorama of picturesque icebergs, snow-capped mountains, and glaciers. The early hours were spent cruising from Paradise Bay to Neko Harbor, where we would remain anchored for the rest of the day.  En route, we encountered several Humpback and Minke Whales.

Our docking at Neko Harbor was delayed because of another ship that had been ported there the previous night. Apparently, one of its passengers had sustained a serious glissading (a controlled sliding descent down a icy/snow-covered slope) injury, which held up their departure. After setting anchor, our entire group, 110 of us in all, crowded onto the bow for a group photo.

Humpback footprint – clearly seen as a Humpback uses its huge tale on the surface of the water to propel itself. The footprint can last for several minutes.

After the photo shoot, it was zodiac cruising time. I piloted a zodiac out closer to the mouth of the harbor in order to join up with three other zodiac groups that were already watching two sleeping Humpback Whales. Thankfully, the whales were undisturbed by our presence as they continued to float on the surface. After about 15 minutes they did wake up and started to dive. Following the first dive, the other three zodiacs headed out, leaving my group in solitude to enjoy the two Humpbacks for nearly an hour. They were making fairly deep dives, which allowed us to get spectacular views of their incredible flukes from only 30 yards away. Two passengers on the zodiac had made a point of challenging me to find some whales that we could view at close range. Challenge met! As a leader, it is always a thrill to deliver the goods.

After spending the morning with the Humpbacks, we returned to the Polar Star for lunch and to share tales of the morning’s experiences. We learned that Doug Cheeseman’s zodiac had enjoyed an up close and personal experience with a Minke Whale to swam to within five feet of their boat!

With eight previous trips to Antarctica under my belt, one might think that this leader had seen and done it all, but  as this tour (perhaps my last) was winding down, I still had one piece of unfinished business. I had made it known among the entire group that I was still waiting to see a good calving glacier. As the morning cruise concluded, I clung to fading hopes that this trip might still provide me with this thrill. 

Although slow on land, Gentoos are excellent swimmers in the water and watching them torpedo through water and then porpoise through the air was a zodiac crusing treat.

After lunch we were back in the zodiacs for another 3.5 hours of cruising. Initially, we weren't finding any whales and few seals, which was disheartening after the success of the morning run. We found sufficient distraction in photographing more icebergs and the huge split columns of ice that formed the foot of a glacier. On occasion, Gentoo penguins porpoised by our zodiac as they made their way back to their colony.

I decided to cross the mouth of the bay and see what was on the other side. When I finally caught sight of one whale dorsal fin, I was hopeful that our luck was about to change. It did! Over the next hour plus, we were surrounded by feeding whales. Huge Humpback Whales came within 20 feet of us and a group of Minke Whales soon joined the feeding frenzy. We had crippling views of gaping whale mouths overflowing with krill, extended throat pleats, blowholes, stovepipes, and dorsal fins. The krill must not have been very deep as the Humpbacks never fluked.

The highlight of this cruise came when a group of 4 Minke Whales came swimming along. I aligned the zodiac so we could parallel them, but they changed heading and we soon realized that we were on a collision course. They generated an impressive power wave as they headed straight towards our boat! At the last instant before crashing into the zodiac, they submerged and swam right underneath us. There were audible exhalations all around as they resurfaced on the other side and continued on. We were ecstatic!

Five minutes later, people were once again pointing out whales and I noticed that everyone was looking in a different direction. Two-way radio have this annoying habit of going completely dead at the least convenient moment,  so we had no way of making contact any other zodiacs to share our good fortune. Eventually, fellow naturalists and zodiac drivers, Hugh Rose and Rod Planck showed up so that we were able to share the whales. My only disappointment of the afternoon was that I was unable to show one of the women in my craft a Weddell Seal. We had simply run out of time. We arrived back at the Polar Star and I offloaded the passengers. 

While waiting to take the zodiac up on the hook, an amazing thing happened – I heard a loud "crack" and looked around just in time to see a huge mass of ice and snow falling from the highest point above one of the glaciers. I watched transfixed as I realized at long last I was watching a calving, but not from a glacier. The snow and ice crashed to the ground with an incredible cracking roar, sending a huge cloud of snow dust some 75 yards out over the water – truly spectacular!  I suddenly realized that I was hearing the cheers of passengers and leaders who had gathered on the stern of the ship. They were celebrating that I had finally seen a calving - woohoo!!!! I couldn’t contain my excitement and everybody knew it! To see a veteran guide enjoying his own "lifer" moment must have been exciting for passengers who had spent the better part of four weeks being provided with such events on daily basis. Their is no joy, like shared joy.

After the spectacular calving, I had the sobering realization that we had just finished our last zodiac cruise of the trip. I turned the motor off and connected the zodiac to the hook for one last time. On the way out of Neko Harbor, we found three more Minke Whales and several Humpbacks. Bearing north into the Gerlache Strait, we were hoping for more whales.
 
By dinner time, we had tallied eight Humpbacks from the bridge. I finished dinner early and headed back up to the bridge to relieve Gail Cheeseman of “on-watch” duties. She had seen about five additional whales, bring our evening count to thirteen.  Soon after returning to the bridge, I looked out and started seeing whales everywhere! Thankfully, Ted Cheeseman had been offering updated counts during dinner, so my p.a. announcement, while not surprising, further reinforced that the place to be was on deck. Doug also announced that whales were in the area. Doug, Gail, Ted and I chose one group that looked particularly promising for prolonged viewing of their behavior. We chose wisely. 

Fluking whales were incredible in the Gerlache!  The pattern on the underside of a fluke is like a footprint so one can easily recognize individuals.

During the next 2 hours, the Polar Star was surrounded by feeding whales! A group of five even lined up and did what appeared to be a group bubble feed.  Instead of a bubble ring, they appeared to have made a bubble wall which concentrated the krill even more so that all five animals could lunge through the densely packed krill and feed. We were treated to fantastic views of fully engorged pleats, yawning mouths, and flukes too numerous to count. The Gerlache had delivered! One group of whales included a rambunctious calf that breached several times and then remained on the surface for an extended period and repeatedly slapped its long white pectoral flippers on the water. We counted 17 consecutive slaps! The whale viewing climaxed with passengers looking straight down off the bow at the whales – WOW! After a long day and some celebratory refreshments in the bar, we would sleep hard.
 

All photos by Jim Danzenbaker

January 19: Port Lockroy, Lemaire Channel, Petermann Island, Booth Island
 
Many of us woke early to view the scenic snow-capped peaks and glaciers that feed into the Neumayer Channel, which is, in my opinion, one of the most beautiful passages on the Antarctic Peninsula.  Unfortunately, the cloud deck was low so it obscured most of the scenery. However, one could get a taste of what it looked like.

We passed two northbound ships during the 90-minute southbound cruise through the channel as we made our way to the next landing site, Port Lockroy. This British base is among the most visited sites on the Antarctic peninsula. A representative came aboard and spoke to us about the history of the base and what it was like to live there. In addition to an easily accessible Gentoo Penguin colony, this area also is home to a massive reconstructed whale skeleton displayed on a beach at the far side of the colony. The sheer size of this skeleton is impressive – especially the skull and jawbones.

Two landings were on this morning's schedule. The first was at Jougla Point, home of the Gentoos and whale skeleton, and the second featured a small museum and gift shop. The fickle finger of the weather once again turned unpleasant and the winds picked up as if to remind us of where we were. After all, nobody comes Antarctica to be warm or to get out of the wind! Back on board, a hot bowl of soup was the perfect lunch on this day. We continued south.
 
Rivaling the Neumayer Channel, the Lemaire Channel is equally striking in its beauty, thus our anticipation was high as we entered a stretch that many consider to be the most scenic on the peninsula. It was a relief to see streaks of blue overhead and buoyed our hopes that such conditions  would accompany us over the next several days. The clouds rose and cleared enough for us to fully enjoy most of what the Lemaire had to offer. This seven-mile passage is only one mile wide and is bordered on both sides by dramatic sheer mountain faces and glaciers which regularly calve icebergs into the channel. These ice floes held several resting Crabeater Seals and one Leopard Seal. We also glimpsed one Minke Whale en route.

An Antarctic Shag takes a break from nest duties. The Shag colony at Petermann Island is healthy every year although it never seems to grow. This year, each of the ten nests held two large chicks.

Once through the Lemaire Channel, we continued south for another five miles before reaching Petermann Island. This would be our southernmost destination on this trip and home to a beautiful Adelie and Gentoo penguin colony. After landing, I quickly visited one of the outer neighborhoods of the colony to search for nesting Antarctic Shags. Though this species nests in very low numbers here, a small colony of breeders continues to reliably occupy one particular corner of the island. I was not surprised to find about 10 pairs of Shags, but the size of the young was surprising. One nest had two youngsters, which were nearly ready to fledge, indicating that the Shags had probably started their breeding season even earlier than average. Such shifts offer even more evidence of the now constant weather changes in this part of the world.

It was interesting to compare the different feeding styles between penguins and shags. The penguins regurgitate the food to their young after forcing the food up the throat and out of the bill into the waiting bill of the chick. Conversely, the shags are not able to bring the food up the throat as far so the chicks have jam their heads down the throat of the adult to get fed. Since the shag’s neck is long, it almost looks like the adult is swallowing the chick since it has to reach in so far to get the food.

Alongside the Shags, Adelies and Gentoos tended to nest duties and the raising of their own healthy chicks. The Adelie chicks were already old enough to be left alone whereas the Gentoo chicks were still being brooded. I left the colony with Gail Cheeseman and about 10 passengers who wanted to photograph colony life. I was charmed as I watched penguins tobogganing downslope from their lofty neighborhood nests to their eventual launch into the sea.

A quick walk to the far side of the island was serene. Penguins were traversing well-worn highways, while non-breeding skuas enjoyed a quick dip in an ice melt pond. Snow and ice aplenty contrasted subtly with the cold gray granite outcroppings. The view from the far side of the island was stunning as grounded tabular icebergs dotted the landscape. A hasty retreat to the landing ended our visit to Petermann, which is one of my most favored sites.

A skua club is made up mostly of non-breeding South Polar Skuas. Penguins regularly wander through the club grounds making a strange reversal of roles as they force the skuas to step aside to let them through.

Following a quick repositioning of the ship and dinner, we were off to our third destination of the day. Booth Island forms the western bank of the Lemaire Channel. A visit to the eastern edge of Booth Island is one of the highlights of this tour. The island is one of few locations on the peninsula where all three brush tail penguins—Gentoo, Adelie and Chinstrap—breed. We only saw two Chinstrap Penguins and perhaps 15 pairs of Adelies mixed in with the hundreds of breeding Gentoos pairs. On the other side of the island, grounded ice floes were peppered with resting Leopard Seals and a few Weddell Seals.

The highlight of the evening came when we learned that  staff historian Craig Poore had proposed to his girlfriend Lauren amid the grandeur of the berg-filled landscape and the charm of rocks covered in guano. How could Lauren refuse? Congratulations to both of you! In the wake of experiencing some of the finest nature has to offer, glowing recollections of the day's activities diverted our attentions from the chill in the air as we made the the six-mile zodiac ride back to the ship.
 

January 18: Cierva Cove, Gerlache, Cuverville Island
 
Although shrouded in low clouds and light rain, the idyllic grandeur of Ciera Cove greeted us this morning. Icebergs of all shapes and sizes were strewn about like a child’s toys and tall snow-capped mountains jutted upwards from the edge of the cove. Gaping cracks in centuries-old glaciers shown various hues of blue, violet, and turquoise.

Shades of color from white to aqua to turquoise accent the many icebergs

The early part of the day was dedicated to zodiac cruising among the icebergs and the study of loafing seals and feeding whales. With eight hearty passengers aboard I launched my zodiac just after breakfast. We marveled at the beautiful lines and textures in icebergs and all their various forms.

We also encountered a lone Leopard Seal swimming around the base of one large berg. Though this seal wasn't on the hunt, and we didn't represent a potential meal, its menacing appearance was still a bit intimidating. We could only imagine what it must feel like to be a penguin in the presence of this marine predator.

Gentoo Penguins occasionally rocketed by our zodiac. While clumsy and plodding on land, their speed and agility in the water amazed us. South Polar Skuas, Antarctic Terns, and Kelp Gulls flew overhead. After several hours of cruising, the prospect of warmth and a hot cup of coffee was cause enough to make a rest stop back at the ship.

Our second round of cruising was a bit more productive than the first. We headed directly for a loafing Crabeater Seal that had been sighted from the bow of the Polar Star. This eight-foot long pinniped lay carefree on its icy bed as we snapped photos. It yawned several times revealing its multi-cusped lower teeth which are used for straining krill, its main food. Continuing on, we located four more photogenic Crabeaters on a floe and then moved on to a Leopard Seal that was spotted on yet another floe.

Leopard Seals, which may reach 12 feet in length, can be seen basking on icebergs in Cierva Cove. They habitually keep a watchful eye on our zodiacs, regardless of their relative location.

At 12 feet in length, the Leopard Seals reside near the top of Antarctic food chain, yielding only to Orcas. This Leopard Seal was wide awake and kept a close eye on us as we maneuvered into position for optimal photos.  The 15-foot rule was strictly enforced as we didn’t want to disturb the scene for other cruisers. 

After this encounter we headed out to more open water and joined three other zodiacs in a search for two Humpback Whales, which had been spotted about 45 minutes earlier. Luck was again on our side as the two whales started to feed within minutes of our arrival. We crept forward at a pace that allowed us to keep up with them. I opted to take an outside track in an effort to avoid any disturbance and to position our zodiac near where I hoped the whales would reemerge. Dumb luck or not, they surfaced a mere 10 meters away from our craft and we were rewarded with astonishing views of  blowholes, dorsal fins and tail flukes. Hearing the sound their blow at point-blank range in this pristine landscape will resonate in my memory forever. Yet again, the appointed hour for our return to the Polar Star came too quickly. During our return drive, two Minke Whales paralleled our zodiac – a fleeting glimpse, but perhaps a sign of things to come.
 
After lunch, we entered the Gerlache Strait, which is affectionately called "Whale Alley" because we routinely see many feeding Humpback Whales during this six-hour stretch. We were not disappointed. Whales gradually started appearing in all directions. By the end of the passage, we had counted 50, including many flukes and one that breached. One by one, Antarctica was revealing its gems!
 
Our final stop of this marathon day was at Cuverville Island, home to a Gentoo Penguin colony, South Polar Skua club, and grounded icebergs. I was again piloting one of the zodiacs, allowing me further opportunity to take in beautiful landscapes featuring finely sculpted icebergs. Cracked glaciers, which always seemed as though they might calve at any moment, held our attention. We were also treated to somewhat surreal views of the Polar Star framed by icebergs against a dramatic gray sky. As we circumnavigated Cuverville Island,  we marveled at Gentoo Penguins nesting on what appeared to be inaccessible terrain. Our ears were filled by the haunting sounds of Kelp Gulls, Antarctic Terns, and Skuas. This day of superlatives soon came to an end, leaving us to anticipate what adventures adventures tomorrow might deliver.

All photos by Jim Danzenbaker