In The Company Of Giants
In the stillness, Vinson drifts, her engines in neutral, a quiet hum in the background. We all hold our breath. A metre off our stern a Humpback whale glides just below the surface, her calf follows slightly further out. It’s as if she is simultaneously checking us out whilst teaching her child that we humans are no longer to be feared. Through the azure blue depths her pectoral fin glows a ghostly white and as she rises we can clearly see the barnacles on her lower jaw, her eye watching us with a gentle gaze. She blows as she breaks the surface and a mist of warm fish scented breath wafts over those of us spellbound on Vinson’s starboard quarter. Moments later she sinks once again into the turquoise waters, leading her calf away onto other lessons.
The day started in Paradise Harbour, tucked into Skontorp Cove with our buddy boat, Shaima. We are ten days into a three week cruise which has already been a smorgasbord of wildlife and stunning scenery. Each new place we visit seems more beautiful than the last, but today will prove to be particularly spectacular. In the early morning light whilst the rest of the boat still sleeps, the skipper, Chris, and I slip away in the dinghy in the hopes of spotting whales feeding in the bay. We thread our way through brash ice, bergy bits and growlers towards Brown station, an Argentine research base. We kill the engine and within moments are greeted by the sound of whales blowing nearby. We watch, scanning the water surface, and are rewarded with bubble rings precursing the surfacing beast beneath. The head breaks the surface, exhales and slides back down, a second whale close behind. In my awestruck state, I am unaware that I am emitting little squeaks of excitement. Directly ahead of us, the telltale ring appears on the water. It is closer than any we’ve seen so far, only metres away. We hold our breath. The sea parts as the grey ridge of the whale’s head rises up and releases a huge plume. It sucks in air through its blowhole and rolls downwards, humping its back so we know it will show its flukes as it dives. By now it is a mere couple of metres from the bow of the dinghy and behind me, Chris is frantically swapping from camera to phone to capture it on video. In slow motion, the dorsal fin cuts into the surface first and the tail flukes rise up, displaying against the backdrop of ice and the mountains behind. Then, it is gone. I look at my phone. In my haste to capture the moment on video, I didn’t press record. I wonder if I’ll ever get the opportunity again.
We linger a little longer, with several pairs feeding in our vicinity, before making our way back to Vinson. I stay onboard whilst the rest of the crew head out again and are rewarded with more whale sightings, although none quite so close. Mid-morning we prepare to depart, releasing shorelines, retrieving wire slings and weighing anchor. As we depart Skontorp, the glacier behind us calves in a thunderous roar; Antarctica showing us yet more of its raw beauty. The views in the Fergusson Channel are stunning, doubled in the reflections of the mirror calm water. Gentoo penguins porpoise beside us, escorting us through and out into the Gerlache Strait. I take the helm as we set a course towards the Lemaire Channel, everyone is relaxing on deck in the sunshine, enjoying the scenery. We’re crossing Butler Passage when a shout goes up; ‘Whale! Dead ahead!’ I see the grey hump directly in front of us and put Vinson into hard astern. The crew cluster on the bow as she dives beneath the boat, the second whale close behind. We wait to see where, if, she will pop back up and then I see her behind us. We rush to the aft of Vinson and watch in awe as this leviathan of the seas glides past. She is in no hurry; not curious, not agitated, just accepting that we are there as a part of her world. She will swim in Antarctic waters many times throughout her lifetime; we are just passing through, getting a glimpse, but never seeing the full story of Antarctica.
Photos from Bee Woodland.
Bee Woodland
Vinson crew
