Antarctica and the Southern Ocean Presentation

 My friends and colleagues Hugh Rose and Patrick Endres and I will be giving a presentation for the Arctic Audubon Society on our recent Antarctica trip. Each of us will be sharing a selection of images and sharing photo tips and anecdotes from our adventures. If you'll be in Fairbanks on Monday night at 7pm, join us at the Noel Wien Library for an hour of photography and natural history.

Adelies in the fog

Canon 7D, 17-40f4L @ 40mm, 1/640th @ f4.0, ISO 200

After our sunny morning exploring the peaks, and crags of Devil Island we motored off in the Polar Star to our first landing on Antarctica proper at the far northern tip of the peninsula, Brown Bluff.

The name Brown Bluff doesn't really do the place justice. The "bluff" is actually a 1000 foot cliff that shoots up a short distance from the beach. Snow and Pintado Petrels nest in the rock crevices and are constantly coming and going. Several thousand pairs of Adelie Penguins nest in a colony that reaches up the talus slope below the cliffs. Gentoo Penguins and Kelp Gulls occupy the boulders that are scattered up and down the gravel beach.

Since my first visit to the place in 2003, Brown Bluff has been among my favorites. Perhaps because it was the first place I encountered Adelies, or maybe because it was the first time I set foot on the great southern continent. Or maybe its just a remarkable place.

We arrived in cloudy, windless conditions, but as the afternoon went on, a fog bank rolled in from the north. First, as I zodiac cruised with a group of clients around the icebergs it began swallowing up the distant bergs, then the closer ones.

Back on shore, a short time later, I was photographing the penguins coming and going from the colony. They were splashing in and out of the water. The cold, foggy light made for challenging, but interesting, photography. It was a perfect chance for wide-angle work as the penguins popped from the water just feet away. The image above I snapped from a prone position on the beach. It's dark, but so was the day. This image reminds me of what the day felt like. The cold rock under me, the fog bank rolling in, graying the skies in the background, the icebergs floating like ghosts in water as gray as the sky.

Canon 7D, 17-40 f4L @40mm, 1/250th, f8.0, ISO 200, handheld from Zodiac

This second image was made during the short zodiac cruise around the bergs. The fog bank in the background made the blues in this berg pop like fireworks.

This is why I love the Antarctic. Every time the weather changes (which it does, almost constantly), the colors change, they brighten and soften, landscape elements appear and disappear. Even the wildlife seems to change. Penguins go from cute and clutzy birds to emblems of survival at the edge of what's possible.

Atop the Devil

Canon 7D, 17-40f4L @ 17mm, 1/3200th, @f9.0, ISO 200, handheld

Finally, we found the sun. It took two days of bashing through broken sea ice and trying to make up time in areas of open water, but we finally made it to the Antarctic Peninsula. Our first landing was on Paulet Island, a speck of rock north and east of the mainland and tucked up against the glaciated dome of Dundee Island. Paulet is a remarkable place where 100,000 or so Adelie Penguin pairs make their nests. There are penguins atop the icebergs that surround the island, they climb up and down the snowy slopes like ants, and fill the edges of the sea ice. It was sunny, warm, and a near-perfect day. And I got just about nothin' photographically.

Well that isn't entirely true, there are a few keepers in there, but nothing that really excited me. But I was in Antarctica and that alone made up for the fruitless hours with my camera.

That's why, for the time being at least, I'm skipping over Paulet Island and moving straight on to day 2 on the Antarctic Peninsula where we first visited Devil Island. This little visited island in the Weddell Sea is home to a few thousand Adelies, Skuas, Sheathbills and the other mishmash of Antarctic wildlife, but it is the scenery that makes the place.

Devil Island is tucked into a steep-sided cove of the heavily glaciated Vega Island and its summit rises some 1000 feet above the surrounding water. It is a remarkable place that made me wish for a sea kayak to explore the glassy waters. Instead I climbed.

With a handful of others I scrambled up the scree slopes to the taller of the island's two summits. From the summit ridge sprouts the pinnacle of the rotten stone in the picture above. Ted Cheeseman, the expedition leader and Ross Hofmeyr the ship's doctor went for a scramble to the top and I snapped a few images as they stood atop it.

Had I known that that glaring sun would be almost the last we'd see during our time on the continent, I'd have spent more time appreciating it.