Livingston Island with lenticular clouds, December 7,
      2021
  On Tuesday morning November 9 (not quite seven weeks ago), I received the
    following email: 
  "Hi Wayne, One of our staff members has a family situation that came up
      last minute. You were the first one I thought who could replace him. The
      dates are November 28 – Dec 12, 2021 – our Total Solar Eclipse cruise.
      Please let me know. Thanks, Julia" 
  I've received a number of inquiries like these through my career, working
    as a roving
    Geologist Will Travel and I can
    honestly say that I have NEVER been able to accommodate a request like
    this on such short notice. Nevertheless, I looked unceremoniously at my
    digital calendar and to my delight and surprise I saw something unusual
    before my eyes - blank space. There was absolutely nothing to preclude me
    from saying YES and joining this expedition as a Zodiac driver and geologic
    lecturer. I then recalled that this was a trip that I had requested 18
    months prior, as I have become a bit of an eclipse chaser. After a quick
    discussion with my wife about the advisability of my going, I replied,
  "The answer is yes! I can help you. Let me know the details, Wayne
  The elapsed time from query to acceptance was one hour and
    four minutes. I was going to Antarctica for my 30th time! There was
    lots of paperwork to be completed and many tests needed for entry into
    Argentina. But I was willing and the Ice was calling once again.
  I soon learned that other friends who work as guides or lecturers on trips
    like these were also headed south. Rob was going with Wilderness Travel
    and Tyler was on with Betchart Expeditions and The Planetary Society. Tyler
    created the poster above and you can view more of his space artwork
    here.
  After all of the preliminary necessities to fly 1/5th of the way
    around the world (and during a global pandemic), I found myself
    once more in the heart of one of the great cities of South America, Buenos
    Aires. I love this city for its elegant character and as I soon learned, its
    humility in the face of the pandemic. Never before had I seen it so calm, so
    introspective. Nearly everyone wore masks, even outdoors on the
    sidewalks. We stayed in a hotel for three nights
    that had been closed entirely for 18 months. Staff were still
    trickling in after the long layoff. It was refreshing to see a society that
    had come to terms with what was needed to move on from the microscopic enemy
    that has no regard for the safety or health of the human endeavor. Here,
    there was no hint of the "keep-your-hands-off-of-my-body" type of mentality
    that still permeates the United States 245 years after its rebellious
    Declaration of Independence. Civil-ized - that's what I thought of as
    I explored the Recoleta, Palermo, and Barrio Norte neighborhoods.
  I was with six of my shipmates, who had flown in from South Africa, Italy
    and the United States. We were an eclectic group who soon bonded in
    sheer joy at being somewhere, anywhere, after the long lockup. It is
    summertime down south and 80 degree weather always brings a smile to my
    face. The exchange rate was VERY favorable to a Norte Americano and
    I took great pleasure in sitting at an outdoor restaurant
    and ordering one of the world's great steaks, grown on the
    Argentinian Pampas (grass-fed) and grilled to perfection over open
    flame. 
  View of Isla Navarino from Ushuaia Argentina on November 30 2021
  But enough of that. We soon flew to the world's southernmost city of
    Ushuaia, located on the Beagle Channel and on the south coast of Tierra del
    Fuego. The city was essentially devoid of the usual numbers of visitors
    (because of the pandemic) and as it was imperative that we arrive at
    the ship without infection, I found myself aboard Le Lyrial, which
    set sail at 9:30 PM on November 30th, bound for the South Orkney
    Islands.  
  I had only been to the
    South Orkney Islands
    a few times before and in the earlier days of Antarctic exploration, when
    the trips were more free-form and unscheduled. Today, the trips follow
    strict scheduling procedures due to the sheer numbers of ships stopping
    at the few choice places to set foot on the continent. The South
    Orkney Islands are considered a part of Antarctica since they lie below 60°
    south latitude. We made one landing here at Shingle Cove and were
    'blown-out' of a Zodiac tour at another location due to
    strong katabatic winds.
      Metamorphic fabric in the Scotia Metamorphic Complex at Shingle
        Cove. The rock unit is described as "ocean floor-derived sequences
        of uncertain but perhaps Permian to early Jurassic age..." Ref.: British Antarctic Survey Geological Map of the South Orkney
      Islands, 2011.
    
View to the northeast to the skerries near Powell Island, where we viewed the eclipse
    The eclipse on December 4 would occur at 4:08 AM local time. But not to
      worry - the sunrise at this latitude was at 2:33 AM, meaning that the sun
      would be up for a full one and half hours before the disk of the sun would
      be obscured. Unfortunately (and not at all unexpectedly for this part of
      the world), the sky was completely overcast without a chance of the sun
      peaking through. Still, most people were up at this early to see and
      experience what would happen. And even though we did not see the moon
      travel in front of the suns entire disk, it did get dark for one minute.
      One of my fellow shipmates and naturalists, Rich Pagen, captured this time
      lapse (below) of the celestial event.
  
  
    Sixteen second time lapse video from the back deck of Le Lyrial of
      the December 4 total solar eclipse
  
  
    Crossing over to the Antarctic Peninsula, we had some very rough
        seas. But when we arrived at the Peninsula, the weather was fine.
  
  Rosamel Island is a tuya, a volcano that was erupted beneath the glacial ice when it was more extensive
Brown Bluff is another popular stop and is another tuya belonging to the James Ross Island Volcanic Group, a series of Pleistocene cones now emergent from their glacial carapace
A low-tide delta of sand that has formed from sapping - when the tide went out, water ran out from the higher beach sand and transported it to where it spilled into a delta front
Half Mood Island with Livingston Island in the background. Both belong to the South Shetland Islands group
      An iceberg with teeth!
    
    
        Orne Harbor on the Antarctic Peninsula - note how the wind and solar
        radiation has scalloped the snow and ice away from the base of the peak
        (center)
      
  
Your story and photos are fantastic, Wayne!
ReplyDeleteRough life!
ReplyDeleteI have the same two images from my visit to Paradise Bay in 2015. No geologist anywhere in sight on the National Geographic Explorer. Howard
ReplyDeleteThen they need to find one! And take you back for another trip around the rocks and ice.
DeleteWhat a fabulous trip -- and a great opportunity for you! Best wishes for more excellent trips in 2022 and beyond!
ReplyDelete