Tuesday, 10 February 2015
Bluff, New Zealand
Enjoy Mui’s Highlights of Our Ross Sea Expedition video — a review of our voyage.
Enjoy Mui’s Highlights of Our Ross Sea Expedition video — a review of our voyage.
There is no real ending. It’s just the place where you stop the story.
Frank Herbert (Author)
Truer words could not have been spoken. Our arrival in Bluff is not really an ending. Rather, it signals that it is time to type a period and conclude the story of our Ross Sea Expedition … our partial circumnavigation of Antarctica. The voyage, while still fresh in our minds, is but a memory now.
What a spectacular adventure our Ross Sea Expedition has been.
Another story — another adventure — begins today, but that is for another time … another blog post. I’ll wrap this one up by getting us off the ship.
The deepest principal of human nature is the craving to be appreciated.
William James (Philosopher)
Overnight, we left the Furious Fifties behind for the ‘calmer’ waters of the Roaring Forties. You could have fooled me ;-) Yes, the skies were blue when we woke up. Yes, the sun was shining bright and warm. But the Southern Ocean continued to make its presence known, with long, deep swells moving Ortelius along.
Eternity is a terrible thought. I mean, where’s it going to end.
Tom Stoppard, British Playwright
It was 5:45a when Don woke us up to say the ship was about to enter Perseverance Harbour. All righty!
We hopped out of bed, pulled open the shades — and sighed. The fog was thick; the day incredibly dreary — not what we had hoped for, but not unusual either. We figured we would wait until later to take photographs of the inlet and proceeded to get dressed for for the day ahead. Fifteen minutes later, inside the harbor, there were white caps on the water still. Hmmm! This didn’t bode well for our plans for the morning.
As the ship treaded water in sight of Campbell Island (post here) — sometimes cloaked entirely by thick fog; visible behind a light, filmy mantle at other times — I put my camera through its paces, photographing the seabirds that were flying about M/V Ortelius.
Although the wind played havoc with our plans for taking a zodiac cruise while we waited for the Spirit of Enderby to leave Perseverance Harbour, it brought the seabirds out a-plenty — at least we had some entertainment while the ship plied the coastal waters. There’s always a silver lining if you look close enough ;-)
Be amusing, never tell unkind stories; above all, never tell long ones.
Benjamin Franklin
Woke up excited to jump in zodiacs and look for the yellow-eyed penguins and New Zealand fur seals that, amongst other wildlife, make their home on Campbell Island. Not so fast!
When I raised the window shade I found myself staring at a thick bank of fog where the island should have been. Well, the island was still there, I’m sure … I just couldn’t see it through the cloak it had donned. And it was raining — not so surprising on an island that is known to have rain 325 days of the year. But … darn! The ship was rolling quite a bit. That it was in fact tilted to port was a good indication of the strength and direction of the wind. Sure enough, Don was soon on the P/A system to advise us that it was blowing 30-40 knots (35-46 mph/55-74 kph) and conditions within the shelter of Smoothwater Bay were anything but. Needless to say, zodiac operations were cancelled.
Those of you who think you know everything are annoying to those of us who do.
Mark Twain [Questionable Attribution]
After a night of rockin’ and rollin’, we woke up to more of the same this morning.
Even as I write this, the winds continue to rage in the 50-knot (58 mph/93 kph) range, and the ship’s motion on the ocean is quite lively. It’s been like this for much of the day. When he returned from a quick trip to deck 3 aft this morning, Mui described the waves as being “mountainous.” An apt description that I confirmed later when I went out and saw the action for myself.
When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace.
Jimi Hendrix
Overnight Ortelius left the Screaming Sixties and crossed into the Furious Fifties. By most definitions that means that we have left the Antarctic behind. Another thing — we had one and a half hours of darkness last night. Can you believe it? After weeks of nothing but daylight, the sun actually set for a while. And the further north we travel, the longer those periods of darkness will become.
Expedition Day 28 — no longer in Antarctic waters.
Experience is the name everyone gives to their mistakes.
Oscar Wilde
A surprisingly calm ocean today — and this in waters that are notoriously stormy. Very little wind as well — certainly not the norm for the Screaming Sixties. Our luck couldn’t possibly hold, so I spent most of the day on deck to take advantage of Mother Nature’s weather gift to us.
Expedition Day 27 … we’re further north than indicated here, but I neglected to visit
the bridge to take my final reading for the day before changing into my jammies for the night.
There are forty kinds of lunacy, but only one kind of common sense.
Swahili Proverb
After spending three weeks below the Antarctic Circle, we’re north of that imaginary line again! We’ll actually have some hours of darkness now ;-)
Woke up to overcast skies this morning … snow flurries, visibility of less than a ½-mile, and ocean swells that were noticeably rocking Ortelius. A few people were on the outer decks; a few were in the bar or the bridge; most were chilling in their cabins I think.
Mui and I put on Scopolamine patches — mostly because we knew that the windowless lecture hall, located on deck 3 forward, is a seasickness-inducing kind of place when the ship is rocking and rolling.
Expedition Day 26 — rockin’ and rollin’ across the Southern Ocean.
The basic problems facing the world today are not susceptible to a military solution.
John F Kennedy
The party must have raged late into the night … there was no wake up call this morning. Or Don, just didn’t set his alarm ;-)
Today was our day to go through the last bit of the bridge team’s nemesis — sea ice. The ice charts have been notoriously unreliable on this trip. We found ice where there was supposed to be none. We found open — or relatively open — water where there was supposed to be heavy ice.
Back on the ship after our scenic flight from Cape Adare (post here), Mui and I stayed outdoors to continue enjoying the marvelous day on the Bridge Deck.

As our chopper returns to shore to give another batch of passengers
a thrill ride, we stop to take a “postcard” to remember this time and place.
The sun kept us warm; and Captain Ernesto entertained us by pushing through thick ice. Fellow-passengers came and went, but for the most part we had the deck to ourselves. It was quiet enough to hear the popcorn-crackling of the brash ice surrounding the ship. Could it be anymore perfect?
Tucked up against the ship, the gangway looks quite forlorn.
Unless there is a surprise landing tomorrow, it will be several days before
we have to put our footwear through the decontamination process again.
Air operations were to have ended and the choppers secured by 8:00p, but that didn’t happen. Some said it was because only two helicopters were shuttling passengers back to the ship; some said it was because a couple of passengers ashore had pulled a disappearing act to maximize their time on land. Whatever the reason, we didn’t really care except for the inconvenience the delay caused the hotel and galley staff as they had to keep postponing dinner, which was finally served at 8:30p.
The last chopper heads off to bring back the team that stayed behind to lock up the hut.
Shipmate Didier, with whom we have been enjoying many a meal on this voyage.
Reflection fun!
Chatting with Captain Ernesto about the pleasures of today.
After dinner, we were invited back up to the Bridge Deck to enjoy dessert — and a surprise. The latter turned out to be an ice cream social, with mulled wine to take the chill off. A lovely end to a fantastic day.
Even as the ice cream social was wrapping up, the ship was heading north. Time to leave this wondrous place behind. We stayed on deck for a while to enjoy the summer ice wonderland, but as time passed bit by bit — and the breeze picked up — the chill drove us inside and to our warm beds.
We shouldn’t be smiling; after all, we’re leaving the region. But how can we not
do so in the face of such wondrous scenery on such a beautiful day?
At this moment, I have no idea what we will be doing tomorrow, let alone in the days ahead. I do know that Don will try to take advantage of any opportunities that present themselves, but everything will depend on the ice that we have to get through to make our arrival date in Bluff on 10 February. Can’t worry about it … que sera sera … what will be will be.
© 2004-2015 Two to Travel. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED by ERIN ERKUN.
After our visit with the Adélies was up (post here), we boarded a chopper for the flightseeing portion of our day.
Aldo gave us an amazing ride, flying over tabulars frozen in the sea ice; landing on one such tabular; flying us over and around Ortelius; and landing on an ice floe for a different perspective of the ship in the sea ice.
As a crewman helps us buckle up, German Su immortalizes the moment ;-)
Our flightseeing over the Ross Ice Shelf when we first arrived in the Ross Sea Region was spectacular … and ranks as a wonderful, not-to-be-forgotten-soon experience. So does this last aerial opportunity to see the icescape of the region before we leave the continent behind. WOW! WOW! WOW!
After visiting Borchgrevink’s Hut (post here) on Cape Adare, our landing was far from over. We were at the world’s largest Adélie penguin colony, and we were going to walk amongst the thousands of penguins that remained ashore even though it was well past the breeding season and most of them had already dispersed to go foraging.