Happy New Year from Rio
Happy New Year to everyone from the capital of party and the official end of our current overland journey—Rio de Janeiro.
Sponge Bob delivered the group here on 30 December, giving us enough time to organize ourselves for the big event of New Year’s Eve.
Lots of people opted to go to the infamous Copacabana Beach, but our personal hostess in Rio (Fernanda, who was an exchange student with us in 2010) recommended Flamengo Beach as having great samba music, top-notch fireworks, a more laid-back atmosphere and being just six blocks from her place—easy to walk home after you’ve celebrated too much.
Seven of us went there and had a fantastic evening. Poor John stayed up way past his bedtime. Those of you who ‘really’ know him will be impressed to know he made it to 1:30am.
The midnight fireworks went non-stop for 20 minutes (five minutes longer than the ones over the ridge at Copacabana) and two of the launch barges caught fire towards the end.
What a spectacle when the last of the explosives on one of the two went off together. Ka-boom!
Most of us agreed that New Year’s Eve is often a letdown—high on expectations and low on delivery. Last night was perfect in every way.
I’ll write more about it in a couple of days and post more pictures and a video of the fireworks (sorry but I ran out of battery before the big ka-boom). By the way, I took all the photos with my phone because I didn’t want to risk taking my big camera to the beach.
P.S. I’m in the process of trying to purchase the blog package that will allow me to post videos. It should also eliminate ads.
Bariloche in calmer times, from the cable car
Wishing everyone a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, and letting you know we are fine.
News from this part of the world hasn’t been great this week. There were riots in Bariloche, in the lake district of Argentina, and now Copahue is showing lots of volcanic activity between Chile and Argentina.
We’re in the Pantanal wetlands of Brazil and heading towards the coast and Rio by the 30th.
I’ll be writing more soon, but will have no internet for four or five days.
Old hangar at Whalers Bay
You’ve already had a quick glimpse of Whalers Bay in the South Shetland Islands. That’s where the intrepid Olivia did her Polar Plunge into icy waters.
But on our last morning in Antarctica, we had a nice long stop in the bay, which is surrounded by Deception Island, so we could explore the now-abandoned British Base B.
Its name gives away it original purpose—Whalers Bay started as a Norwegian whaling station in 1911. It fulfilled that role for 20 years, until whale oil prices petered out.
Krill in Whalers Bay
Birds feed on krill swept into Whalers Bay
Thirteen years later, in 1944, the British Royal Navy established Base B there as part of their wartime expedition known as ‘Operation Tabarin’. After the war, it became a scientific research station.
This operated continuously until December 1967, when a volcanic eruption caused it to be evacuated for a year. It reopened towards the end of 1968 and then closed permanently three months later when mud-flow from another eruption destroyed most of the buildings.
The site was ‘cleaned up’ in the early 1990s, with fuel, batteries, hazardous waste and general debris were removed, but the buildings remain and there’s still a lot to see. including a variety of old whaling equipment, a hangar and the graveyard.
One of the biggest treats for us was seeing hundreds of birds having a krill-feeding feast. Something had swept thousands (perhaps millions) of krill into the bay and the birds had followed. Chris, the ornithologist on our trip, said he had never seen anything like it. All he could do was grin and snap photo after photo.
Some of the remnants of the whaling station
A last resting place in Whalers Bay
There were more visitors than birds and krill, with a British Naval ship and another ship from Ushuaia also anchored there.
After we landed, a small boat from the British ship came to shore. Those on board interviewed some of our passengers to determine whether we had been ‘properly schooled’ on the etiquette and behaviour that rules in Antarctica—we had.
As an aside, Deception Island, which is horseshow-shaped, is also the place from where the Antarctic Peninsula was first sighted.
We were there on a clear day, and Poor John spotted it too, and pointed it out to Wolfgang, one of the crew. At first, Wolfgang thought it was just an iceberg but then, with a help of binoculars, confirmed that Poor John was right.
After our landing, we had our last Zodiac cruise for this trip to the Antarctic. Then we were heading ‘home’ half a day early because a passenger needed medical attention that was not available aboard ship.
A surprisingly spacious triple cabin
Ship cabins are supposed to be the size of a battery hen’s cage—right? That’s what I always thought, so I was pleasantly surprised when we took possession of our budget cabin for a 10-day expedition to Antarctica.
I don’t know exact measurements for our space (maybe 7 x 2.5 metres), but I shared it with Poor John and Olivia (a fellow overlander who joined us in a triple room on the Ocean Diamond that we got for a last-minute bargain price).
I expected to have to walk in sideways and change clothes standing on the bed, but we had three narrow (but comfy) single beds—two on the floor and one that pulled down from the wall. There was adequate floor space, a built-in desk, a chair, plenty of drawers and cupboards, a couple of portholes, a little sofa and a small, but efficient bathroom.
Drying laundry in Antarctica. Plenty of room to do clothes as well as our waterproof gear
The TV (wrong plug) and DVD player (no plug) didn’t work, but that didn’t matter because there was so much else to keep us busy without those distractions.
What did work—and worked very well—was our rigged-up clothesline. We managed to do plenty of laundry in our tiny bathroom sink. The water was warm, and we’d brought our laundry soap, clothesline and pegs! Olivia had to get good at shinnying under the line when she got out of her bunk, but otherwise, it was pretty easy to work around.
Antarctica is called the driest continent, and it’s true. We strung our line across the room and each batch of laundry dried quick-smart. I reckon we saved $50–$100 on laundry services, which I promptly spent on an outrageously-priced internet connection.
Hey, it’s all about setting your priorities. I wish the room had had an extra powerpoint or two, but we managed.
A crowded bathing spot at Banfora Falls, Burkina Faso
We had a great. although very compact, shower on our recent expedition to Antarctica. Plenty of hot water, decent pressure and a proper shower head. But that’s not always the case.
This afternoon, I had a cold shower—not because I chose to, but because there was only a cold-water tap. It didn’t really matter because I’m in a hot and steamy part of Brazil and the cold water was refreshing.
On our travels, we’ve found that our opportunities for a wash have come in many forms—hot, warm, cold, dribbles, jet sprays, hoses, rivers, lakes, crowded, filthy, clean, miniscule, spacious, non-existent.
In four overland journeys, we’ve seen them all, and often not seen any at all. A couple of times in Africa, we went up to 14 days without a shower. But we all smelled the same, so it didn’t matter—at least not to us.
Old oil drums and a small mud hut help to create a makeshift shower in Dogon Country, Mali
Poor John remembers arriving at a luxury game park lodge in 1973, after a showerless month on dirt roads in Africa. His group looked scruffy and smelled worse, and the ‘real’ lodge guests moved away as soon as they got a whiff of the overlanders.
He also remembers when the rains came one day on the journey, and everyone in his first overland got naked and showered in the downpour.
My vivid memories aren’t quite that extreme.
I loved the roomy, open-air showers at Green Turtle Lodge on the coast of Ghana. They may have been cold, but they were built of stone, had great water pressure, were surrounded by greenery and absolutely gorgeous.
I panicked in the showers at Gondor in the wintery north of Ethiopia. Me—and my hair—were all soaped up when the water, which was at least warm, slowed to a trickle. Now what? I waited!
I used water sparingly from the overhead drums in Dogon Country in Mali.
I passed on having a shower on the shores of Lake Song-Köl in Kyrgyzstan. Wil, our driver on that trip, hung a camping shower off the back of the truck. When the overnight temperatures are below zero, the water bags that feed such a shower don’t really warm up in the daytime sun.
I missed seeing the snake that appeared in the Georgian river where I had just bathed and washed our laundry.
There have been plenty more shower escapades, and I’m sure there are more to come. But you want to know what annoys me the most? It’s when a shower doesn’t have anywhere for me to hang my clothes.
Have you got any shower stories to share?
Loved the stone shower cubicles at Green Turtle Lodge, Ghana
Ice blocks our access to Port Lockroy (see the small black building on the left)
A stark reminder of Port Lockroy’s 20-year history when it was used for whaling
The first setback on our expedition to the deep south of the world came on the third day we were in Antarctica.
At the time, we were headed to Port Lockroy, a natural harbour on the shores of Wiencke Island in the Palmer Archipelago. That’s when word came through that access to our destination was cut off by ice—lots of ice.
We’d all been looking forward to Port Lockroy. Discovered in 1904, this harbour was used for whaling from 1911 to 1931. During World War II, the British military established the Port Lockroy base (Station A), which later continued as a research station until 1962.
But we weren’t interested in military or research—we wanted stamps and stamps!
I’m talking about our postcards and passports.
Port Lockroy is looked after by the United Kingdom Antarctic Heritage Trust, which runs a post office, museum and souvenir shop there. It’s where you can send mail that is stamped and postmarked from Antarctica. It’s also where you can get an ‘official’ Antarctica stamp in your passport.
But the ice won. While we were all able to have a lengthy cruise in a Zodiac, our postcards will have to wait until a later expedition. And our passports—we had to make-do with a Quark Expedition stamp for 2012–13.
An Antarctic Post Office—so near, but so far
I think the employees at Port Lockroy were disappointed too. They don’t get a lot of visitors, so it must get rather lonely out there. Plus many of our passengers had planned a major assault on the gift shop. That would have been very good for business, because proceeds from the shop are used to help maintain the site and other historic sites and monuments in Antarctica.
All of Port Lockroy’s workers came outside to wave and look busy. We had a laugh and wondered if we’d disrupted their coffee break.
As an aside, two days later we heard the problem ice had disappeared—not melted, just moved on. Hmm! I wonder who will get home first in January—me or my postcards?
A dazzling sea around Port Lockroy
Scott and the Bathrobe Brigade
Floor shows are a big part of a cruise ship’s daily schedule—one of my nieces even had a job looking after the entertainers’ costumes.
That said, we didn’t expect any shows on our expedition to Antarctica—the scenery, landings, Zodiac cruises, lectures and yoga classes were more than enough entertainment.
But we were in for a treat one night when Scott, from the kayak team, produced his guitar. He’s a singer, songwriter and guitarist, and his Canadian band, More Please Music, will be releasing its first album soon.
We shouldn’t have been surprised. Every member of crew seemed to be oozing diverse talents and skills, and Scott’s songs are definitely worthy of an album.
Our ‘concert’ lasted for more than an hour. I think Scott was egged on by a bunch of fellows who appeared wearing the bathrobes provided on ship. They sat together and formed a willing chorus of hummers and ‘oo-oo-ers’. During a break, Scott even went and got his robe.
That evening will stay in my mind as one of life’s spontaneous and cherished moments. And we were lucky enough to have a repeat performance on our last night on the Ocean Diamond. Thanks Scott! And thanks to the Bathrobe Brigade!
Chateaubriand—a gourmet choice
With all this talk about our expedition to Antarctica, I guess it’s time to mention the food.
For starters, Poor John and I are still amazed how the kitchen was able to deliver beautifully fresh and varied food at sea for so many days in a row. A real credit to the staff’s expertise and the Ocean Diamond’s refrigeration system.
Three elaborate meals per day, plus afternoon teas and occasional drinks parties were enough to send me scurrying to the yoga and core-strengthening classes held most days. And I made a serious attempt to control portions and resist seconds.
The buffet breakfast was my splurge meal. Most mornings I succumbed to scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages, smoked salmon with capers and onions, cream cheese, a couple of pieces of fruit, coffee and a mini muffin (if they hadn’t run out)—all followed by a burp.
A work of art in chocolate
I could have added yogurt, cereals, porridge, potatoes, cold cuts, croissants, danishes, breads, rolls, French toast, toast, baked beans, an omelet of my choice, eggs made to order, juices and tea, but I restrained myself.
Lunch was when I did show some control. Every day, this buffet meal featured soups, an array of salads, platters of cold cuts and cheeses, four hot choices with non-low-cal favourites such as macaroni and cheese, and a couple of desserts.
Without fail, I stuck to a green salad—piles of lettuce topped with veggie choices such as tomatoes, carrots, cucumbers, olives and the like. I usually tried one of the other salads too, and managed to sneak in a bit of cheese. Dessert was off limits. I passed on goodies at afternoon teas and drinks parties too.
Dinner was the most lavish meal of the day with two soups, two salads, four mains and at least three desserts on offer. The mains always covered fish/seafood, meat/poultry, pasta and vegetarian options. You could order virtually anything. A friend, Anne, was hoping to gain some weight and staff were quite happy to bring her three desserts. Poor John was especially partial to a baked dessert topped with a scoop of ship-made ice cream.
After the first night, I limited myself to two courses only, and one night my choices were just soup and salad. The last night I treated myself to the chateaubriand and lots of the showy and divine chocolate desserts.
Cruise ships are supposedly renowned for their continuous supply of gourmet food. My stepdad used to lose 20 pounds before he went on a cruise, so he could afford to eat whatever he wanted.
While all the food on our expedition ship was tasty and beautifully presented, only a few dishes were of truly fine-dining standard. Thank goodness. I don’t think I could have resisted 10 days of gourmet.
The aftermath of a mini-exploding iceberg. Note the small waves
Our third day of landings and Zodiac cruises in Antarctica began with Danco Island, off the southern end of the Errera Channel.
Danco is only a mile long, but it’s almost 600 feet high. The views are spectacular, and no one knows them better than the 1600 breeding pairs of Gentoo penguins who often prefer to nest high up the slopes.
Weddell seal lounging on an iceberg
A gentleman comes to call
Not getting a response
As with Neko Harbour, we tramped to the top and were rewarded with expansive views of surrounding glaciers and rolled icebergs scattered across the channel.
Crew on the Ocean Diamond had a lot of praise for the British, who conducted geological research at Danco until 1959. In 2004, Britain removed all trace of Antarctic Survey Station O—a highly commendable act. Today only a location plaque remains.
But we were in for two treats with our Zodiac cruise. Soon after we set out, part of an iceberg exploded beside us. There was a loud bang and ice sprayed everywhere alongside. I wasn’t quick enough to get a pic of the blowout. Hey, no one was expecting it. But I did get a quick snap of the floating fallout and the small waves that were created.
Then came the seals. Solan, our Zodiac driver on this morning, spotted a Weddell seal snoozing on an iceberg in the distance and motored over so we could have a closer look. ‘She’ wasn’t all that interested in us.
But then a ‘suitor’ appeared. Now I’m probably getting this all wrong, and I may have the sexes wrong, but this was how it seemed to those of us observing.
The suitor approached the iceberg, made some noises—no reaction. He bobbed around in and under the water for a while and made more approaches. He even swam to the other side of the berg to make an advance. Still no interest, and in the end he swam away. It was a magic moment for us, even if he didn’t get anywhere.
Trekking up from Neko Harbour with the glacier in the background
Landings and Zodiac cruises are a bit of a gamble on any Antarctic expedition. The weather has to be good, the ice has to stay at bay and the sea has to be calm enough so everything can be done safely.
Our whole trip was blessed with excellent weather so our second landing on Antarctica—yes we had two stops on the mainland in one day—happened without a hitch.
Squabbling penguins at Neko Harbour
We set foot off Neko Harbour, discovered by the Belgian explorer, de Gerlache, in the late 1800s.
The harbour is on the eastern shore of Andvord Bay and was named for a Norwegian floating whale factory ship that used the harbour in the early 1900s.
In addition to admiring the many Gentoo penguins on shore, we made a steep climb to overlook a nearby glacier. It supposedly calves (releases icebergs) regularly, but didn’t reward us with any action except for a couple of loud cracks. But the views were spectacular.
Cruising through brash ice in the Antarctic
Our biggest reward was the Zodiac cruise through acre upon acre of brash ice. These floating ice fragments are never more than 2 metres across and are ‘shrapnel’ from other forms of ice. (I read that there are heaps of different kinds of ice in the Antarctic, and I doubt that I saw them all—I don’t even know all their names).
Vladimir, our Zodiac captain this afternoon, thoroughly enjoyed steering us through this new-to-us form of ice. It was fascinating to see how the Zodiac edged through without problem, and then see how the ice closed behind us.
Vlad was also very pleased to spot a couple of crabeater seals snoozing on an iceberg. We cruised over and managed to disrupt their peace and get some great pics.
The icy waters seemed even more amazing after I read that about 10 years ago Lynne Cox, an American long-distance swimmer, swam in the harbour for 25 minutes. She trained for years in super-chilled waters. Not my idea of fun but full credit to her.
Where to next? 