Imagine sailing to Antarctic waters, heading for an island that appears like any other, dark rock, pale snow and ice. Imagine waking to a silvery blue grey sea and sky, watching the ephemeral blows of large whales slowly disappear into a misty sky. Imagine seeing dark land appearing out of the mist and cloud ahead. Dark black rock and white ice and snow. Imagine approaching steep cliffs of sheer rock that plunge into the ocean now tumultuous with white caps of spray. Imagine seeing more colours in that rock, orange, red and yellow that the previous distance hid. Imagine the ship slowly navigating its way through a narrow opening in the cliffs, rock towering vertically above you, mere hundreds of metres away. Imagine coming through the other side, opening out into a large natural harbour, hidden from view until the last moment….
The opening is Neptune’s Bellows. The natural harbour a flooded caldera of an active volcano. The island is Deception.
The mist hangs low over the precipitous cliffs and rock, but it is still impressive. It is desolate. Barren. Black volcanic rock slopes up from beaches to cliffs. There are patches of yellow and red rock making it seem surreal as these meet large swathes of white ice. Glaciers sweep between the slopes and precipices, but the ice has an almost menacing look to it, as black volcanic rock and ash is swept up and coats the white ice. The dark rock trapped within appears in buried layers, creating striations and marbling as it is churned and mixed.
The ship turns into Whalers Bay where rusted giant cylindrical vats and dilapidated crumbling buildings are all that remains of its brutal past as a whaling and sealing station. A few fur seals dot the beach, a lone penguin stands on the desolate shore with most having left the breeding grounds for open sea. A Weddell seal slumbers on a spit of shore as the ship slowly passes by.
If we could see from a birds eye view, it would show the Fram moving into open water surrounded by a horseshoe of land. Deception is an active volcano, and it is a rather surreal feeling moving further into the depths of the caldera. The wind continues to rip through despite the land all around, whipping the water into a mass of white horses as we head for our destination, Telefon Bay at the far end of the harbour. Some of the distant beaches appear to steam, as warmer water comes up from below and meets the frigid cold.
The Fram stops in Telefon Bay and the small zodiacs take us into shore, a small enclosed bay with a curved narrow black beach of small pebbles. Behind it the barren slopes rise up overlooking the beach, a small green lagoon and a valley beyond. Beyond the darks slopes are covered with ashy ice.
The short trek up the slope takes us into an alien, barren landscape. The wind is punishing, pushing and pulling, blasting us with ash and rock. We do not stay exposed for too long, heading back to the shelter of the beach and a rite of passage for all those who visit Antarctica. The polar plunge.
We do this from the shore. Which some might argue is harder. There is the nervous wait, sidelong glances in the direction of the tarpaulin where clothes and boots are stashed, there is a little delay while fresh towels are brought from the ship. Then we strip off, down to the costume on already under our layers. With nothing but the cossie and socks on we head in. For any polar plunge you have to make a decision and just go for it. No hesitation. Whether it is a leap of faith from a boat or wading in from shore. From the shore it feels even more important. The walk from shore, step by step into the icy water gives your brain more time to scream ‘stop, turn back!’. You have to make your mind up and just go for it. Just walk in. And that’s what we did. At a fair pace. Not thinking about it. We ran in up to our stomachs, turned round to face the shore and then plunged under, the icy water closing briefly over my head, before I burst back above the surface, take a gasp of air, and promptly rush back out. Returning to the tarpaulin and a towel to the cheers of the other passengers and Expedition Team.
A quick towel dry and we immediately put outer layers back on, hands legs, feet and hands tingling, before heading to the warmth of the Fram on the next zodiac. This time the small boat heads into the wind and waves and we end up having a polar shower! But the whole experience is invigorating and exhilarating.
As the Fram heads back out of Neptune’s Bellow’s, dark purple clouds build over the open ocean beyond, I marvel once more at the colours in the rock. The reds, yellow, blacks, greys, ashy and pure white all mixing in this unique place. And who says Antarctica is all white?
