Drake, o Drake, thy reputation confirmed once more. A Passage with an identity crisis for sure. So many faces, no wonder very often the weather gets depressed. Yesterday our estimated time of arrival would have been February 10 if the engines would have failed and we would have been totally dependent on the wind.

During the initial 24 hours with very little wind we actually witnessed the Lake Drake phenomenon. It provided time to get accustomed to the oceans movements again. Within
half a day we saw the wind shift to headwind. The one-engine assistance was upgraded to both engines. We lowered sails, set them again, Europa changed her course several times to keep wind in the sails. The wind increased to 30 plus knots. Waves built up and kept on trying to come aboard. Europa listed heavily at times. People coming on watch grinning at each other, having dressed after unsuccessful tries.

The listing also provided hilarious scenes at breakfast of people under various angles
and food sliding off plates to the definitely lower side. You probably wouldn´t want to live your life under a 30 degrees angle, but it´s great fun trying.

We salute thee Drake with a respectful ´wow´!

Joop

This night our passage north across the Drake nears its end! We had big waves and for this sea not too much wind - max. 8Bft, but on the nose from NW, so it was mostly motorsailing, which was some relief for the few seasick.

At 18:30 we saw it finally thru rainy clouds: Cape Horn! Passing Cape Horn safely is one of the finest experiences in the life of most sailors. Passing Cape Horn thankfully in the companionship of a nice and competent crew returning fromAntarctica with a bunch of new experiences and memories is all most travellers can dream of.

Passing Cape Horn on board of this wonderful tall ship Bark Europa simply makes us happy. And happy we look forward to the last three days of our journey through Tierra de Fuego...

Rupert
 

Aage Karup Nielsen was a Danish doctor who in 1922, together with a colleague, signed on as a ship’s doctor on the Norwegian whaling fleet for the Antarctic. He wrote a book about it, illustrated with 50 autotypes, a predecessor of the modern day digital flood of photographs.
He describes preparations and start from three Norwegian towns (Larvik, Tønsberg, Sandefjord) that sponsored this 30 million crowns enterprise.
The fleet consisted of 7 mother ship steamers (7000-10.000 tons) with each 3-4 whale hunting vessels aboard. Combined they were 1100 men. This fleet got 6 months to carry the loot from the South Shetlands area. The loot should consist of 4000 blue whales that would provide many tons of oil for European lamps and stoves.

Steamers need coal which was going to be taken in in Cardiff. The workers there went on strike after loading 50 tons of coal. Hastily by telegrams more expensive coal had to be ordered in Dakar and Rio de Janeiro. This meant a costly delay, but the author relishes in descriptions of the African Negro (whom he does not spare), and of the good life in Rio.

What does all this have to do with Bark Europa? I happen to be the ship’s doctor now, and I’m reading this book while on Deception Island, the primary base of operation of the Norwegian fleet. You can read how harpoons are fired and one of the pictures shows a harpoon exploding in a whale. The whale is dragged alongside the ship, or they plant a flag and insert a tube in the whale and inflate air to prevent it sinking, and then rush off to catch the next one. Later they will come and collect the whale. Floating alongside the ship the whale is skinned and the blubber is removed from the skin. Looking around here I realise what
happened: all around I see remains of whales. Today we are dealing with whales in a quite different way: we look for whales too, but at a ‘whale-alarm’ we are all on deck armed with cameras that are just softly clicking.

Nielsens description of penguin villages could have also been written
nowadays: there have been and are still very many, whereby I think there may be more digital Penguins than real penguins. The way Nielsen pictures the games they played with skuas wouldn’t fit Bark Europas behaviour: they would tie 2 pieces of blubber on either side of a piece of string and present that to the skuas. Shortlytwo skuas would fly through the air attached to one another by the string until one of them would let go of the blubber. Fun? Then it was anyway.

Up to now my medical knowledge is minimally called upon, may it stay that way. Nielsen does not report great dramas either, although he does mention the graveyard on Deception Island where many men lie who met with an accident. Now the burial ground only shows two crosses and one coffin.

He stresses the necessity of a doctor by pointing at the experiences that the ships captains passed onwhen they had to deal with such matters. For the sake of simplicity all medication had been stowed away in numbered pots, the names were too complicated for this captain. For example pot no. 1 was for nausea, no.2 for headache and so on. One day he needed no.11, but it was empty. Some creativity should be attributed to his captain: he gave his patient 4 and 7, which makes 11 doesn’t it?
To be perfectly clear: those were different times, I really don’t suppose our captain Klaas Gaastra would really do the same. All the crew are very professional, hospitable, hardworking and radiant with enthusiasm.

Having read Nielsens stories I’m glad I sail with Bark Europa on this trip in 2012 and not 90 years earlier when she was still a lightship. Although, it might have been interesting to see all the activity, the ships, the people, and maybe smell the stench for a bit. On the other hand I wouldn’t care to see all these dead whales floating in red waters. I rather see them blow.

Dirk Branbergen

Standing on the foredeck of the fine vessel Europa, it is just past mid night and twilight. Unusually, Red watch stands in silence, respectfully observing Antarctic lands slip towards the horizon. The sky over us was heavy and grey but as for a last reminder of the magnificent wonders we were leaving, the base of the cloud had been ripped away revealing beautiful ribbons of turquoise yellow and deep orange that were suspended over the Antarctic glow.

The atmosphere is of delighted, if a little subdued, reflection as thoughts are gathered on the wonders we were privileged to encounter on this unique experience. Right up to the final departure we were treated, escorted towards the Drake by a pod of Humpback whales that insisted on waving us off with a splendid display of their tails. Now we had to prepare to face these notorious waters.

Anything that could move was lashed, corridors cleared, possessions stowed, wet weather gear prepared and anti-sickness pills swallowed - we were ready. But……Several hours into the Drake Passage and there is no hint of the feared seas. No stumbling antics from the trainees getting accustomed to the new movement, no flying knives or unintended food fights in the lounge and no cursing from the heads (toilets) as people are tossed from one side to the other while trying to hoist long johns in a dignified manner. In fact it's like the sea has been ironed! Where is Drake? Asleep, maybe waking later with a grumpy surprise for us? Who knows - there is a long way to go! Meanwhile we will enjoy the comfortable conditions, absorb the last sightings of Antarctica, welcome back the albatross and witness the dolphins play in the bow wave.

Nicky

Today a royal Antarctic fairwell, a pod of humpback whales escort the ship as we leave the Melchior Islands for the Drake Passage. They perform impeccably, criss-crossing under the bow. The trainee crew oscillating too, from port to starboard, in a crazy dance to get the best view. They help allay our sadness at leaving Antarctica; its hostile magnificence and extraordinary wildlife soon to be behind us.



A last Zodiac cruise this morning among these small glacier topped islands, the seas 'boiling' with krill. We watch a tern dive for an easy meal. Seals and lonely groups of penguins are sighted on the narrow granite beaches as we cruise round the small islands named after the letters of the Greek alphabet.

The names of explorers, kings and queens, descriptions of the place itself (what did happen at Exasperation Inlet or Cape Longing?) or the duplication of place names back home must have become exhausted when these isles were named. We cruise down a small Lemaire Channel for Zodiacs and nudge a berg out of the way; pass icebergs of an intense translucent blue and fantastic shape. At the end a single humpback performs for us.

The safety ropes are now back up on the ship, the wind is promising and the weather good. All set for a promising Drake crossing? We will see!

Bruce

The gloomy mood of our first mile on the way to `The Battle of Drake´ is suddenly interrupted when Klaas yells out `Whale off the starboard bow!”

All the crew reacts promptly and even de masts bend over to starboard to see what’s going on. The goodbye-to-Antarctica sadness prompts everybody to feast their eyes on this last antarctic treat.

Somebody somewhere must have thrown a small fortune in the whale-machine. We get to see four whales playing together in a quarter of a mile circle around Europa. Every lack of a diving whale tail in any camera is made good.

The four are toying with us: disappearing and surface right next to our ship, swim under the ship from port to starboard, wave a white fin at us, demonstrate skills in backstroke… Antarctica does not let us go yet.

A ship full of people applauds the whale-show and is two bits less sad for the moment.

There are so many wonderful places to see down here, and it is absurd to rank them. Fickle weather may render appreciation of any particular venue impossible - Paradise Bay was a case in point, where we had a defiant barbecue in a snow storm with little visibility. Nevertheless, the passage up the Peltier Channel to Port Lockroy for me has been the top memory to date, and I don't really wish to see anything better.

To set the scene: We had all had a wonderful time watching a pod of humpback whales off Biscoe bay, on passage from Palmer station. Morale was approaching boiling point. At 1900 hours, the ship's company sat down to yet another of Marianne's wonderful dinners. She appears to take a pride in "no repeats", and has an extraordinary range of brilliant menus. No need for a choice, because everybody loves whatever she cooks.

We were settling down to a convivial evening in the deckhouse, when all hands were summoned. Not on fire or sinking, but the call was to point out the stunning spectacle unfolding. The weather was bright, blue sky, and warm. The Peltier Channel runs for just over 10 miles North East between Doumer Island to port and Wienke Island to Starboard. It is between half and one mile wide , and was decorated with a dense array of floating ice "art forms" - this being a particularly good year for these wonders of nature. When derived from a glacier, the darker the blue, the older the ice. This means anything from 1,000 to 50,000 years.

The sun was low in the Western sky. Depending on the direction of view, this either back or spot lit both ice, and the dramatic geography. The Wienke island shore is bordered by the Fief range of mountains, known as the Seven Sisters. The highest peak, Mt Luigi, is over 4500 feet, rising steeply from near the fore shore. Ahead was the lesser but still formidable Mount Jabet (1800 feet), and on the other bank, Doumer Island has a hilly rather mountainous character by comparison, but nevertheless has a summit of 1600 feet.

With the blue/black water highlighting all shades of white, the colours, contrasts and overall effects were just stunning - not least for the atmosphere on this jewel of a ship. It must be our ancestral connections with ice age survival that engenders our species with this magnetism to frozen scenes. That passage will stay in my memory for ever. We dropped the hook behind Goudier Island in the pool off Port Lockroy, with two yachts anchored inshore of our position. It is the most perfect anchorage, predictably once favoured by whaling vessels during the season.

Reminders of those hard days abound. 0900 we formed shore parties to visit Gentoo penguin rookeries on Goudier Island. Somebody has "assembled" a whale skeleton on the beach, but without much reference to actual anatomy. It incorporates multiple animals of varying age and species. The penguins seemed if anything healthier than in other colonies we have visited. This is nature in the raw.Arctic Skuas hover. Leopard Seals on the ice flows cause everyone to hope these cuddly chicks will have learned all their caring mothers have taught.

Statistics mean there will be a good deal of carnage, but the fittest will survive. In the afternoon, we make a further foray ashore, this time to the Port Lockroy "base A". A peninsular base for the British Antarctic Survey between 1944 and 1962 when it was abandoned, it has been beautifully restored to a museum, shop and post office (most southerly in the world!), by the UK Antarctic Heritage Trust. Visitor numbers are high this year, in part because last year's exceptionally cold winter has closed access to many other places with pack ice.

The museum is fascinating, and displays life as it was for the men stationed at the base, including the skis, living quarters and catering arrangements withkitchen. It seems embarrassingly like my own home! The station is run by four nice girls, and Michael from Brecon. Yive is the senior, and sailed on Europa three years ago on this voyage. They all joined us on board for a drink, followed by roast beef and Yorkshire pud, with Irish coffee for afters. And the sun set as we chatted after dinner. A magical end to a great day? Not quite! Klaas brought out his ghetto blaster, and some folk danced the night away on deck.

John

What goes up, must come down. Or rather: what went south, must come north again. After many ‘firsts’,time has come for some ‘lasts’ already. Among the firsts were icebergs, penguins and whales. We didn’t go further south than 65˚10’, so there was a last day of heading south. Today we set our last footprints on the White Continent in the snow along Dorian Bay. Most of the group mounted the crest of the glacier between Dorian Bay and our anchorage at Port Lockroy. The silence there inspired the poet in me:

Terra australis

I see Antarctic mountains and snow,

but I’m unable to find words for expressing

this majestically beautiful creation

and my unique part therein.

Thus all this beauty

will remain forever unspoken.

I know I am part of it all

and I shall share this knowledge with all

in whom I recognize an open heart,

full of love and respect

towards those who carry eternity within.


Joop
 

Staying informed is mandatory for functioning in today’s world. Our hunger for news seems insatiable. Life on a tall ship differs from ‘normal’ life in many ways. The strict schedule of watches when at sea or on anchor, the non negotiable times of breakfast, lunch and dinner, all add up to ‘a young man healthy and wise’. In the saying the preceding ‘early to bed and early to rise’ mentions no e-mail, no cellphones, no internet. Although those thing are considered to be crucial for leading a normal life, their absence surely creates a peaceful quiet.

One of the blessings of being on bark Europa is the (almost) complete absence of newspapers, internet and a network for cellphones.

Entering Port Lockroy on Goudier Island harboured a surprise: a bright red sign Royal Mail! Nearly everyone aboard Europa seized the opportunity to send traditional mail to their loved ones. After lots of penguins and some whales, this was an unexpected pleasure that, under the circumstances, was truly appreciated greatly.

Joop

The memory of an average human being, will very unlikely recall the
first months, or even years of its life.

I tried to imagine what it must have been like to just lie in your pram.

Once in a while you would be pushed around hearing the voice and the
feet of the one certainty in your life: mom. Not surprisingly these
thoughts are crossing my mind while lying in my bunk on bark Europa. The
boards preventing you from falling out in rough seas feel like a cradle.
The ship makes rocking, soothing, comforting movements. Palmers Bay,
full of snow and ice particles, produces a reassuring rumble and rush
against this mother-ships safe and protecting hull.

Sweet dreams my darling!

Joop

 

We ended yesterday evening with a BBQ on-board. Underneath the
awning because of dwindling snow. Fantastic world, fantastic experience.
Under engine we sailed further south today and via the Lemaire Channel
we arrived at Petermann Island. 65-10 degrees Southern Latitude. The
intention was to visit a colony of Adelie Penguins but because of the
ice conditions it is not possible to land the Zodiac safely ashore.
Doesn't matter, the journey was on its own was already an exciting fairy
tale, gliding through an icy moon landscape, while the Captain points us
left and right Leopard Seals and Penguins. With this we have reached the
furthest point of our voyage, more southerly would be too dangerous for
the ship because of the ice. We sail back through the Lemaire Channel
and this afternoon we will be under sail for a few hours in the Bismarck
Strait.

And this brings me to the ship Europa and her crew. They make this trip
for me and I assume for all of us to a unforgettable event. Yesterday
evening we past some Whales and immediately we reduced speed to give
everybody the opportunity to fully enjoy and photograph these colossal
animals in full extend. There is no rush, no musts and the crew seems to
enjoy all of this as much as we do!

Karin

After a fairly windy day of motoring and no sailing because of the direction in which our next anchor is going to be dropped, the plans for tomorrow are as follows: we will pass through Graham Channel, which is a narrow waterway with some spectacular views. Anchors aweigh by 04:00 AM.“Who does not want to be woken up to witness this?”

Dead silence, so way before breakfast the deck of Europa is crowded. Europa slows down to avoid damage caused by larger bit of ice. Up high an ice watch keeps a keen eye on the channel. On a much larger scale one can hear something like the tinkle of ice cubes in a glass of whiskey.

The sun rises in colours twice beyond imagination, since it’s all reflected in the completely motionless water. The light is playing games with anything in the path of her glistening rays. When all of us think the ship will have to turn back, Klaas knows where to turn port or starboard for a way through. We stand in awe under a bright blue sky, not knowing yet that a magnificent day is going to be closed with a chunk of apple pie and cream.

Joop

In the middle of the night the ship start rolling again. We left our anchorage and are sailing from Barrientos to Hannah Point. With breakfast the view on starboard is filled with a long line of glaciers and rocks. The weather deteriorated.

It is cold, lots of wind with sleet snow. It is going to be tight if a landing with our zodiacs is possible at all, with these waves, but we are lucky and manage. On Hannah point we are greeted by large numbers of Chinstrap and Gentoo Penguins and....by snow blowing horizontally in our faces, typical Antarctic weather so it seems.

In Antarctica there is a big risk that you become a slave of your own camera, so this snow has a positive side, the camera stays in the backpack and I have to look with my own eyes.

If you follow the behaviour of a group of penguins for a while, you will notice all kind of family scenes. Daddy comes home and enthusiastically greets Mamma; the kids play touch and run. Two other kids try to push a young away that is being fed by a parent that is coughing up some food. The result is tough reaction from the parent followed by a chase, but they are stubborn and keep on trying. We also see a lonely Macaroni penguin.

Walking through al these volcanic features, we find beautiful coloured stones in bright green and orange, all made by volcanic activity. A little later a large Giant petrel is landing in front of our feet and sits there for minutes and just as we are walking back to our zodiacs, we are getting a show of two mating Elephant-seals.

Soaking wet we arrive back on board of our EUROPA where hot coco and a grand evening meal from Marianne and Aleida is waiting for us.

Nathalie
 

The wilderness of the southern oceans carries unexpected surprises. After two landings on Barrientos Island, skipper Klaas announced an 0400 departure from anchoring off Aitcho Island. No one but the people on anchor watch have witnessed this departure.

Curiosity made me rise from my softly rocking cradle in the intestines of the ship. Her skin was caressed by the sun and a gentle breeze. Already we were cruising the south of multiple glaciers that fed the ocean with lumps of ice of sometimes awesome dimensions.

Historical words were repeated adressing the sailor on ice-watch: Livingston (Island) I presume...

Joop
 

Being on bark Europa and sailing due south for more than three days, reshuffles all of my historical perspective on seatravels. In my mind I pay tribute to the men who first sailed these waters practically without knowing where would end up. Taking a look at the instruments on the bridge of the ship is a dazzling mess of meters, figures, numbers, dots and lines.

Outside there is nothing but sea, there are waves rolling in, there is a swell passing underneath. The ship keeps its course because a helms(wo)man follows instructions as to where we should be heading. In all the nothingness around us we know exactly where we are although we may feel desolated in the vastness of the Drake Passage.

This Lonely-Planet-feeling melts away when the first iceberg is spotted. When I notice the presence of an albatross or a group of Cape petrels, I am aware of the fact that there is more to life than just us humans. Then land is sighted, penguins appear and a few hours later the loud rattle of an anchor chain announces a quieter sleep for most of the men and women aboard. Still Planet, but for the moment not so Lonely anymore.

Joop