Kinnes Cove
The engine growled to life at 5:30am, waking me with it. I turned in my bunk, shifting layers of clothing that I wear if not in bed. It was blessedly dark.
As I was about to fall back to sleep, the engine cut off and all fell silent.
That’s odd, I thought. Then: Something interesting must be happening on deck.
I ignored the thought as best I could for a while. Eventually, curiosity won out over an hour’s extra sleep, and I dressed quickly and quietly in the dark – a skill learnt during early morning watches.
The deck was empty, but at the bridge I saw Janke, our captain, looking through binoculars out to sea. Following her gaze, I saw that ice was in our way. She was trying to navigate a path through, hence the careful stop-start of the engine.
I turned my eyes eastward. There, setting the glaciers ablaze, the dawn was bursting out of clouds. Sunrise in Antarctica defies description. You have all the elements: sun, sky, colour, cloud. I’ve seen plenty before, but never from the deck of a ship, much less a tall ship, and never with mountains of ice and snow soaring up from the ocean depths, never from within the corridor of the Antarctic Sound.
Pink and orange light reflected off distant mountains. Penguins leapt gracefully beside the ship. They look so playful as they dart around, and the water is clear enough to see them swerving among each other deep under the surface. A few humpbacks decided to join us as the sun broke through the clouds.
Janke expertly steered us through the maze, and we made a landing at Kinnes Cove. We hiked up the mountain where we had the best panoramic views of the trip so far.
Just another day in Antarctica.
