A morning visit to the second-largest King penguin rookery on the island, Salisbury Plain.
Salisbury Plain, the largest flats in South Georgia, was surveyed in 1984 for building an airstrip. Its shoreline, well known for its swells, winds, and sudden weather changes, extends along a long beach. Here, from one end to the other, you could walk 5 km if not interrupted by the huge King penguin colony that takes over the eastern coastline and up the slopes in the background.
It is a main feature of the large Bay of Isles, which in total is 14 km wide and indents the coast for 3 miles. Inside, there is a complex structure of capes, islets, rocks, shallows, and coves.
As with many other features around the Bay of Isles, Salisbury has been visited, mapped, studied, and charted all the way back to 1775. However, some of its features have changed over time, as it represents the glacial outwash plain below the Grace and Lucas Glaciers. Both have retreated to the point that now they are just visible far inland in the background, appearing as gentle slopes amongst peaks that rise above 1,000m high.
Braided by small streams, rivers, and pools here and there, tussock grass covers the hills and bluffs in the vicinity of the King penguin colony and at Start Point.
The glacial outwash plain is primarily covered with sparse mixed grassland.
The chances for an easy landing here are scarce. Going ashore is very dependent on the ever-present surf and winds. And of course, today wasn’t the easiest to operate with our rubber boats.
In the early morning, we didn’t need to steer the ship too close to Salisbury to see how the sea breaks at the beach. From far away, along the coast, a conspicuous white line of surf and spray could be seen. Rudder hard to starboard, we changed course to check a secondary landing site that might be better for today’s conditions. Still, just about a mile from the main exposed beach and the penguin rookery, Start Point offered better protection against the seas.
It might be better sheltered for operating the boats and getting everyone on land, but it seems the Fur seals have also discovered the good characteristics of this pocketed beach. It was not an easy business to stern-land the zodiacs and to find a safe way amongst them, keeping a respectful distance.
Thousands of Fur seals and Elephant seals use Salisbury as one of the prime breeding sites on the island. This was soon well known to the early sealers, who left the area almost devoid of seals during the years of slaughter that took place here—from the second half of the 19th century all the way to 1964, when just some Elephant seals remained.
Already in the last couple of decades before that, ornithological expeditions landed at Salisbury. It took all this time to finally figure out the unique breeding cycle of the King penguins, remarkable amongst all birds, taking up to 14–16 months from laying to offspring fledging. Pairs in South Georgia have a triennial pattern of breeding.
In the 1960s, Salisbury also saw more research teams landing and spending time studying topics from geography to penguin biology at this site. The 1970s brought more biologists and filmmakers who have been regularly coming here since. That gives us an idea of how interesting and spectacular this site can be.
A simple walk along the crowded long beach is already one of the most fulfilling experiences you can have on the island. Elephant seal harems are still sprinkled here and there. Nurseries of elephant pups also occupy large areas, their mothers having gone to sea after three weeks of caring for them. Ubiquitous Fur seals seem to be everywhere, and thousands upon thousands of King penguins walk all over the flat shores, now and then venturing into the high and strong breaking swell. In the distance, the main colony, where the penguins are tightly packed, is visible. It’s not just adults but also a multitude of the well-fed brown downy chicks. The smell and the loudness join our sight to highlight the incredible number of individuals gathered here. Some counts talk about 60,000 pairs, and the numbers are increasing. It is amazing to think that at the beginning of the 20th century, just about 300 pairs could be seen here.
A mile still to walk to get back to Start Point along the same beach and an adventurous zodiac ride in strong winds brought us on board just in time for lunch.
About 12 miles further along the South Georgia coast is where we head next—a stretch where high swells are usually running. Today is no exception, and the Europa rolls her way for a couple of hours before reaching the entrance of Possession Bay.
A couple of relatively small coves indent the western mouth of this ample bay: Lighthouse and Prince Olav. Here, after reading Captain Cook's descriptions, this area is considered to be where he first set foot, taking possession of the island for Great Britain and naming it George Island after King George III. About ten years later, the sealers were already using this spot as one of their main centers of operations. By that time, it was named Crows-Nest, or Crow-Harbour, also known as Rat Harbour, as it was probably one of the first places where rats were introduced. But with the beginning of the whaling era in the early 20th century, the Norwegians renamed it Prins Olaf-Hafen, in honor of their Crown Prince.
The whaling initially was only ship-based, but in the 1911–12 season, the land station was built. It was operational until 1930–31, when it was closed, and some of the equipment was transported to the larger station at Leith Harbour.
With the station's closing, their coal storage ship Brutus was left behind. Soon, it lost its moorings and ran aground. Here it lies since then. Tussock grass grows on its broken and rusty decks, and the remains of its masts serve as perches for cormorants, seagulls, and terns.