We arrived at Bird island which is on the tip of South Georgia, the weather was fresh, with puffy clouds mingleing with heavy rain clouds. The whole scenery could have easily been part of the Jurassic era. Huge mountains rising from the sea with their peaks cut off by clouds, monster Albatrosses gliding in the chilli thermals, swooping down upon the ship. Thousands of seals gliding through the cool waters, like awkwardly mobile torpedos. There was no mistake this was jurassic territory.
After loading tula for supplies and getting her in the sea, we sped ashore to Bird island. We were welcomed brilliantly by the locals, some cuddlier than others, who were patrolling the jetty and beach as if their lives depended on it, maybe not their lives but certainly their credability among themselves.
Hiding amongst the locals was a single foreigner, standing proud, probably thinking if i dont move, they won't notice i'm different. (Not me, the other foreigner below)
Bird island was a quick excursion on land, making polite chit chat with ever so noisy, smelly and ready for a ruck locals. They just looked soooo peeved to be there while they were awake, yet so relaxed and contented when their big black eyes were shut. Happy snoring, belching and farting with every breath they took.
We departed Bird island on the same day (11th dec 06) for a night sail to KEP (King Edward Point) , a whaling station, which now lay as a skelenton island littered with steel wrecks and whale bones. This was such a nice place to see, snow peaked mountains, waterfalls, seals, penguins galore and the final resting place, of whom the ship was named after - Ernest Shackleton.
This is probably the ony time i will ever take a photo in a cemetary, Ernest Shackleton's resting place.
Grytviken, the whaling station. This is where all whales nightmares began. The once scutlled whaling ships, one with still an unused harpon in its grasp, rest, rotting in the shore line. The whale bone saw, gives an idea of how much devastation man was willing to inflict, on the whaling community. A community that lived like sheep in wolves clothing, the natural beauty of their little cove, soon changed to the bloody butchery of a genocide.
Amongst the natural pleasantness of Grytviken, was streams, mountain peaks and fanastic views out towards distant bays, like Maivyken.
Almost every part of the world has a history of war, South Georgia is no exception. The wreckage of a well gunned down Argentinian helicopter, from the Falklands war rests over looking the entrance to Grytviken bay. No doubt the survivors, (if there were any), would have felt they'd come out of hell and litterally fallen into paradise?
........and so after much scribbing, i'll take my time in pondering about a scratch then a nap.......?
........yep, i think i've ern't one.....!