The Antarctic: Day 6

Day 6 – Friday, January 21

   We awake to another stunning morning.  I skip breakfast, not use to consuming this many calories.  Our first pit stop is an island on which is located Vernadsky Station, a Ukrainian research base that was originally built and operated by the British from 1954 to 1996 and called Faraday (also Wordie Station).  It has become famous for several things: its primacy in helping to discover of the Antarctic Ozone Hole, its status as the southernmost post office and souvenir shop on the planet, and for its homemade Russian vodka.  The crew is not in good shape.  They have spent the previous night partying with our Expedition staff (who motored over for a little “chat” by Zodiac), and the base commander is apparently a little miffed.  This will be our most southerly penetration of Antarctica on this Expedition.  For history nuts like me, the museum which makes up the old British base is awe inspiring.  The thin walled wooden construction gives a practiced observer pause.  Who would want to sleep next to that?  The bunks are large enough only for munchkins.  The small cast iron stove, seems entirely inadequate to the task.  In a time of GoreTex and fleece and compound down jackets, old canvas boots and gloves sans any serious insulation give you a profound respect for what these men (and women) must have put up with.  Also, the food tins were memorable.  I remember reading about this stuff on old Everest expeditions: sardines, pemmican, Drinkable Cadbury Chocolate, and numerous other outdated products.  Funny part was, many of the same (British) brands still exist, just with modernized logos.

   Shortly thereafter, we took the Zodiac over to the modern facility 150 yards away at Vernadsky.  The facilities were adequate, if not completely modern, with an up-to-date meteorological facility and most means of communication except for the internet.  Calls home (to Ukraine) cost the crew $1.50 per minute by satellite phone.  Most rush upstairs immediately, to the souvenir shop, the post office with its wide variety of Antarctic photo representations, and the bar.  Located behind the bar, is a hefty collection of women’s brassieres.  The rumor we hear is that if you show your bra, you get a free drink.  If you give up your bra, you drink for life.  Some of them on display are quite large.  They are called “boulder binders.”  Finally, to the bar, for the hoisting of a shot of homemade Vodka ($3, cash only) and a toast of “Das Vedanya!”  Upon exiting, I notice a multi-placard directional sign, giving distances to major cities and a number of others unrecognizable except in the Ukraine.  Europe was approximately 14 to 15 thousand kilometers away.  Tokyo was the furthest signpost, at over 16 thousand kilometers distance.

   Then off to the Yalour Islands.  I will simply say, this is a penguin colony, specializing in Adelie Penguins.  I am just about penguined out by now, but satisfy myself examining an old emergency box with a tall visibility marker near the coast.  It has petrol, soda crackers, a medical kit, a radio, and instructions for its use in numerous languages.  The kit having become exposed to the weather, I do my best to restore it to some type of protective cover, and return to the Zodiac landing.  We take an hour inflatable trip around the surrounding bay afterward.  Highlight of this trip is seeing a fearsome Leopard Seal (almost eel-like in its sleekness), characterized by a disarming, almost smiling expression and a huge head.  Multiple Crab Eater Seals, and multiple blue-hole glaciers are also evident.  One has light so deeply blue eminating from its cracks it appears as if toilet bowl cleaner has been poured down its side.  Tonight, I pass on the evening stop at Petermann Island.  As indicated, I am penguined out.  And snow hiked out.  Feeling a tremendous need to catch up on this blog, and attach my photos on a daily basis, with accurate labeling.  Wait one day, and you are so far behind, one can NEVER remember all the species or sights seen or personalities.  Instead I end up getting mesmerized in Werner Herzog’s movie “Encounters At The Bottom Of The World.” For the second time.  Captivating once again.  Still…

    Keeping alive an enduring tradition, I close the bar out at 2 AM, thanks to a no-show bartender but the whiskey generosity of Wes, a psychiatrist from New York.  I find there are a lot of shrinks on this Expedition, and that I am making excellent gist for their studies.  No Marco and Simon this time.  They are so lazy.  Damn Dutch are never around when you need them.