Wild Pigs of Buenos Aires

March 20, 2009

Morning came to soon for my head ached and my throat was on fire I desperately needed more rest before facing a day of travel. I put on a happy face and tackled organizing our bags in preparation for three more days of travel before we would be back home again.

We had an uneventful flight from Ushuaia to the intense heat of Buenos Aires. It was a relief to return to the Babel Hotel and be able to immediately strip out of our layers of wintry clothing. Even if our stay would be a brief one night. We decided to spend the afternoon walking about a large conservation area between the city and Río de la Plata.

With the hot temperatures assaulting us we took every opportunity to walk in the shade. The park was a massive expanse of head-high grasses punctuated with scrub oaks and saw palms. Wide graded dirt roadways wound through the park. We soon noted that in the thick grasses lining road were what appeared to be small animal passageways. Suddenly, a few yards in front of us a little critter gave a distinctive hop before disappearing into the tall grass.

Wild Guinea Pigs
Steve almost hopped with joy himself at the thought that a wild pig could be in the vicinity. Just then we were distracted from our search for the pig by the sound of an approaching truck. We signaled to the driver to slow down concerned about the little pig. Silly us for during our walk we would spot over 30 guinea pigs. My estimate on the park’s pig population was over a million Steve’s was a conservative 1,000.

Wild Guinea Pig

I was beginning to feel better with two days worth of penicillin in me and a stroll in the hot sun. I summoned my reserves knowing that Buenos Aires is famous for Tango dancing I felt this was my best chance to see a performance. The hotel made the arraignments for us. The venue was a bit too touristy over all for me. The garish colors, harsh lighting and overly loud sound system smacked of being a Tango cliché. Or it could have been the affect of being sick and exhausted. Admittedly, I was in a grumpy mood.

Lacking guidebooks to the city the next morning found us without a clue as to how to spend our day. We roamed about the busy streets until I succumb to my strep throat. We settled into a proudly gay café with comfy, over-stuffed, leather chairs with the intent of lounging there until time to leave for the airport. Our delightfully, attentive waitress provided us with a steady supply of snacks and refreshing lemonade. It was difficult to pry myself away.

What Did That Say?
I had received a last minute change in our itinerary. Thinking it was merely the departure time I did not realize until we were standing helplessly at the wrong airport that EZE was not Jorge Newberry Airport. The email only referred to the airport's code and not the name.

Thankfully, I had purchased first class tickets based on other travelers’ experiences. It had helped on the trip down with our luggage and now again with this mix up. The Aerolineas Argentinas staff reassured us with big smiles that they would get us on our flight. Steve and I shared the same thought, “Yeah, like that’s going to happen.” We both knew it was impossible to make it across town and onto our original flight. Luckily, I had booked us for the earlier flight of the day. I try to build in padding in case things go wrong. This was one of those times I needed it. We had a chance to make the last flight to the states scheduled later in the day. In the mean time we had to be patient during the long ride across town to the other airport and while waiting for what seemed like eternity while the attendant sorted things out. This experience reminds me yet again that it is always beneficial to maintaining one’s composure in the face of challenges. Smiles and pleasantness tend to smooth out the rough patches.

Relived that we could fly out in time to make our connecting flight to DC the fact that we were not sitting together was of little consequence. I can say that for I sat in first class and Steve sat in coach. Steve may disagree. We landed in Atlanta, Georgia in the wee hours of the next morning. Groggily we slowly progressed through U.S. customs to be bustled quickly onto our waiting plane. Exhausted we finally arrive in Baltimore.

Who Is The Cranky One?
I was getting a bit testy as we were bumped from one shuttle bus to the next. Eventually nine passengers and 12 pieces of luggage were squeezed into a van bound for DC. Steve and I contributed to half of the luggage with our six bags. The driver loaded our bags last placing three in the passageway of the van. After loading the van the driver proceeded to organize the order of drop offs. Guess what? Yep, we were to be last.

I made a joke to help relieve how uncomfortably crammed we were about how typical it was that the ones with the most suitcases would be last. Everyone laughed except the driver. She informed me in no uncertain terms that everyone else had just as much luggage as I did. You could hear a pin drop.

I passed out on the long ride from Baltimore to DC. At the first stop I stumbled out of van pulling out the suitcases in the passageway. When the driver rounded the van I suggested moving the bags around. I was reminded that I was not going to get special treatment. Okay, fine with me.

At every stop the driver lifted all six of our bags out of the way asking each of the departing passenger if it was theirs only to return the bags back on top. No one offered to help her. A frost colder than any I had experienced in Antarctica descended on the van when Steve and I were the only remaining passengers along with half of all of the suitcases. Fortunately, we were greeted at the curb by a neighbor relieving us of the awkwardness of standing by as driver yet again lifted down our heavy bags into a mound by the curb.

Finally Home
It felt great to be back home with the first blushes of spring appearing. After being way for seven years I had been looking forward to enjoying spring in my hometown. But this was a bittersweet return for this was to be a brief homecoming in a few days we would begin another odyssey. Our possessions would once again be pack on a container headed overseas, this time to England. We don’t know how long we will be away, but eventually we will return to Washington, DC, our home.

This ends our Antarctica adventure and I will return to recording our cave dives.
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Return to Ushuaia

March 19, 2009

After disembarking from the Professor Molchanov Steve and I piled into a taxi and headed up the hillside to the Bella Visita Hotel. This time our room had a view of the stunning harbor aptly named Tierra del Fuego. The surrounding towering mountains jutting up into the low hanging clouds do look as if they are belching smoke.

As I began to relax from the morning’s ordeals the realization dawn on me that I was becoming sick. My head hurt and my throat was sore and suspiciously strep. I was down but not out. We grabbed a cab back to the docks to meet up with Virginia and Ann to work out our plans for the rest of the day. Steve adores trains. His enthusiasm quickly convinced us to join him on the prisoner steam train ride through the Patagonian countryside. The train was scheduled for later in the afternoon leaving us with several hours to do a bit of shopping.

The tiny town of Ushuaia clearly caters to cruise ship tourist and hikers heading off to the interior. Since the late 19th century the town has been surviving off the business of ships preparing to go through the straits of Magellan, but it is the recent massive cruise ships flush with tourist money, which gives Ushuaia the feel of a boon town.

Steve was on the look out for a place to eat since we had missed breakfast carrying for Harry. I was desperately in need of relief for my strep throat so I was searching for a pharmacy. Being in a third world country has a few perks—Penicillin is an over the counter drug. After stocking up on meds and soothing lemon drops I was ready to shop for a few gifts and mementos.

Not being much of a shopper it took me only three stores before I overdosed on penguin trinkets. We settled into a little café with a lovely assortment of yummy cakes and fancy coffees.

Fortified with sugar and caffeine I was ready for “The End of The World Train” through the Tierra del Fuego National Park. Several folks had said the train was a bit cheesy, but I was not up for much more than passive entertainment and Steve, well, it was a train! The afternoon turned out to be perfectly suited to us.

Steve boarding the steam train

Ushuaia up until the turn of the 20th century was a penal colony. The prisoners built the public works projects for the tiny outpost inhabited primarily by aborigines and few missionaries. Eventually the ships sailing the Magellan strait dominated the economy of the port. The train tracks we traveled along were part of the Prisoners’ Train, which daily in all weather took prisoners to the forest to cut firewood, essential to their survival for without wood there would be no warm fires and hot meals.

Today the tiny narrow gage steam train travels only on the final 7 km of the original 25 km route through the beautiful Pipo river valley. Our first stop was at the Macarena waterfall, a lovely lush site featuring a gushing waterfall flowing to the valley below.

The Pipo River crisscrosses a valley littered with thousands of stumps from the prisoners’ cut trees. A brief sprinkle of rain rewarded us with a rainbow arching from one side of the valley to the other. We spotted all sorts of animals and birds including domestic horses using the valley as a pasture. I thoroughly enjoyed gazing out the windows as the sub Antarctic landscape slid by. All this greenness was a delightful homecoming for my senses after the gray palette of Antarctica.

On our return to town we said our goodbyes to Virginia and Ann. Before heading back to the hotel we bought a few essentials for dinner at the market. I enjoy going to foreign markets for it is there I get a small glimpse of the average person’s diet.

After dinner we laid in bed watching Argentinean TV with the sound turned off trying to guess what they were saying and making up our own version of the dialog. Through out the night I was going down hill fast. I wanted to crawl up into a ball and die instead I needed to be ready to fly to Buenos Aires the next morning.

Next up: Wild Pigs of Buenos Aires

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Return Through The Drake Passage

March 17-18, 2009

Our captain charted a course back through the notorious Drake Passage to Ushuaia. We had been blessed on first crossing with relatively mild seas therefore we were hoping for an uneventful two days. Steve and I dutifully applied our seasickness patches hours before the obvious rocking of the boat announced we were sailing once again in open water. For next two days always mindful to keep one hand on the ship I tried to move about by careening from one stable object to another.

Delphine's Final Briefing
Photo by Matt Hunt

Our days aboard the Professor Molchanov had been jammed packed as we raced from one incredible adventure to another with barely time to jot down main points the details were blurring into one another. I used these two days to digest and organize my thoughts. I diligently worked on transcribing my hurriedly scribbled notes while the memories were still fresh into the drafts that later became these, abet late, blog entries. When I was not busy writing or reading at my desk in our cabin I hung out on the Captain’s deck scanning the waves for whales and watching the sea birds. Meals, lectures and movies punctuated my days.

Bon Hard at Work

During the trip I had successfully blocked out of my mind the impending international move awaiting our return. But as we sailed towards home both of us were beginning to feel a mixture of excitement for a new adventure and dread of what we knew from experience would be a massive upheaval and long separation.

Half way through our crossing the wind picked up to gale force. Slammed awake against my bunk I got a hint of what the Drake Passage could dish out. Officially we had 7 Beaufort and 5 meters (16 ft) waves. For the next 24 hours the rule of one hand on the ship at all time was absolutely essential. We had our first serious physical accident that morning. Audrey was pitched head first from one end of her cabin to the other. She required a few stitches, a neck brace and all of her indomitable spirit that she could muster. She was a graphic reminder of how quickly a serious fall could happen in the rough seas.

Though out the day I tried unsuccessfully to write at my desk. I gave up when all I was really doing was trying to stay upright and hold onto the desk. Everything in our cabin was tucked away or already on the floor. I decided it was easier to slide around within the confines of my bunk while trying to read. Eventually Steve and I joined the braver ones in the bar where I concentrated on holding on to my glass. Dinner that night was finger food for the few of us with any appetite. The boat did not stop rocking until we entered the channel to Ushuaia late that night. Bar tabs were already running high by the time the pilot boat started to guide us up the channel to the port. In the wee hours of the morning the ship docked at the pier in Ushuaia.

Steve and I were just beginning to pack up our stuff when suddenly Steve asked me if I heard a penguin. Normally I would have thought he was teasing me except I did hear something too. Steve opened our cabin door to find Harry doubled over in pain moaning. He was suffering horribly from intense back and leg spasms stemming from an old injury. He had aggravated it few days earlier when he slipped and fell on the ice-covered metal steps while carrying an underwater video camera. He was in excruciating pain. The next few hours our tiny cabin was overflowing with people trying desperately to keep Harry comfortable and safe from hurting himself until the arrival of the ambulance. Harry ended up spending several more days in Ushuaia recovering before he would be allowed to fly home to Hawaii.

Once Harry and everyone else were out of our cabin. Steve and I turned our attention back to our cabin, which looked like a cyclone hit it, and our packing. We needed to get our stuff together and off the boat. Throwing our gear into bags we left with little ceremony what had been our home over the past few weeks.

This trip had been one of the greatest adventures of my life.

Next up: Ushuaia.
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Melchior Islands Zodiac Cruise

March 16, 2009

As we approached the tiny cluster of Melchior Islands the sky was beginning to clear and a wonderful blue sky would crown our last zodiac cruise of this incredible polar adventure. The Melchior Islands are situated in a channel between Anvers and Brabant Islands. A picturesque bright red Argentinean research station is situated on the only flat area available.

Melchior Islands

This closely bunched group of islands provided us with a glimpse of the underlying geology of the Graham Land area of Antarctica, which is normally hidden under the cover of glaciers. Our zodiac drivers maneuvered though narrow inlets formed by dramatic soaring jet-black volcanic rock jutting abruptly up from the sea. The thick drapery of pristine white snow softed the sharp black peaks.

As we meandered about in our zodiacs exploring the intricate edges of the islands we spotted several well-camouflaged fur seals lounging about among the boulders. Also dotting the islands were groups of Gentoo penguins.

Not sure I can do justice in my attempt to describe this remote cluster of islands. Possibly comparing the experience to a gondola ride through the intricate cobweb of Venetian streets. The slim ribbon of water between the dizzying soaring heights surrounding you amplifies your insignificance. Craning my neck skyward as we traversed through the narrow channels between the cliffs I caught glimpses of Antarctic terns as they flew about the cliff tops indifferent to us. Displayed on the sides of a few cliffs were large “X” designs formed by contrasting dolerite dykes in the volcanic rock.

I write this long after I sat holding onto the zodiac’s edge as we bobbed about in the swells. People ask why I go to such extremes to see basically snow covered rocks. To me something that took eons to form is both mesmerizing and humbling. It is at the core of what drives me to explore our amazing planet and dive into caves.

Next up: A rough crossing

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Danco Island

March 16, 2009

Delphine’s lovely voice roused me from sleep. This was going to be our last full day in Antarctica and it was jammed packed. Steve and I decided to forgo diving and instead enjoy one more penguin encounter before heading home. We donned our multilayered land clothes and joined the others in the zodiacs heading to Danco Island. Unfortunately, even though it had stopped snowing the weather was bleak. The scene before us was colored with the stark Antarctica pallet of gray hues. Slate gray water dotted with ice flows splashed on the rocky shore. Glacier-capped peaks blended into low hanging clouds.

Danco Island

We needed the expert skill of our drivers to maneuvering the rocky shoreline and delivered us in a dry condition to the Island. The smells and brays of a thriving community of Gentoo penguins greeted us before we could distinctly see the birds nestled in between the rocks. Oddly for so late in the season we found a substantial number of juveniles among them. We could only ponder what caused their delayed breeding, and morn that it was unlikely that these young birds could survive the rapidly approaching harsh winter.

Steve and I joined the others in climbing up to the summit. It felt good to get off the ship and stretch our legs. The temperatures were warming and by the time we climbed the slight rise about 400 ft (120 meters) I was sweating. The view before us was shrouded in a veil of clouds. Still it was great fun tramping around the snow.

Gentoo Penguins

I returned to the shore to film the penguins. I watched for sometime as a penguin diligently took rocks from his neighbor’s nest and placed them on his. The snow tinted with pale pink and green was evidence that the island had hosted a large population of penguins throughout the summer.

The results of global warming were clearly apparent. Visible on the side of the glacier were patches of melted pack ice exposing the subtly stripped foundation formed over eons of winters. Standing on the desolated shore the gray dreary weather accentuated the impending isolation of yet another winter. The already dwindling populations of penguins, sheathbills, skuas and shags would all, just like me, be leaving soon.

By the time my video camera battery froze Delpine was calling us back to the zodiacs. I had worked up an appetite and was ready for hot meal. The weather started to look like it might clear too.

Next up Melchior Island zodiac cruse

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Snowy Barbecue

March 15, 2009

A snowstorm was not going to cancel our plans for an outdoor barbecue. After all we were in Antarctica surrounded by snow. We had been looking forward to this treat for days. The intoxicating smells of slow cooking meat filling the air all afternoon reminded me of our ritual after a great cave dive in Florida of chowing down on barbecue at Sonny’s. Hungry after a busy day diving Steve and I attired in head to toe waterproofs joined the others on the aft deck . Warmed by mulled wine, delicious food and wonderful friendships it was a night to remember.

Snowy Barbecue
Photo by Christoph Küng

The snow was unrelenting through out the evening and even though the stars would not make an appearance the scene was indeed magical. We had formed friendships with the other passengers and a festive atmosphere predominated. We talked, laughed and joked about our various adventures while trying to quickly eat our hot food before it drowned in the melting snow.

We celebrated Charlotte’s and Dale’s birthdays with an Antarctic themed cake complete with sparklers for candles. Well satisfied with food and cake the music was turned up and the dancing began. The snow twinkling in the ship’s lights as it gently fell was a fair replacement for the promised barbecue under the stars. Finally even the hardiest of us abandoned the outdoors for the warmth of the cozy ship’s bar. There the party continued well into the wee hours.

Late in the night Steve and I ran outside to witness our ship scraping past an iceberg. The intense blackness surrounding us increased the dramatic impact of the ship’s bright lights illuminating the iceberg. It was especially exciting knowing that most of the iceberg is hidden below the water.

Next up Danco Island

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Diving Paradise Bay

March 15, 2009

I was so jazzed up from the great dive with the Leopard seal that my mood was contagious enough to convince Steve to go diving again after lunch. Therefore before we got out of our dry suits we went back out into the sleeting snow to prepare our gear for the next dive. Hot showers and warm clothes along with a hearty lunch put me in the perfect mood for a nap. While I snuggled under the covers in my warm bunk I lazily gazed out the porthole at the incredible scenery as we sailed North. Snow was gathering on the sea in the first stages of the becoming impassable pack ice. Winter was quickly approaching the Antarctic. I awoke to the announcement that we had arrived at Paradise Bay.

This would be my only opportunity to be on the actual continent. All the other excursions had been to islands scattered along the coast. Here I was about ready to dive in the famous Paradise Bay. For years leading up to this trip I had read longingly about this distant place in the tales of others' adventures. Now I was finally here to experience it for myself. The weather was not cooperating but it had let up slightly. Still the sky remained a depressing, leaden, low hanging ceiling.

Again Cory would join Steve and I with his camera. There were three icebergs in a row leading to the shore. Steve adamantly did not want to dive near an iceberg. Cave training teaches respect for each others' boundaries. We chose to dive along the rock wall of the land mass plunging into the sea. We would use the wall as our navigational landmark. Facing the wall on the right of us was a landing spot for zodiacs to reach the now abandoned Argentinean research base.

We kitted up and signaled the driver that we were ready to dive. He navigated the zodiac as close as he dared to the rock wall. The three of us rolled off the boat into black water. Peering below the surface none of us could see the slightest indication of the bottom. After a short surface swim towards the rocks we noticed a suggestion of seafloor below us. We signaled descend.

Down everyone went but me—I was a balloon. Wrenching and pulling on the overly large inflated BC, which was suspended above my shoulders, I tried desperately to reach high enough with my deflation valve to dump the air out the wing so I could sink. Once I managed to get enough air out I plummeted backwards wrestling with my tank, which had a mind of its own, to be squarely on my back as I quickly approached the rocky seafloor.

By the time I had sorted everything out my positive attitude had reached a breaking point from diving poorly fitting gear. I pounded my fists on a rock screaming, F**K! F**K! F**K! Whew, feeling so much better after my vent I was ready to continue the dive with a renewed sense of composure and acceptance. Steve watched me uncomprehending as I pounded the rock thinking possibly my glove was leaking again. On joining my two companions I sadly realized they shared my frustrated state of mind. Steve was tired. Cory’s camera had flooded within the first 20 feet. We certainly had enough lemons… Time to make some lemonade.

Jeff Bozanic Collecting Sun Stars
Photo by Jeff Bozanic

We were not disappointed the scene around us was wondrous. The sheer cliff wall of the continent tapered off below the water’s surface into a pile of massive boulders and smaller rocks. These rocks provided shelter for an abundance of sea life. Multicolored algae covered the rocks in lovely shades of pinks, cream and yellows. Large flat leafed kelp undulated in the current providing homes to limpets, fish and anemones. The hard unyielding boulders anchored the delicate lacy mats of dark red seaweed.

The largest Sun stars of the trip were found thriving in this protected bay. Holding my arms in a circle over one I tried to gauge its size. It had to be over 45 inches (114cm) in diameter. I lost all track of time exploring the fascinating world of small sea life living between the rocks. Starfish in the full spectrum of the rainbow dotted the seafloor. The exceptional visibility and our relatively shallow depth in some places of 30 ft (9 meters) allowed the range of colors in yellows to red to blaze forth in their full glory without the normal damping tinge of blue from the water. Tiny worms were hiding here and there. Floating above the sea floor in the current investigating the variety and wonder of the sea creatures thriving in this bay was a pleasant journey to the undersea world of the Antarctic. Indeed this was paradise!

After the dive we went on land to walk around the abandoned buildings. These were to become my only steps on the actual continent. We poked around the abandoned Argentinean base where the sea birds and seals now rule. Exhausted but happy it was time to return to the ship.

Next up a snowy barbecue

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