Day 7 – Sailing from the Falkland Islands, it took us two days to reach the northern coast of South Georgia an isolated island in the heart of the South Atlantic Ocean. The storm we endured at sea was nothing compared to Anthony de la Roché’s inadvertent discovery in 1675. In search of fortune in the New World rather than geographic discovery, he found himself at the mercy of the Drake Passage, sans maps and scientists on board. While returning from Peru, just as he prepared to round Cape Horn, on the southern tip of the South American Continent, a brutal storm drove him far off course and swept him east. He found himself deep into unfamiliar territory and accidental stardom.
Finally, he found refuge in a secluded inlet, wrapped in mist shrouded peaks sprinkled with snow. While his crew also sighted the jagged chain of Clerk Rocks and a bunch of narrow straits, it got the skeptics questioning if this was truly South Georgia. De la Roche was no influencer and lacked the vanity to make a name for himself.
Because he left no grand monuments behind, de la Roche’s claims remained a matter of debate. It took a second voyage in 1756, when Spanish merchants were similarly blown off course by the same relentless winds and stumbled upon the same bleak island. So, it hushed the skeptics who agreed that de la Roche actually landed on South Georgia, a rugged fragment geologically torn from Tierra del Fuego. Almost forgotten, de la Roché’s discovery was resurrected by curious researchers.
The rocks he described, Clerk Rocks, were later confirmed to be seen by Captain James Cook ‘s officer Charles Clerke in 1775 who agreed that these rocks look like the Clerk Rocks described in de La Roche’s diary.
When Captain James Cook arrived in 1775, he came with the whole shebang, a fleet of scientists and surveyors, and promptly named South Georgia to honor King George III, unaware that he was not the first to set eyes on these islands. Cook’s detailed findings was the islands undoing. His reports lured sealers who decimated the population of Fur Seals before moving on to Elephant Seals. As a result, whaling and sealing stations were set up all along the island. After the sealers depleted the seals, the Norwegians arrived and turned the bays into whale slaughterhouses.
Fortunately, this former hunting ground has been reclaimed by nature and is home to the largest colonies of King Penguins, Elephant Seals, albatrosses and rare endemic birds protected and preserved by the South Georgia Heritage Trust established in 2005.
Right Whale Bay
As we neared Right Whale Bay, the dramatic scenery, freshly dusted in snow, emerged through low lying clouds that clung to the towering peaks. The stark landscape came alive: Elephant and Fur seals, lined the shore with King Penguins zig zagging between them or huddled on the beach, the air filled with a wild symphony of growls, yaps and chirps in the background. Skuas and Sheathbills hovered and bickered providing a glimpse of the lively chaos, a powerful display of subantarctic nature. From November to March, these waters teem with feeding Southern Right Whales, which inspired its name. We were there early in the season so we missed them.
With the water calm, it was safe to make our first landing on the 2.4km stretch of coastline blanketed in black volcanic sand. We dodged Elephant Seals who have finished breeding and feeding their newly born pups until they hunt on their own in a few months. We wandered amongst King Penguins waddling to a large rookery behind on moss covered hills, surrounded by rocky mountains encrusted with glaciers and cascading waterfalls. We were fortunate to avoid the fur seals’ feisty curiosity slipping past quietly before any of them took notice and barked aggressively.
Salisbury Plain
Later in the afternoon, we approached the vast coastal plain discovered by Captain James Cook in 1775. Named after Salisbury Plain in England, the only thing this stretch of land has in common with the one in England is that they are both expansive and flat.
Located in the middle of the Bay of Isles, glaciers have been retreating for thousands of years leaving behind a network of fresh water rivers and ponds to create Salisbury Plain’s majestic landscape and a convenient place for King Penguins to gather here by the hundreds of thousands to breed. It is one of the most filmed and photographed sites in South Georgia. Back when the sealers cleared the beaches for oil and fur in the 1800s, King Penguins weren’t spared. Their oil rich skin was used as fuel to burn oil and some sealers from New Bedford, Massachusets USA (known for being the global hub of the whaling industry in the 19th century) turned to fashion and thought shoes made out exotic gold-collared penguin skins were slick.
Touching down on the exposed 5km beach, we were immediately greeted by the march of the King Penguins, marching in disciplined single-fine lines across the sand, while groups of penguins began porpoising through the surf to shore while others disappeared beneath the waves to hunt. Most of the colony remained nonchalant and unbothered by the Fur and Elephant seals that snarled and grunted in the background.
Salisbury Plain is notorious for its volatile weather; the sunshine can vanish behind a snowstorm in a heartbeat, making its coastline a turbulent and challenging landing site. We walked toward the rookery, which appeared like a masterpiece of fine art against a backdrop of jagged mountains etched into the sky. The monochromatic landscape was electrified by thousands of penguins, splashes of orange and gold amidst a carpet of brown chicks and emerald tussock grass. The closer we got, the more the air vibrated with high pitched trumpeting, whistling and the scent of guano. We were advised to hurry back to shore before the waves began to hammer the shoreline.
CRAYSCAPE 