Day 9 – Drygalski Fjord

Our plans to land at Cooper Bay and Gold Harbor was thwarted by a massive colony of lounging elephant seals. For our safety, the expedition leader redirected us toward the southernmost mist-shrouded tip of South Georgia. Was this the same rugged coast Anthony La Roche was whisked to after being blown off course in 1675? Perhaps. The area was later charted in 1911 by Wilhem Filchner, on his second Antarctic expedition, who named it Drygalski Fjord after Erich Von Drygalski, the leader of the first German Antarctic Expedition (1901) despite their known rivalry.

However, he did name half of the second largest ice shelf, after himself after he discovered the eastern side in 1912 following the insistence of Emperor Kaiser Wilhelm. The Western side was discovered by Ronne in 1947 giving the shelf its full name: the Filchner-Ronne Ice Shelf. We sailed past the remains of A23a, a massive iceberg that calved from this shelf in 1986 which measured 4,000 sqm at the time. Now roughly 1,000 sqm, it still holds the record for the world’s largest iceberg as it continues to shed fragments into the waters around South Georgia.

Between the drifting ice chunks, humpback whales appeared, accompanying us through these nutrient rich waters blissfully unaware that, centuries ago their ancestors were massacred here to fuel the lights and power the industrial age. It was surreal to witness their rebirth considering they were once hunted to near extinction.

After cruising into the turquoise colored fjord, the reflection of the mountains created by ancient tectonic was so striking I did not want to miss a moment. In the afternoon, the zodiacs were lowered to explore the shores of landlocked Larsen Harbor. We zoomed towards Bonner Beach, a breeding site for the few Weddell seals that inhabit South Georgia, before drifting among massive boulders that rose from the sea like stone pillows, convenient for endemic birds to hang out; the blue eye-rings of the Imperial Cormorants added a splash of color against the grey stones. Nearby, Gentoo penguins waddled across neon blue icebergs that calved into the sea, looking like mini figures in a Lego landscape. A raft of Gentoos porpoised alongside our zodiacs and curious fur seals swam up close as we drifted through the harbor named for Carl Larsen who at one point produced 70% of the world’s whale oil from Gritvyken.

Day 10- Cooper Bay & Gold Harbor

Heading north, we reached Cooper Bay, discovered by Captain James Cook in 1775 on his second Antarctic expedition. Despite the lingering swell and ubiquitous elephant seals blocking the shore, we cruised through three cliff lined coves that offered sanctuary from perpetual Atlantic storms. The shoreline was a riot of life: male and female elephant seals shared space with Antarctic fur seals while Gentoo and King Penguins waddled through the surf and in between all the blubber. Snowy sheathbills were annoying as ever as they darted into the scenery everytime I wanted to capture the moment. Overhead, giant petrels circled low – some even diving to close to our zodiacs as the haunting calls of light mantled sooty albatrosses echoed from the cliffs. We easily spotted a few chinstrap penguins that stood out on the tussock grass and lichen covered boulders. Because of landing restrictions, we missed the opportunity to visit the Macaroni Penguin colony and tick the box of seeing all four species on one island. No big deal.

Our hopes for a landing at Gold Harbor later in the afternoon were dampened by the crowded shoreline that was impassable. Not again!! Instead, we cruised along the five-mile bay beneath the Bertrab Glacier, the beach brimming with wildlife and a cacophony of enthusiasm especially by elephant seals. We were privileged to witness “beach master”, aggressively patrolling their harems of nearly 30-50 females, their social rank dictated by thunderous vocal threats and violent physical clashes. In the midst of this, King and Gentoo penguins meandered the shore next to nursing seal pups and sheathbills. Petrels circled above, their wings stark against the frozen backdrop and desolate plains below rocky cliff formations that fooled the German Antarctic Expedition in 1911 who thought they discovered gold only to realize it was hard, brittle and brassy yellow; they were fooled.