Silver Explorer, Day 7 - A white(ish) Christmas Eve

With thanks to Silversea for hosting this cruise

There are many disadvantages to being innumerate, I have discovered. The latest is that, when your phone takes it upon itself to adopt the local, South Georgia, time – which is +1 hour – but the ship decides to keep its own time unchanged, that makes it embarrassingly difficult for some of us (see above) to work out when to set the alarm. With the consequence that I was up, showered, and half-dressed before having it brought to my attention that it wasn’t 6.30am but in fact 4.30. Sigh.

Yes, even though this is Silversea, it’s still an expedition cruise, so early starts (just not that early) and physical exertion are part of the deal. We anchored this morning in Fortuna Bay on the north coast of South Georgia in order to go ashore and get up close with the wildlife: specifically, fur seals, elephant seals and King penguins. One group was dropped off to hike to the site; the rest of us stayed on board and then Zodiac’d onto the stony beach.

We (I was in the second group – you guessed that, right?) still didn’t have it cushy because this morning it was snowing! Just little flakes that didn’t settle, but proper snow, really chilly, and with it occasional gusts of lean-against-it wind. I was very glad of my three layers of thermals and waterproofs (which had all seemed very OTT when packing back home in 22 degrees).

We did a wet landing off the Zodiac onto a beach packed with fur seals, some of which were, as predicted, not happy to see us – they humped forward and growled, showing their sharp teeth. So we scuttled past them and their wonderfully cute black furry pups (which also growled and howled and bared their teeth) and fetched up at a big colony of King penguins. They were pretty noisy too, peeping, squealing and squawking. Some were courting, others sitting motionless on eggs.

There was a large crèche of brown fluffy babies waiting for their various parents to come back with a feed for them. Their feathers were so fine and thick that they looked enormous – but last year’s brood who were busy fledging, with just patches of brown left, were much slimmer. They were the most curious about us, and came up close to inspect these strange red creatures who made all those clicking noises.

The elephant seals were moulting and not interested in us at all - they have to hang around onshore for ages while it happens so I suppose they have no spare energy for curiosity. They did do a great deal though of what sure sounded like farting but I was assured was sneezing because of mites in their nostrils.

Then the sun came out and made the surroundings as amazing as the wildlife: the sea tropically turquoise, the surrounding mountains with jagged edges streaked with snow, the sky blue above it all. Glamorous.

It all made for a spectacular backdrop to our lunch back on the Explorer as we sailed to the next bay, Husvik. There are lots of Norwegian names on South Georgia, thanks to the early whalers, and in this bay is one of their processing factories, as well as a cemetery with many gravestones sunken into the peat. 

Though the rusted remains of oil tanks and machinery look picturesque, they’re too full of asbestos for us to be allowed near them, so our attention was irresistibly focused again on the penguins, feisty fur seals and the snotty, somnolent elephant seals.

One fur seal took exception to me though, as I photographed a pup suckling from his mother, and suddenly rushed at me, teeth all too visible. Instinctively, I held up my arms and shouted at him, and he stopped just a couple of metres away and I was able to scuttle away behind a group of other people and hide. It was honestly pretty alarming. “They will chase you, and they will bite you,” we’d been told.

After the evening recap and briefing (where we learned the official term “sneaky copulators” for the less dominant elephant seal males, taking advantage of the beachmaster’s attention elsewhere) we had a special Christmas Eve dinner, the staff wearing Santa hats and singing us some carols. Many of the passengers are European, and this is their custom. I chose shrimp bisque, a mulled wine sorbet and roast goose for my main course; and since it was too hard to choose between Christmas pudding, cherries jubilee and chocolate macaroons for dessert, we had all three. After all, it had been a long day…

Silver Explorer, Day 6 - A phallus and some shags. So to speak.

With thanks to Silversea for hosting this cruise

Today’s excitement was Shag Rocks – which were, er, some rocks covered in nesting shags. They were fairly striking to look at, if a touch phallic, there were indeed masses of shags all over them, and the smell of their guano added another dimension, but that was it. There were some other birds too, albatrosses and giant petrels, prions and gulls; some people saw fur seals in the water; and I myself saw two distant blows from a whale of some sort, but… that was it.

It’s been a lovely day, though, nice and sunny and the sea very reasonable; although distinctly parkier when hanging around outside and I’ve broken out my gloves and beanie already. Didn't stop someone from wallowing in the jacuzzi, though.

The entertainment has been interior today: a description by Irish Luke of what fisheries research officers do (counting krill in fish stomachs seemed to be a big part of it); then a cooking demonstration by our German chef Pia – green chicken curry with tips on getting the maximum juice out of limes and how to avoid chomping down on a leathery bit of lemongrass – and then a talk from Australian Lea about seals, promising us fur seals and elephant seals tomorrow, the former cute to look at but likely to attack if we’re not careful. Er, good to know.

Then, for those who wanted it, there were more photography tips and a Christmas cocktail demonstration; followed by

a lecture about Ernest Shackleton, who’s unavoidable in this bit of the world - though not quite the hero that Kenneth Branagh would have us believe. The Captain, actually, made a good case for Frank Wild to claim that title. Then Lea came back to enthuse (unnecessarily) about King penguins, which we'll see en masse tomorrow, yay. And finally we had the briefing, describing the several onshore options tomorrow.

Then it was dinner - with the Persian/US couple again, plus some Swiss - during which all the curtains were drawn to prevent bird strike during the evening. Not in the morning, because the sun will rise tomorrow, get this, at 2.52am! 

Silver Explorer, Day 5 - En route to South Georgia

With thanks to Silversea for this hosted cruise

It's another day at sea today - there's a fair number of them on this cruise - and there is nothing but sea and sky to look at. That doesn't however mean it's boring. There are lectures to attend (today one explaining the Falklands fisheries, which was a lot more interesting than it may sound; and another on the geology of those islands, which was exactly as exciting as it sounds) and this afternoon brings our kit inspection to ensure we don't carry ashore any seeds or other stuff to despoil the environment. Then there's a hands-on photography session which I hope will be useful - though as an Olympus person, I know I'll be taking a back seat to the ostentatious Canon and slightly less pushy Nikon people.

Then there's a birdwatching session on deck which will be all about, I'm guessing, albatrosses, fulmars and petrels. It will also be a bit parky, because even though we're still on about the same latitude as Ushuaia, there's no sun today and it's beginning to feel properly South Atlantic. Finally, tonight, we will be dining with the Captain and presumably swapping notes about Gloucestershire. So, as there will be no photos to speak of, here are some from the Falklands.

Silver Explorer, Day 4 - Brilliant, Stanley

With thanks to Silversea for this hosted cruise

In the night we sailed around the end of West Falkland and then East Falkland, and into the harbour of Stanley (not Port Stanley, never has been locally, it was a war thing) where, thanks to unexpectedly clement weather, we moored at a jetty instead of out in the harbour. There was a complimentary bus tour of the town, which was conducted by locals – always the best way to do it.

Louise told us all sorts of things, from the economy (fishing licences then tourism and wool) and population (3,200), via history and everyday life to quirky stuff like the local diddledee telegraph which puts Facebook in the shade. She was delighted with the weather – here, you comment on the lack of wind rather than vice versa – and so were we. We saw picturesque shipwrecks (commonly abandoned rather than inadvertent sinkings, after too high an estimate for local repair), whale skeletons, war memorials, living lawnmowers (sheep), Government House (Shackleton reckoned it was colder inside than the Antarctic), neat gardens, somewhat ramshackle – but cute and colourful – houses. And then driver Robin showed us how to cut peat.

Afterwards we wandered, loose, round the town, fortuitously missing a heavy downpour while in the excellent museum, emerging to bright sunlight again. There was Christ Church Cathedral, in much better shape than the one back home, with its blue whale jawbone arch (and impressive kneelers, one of them with orcas on it); traditional English red phone boxes and mail boxes; a brick terrace that could have come from Brighton; a bright yellow tin building; lots of lupins and trimmed hedges; pubs; gift shops heavy on penguin stuffed toys; and more Land Rovers than you could shake a stick at.

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Then it was back to the Silver Explorer for a skilled exit through the aptly-named Narrows, past the classically lonely Cape Pembroke lighthouse and back into the South Atlantic for our two-day journey towards South Georgia in winds three times what was predicted but, oh happy day, coming from behind. As it were.

Silver Explorer, Day 3 - A veritable (also actual) rainbow of colours

With thanks to Silversea for this hosted cruise

That guide in Ushuaia the other day, telling us to treasure the green while we had it? Load of old codswallop. The colours so far on this cruise have been intense, especially today: blue, turquoise, black, white, yellow, red, orange and purple. Totally Technicolor.

First, we landed on West Point Island, one of the Falklands group - it was a dry landing, which meant out of the Zodiac onto a jetty, easy as, and then were straight into walking up over this mainly low, barren, windswept dot of land. It's owned by one family, who farm sheep here ("Falklands lamb is the best in the world!" declared Tim, our guide today, totally tactlessly) and generate their own electricity by wind and sun, and order their groceries online for boat delivery from Stanley. We passed the little wooden homestead and went to ogle a rookery of black-browed albatrosses and rockhopper penguins who had built mud nests on an area of rocks surrounded by tussock. 

In typical bird fashion, they chose a site above the highest cliff in the Falklands - a long climb for a little penguin without much grip. They didn't seem to mind our getting to within about 2 metres to watch them preen, snooze, feed chicks, argue, squawk at hungry caracaras and greet returning mates. Time passed very pleasantly as we all tried hard to get our best pic of the birds. It was so warm and sunny that there was even some panting - by birds as well as people.

Then we ambled back to the farmhouse for morning tea - a lovely spread of home-made treats like cakes, biscuits, scones with cream, and tea in proper cups and saucers.

After lunch and a nap while we repositioned, it was the same again, sort of, as we did a wet landing (onto the beach) at Saunders Island - another the same, with long sandy beaches as well as the usual low headlands and absence of trees. Here we saw Magellanic penguins on the first beach, then a colony of Gentoo penguins, busy hatching eggs and feeding fluffy chicks, as well as fending off marauding skuas (always the baddies in any Antarctic nature documentary) and caracaras. There were also a few King Penguins, the second biggest after Emperors, and strikingly smart and beautiful with their yellow stripes. They were the undoubted stars of the island.

Further on, past the neat whale skeleton on the close-cropped grass (sheep here too) I got down to the beach to watch the smaller penguins come ashore and immediately do a major preen of the feathers. It was still really warm and I took off several layers as I sat on the sand to enjoy the tropical-looking sea and the all the various birds.

Up on the hillside was another rockhopper colony, again patrolled by opportunistic caracaras, surrounded by burrows under the grass where Magellanic penguins were nesting. There was another albatross rookery too, but having spent ages trying to photograph birds in flight, the weather had had time to change, and we were hustled down to the beach to return to the ship before it became impossible. We had to wade knee-deep to get into the Zodiac, and then bounce and splash over the waves back to the ship where the crew did a fine job of getting us back aboard without incident despite the movement on the water.

By then it was 6pm - where did the day go? - and time to head down to the Panorama lounge for a drink before dinner with two Dutch people and an English/Japanese couple. Dinner was good, naturally, but there was a sudden rush out of the restaurant as we finished because a complete rainbow had been spotted behind the ship, with an amazingly intense and long-lasting sunset in front. So, colours from start to finish. Treasure the green? Pft.

Silver Explorer, Day 2 - Pilots, petrels and pillows

With thanks to Silversea for this hosted cruise

It was a bit rough last night, and I lay awake for some hours hoping that my Scopoderm patch would do its thing. As a result, I awoke with a start at 9am and had to rush to get to the Zodiac familiarisation lecture at 9.30, thereby missing my breakfast. Harsh. Cruise Director Tim (from South Africa) gave us all the mandatory instruction and a lot more besides about the next two days' activities: lots of emphasis on boots, taking care of the environment, and the wildlife we will see.

There was a surprisingly long queue of people wanting to exchange the complimentary Puffas and parkas they'd ordered online, which had turned out to be the wrong size, and we had a bit of bother that way ourselves - but it was all sorted in the end and I must say they're really good quality and I reckon I'll be getting good use out of them. Then there was a very informative lecture about whales by a marine biologist, after which a small pod of pilot whales and some dolphins obligingly turned up beside the ship. Impressive organisation.

It was a lovely day today - sunny, the sea quite calm and really not that cold, considering. We spent it quietly cruising across an empty sea, the ship gently creaking and the whole experience deeply relaxing - especially for those unable to resist the offers of wine with lunch. Remarkably, the friendly Maitre d' claimed to recognise us from earlier cruises, which is also deeply impressive, if so - though he did undermine the claim somewhat by demonstrating his clever computer, which spies on everyone in the restaurant, so he knows who they are, what they look like, what suite they're in, what they ordered, what they're currently eating and drinking, and probably what their phone PINs are.

After a peaceful afternoon - don't ever think that a Day at Sea is boring, it's actually a real pleasure to be able to kick back and enjoy the ship for itself rather than as a base - we attended a photography lecture and then got a bit tarted up for the Captain's Welcome. This was in the Explorer Lounge, where most group stuff seems to happen, and comprised champagne, canapés and a short but amusingly deprecating speech by the highly-qualified captain, who looks suitably nautical, beard and all. And also hails from Gloucestershire. He did declare that this is the best cruise route ever - and though of course he would say that, wouldn't he? - he did seem sincere, as did the Hotel Director we sat with at dinner. He promised that Antarctica, whatever the weather, would be extraordinary. He also stated that Drake Passage has nothing on crossing the Tasman - something about waking up on the floor in the night with a television on his stomach - so let's hope he's right.

And so we ate fancy food in the elegant restaurant, and drank liberally-offered wine, and chatted, and watched the sun slowly set behind us in a tastefully-muted orange wash as various sorts of petrel swooped behind the ship and a competitor's cruise ship arranged itself artistically on the horizon. It was hard to keep remembering that this is an expedition ship. Especially back in the cabin suite, where, after a chat with our butler this afternoon about the pillow menu, we came back to, now, FOUR pillows on the bed.

Silver Explorer, Day 1 - Sailaway

With thanks to Silversea for this hosted cruise

It's not what you expect, that the day you join a cruise on a ship with the luxury Silversea line, you have to drag yourself out of bed at 4am. But, thanks to an impending general strike at midday today, everything was brought forward in order to ensure our getting to Ushuaia without hold-ups. It's a three and a half-hour flight, over the vast sprawl of Buenos Aires, flat farmland, lakes and then the sea to, eventually, Tierra del Fuego, which looked remarkably like Fiordland from the air. Mountains, Indian snow, green bush, rivers.

When we landed, though (at a pretty and modern airport with the fastest baggage carousel it's been my challenge to seize my suitcase off) everything looked much more like Anchorage: colourful, lots of corrugated iron, a bit ramshackle, a distinct feel of remoteness. The surrounding mountains are the end of the Andes, the Beagle Channel links the Pacific and Atlantic, the wind powers through, in winter there are only 6 hours of daylight, and in summer 12 degrees is as hot as it gets (it was a delightful 11 today). Still, it's bustling, and the population is 80,000 and growing. First it was prisoners, then beaver hunters, and now tax-free industry - all designed to make sure people were here so the land could be claimed by Argentina (Chile is within sight). There's also a Hard Rock Café here, by the way - the world's southernmost (that's a label they're unashamedly fond of using, understandably).

We took a drive in a bus, which didn't let us get out in the town; instead we had lunch at a hotel up on the hill, before some of us went on an escorted walk through the 'forest' - which to me looked just like our bush, mainly due to the dominant beech trees, though they're deciduous here and in new leaf. "Make the most of the green!" instructed the guide, rather ominously, referring to all the blue and white we have ahead of us. She also took care to point out to us the dandelions, buttercups and daisies in the grass. I guess when you're emerging from the sort of winter they have here, any splash of yellow is a delight.

And then we went to the ship, the Silver Explorer, its last guests evicted and brutally sent to take their chances with the strike, while we were welcomed on board by a line of smiling crew, especially our personal white-gloved butler Ivy, a Filipina (of course - all the best people in hospitality are). Our cabin suite is on Deck 7, near the bow (so, not the best position for rough seas) - it's an overflow room for the adjoining Owner's Suite, which according to the plan is huge and undoubtedly eye-wateringly expensive. But ours, while somewhat snugger, is still amply big, with a proper bath and shower, a veranda, and on the table a gorgeous gingerbread house decoration that I will never be able to bring myself to defile.

We did our own unpacking this time (I know!) and then had a bit of an explore on the way to cocktails - the ship is naturally much smaller than our other Silversea homes, but still classy and recognisably Silversea, and there will clearly be no stinting. The staff are all typically multinational, enthusiastic and welcoming, and the food is ruinously irresistible. We did the lifeboat drill and then relaxed into drinks and dinner, discovering that a surprising number of people have been this way before. I really expected it to be a one-off bucket-list thing for everyone, but not at all.

Our sailaway was delayed to give the wind time to drop, so it happened as we ate - sharing a table with Tone and Sasha from Holland - and the low sun and then long dusk over the Andes' last gasp along the Channel made for a dramatically pretty backdrop, especially the romantically (if slightly erroneously) named Lighthouse at the End of the World. (There's another further south on Cape Horn, apparently.)