Antarctic Adventure #18 - Leaving the Southern Ocean
By Sue Ellis
South Georgia disappeared into the sea mist. For two and a half days this would be a voyage of water, endless water; of close horizons when fog and mist limited visibility; serrated horizons when waves made it an ever moving line and distant horizons when storm clouds lifted. The journey one of changing colours, each associated with a mood.
I grew up on an island in the Irish Sea. The ocean, the sky, the clouds - all their movements, all their colours, and all their patterns have embedded reactive moods in me. Do today's moods reflect a childhood response or are they created anew?
I am looking at fear in a different way now. As a child it was a fear of the unknown. The only "known" fear was of pain from needles taking blood from my arm. Later the "known" fear was of being trapped underwater. I cannot float naturally so must activity move to stay on the surface. I overcame that fear by whitewater kayaking down the Chilliwack River in British Columbia.
Now I am in my sixties. I take pills to ward off osteoporosis. A new fear enters my life - the fear of falling. There is a need to be conscious of every step I take. I am on a ship that moves with the waves, it is never still. So when I look out at the ocean, do I see it as cold and uninviting? Do I hold a fear of it because, through its movement, I might overbalance and injure myself? Do I see it as the enemy out to get me? Aging could make me react that way. But if I do, I create a gulf between me and the ocean upon which I ride. The words of the Masters come back to me. It is only in my concept of separateness that I create a venue for fear to exist. Who am I in this moment? Am I pandering to my ego's need to find differences and division between all things or do I listen to my soul's yearning to be attached, belong and be in wholeness? Do I let my body ride with the movement of the ship and be in harmony with the waves? Let me co-exist, let me feel a part of the whole: let me belong. Then fear disappears and the unknown is purely mystery. The mood created by endless water is one of anticipation and acceptance.
As we moved north-west the winds strengthened. Some passengers, while viewing this same ocean, wonder why the patch they are wearing to prevent seasickness, is not working. For two and a half days our engines pushed us through gale and storm force winds. The first night the bathroom door swung and banged and drawers opened and closed as the ship rolled. My body in bed was never still. There were bangs and clangs not identified at the time. Later we learned that one which came at 3am had been from crashing very hard into a particular wave.
Lectures were postponed next morning and in the dining room our luncheon buffet was served to us at our tables to prevent mishaps. At noon the ship recorded -
Sea 7-8 m high waves
Wind Speed/direction Force 8 W
Pressure 1008mb
Our fish lunch was cooked as needed. Many passengers did not show up.
We crossed the Scotia Ridge and leaving the Antarctic Confluence behind we entered the South Atlantic. At times hour glass dolphins followed the ship and always we had the company of wandering and black-browed albatross and petrels. In the afternoon we had an introduction lecture about the Falkland Islands and afterwards watched the movie Moby Dick. Sitting as we did in wooden straight backed chairs, rope lashing them together, we emitted creaking and groaning sounds as the ship - our ship - moved. How fitting the sound effects as we watched the heaving whaler in southern waters Captained by Gregory Peck!
By noon the next day the log read -
Noon position 52° 35’ S 050º 51’ W
Air temperature 10ºC/50°F
Sea 5 m
Wind Speed/direction Force 5 W
Pressure 1010mb
It was still impossible to walk a straight line, but now after so many days afloat it was second nature to walk with a wide gait and have both hands at the ready to grab something stable. Indeed we knew from experience now that it was sensible to have one hand attached to the ship at all times. We had also learned to walk when the ship was going up hill and pause on the dip down hill. We had mastered taking a shower when the ship was anchored but even then water would slurp over the side of the shower floor. It was unwise to falter in my due diligence about falling, but by now I had more confidence in my skills.
It was March 11th and my 62nd birthday. Birthdays were honoured in the dining room at dinner time with celebrants receiving a cake to be shared with whom ever they pleased. That date was shared by three of us - Two from Britain and me. It was quite a job carrying the plate from table to table as the ship rolled. But I was getting used to the dance.
Next morning was calm and the sky was blue and we sailed into Port Stanley Harbour in the Falkland Islands. When I was there two years previously it had rained. But today the community welcomed us with warm weather and we walked on land in regular shoes, leaving the Wellington boots at the dock.
South Georgia disappeared into the sea mist. For two and a half days this would be a voyage of water, endless water; of close horizons when fog and mist limited visibility; serrated horizons when waves made it an ever moving line and distant horizons when storm clouds lifted. The journey one of changing colours, each associated with a mood.
I grew up on an island in the Irish Sea. The ocean, the sky, the clouds - all their movements, all their colours, and all their patterns have embedded reactive moods in me. Do today's moods reflect a childhood response or are they created anew?
I am looking at fear in a different way now. As a child it was a fear of the unknown. The only "known" fear was of pain from needles taking blood from my arm. Later the "known" fear was of being trapped underwater. I cannot float naturally so must activity move to stay on the surface. I overcame that fear by whitewater kayaking down the Chilliwack River in British Columbia.
Now I am in my sixties. I take pills to ward off osteoporosis. A new fear enters my life - the fear of falling. There is a need to be conscious of every step I take. I am on a ship that moves with the waves, it is never still. So when I look out at the ocean, do I see it as cold and uninviting? Do I hold a fear of it because, through its movement, I might overbalance and injure myself? Do I see it as the enemy out to get me? Aging could make me react that way. But if I do, I create a gulf between me and the ocean upon which I ride. The words of the Masters come back to me. It is only in my concept of separateness that I create a venue for fear to exist. Who am I in this moment? Am I pandering to my ego's need to find differences and division between all things or do I listen to my soul's yearning to be attached, belong and be in wholeness? Do I let my body ride with the movement of the ship and be in harmony with the waves? Let me co-exist, let me feel a part of the whole: let me belong. Then fear disappears and the unknown is purely mystery. The mood created by endless water is one of anticipation and acceptance.
As we moved north-west the winds strengthened. Some passengers, while viewing this same ocean, wonder why the patch they are wearing to prevent seasickness, is not working. For two and a half days our engines pushed us through gale and storm force winds. The first night the bathroom door swung and banged and drawers opened and closed as the ship rolled. My body in bed was never still. There were bangs and clangs not identified at the time. Later we learned that one which came at 3am had been from crashing very hard into a particular wave.
Lectures were postponed next morning and in the dining room our luncheon buffet was served to us at our tables to prevent mishaps. At noon the ship recorded -
Sea 7-8 m high waves
Wind Speed/direction Force 8 W
Pressure 1008mb
Our fish lunch was cooked as needed. Many passengers did not show up.
We crossed the Scotia Ridge and leaving the Antarctic Confluence behind we entered the South Atlantic. At times hour glass dolphins followed the ship and always we had the company of wandering and black-browed albatross and petrels. In the afternoon we had an introduction lecture about the Falkland Islands and afterwards watched the movie Moby Dick. Sitting as we did in wooden straight backed chairs, rope lashing them together, we emitted creaking and groaning sounds as the ship - our ship - moved. How fitting the sound effects as we watched the heaving whaler in southern waters Captained by Gregory Peck!
Noon position 52° 35’ S 050º 51’ W
Air temperature 10ºC/50°F
Sea 5 m
Wind Speed/direction Force 5 W
Pressure 1010mb
It was still impossible to walk a straight line, but now after so many days afloat it was second nature to walk with a wide gait and have both hands at the ready to grab something stable. Indeed we knew from experience now that it was sensible to have one hand attached to the ship at all times. We had also learned to walk when the ship was going up hill and pause on the dip down hill. We had mastered taking a shower when the ship was anchored but even then water would slurp over the side of the shower floor. It was unwise to falter in my due diligence about falling, but by now I had more confidence in my skills.
It was March 11th and my 62nd birthday. Birthdays were honoured in the dining room at dinner time with celebrants receiving a cake to be shared with whom ever they pleased. That date was shared by three of us - Two from Britain and me. It was quite a job carrying the plate from table to table as the ship rolled. But I was getting used to the dance.
Next morning was calm and the sky was blue and we sailed into Port Stanley Harbour in the Falkland Islands. When I was there two years previously it had rained. But today the community welcomed us with warm weather and we walked on land in regular shoes, leaving the Wellington boots at the dock.
Comments