Saturday Dec 29, 2007.

I had forgotten about airports but I am now in the Good Nite Inn in South San Francisco after what appears to have been a 26-hour series of flights from “the end of the world” as Ushuaia (ooh shy-uh) likes to advertise itself, to here, during which we experienced 4 airports.

Faithful readers may recall that I dislike the airport experience, and that I’m not really crazy about the airplane experience either, but for different reasons. Airports the world over are inconvenient, poorly laid out, frustrating, and time wasting. I’m sure it could be worse, but give them a chance and perhaps it will be.

We disembarked from the Marco Polo at 8 a.m. on what was probably Friday the 28th of December by local reckoning. The cruise line had essentially chartered a plane to take us to Buenos Aires, but not until 2:30 pm. So they arranged an “included” tour – i.e. one for which there was no charge. We went to the Tierra del Fuego National Park, which is, among other things, the southern terminus of the Pan American Highway. We had been there before, but this time it was warmer and less windy. The 3 stops made in the park are water vistas – we look across water to snow-capped mountains. Great views. The trees in the park are subject to a fungus, which grows cherry sized orange balls, called Indian bread, because in a pinch they are edible. The tree grows a knot where the fungus is, and those knots are considered items of interest to tourists. I did not get a knot.

The most extraordinary thing about the trip was the incredible skill of the bus driver. We were on a full sized bus – an “omnibus” in local parlance – and when we were en route to our 2nd stop, at the mountain over water view, and tourist shop, my camera batteries went dead. While changing them I dropped one which rolled forward under the seat of the bus in front of me. I stayed on the bus when everyone got off for the 10 minute guided walk to the tourist shop, trying to find it- and ultimately I did. While I was searching the driver moved the bus to the parking lot by the tourist shop so everyone could get back aboard. He did it by backing the bus about 1/4 of mile on a twisting one lane dirt road, including at least right angle turns, with trees growing right up to the edge of it, then he backed into a parking space ending up along side another tour bus with about a 2’ space between them. It was a tour-de-force.

Ushuaia airport
We had a box lunch and were delivered to the Ushuaia airport by noon. Our flight was scheduled to leave at 2:30 o.k. We went upstairs to wait. The airport building is fairly new with an exposed wood structure. That was nice. The TV monitors telling us about arrivals and departures were blank. At least one was not even plugged in. Occasionally a very loud and distorted PA system made unintelligible announcements in Spanish, with some forays into unintelligible English. After one of these outbursts a bunch of people lined up at gate 3. Should we do the same? After consultation with other boat people, we decided not to. Time passed. There was no bookstore and I had no book. Time passed. Rumors concerning our departure flourished amongst the couple hundred of us there. Time passed. Finally we instinctively know that the last blast of PA sound meant we should go to gate 6 for our flight. We did, it was there, and we flew in relative comfort to Buenos Aires where relative comfort became a term of the past.

Buenos Aires
Surely there’s some mistake we told each other upon consulting our schedules and finding that we were given 4.5 hours at the Buenos Aires airport to catch the American Airlines flight to Dallas. Here’s how it turned out. We got off the Airlenas Argentinas charter and were taken on busses to the baggage claim. There we found a fairly small operation overwhelmed by a large number of people all at once. They ran out of baggage carts quickly.

Now here’s the thing: packing for a cruise and packing for a flight are two very different operations, with conflicting purposes. For the flight the safest thing is to pack everything in to two carry-on bags, check nothing, and breeze through the airport. For the cruise you want several days fresh clothing that will allow you to go into town, walk the ship, and dress appropriately for casual night, semi-formal night, and formal night, as all 3 types of nights occur as the ship goes its course. We got on this cruise in Rio, where it was 90+ degrees, and we were going to Antarctica, where it was not. We prepared for sub-zero temperatures, with potential landings on beaches in the rain or snow. This meant at least two distinct sets of clothing. The Antarctic clothing included heavy waterproof knee-high boots, and on the return, a bulky parka which was given to us on the cruise. Then there’s the stuff you buy. So we did well, we thought, to have only 5 bags, including carry ons, when we arrived in Rio.

We had 6 on the return flight, 4 of which were fairly large, and heavy. And we were on the 3rd busload to arrive at the baggage carousel, and no carts were left. We got our bags and worked out a system where a smaller bag clips to a larger one and piggybacks, so you can pull two or even 3 bags of diminishing size with one handle. That helped. It was possible for us to drag all the bags at once. Fortunately we only had about 1/2 mile to go. Orient lines, sensing that we could easily get lost moving from one terminal to another had a series of people posted about 200’ apart holding up Orient line logos, and we could find our way by a method similar to finding a blazed trail through the forest. The 2nd of these helpful people said we should get a cart for the bags. Luckily for him I was focused on moving forward and conserving my energy for the trek.

A ways farther we found an abandoned cart. I didn’t see the bleached bones of the prior tourist, so we grabbed the cart. One wheel would not turn and the cart was difficult to push. It was hot and I began sweating profusely. After passing several more placarded Orient lines people we found another cart and abandoned the difficult one. We entered a wide doorway into a huge, heavily populated, but air conditioned space. We were opposite check-in space 70 or 80.I left the bags and reconnoitered. American airlines was at the opposite end of the terminal at check-in 1-11. We pushed forward, threading our way around vast lines of people and traffic going the other way. Everyone had lots of bags. Finally arriving at AA’s area we got into a line. It was not moving much. After about 15 minutes someone in a red shirt told us this line was going to Chicago, and we wanted to be in another line, which was going to Dallas. We changed lines, and very little occurred for quite a period of time. I am one of those people that strangers walk up to and talk to. That’s fine, it passes the time. But similarly, I am one of those people whom people cut in front of to get across the line. That got to be annoying, but I had a nice talk with a man from Houston for the better part of an hour. We learned eventually that while there were a couple of hundred people going to Dallas there was only one person checking them in. The other check-in people were dealing with New York, and Chicago. Eventually we reached a check in person who did something with our paperwork and sent us to another line. The new line was between the Dallas and Chicago lines, and the distinction between the 3 lines grew faint at the farther reaches. Eventually we made it to check-in, and relieved of our 4 largest bags, went to stand in a new line, upstairs. This line was to pay the airport tax. It was US $18 each, payable in dollars. We paid. Then I bought a book while Mary Alice watched the luggage, then she went off for some water while I watched the luggage. Supplied for the future, we got into the line of no return. Once past the end of this line you were in the security zone, all hangers on had said their goodbyes and were gone. We were almost to the guy who looks at documents when an entire Lufthansa crew cut in front of me to get to the “crew” line. They were followed by a very snippy stewardess from American who I probably should have told to wait her turn (in more colorful language), but I didn’t. Our documents examined we entered a broad corridor at the end of which was a left hand turn that led us to…..
Another line where they examined our carry-ons and ran us through a metal detector. The lines prior to this one had been straggly unbounded lines with cross over people and people cutting in, but now we had an official line with those little barrier ribbons that make you switchback across the room several times as you approach the payoff point, and all was orderly. The metal detection was cursory. I kept my shoes and belt on. The guard felt camera batteries in my pocket and asked about them, but that was that. That took us to another orderly and long line in a huge space. Immigration. When we got to the head of this line there was a kiosk with l.e.d. numbers flashing to tell you which counter to approach. This was the counter where they read the bar code on your passport, and give it the official rubberstamp. That ended the lines for the time being and led us into the straits of the Sirens of commerce. To get to the gate we had to walk through what amounted to the main floor of a department store, with girls handing out perfume samples and huge displays of duty free Johnny Walker red and black, souvenir stands. There was no direct path through this pageant of consumerism, but we made it. Elapsed time: 3.5 hours. There were two more lines before we got on the plane.

Dallas will have to wait. When we got to SFO, 26 hours after first arriving at Ushuaia airport, we found that one bag had not been with us on the flight from Dallas to SF. We had booked the Good Nite Inn in SSF for the day, and AA predicts a 90A% chance that our bag will be delivered to us there by 6 p.m.

When we left Half Moon Island we headed directly into the Drake Passage, reputed to be one of the roughest parts of any ocean. Coming down it had been calm, going back it was not. The waves were running pretty high the first day, barf bags were up on the ship, and attendance at dinner was light.

The next day the sea was calmer, more people ate dinner and things were more comfortable. I spent some time trying to photograph birds, especially the Cape Petrel. It has really beautiful wing markings, and I’m afraid you’ll have to take my word for that since I don’t think I got any photographs.

Days at sea are a wonderful part of the voyage for me. They are days when I can catch up on my photographs – weeding out those that don’t reach my minimum standards, telling the computer what the photo is of, and trying out slide show combinations.

I’ve been asked by two people to make presentations about the Antarctic trip. One would be in Garberville, the other in Eureka. My out of area readers probably need to know that these locations are the Humboldt County seat and the central business area of Southern Humboldt County

I was concerned about connecting the Mac to a projector, but one of the presenters on the cruise was using a Mac laptop, and so I learned the secret of the VGA cord, which I will get. I have been considering getting a projector for trials as a way to let the jury know what s being discussed with a witness while we are discussing it. So I may be self-contained.

Anyway, those two presentations are in the tentative planning stages. If you want to be notified of the schedule, assuming we go through with the presentations, send me an email or make a comment on the blog. Emails to edenson@asis.com

We arrived in Ushuaia at 8 a.m. Thursday morning, Dec 27.2007 and shortly after that Mary Alice and I took the catamaran tour of Bird Island and Wolf Islands – both eat either island, but all turned out well. The boat gets really close and sort of hovers while photos are being taken. I got some great seal photos. Pix later.

The tour lasted till just before noon so we went into town to see about lunch. Last trip here we found a barbeque place that roasts most of an entire animal in the front window as a way of advertising. This trip that place was out of business, replaced by a clothing boutique. We found another, and ordered lunch. You are somewhat ordering blind in these places because you can’t be sure what food you are ordering and you certainly can’t be sure of a what quantity of it you will get. We ordered the armadillo (that spelling could be right) for 2 and refused all additional dishes – like salads etc. we did break down and get fries, but we ate very few of them. The item we ordered came in a dish about 1 foot long. This was atop of a dish of coals to keep it warm. It included rack of lamb, spare ribs, two kinds of sausage, chicken, some unidentifiable parts of some animal and a pile of grilled vegetables. No way we could eat all that, even pretending to be practicing for the hotdog-eating contest. Some we had met who was, believe it or not, from Humboldt County came over to ask what it was. I think they intended to avoid it, but their Spanish wasn’t so good so they got it anyway. Bon appetite, I thought.

If you want to buy an object shaped like a penguin, or an item with a penguin design on it, Ushuaia is your place. We walked the entire length of the tourists shopping street, which was a few blocks, and found all manner if penguin related products. We bought a Magellanic type object, but only one. The best penguin like objects we have bought came from a street a vendor in Puntas Areanas on our last trip. They were small hand knit penguins and Mary Alice, who originally had planned to give them to good homes, kept the entire flock of about 12. Nothing approaching the wonderfulness level of those showed up in Ushuaia.

Although stuffed from lunch, there is always room for sweets. So after an hour or two of walking and shopping (in the sense of looking at stuff in the stores) we stopped in at a kind of nostalgia bar/ coffee shop decorated with old advertising signs, or replicas. I had a coke and “pie” which was very much like a jar of jam with pie crust. Mary Alice got an espresso and a pastry, which I never learned the name of.

Then back to the ship. There were two other cruise ships tied up. The Clipper Adventurer which is similar in size to the Marco Polo, and a Russian ship called the Professor Mulkowski (which is not spelled like that). This was an important ship for me because I have a cover from the British Antarctic Territory alleged posted by someone on this ship, but the cancel is entirely in Cyrillic and I can’t read it. I photographed the name in both alphabets and when I get home I’ll see what I can see.

As we walked farther down the dock we were overtaken by a huge machine that looked like a monster from a low-budget sci-fi movie. It was a container mover – which takes shipping containers from trucks and places them on the dock. The Marco Polo was resupplying itself from 4 or so of these containers. We leave the ship at 8 a.m. tomorrow. They get new passengers aboard and depart late in the afternoon for another Antarctic cruise. I wish I could say the same.

You may not hear from me for a couple of days. We’ll be touring the Tierra del Fuego park in the morning, and then flying for 26 hours or so to get back to Efland I don’t expect to have both wi-fi and consciousness at the same time till after we arrive.

Zodiac in a snowstorm

Ant. Christmas day – Half moon Island

Conditions change rapidly in the Antarctic. Our last stop before returning to Argentina was Half Moon Island in the South Shetlands. We cruised there during the night and landings began around 6 a.m. Because our color code group had been first to land at Jougla point, we were scheduled to be last at Half Moon. Looking out the window we could see the long line of cruisers going up the hill on the island from the beach to the Chinstrap penguin colony – the red parkas made them easy to see at that distance, even when it began to snow. The waves picked up a bit, and at 8:30 we began to dress for our 9:15 a.m. zodiac trip.,

Then the Captain announced that the weather was worsening quickly and he was canceling all further trips ashore. Some people from the penultimate group were actually assembled; parkas zipped in the Polo Lounge, waiting to be led to the zodiac. I shot a picture of one returning zodiac, waves building and snow coming down.

On the first leg of the journey, from Rio to Buenos Aires, 2 of the 5 scheduled stops were cancelled – possibly the first time we had experienced cancellations of stops. Punta del Este for the weather, Montevideo due to the collision of 2 ships, which blocked the channel. In Antarctica we had done well until the afternoon of Christmas Eve when the Lemaire channel was fogged in and iced up. But that was a sail through. Half Moon Island was the 3rd, and last, landing on the Antarctic leg and it was a blow to miss it.
But, nothing to be done.

We sailed away from the protected waters of the Antarctic Peninsula, thought iceberg alley into he Drake Passage. The “Drake Lake” when we sailed down across it. No more. The swells are high, the ship is rocking and rolling, barf bags are hung all around the ship, and the Seven Seas restaurant was only about 1/2 full for dinner.

I have not been sea sick on any cruise, but facing the Drake Passage I decided to split a seasickness preventative patch with Mary Alice. Works like a charm, and maybe that’s what it is.

On the afternoon of the 26th we’ll see Cape Horn, and on the morning of the 27th dock in Ushuaia. After a day in town, we fly out the next morning.

The plan was to do Port Lockroy and then sail through the Lemaire Passage, to the South. It is only about 5km (3 mi) long. It is quite narrow and the peaks around it are supposed to be extraordinary to see. I couldn’t tell you.


The peaks spoken of below.

We made a stab at it, cruising south towards the entrance. I stood on the forward deck with the other bravest souls in a strong and very cold wind, watching as we approached what appeared to be a solid wall of rock. As we neared it I learned that the two cones jutting hundreds of feet into the air are “Uma’s tits”, named after Uma, a woman who worked for the Falklands Dependencies while the area was being mapped. She was the last woman the sailors saw as they went off for a 2-year tour in Antarctica, and evidently was still on their minds months later when they saw these formations. Uma’s tits are the markers of the north end of the Lemaire Channel. A ship had reported to our ship that the chancel was ice-free this morning. It was not so when we reached it in the early afternoon. The sun was out, which was a piece of good luck, but the channel was iced up and the Captain said he wasn’t going to risk the ship in it. We sailed very near the ice before turning back. That was the southernmost point of our journey, and about 3 miles short of the planned southerners point. I don’t have the precise reading, but it seems that we stopped just short of 65 degrees south. The Antarctic Circle is 66 degrees 33 minutes S. so we did not reach it. Its astounding considering how far we have come, that there is so much farther one could go.

We headed back up the peninsula towards Half Moon Island in the South Shetlands, where we were to attempt a landing Christmas Day. The sun was out and the Gerlaiche Strait, which we spent the rest of the afternoon and into the evening sailing, has view after view of extraordinary peaks, rock and show, with icebergs in the water to give more variety. I shot some pix.

About 6pm we went to the Polo Lounge for a Christmas sing-along. There was very little alonging about it, but the pianist played and a chorus of crewmembers sang while some of us attempted to find a key. Then came dinner. I had shrimp cocktail, turkey with dressing, and a characteristic desert. For lunch I had tried treacle, as if in Alice in Wonderland or something. It’s pretty good.

We went to the special Christmas musical show. We have avoided the shows on this cruise, as our experience with them on cruises generally has been that they are weak. This one was too. But it was short and mostly rock and rolly, which is a genre I favor.

After dinner I read my emails and discovered there is a great new medical marijuana case which the appeals court had just given an opinion on, so that was my Christmas present from the universe. That and being lucky enough to take this trip.

Is this ok, or do I need another pebble?

We are first to go this morning. Breakfast comes at 7:25 a.m., the sun has been up for over 5 hours, but I haven’t. It looks cold outside, no direct sunlight, snow flurries, and we are scheduled to be in the first wave this morning. At 8:15 a.m. we are in the Polo Lounge fastening our parkas and pulling on our knit hats and gloves as we start to file down the route to the zodiacs.

Our route takes us heartbreakingly close to the British Base on an island near our landing on Jougla Point, but those stamps from the British Antarctic Territory for sale there might as well be on the moon. I’m not swimming over. Another cruise ship is disembarking passengers there, and I’m thinking that there but for the grace of God etc.

Yet and still, as Skip James used to say, there Mary Alice and I were, about to step out of the zodiac onto Antarctica again, and we could see penguins everywhere. There is no pier at Jougla point – just a rock formation that juts out enough to allow the zodiacs to load and unload there. Crew are everywhere to help us passengers get safely out of the zodiac, up the rocks and safely onto the snow on shore. There are cones and ropes outlining the areas we are to avoid because they are too close to the penguins. Fifteen feet is the recommended minimum distance, and if the penguin wants to cross the path, we move back and let it. The goal – we do not interfere in any way with the wildlife. Studies, yes believe it or not, studies, show that penguins don’t care if tourists are 15 feet away from them taking pictures. They have no fear of human beings, and we’re doing our best to justify that by not harming them.



The Gentoo penguins are nesting here, and are at the nest building and egg laying stage of the season. We watch a young couple building what our bird expert believes is their first nest. The nests are made from pebbles with a few bits of twig or the like – which are rare here. One penguin of our couple was sitting in the small pile of pebbles they had already accumulated while the other was going about 10 feet away and stealing pebbles from existing nests. He, lets assume, would put his head down at a point not far from the target nest but not near enough to sound alarms, and move around looking for pebbles. Suddenly he would realize that the penguin before him was sitting on a pile of pebbles that would be perfect for his mate’s nest, and he’d grab one. The sitting penguin can’t get up as there is an egg under it, but she, lets assume, can make a stab at the thief with her beak and let him know he’s running a risk. He moves off with his new pebble in his beak and lays it down before his mate at their growing nest. Then he’s off again. We watched him do this repeatedly. Got some good photos.

Most of the more experienced couples have established nests and one of each couple is sitting on the nest egg, lets assume, with an extremely soporific look on its face, relaxed and sated with the things of life – until a thief gets near. I’m told that scientists did a study; yes another one, by painting an entire nest’s pebbles blue. By the end of the season every nest in the colony had at least one blue pebble in it. Which proves either that a great deal of pebble exchanging goes on, or the blue pebbles were that season’s must-have stone.

One other thing will bring the nesting penguin to attention, and that is the arrival of a bird called a skua. Skua will eat eggs or chicks, and are a predator that the penguins recognize. I saw a skua fly to a point very near some nests, and the nesting birds thrust their beaks at it, and then settled down again but with their beaks pointed to the sky to ward off the skua. A second skua arrived. They don’t go after the penguins to run them off the nests; they wait to see if one will become incautious. None did, so the skua and its skua friend left. Photos at 6.



These and similar domestic events kept us busy until the hour was up and we had to once again return to the plush luxury of the cruise ship. It was snowing as our zodiac took us back towards the Marco Polo. Then we heard the sound that every experienced whitewater rafter knows, and dreads. It’s a sound that means big trouble – of course for the rafter big trouble is a delay. For a zodiac in 33 degree Antarctic waters with a load of elderly tourists weighted down with many layers of warm and heavy clothing, and their 12” rubber boots, it means life-threatening disasters looms. That sound is a hiss. Air escaping from an inflatable boat, possibly from the very tube we were sitting on. The driver slowed down to locate the leak. “Keep moving”, I said, “and get us to the ship while you can.” The other passengers approved this strategy. Luckily one of us found that the hiss came from a loose valve, and not a hole in the tubing. We tightened it and made it back safe and sound, brushing snow from our cameras and looking forward to a hot drink.