Elsehul Harbor

On Monday (10/14) we awoke early in Elsehul Harbor to gusty winds up to
50 knots, and its very cold – salt water freezing onto the cockpit
shelter, its too much for our kayaking plans. We motor to Rosita Harbor,
at the west end of the Bay of Isles, a placed I have anticipated
visiting for more than a year. We get in a warm-up paddle out to Cape
Butler and admire the breakers crashing on that rocky point. Active
water, a leopard seal munching on a fish right by Keri’s boat,
spectacular scenery in the crepuscular light, and Katabatic gusts 35
knots plus nose-on to our boats as we return to Spirit of Sydney, all
contributed to an afternoon rich in lessons. We paddlers reflect and
share feedback whilst devouring Darrel’s delicious spicy chicken, vege,
rice curry. The full moon rises over an eastern peak and seems to
balance on the summit. The winds calm and the forecast is for good
weather, so Justine and JF propose an ambitious plan for the next two days.

The kayakers arise early to crystal clear sunshine and the unbelievable
panorama of Bay of Isles – snow covered peaks, rock faces of steeply
sloping sedimentary bands, the smoothest pure white glaciers sloping
serenely up to sharp ridges, glassy water that is a rich blue-green like
no where else. Boats are packed for our first night of camping. Thed
paddling is glorious, mountains reflecting on the smooth waterr, sun
warming us despite the cold temperature, the boats cut a smooth path,
lots of smiles, lots of pictures. We paddle through brash ice, popping
and fizzing with the release of ancient gases, to the head of _Sunset
Fjord  glacier. Then along the shoreline, passing a few elephant seal
harems and the odd lonely male. Around the next headland we can see many
black dots on the beach and the snow, on up into the hills behind. King
penguins are everywhere with a few baby creches. The calls of the
parents finding their chicks and the chicks chirping blend to a loud
cacophony of life – and we are not even yet to Salisbury Plain.

After a sunny lunch at Start Point, where our table is an immense whale
vertebre, we paddle round the bend for as couple more miles and land
through a dumpy surf at our campsite for the night on the open plain,
trying to thread our way between elephant seal harems and clumps of king
penguins. We cannot wait so set off immediately to the heart of the life
there. Penguins, probably more than 150,000, stretch nearly to the
horizon and on up the hills beyond. The sound is wonderfully deafening,
it is a cauldron of life – elephant seals, fur seals, petrels, skuas,
sheath bills, and the ubiquitous penguins. Adjectives fail me. It is
still sunny and almost warm. Back at camp we set up our tents quickly
and enjoy a sit around, reflecting on the day as wer down double
portions of freeze dried dinner. The temperature drops precipitously
once the sun is low and we’re all in our tents with hot water bottles
and extra layers anticipating a cold night.

Quickly asleep, I wake up to a snort at about 1 AM. It is very soon
clear that it is not my tentmate snoring, but a bull seal, perhaps
thinking our tent is a threat, or even a possible female off on her own.
Tentmate: “Shit, I do not want to die being flattened by an elephant
seal” Holdinbg our breath and peeking out, the seal is perhaps 10 yards
away, its big snozz pointed our way. Nothing to b – after all it weights
about 8000 pounds – we wait and eventually it moves a bit further and
starts snoring. The night’s dramas is not over yet – at 2 am the tent is
buffeted by Katabatic gusts and for the next few hours my tentmate and I
brace our inadequate 3 season REI half dome tent against the wind.
Finally there is the most beautiful and welcome predawn light and the
wind abates (mostly). We collapse tents, eat a hasty oatmeal breakfast
prepared in trying conditions by Justine, and head out to another
miracle of a day on South Georgia Island.,  —