The South Georgia Marathon

A Wandering Albatross dynamic soaring, observed en route to South Georgia Island from the Falklands.

The leader of our expedition, Ted Cheeseman, calls the six days beginning today the South Georgia Marathon. Twice-a-day landings have something to do with it, challenging weather conditions contribute to the sense of accomplishment (or survival, take your pick). Today begins with one of the most amazing sights on earth. We land at Salisbury Plains, at the northeastern end of South Georgia Island, 54°S. As the Zodiac rushes onto the slate-colored beach, an Antarctic Fur Seal must be shooshed off our landing area. This is the first of many disputes over space I encounter on my path to the King Penguin colony. After picking up a broom handle, I’m told to walk the pace of a penguin (slow) and weave my way between territories claimed by male Fur Seals with their sharp snouts pointed skyward and bulky ruff declaring their strength. Surprisingly, they are not the seals that charge me. Rather, the adolescent males and slim females rush up to challenge my presence. The idea is to forcefully and confidently tell them to stand back while holding the stick towards them. It worked every time but it’s unnerving tracing a path at the edge of each territory while simultaneously avoiding displacing any penguins. Lone seal pups are safer to edge close to, but they do have a mighty growl for such an adorable ball of fur and flipper and you never know who’s keeping an eye on them.

After making my way to the King Penguin colony, I just stand near the edge in a state of sensory overload. How can every single speck I see for over a mile be a penguin? And this isn’t even the largest penguin colony – that’s yet to come further down the coast at St. Andrews Bay. Many of the youngsters are in brown down coats, unable to swim (not waterproof) and therefore unable to feed. Their parents stopped feeding them weeks ago knowing they’ll fledge soon. The contrast between penguins swimming, often porpoising out of the water, and standing in the colony, motionless for hours, is striking. Boundless energy. Endless patience. It takes over a year for the single egg laid by a female to develop into a fledgling ready to dive into the water. Some adults were courting by pointing their bills up, waving their wings, and making a whirring call. Others had an egg tucked under their belly fold on top of their feet. And of course many young were at the brown shaggy coat stage, standing in crèches with other chicks, waiting to molt into their waterproof feathers.

I return to the ship a bit soggy from the continuous cold rain, eager to download my photos so I can relive this amazing sight again.