The Dreaded Drake, Anticipation and Lot & Lots of Water : Wednesday, 12/19

Wednesday, December 19^th.

The view from our room

Our introduction to the dreaded Drake Passage began at 1:45 when I woke up thirsty. Common problem in this salty, arid environment  By the time I got some water and returned to the bed, the swaying had begun. I could still see land so we were still in the Beagle Channel. 2 hours later I woke again at twilight. More swaying. Open water. And the strangest green light I’d ever seen.

By breakfast, we estimated 5-7 ft seas, but whitecaps built and the swaying turned into something more. The teenagers (Michigan State students) were sick because they were too young, too goofy, too… epic to take their meds. We were fine.

Hanging out the window, a great POV. That's the bridge and a bird watcher.

Though it got worse throughout the day, it never got bad. Not a Lake. Certainly not a Shake. Something of a continual side to side roll. This caused the Drunken Drake Dance. It's funny to walk and more challenging to shower, eat, & climb stairs. The staff have sea legs – us, not so much.

We spent the day listening to talks on whales, birds and photography. We hung out on the bridge. And we napped. We also went to a pre-meeting about kayaking where Scott and I learned that were the most experienced of the small group. By many miles.

The best sunset of the week. Note the calm-ish water.

Around 4 the sun came out. At dinner the seas calmed further. We’d outrun the storm that was chasing us from Chile and were likely in the clear.

At around 10:30 (late sunset) after having stood on the bridge for an hour or so waiting out the sunset, a crew member come up, said something in Russian and grabbed the binoculars. Nosy me, I had to see what he was so excited about.

Icebergs? Yeah, I’d be watchful too.

Or so I thought. Turns out, it was the fogbank from the Antarctic convergence. This is where the Antarctic and Southern Ocean's waters meet. The temperature, salinity and density change is dramatic enough to be detected by the crew via the change in engine behavior. It also causes a fog bank that looks like a city skyline on the horizon, or in our case, icebergs. A polar mirage if you will.

The sunset never really finished. I hung out the window off and on for a few more hours and it became obvious as we got closer that this was a fogbank, not huge towers of ice.

Scott called it a day in his clothes with intentions of getting up at 2:30 to catch the early twilight.

The green sky never happened again, and Scott never got up.