Rime of the Modern Mariner

[Written on 06/01/08; posted 06/02/08.]

At last we are well and truly on our way. On Saturday, May 31, at about 2:00 in the afternoon, the Nathaniel B. Palmer left its berth in Punta Arenas, bound for the open sea. The night before, a large contingent from our group ate a last dinner on land at a restaurant whose name I can’t recall now. I ordered panqueque…now I can’t recall the word for this, either, but the translation is King crab crepes. They were the best I’ve ever eaten. And now I can see that, to do right by my readers, I had better go find the name of the restaurant and post it here. I confess I don’t have the oomph to do it just now, at the end of a long day, and full of Scopolamine. [Added later: The restaurant was Santori’s. The dish “Panqueque Centolla.”]

On the way back to the ship after dinner, we stopped in the main square to rub the toe of the Tierra del Fuegian at the foot of the statue of Magellan. Traditionally, seafarers about to head out into the treacherous waters of Cape Horn rub the toe of this statue for good luck. Like many a bronze appendage on many a statue in many a scattered place, it is burnished to a fine sheen by the passage of a million superstitious hands. The wind was strong and bitter cold. There was a storm far out on the Drake Passage. The old salts among us took this in stride, smiling at the rest of us, who nervously expressed our hopes for improving weather. But as Bruce Robison explained to us, the Southern Ocean is the only place on Earth where the wind can blow all the way around the globe without being stopped by anything, and the stretch of water between Cape Horn and the Antarctic Peninsula is the narrowest point through which this blast of frigid wind must pass. The weather is never very good here.

Nevertheless, we have had a fine day’s sailing. [Added later: It disturbs me to call it this, given that the NBP has nary a sail. But “a fine day’s steaming” won’t do either, given the NBP’s lack of steam engines. And “a fine day’s dieseling” is better left out.] Though the boat is definitely rocking, this is not the violent pounding I expected. This morning, Ken Smith announced the captain’s decision to make straight for the Coronation Islands, steering southeast, skirting the Drake Passage. So maybe that’s why the water’s calmer than any of us expected.

We paused last night for a safety drill, which hereabouts is a complicated matter. Consider: the temperature of the water is actually below freezing, the seas are often wild, and to be dunked in them without protection would kill an average human being within about 8 minutes. This conundrum is gotten around by providing each soul with a full survival suit made of foam insulation, which covers every inch of the body. The suit is one piece, fits over your feet, incorporates gloves, a hood, and an inflatable pillow to help keep your head afloat. There’s a light and a whistle. In addition, everyone has a life jacket, and we had to try these on as well. After that, we went to the lifeboats.

The NBP has three of these. Two are fully enclosed and hold 70 passengers each. The other is smaller and open, and its use would clearly be a desperation measure (though it’s probably larger than the boat Shackleton and Worseley sailed from Elephant Island). Inside, the seats are arrayed like those in a military transport — padded, and each with a full safety harness. According to the first mate, such boats bob around like corks, and the ride can be so rough that people get hurt if they’re not well strapped in. There are no windows and precious few lights. I have no doubt it would be nightmarish waiting inside one of those for help to come. Better by far than clinging to a raft in the open sea, though.

When the drill was over, the captain kept the ship stationery for another few hours so Steve Rock and his sonar team could test the pole-mounted multi-beam echosounder they will use to produce sonar images of the underwater portions of the icebergs.

I’ve been kept busy from morning till late at night talking with the scientists, taking photographs, and running up and down stairs. I’ve also had technical problems sending these messages and pictures home for posting. The NBP’s server was rejecting them as too large, even though I am supposed to be on an exception list allowing me to send larger then normal emails. It’s a good thing I’m getting exercise, because the gym is all in pieces and nothing works. I hope the crew will set it in order soon, or barring that, those of us who want to use it can put it back together again. When I’ve had time to myself, I’ve spent it brushing up on Photoshop, Camera RAW, and Bridge. There is much to learn.

And now, gratefully to bed in my snug bottom bunk. My roommate, Joanna O’Neill the sonar tech, who has been to sea many times, gave me first choice and recommended that I take the bottom. “Easier to get in and out in heavy seas,” she said. Which I would have been too naive to think of. She’s a marvel, and I am very lucky.

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