Cold, cold, warm, warmer…hot!

PICTURE YOURSELF stripping off the thermals and plunging into the ice.
No takers? Then paint in the warmest of waters in the form of a steaming pool one leap away.



Most New Zealanders will be familiar with thermal energy and the bliss of soaking in hot springs. In Antarctica, Deception Island’s hot water beach is not unlike that found in the Coromandel.

Entered via the narrow stretch known as Neptune’s Bellows, Deception Island’s sea-breached volcanic caldera is known as one of the safest natural harbours in the world - quite a reputation considering the active volcano last erupted in 1970, and the eruption preceding that destroyed both British and Chilean bases.

On the morning of our last day out and about in this part of the world, we sailed through the Bellows to a landscape largely devoid of wildlife but rich in history and geology. Replacing the pong of penguins was that of sulphur dioxide.

Through the rain the remains of the British base lurked rustily - the boilers, aircraft hangar and skeleton of a boat providing a human foreground to the steep cliffs stained with ivy-like runs of black volcanic ash. Poised in the gap of Neptune’s Window we peered at the cove below and broke the silence with a hearty “Happy Birthday” for Sue.

Back on the beach, Peter had dug through the black sand to warm his
(gum-booted) feet in the thermal water. Before long the pool had widened to accommodate a crowd and we found that by banking up sand at its edges we could sit and warm other parts as well.


The paddling was a mere precursor the main act however, when Viv and Bridget splashed in the shock of icy ocean before lying down in the hot currents. Jane then ran full-tack into the tide into water over her head, perhaps getting more of a dip than she had counted on. Wide-eyed and gasping she leapt for the hot pool and then out again in a flash to join a widening line of people lolling in the warm surf like strange seals.
I took a few photos before wriggling out of toasty clothes and into the tide to wallow in the coarse and cushiony sand. On our fronts facing the hot-pool with our toes pointing ship-wards into the sea, we could reach forward to scrape sand from the pool’s edge and luxuriate in the influx of hot mineral water.

Now, shedding a small mountain of snow-clothes is one thing, but working your way back into them with damp sand-encrusted skin is quite another.
With bare feet in boots, and every layer bar the lifejacket inside out, I threw myself at the next zodiac. Within four minutes I was in the shower, and within the next ten, sitting in the lounge with a cup of cocoa and tell-tale pink skin.

Soon after, a call from the bridge alerted us to a pod of four humpback whales. With or without binoculars and telephoto lenses we watched them curve and arch above water until the last whale breached, the white undersides of its tail suspended like the last word before slipping under the surface.

That afternoon we waited for the captain’s call to confirm our last landing. The wind had picked up and the half-dropped anchor was dragging. But the call came, and before long we were at Hannah Point on Livingstone Island in the South Shetlands. Ashore, the clouds melted and we basked in the sunshine of what seemed a different day from the morning.

Lynn had forewarned us about the skittishness of the nesting giant petrels, but the curiosity of the gentoo penguins was a nice surprise.
By the way they were nibbling at our trousers, I don’t think they’ve read the Antarctic Treaty clause requiring a 5m distance from wildlife.


The chinstrap penguins, looking like little policemen, kept their distance as did (thankfully) a wallow of elephant seals. Absolute whoppers, the seals gaped and groaned and scratched their bellies with incredibly dextrous ‘fingers’. Every so often one would heave and hump several feet forwards - blubber shuddering – to scatter gentoos in its wake.

We weaved through the colonies and patches of vivid green grass – the island is home to both Antarctic vegetative species – and made our way along the beach to a deposit of fossils. It was lovely to see penguins in the surf, clean and shining brightly in comparison to the ones stuck moulting in the muck.

What a pleasant final daytrip!

Tonight, Dan will follow up Peter’s lecture on climate change and geology with one on what Antarctica can tell us about modern climate change and the consequences of this to the Antarctic ice-sheet.

The Professor has turned to push its bow once again into the Drake Passage, marking our start of the voyage back to Argentina. The ship’s email communications will be off limits during the two sea-days, so you won’t hear from me until we are back on terra firma in Ushuaia where I will upload a photo to each of these entries, and a slide-show of photos to the bottom of this page.

The ship is starting to pitch a little…

Wish us luck,
Stephanie