Papua New Guinea is the most linguistically diverse country in the world. At least 840 languages are spoken. I cannot even begin to imagine how this works. English is the language of commerce and the education system. The primary lingua franca of the country is Tok Pisin (Pidgin). PNG is also a megadiverse country. This is a technical expression. There are just 17 megadiverse countries worldwide and they house most of Earth’s species. Approximately 5% of known living species are in PNG. Approximately a third of these are endemic, not found anywhere else. It is a place of volcanoes and jungles. Barely explored rainforests hiding a myriad of tribes. Each tribe has its own customs, traditions and behaviours. Possibly its own language. Cannibalism was practiced here until recently. Very recently. Perhaps as recently as 2012. There is still an issue with Kuru, a rare, incurable, and fatal neurodegenerative disorder. Deceased family members were traditionally cooked and eaten, which was thought to help free the spirit of the dead. Kuru, a spongiform encephalopathy, is transmitted through infectious prions. These are particularly concentrated in the brain which was traditionally eaten by women and children.
All this verdant jungle requires a lot of rain, most of which was happening on the day we arrived. It was seriously throwing it down. Getting off the ship and into a small minibus was more than enough to get soaked. We were docked alongside in the town of Alotau, the capital of Milne Bay Province, in the far south-east of PNG. 14 minibuses arrived to collect pretty much every guest and take them on a tour. Stepping off the ship was like stepping into a shower. Warm and extremely wet.
First stop was the town market. This was surprisingly interesting. A wide range of fruit and vegetables were on sale. I could recognise most of them but not all. Peanuts, groundnuts, still on their roots. Yams, potatoes, spinach like greens, bananas and tobacco. The tobacco leaves were dried and then plaited into ropes. Various craftwork was on display including many brightly coloured bags, carvings and clothing.
Next stop was the cultural presentation. Fortunately, they had a large, covered area for this. The rain was keeping the temperature and the mosquitoes down. We were given a coconut to drink from. It was all quite comfortable. It was all quite dark as well. Between the grey, sullen sky and the open sided building, there was not much light for taking photographs. We watched some dancers. We watched a demonstration of cooking. As far as I could tell, a woman peeled a potato and put it in a pot. Everybody applauded, nonetheless. There was another demonstration of how to prepare a coconut. I was quite impressed by the demonstration of making fire. Doing this with just two sticks and some coconut husk on such a damp day was no mean feat. There was some more dancing and we were done.
Outside were a few stalls selling local craftwork. There was also a fruit from a palm oil tree just lying on the ground. Palm oil is an edible vegetable oil derived from the reddish pulp of the fruit. Although native to West Africa, it grows very well in PNG. Palm oil is the most efficient oil crop to produce, yielding 6–10 times more oil per hectare than alternatives like soybean or sunflower. Most of the world’s palm oil comes from Indonesia but it is gaining traction in PNG.
Palm oil fruitPhilip & Susan
A stop at a local viewpoint was cancelled because of the lack of a view. We did stop at the war memorial. The battle of Milne Bay is commemorated. This was the first serious Japanese defeat in the Pacific part of WW2. Back at the ship there was a terrible queue to get back on board. I wandered off and found some Pacific Swallows sitting on a gutter. Then it started raining again. I photographed some rain and then went back on board.
That was it for Papau New Guinea. I think this is probably a truly fascinating place. Hot, uncomfortable and full of malaria, but still interesting. Sadly, our trip moves on so one soggy day is our lot.
Espiritu Santoe is the largest island in Vanuatu. It supports a population of 37,000. The only real town is Luganville, which is where we docked in the morning. During World War II, after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbour, the island was used by American naval and air forces. It became a large military supply and support base for a few years. The SS President Coolidge was a converted luxury liner carrying 5,000 troops. It hit a sea mine coming into the harbour area because nobody thought to mention that two of the three entry channels had been mined. The skipper ran the ship aground to avoid capsize or sinking and all but two hands were saved. The shipwreck is now a popular diving spot. Further up the coast is a place where the Americans dumped most of their used military and naval equipment. This is now also a scuba diving site known as Million Dollar Point. In highly fictionalised form, this island is the location of the Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, South Pacific.
Vanuatu has more freshwater blue waterholes than any other place in the world. Found hidden amongst the lush emerald rainforest, these iridescent blue holes are a direct result of Vanuatu’s unique geology. When it rains, water from the islands’ volcanic mountains flows underground into limestone caves, which corrodes the limestone and creates underground streams. Eventually, these streams resurface as freshwater springs, or what we know as the blue holes. The waters in these blue holes are incredibly clear, creating a dazzling luminescent effect that seems almost too perfect to be natural. That is what the guidebook says. We joined a group to go have a look at one.
A twenty-minute drive in a tiny minibus brought us to a bridge over a river. Here we got into canoes. Four people to a canoe with a man to paddle at the back. We did not have to do anything. Just sit there. The trip took about ten minutes. I quite enjoyed it. Floating along on clear, fresh water through dense, rich jungle. I didn’t see any birds or animals although we could hear birds. We arrived at the blue hole. A platform had been built around one side and this is where we got out. The water here is great for swimming. It is clear, clean spring water. Cool but not cold. Diane and I had brought our snorkelling gear but I think Diane was put off by the temperature of the water. I thought it was perfect and jumped straight in.
We had spotted a couple of small fish as we had come up the river. However, I was quite surprised at how much fish life there was when I started to look. Once I got away from the platform, where everyone was swimming and splashing around, there were a lot of fish. Big ones, small ones and flat ones. Underneath the overhangs and where trees were dipping into the water. Deeper down, I came across a whole big shoal of fish. No idea what any of them are. Google appears to struggle with these. It comes up with answers that do not seem confident. There are fish experts on the ship but they are hard to find during the day. Most of the fish can live in freshwater and seawater. I had a good half hour swimming around. We were all called out of the water. A short walk brought us back to the microbuses.
It was only lunchtime when we arrived at the ship. Still a few hours before we sailed. So, we got together with Philip and Susan and went to hire a taxi. We had no idea where we could go or what it would cost. A gang of taxi drivers converged on us. They were all waving sheets with pictures of potential destinations and they were all talking, loudly, at the same time. Many of the destinations were impractically far away but we eventually came up with an idea. After much discussion, we settled on a destination and a driver and a price that was less than the replacement value of a new car.
First stop was a petrol station where our driver bought fuel for the trip. We were only going a few kilometres so he only filled up with a couple of litres. On the map we had chosen a roughly circular trip with a short excursion along a spit of land. What we discovered was not a road but a very rough track. The driver very slowly and carefully made his way around all the potholes. The noise was terrible. He explained that a hubcap was loose. The reality was that the vehicle’s suspension was completely shot. We made it to the spit of land. It was private property and we could not go far. We stopped to look at some beach and I took photographs of a lad fishing. He had a weighted net which he would throw into the water and then gather back in. Back in the taxi we arrived at a large pothole full of water. Our driver did not want to tackle this. We turned round and headed back.
That was it for Vanuatu. Now we had three sea days as we headed for Papua New Guinea.
While we were having lunch, the Seabourne Pursuit repositioned a short distance. We dropped anchor just off the Vanuatu island of Pentecost. A short zodiac ride brought us to the grey, volcanic beach. We were welcomed warmly and then got to sit around for a while until everyone had arrived. We were all here to watch the Land Diving (Nanggol). Boys and men jumping off wooden towers up to 30 m high. They have two tree vines wrapped around their ankles. These are just the right length so that, if all goes correctly, the jumper just grazes the ground with their shoulder.
Toilet spider
A tight rope walker appeared. He was rather good. A vine had been set up a few metres above everyone’s heads. He walked along the rope. Walked backwards, turned around and balanced on one foot. That part of the entertainment concluded, we were herded up a fairly steep grassy slope. Benches had been set up around the base of the tower. I spotted a shady area a little further up the slope which looked ideal for taking a few photographs while staying out of the sun. As I made my way up there, I was stopped by one of the expedition team. “Are you part of the Image Masters group?”. No, I wasn’t. Image Masters is an optional Seabourn program. If you sign up, the ship’s photographer will spend time with you to help improve your skills. This had initially piqued my interest until I spotted the eye-watering cost. Anyhow, the shady spot under the tree was apparently reserved for these acolytes. Now, I am fairly sure Seabourn paid handsomely for us to attend the land diving. However, they did not actually purchase the hill and this was a public event. I explained this to the team member in terms that were much more polite than I was feeling. In the interests of keeping the peace, I did not go any further. Later, I noticed many people choosing to ignore the Seabourn rules. I also discovered that it was not the ideal position because of the way the cloud and sun were working and I went elsewhere.
The dancing, drumming and chanting started. A large group of people on the hill to the side of the tower. Rhythmically stepping from side to side. Many of the men had sticks like spears or javelins. The women held colourful bunches of variegated leaves. The divers were all up here and part of the dance. So were quite a few other people and the women. The sound of the drums and the chants rang out clearly across the hillside.
The origin story for Nanggol begins with a woman. She disliked her husband’s behaviour and ran off into the forest to hide. A vagueness surrounds the source of her dissatisfaction; however, she was definitely fed up of him. Her husband followed so she climbed a tall banyan tree. He climbed after her. She tied vines around her ankles and jumped back down. Her husband jumped after her but did not tie lianas to himself. Because of this oversight, he plummeted to his death. In respect for the escaping wife, the women of the tribe created the sport of land diving. The husbands, however, were not comfortable with seeing their wives in such positions, so they took the sport for themselves. Later, specifically designed wooden towers replaced the tree. The men continue to perform land diving so that they would not be tricked again
The nanggol ritual is associated with the yam harvest. It is performed annually in April or May. A good dive helps ensure a bountiful yam harvest. It is believed that land diving can enhance the health and strength of the divers. A successful dive can remove any illnesses and physical problems associated with the wet season. Also, land diving is considered a sign of masculinity It demonstrates the boldness of the warrior. Men who do not choose to dive or back out of diving are humiliated as cowards.
The time of yam harvest is significant because tower construction is best done during the dry season. The lianas have the best elasticity during this time. In 1974, Queen Elizabeth II came to see the spectacle of nanggol in the middle of the wet season. The villagers were persuaded to jump anyhow but the vines were not elastic enough. One diver snapped both lianas, hit the ground hard and broke his back. He later died in hospital
During the period of preparation for nanggol, the men seclude themselves from the women and refrain from sex. Women are not allowed to go near the tower. The spirit of the original woman who dived off the banyan tree still lives in the tower. She may seek vengeance, leading to the death of a diver. The men often prepare for their possible death. They will conclude any unsettled business or disputes. The night before the jump, they sleep beneath the tower to ward off evil spirits. The men must not wear any lucky charms during the dive.
The ritual begins with the least experienced jumpers on the lower platforms and ends with the most experienced jumpers on the upper platforms. This means that the first person to jump, before a large and expectant crowd, is a young boy. For boys, land diving is a rite of passage. After circumcision at about 7 years old, they can participate in the ritual. When a boy is ready to become a man, he performs nanggol in the presence of his elders.
The first lad to jump was obviously very nervous. He did well. After a couple of shy hand waves at the crowd, he hopped off the platform and landed nicely. This got him a round of applause. The next lad was equally nervous and had to jump from a higher platform. Each time somebody jumps, the platform on which they were standing collapses to help break the fall. So, each successive jump is higher than the last. Then came a lad who could not do it. He looked completely terrified. I felt sorry for him. It reminded me of at least one occasion when I was very young and very scared. After a long pause he climbed back down. I hope he was not treated too badly.
The construction of the tower takes several weeks. Up to thirty men help build it. They cut trees to construct the body, clear a site for the tower, and remove rocks from the soil. Several platforms stick out 2 m from the front of the tower, supported by several struts. During the jump, the platform supports snap, causing the platform to hinge downward and absorb some of the force from falling. Vines are selected by a village elder and matched with each diver’s weight. The vines need to be supple, elastic, and full of sap in order to be safe. The ends of the vines are shredded to allow the fibres to be looped around the ankles of the jumpers. If the vine is too long, the diver will hit the ground hard. If the vine is too short, the diver might collide with the tower.
Before dawn on the day of the ceremony, the men undergo a ritual wash. They anoint themselves with coconut oil and decorate their bodies. Men wear nambas. A traditional Vanuatu penis sheath. We had already encountered the chiefs wearing nambas in the morning. The two tribes on Malakula (2nd largest island in Vanuatu) are called the Big Nambas and the Small Nambas. They are named for the size of their nambas. Women wear traditional grass skirts and go bare-breasted. Only the men are allowed to dive, but the dancing women provide mental support.
In the mid-nineteenth century, missionaries came to Vanuatu and persuaded the natives to stop land diving. Being missionaries, their tactics for persuasion were probably very direct and unsubtle. By the 1970s the missionaries had gone off to annoy someone else and a righteous anti-colonialism spirit was arising. Nanggol is now seen as a way to demonstrate and reinforce cultural identity.
I moved to the other side of the seating area to get a better view. Each successive jumper was getting older, more experienced and higher up the tower. Each successive jump was more serious. Finally, we got to the very last jump. Right from the highest point of the tower. It was impressive. A long, long way to fall. Must take nerves of steel and the confidence of conviction in the tower, the vines and all the preparation. After a wave at the crowd, he clasped his hands across his chest, leant forward and pitched headfirst off the platform. It really was a long way to fall. I had time for several photographs as he plunged towards the ground. The was a snap from the platform and then the whole tower whipped forwards. He touched the ground and then was pulled into the soft soil below the tower. A perfect jump.
You may have noticed a similarity between nanggol and bungee jumping. The first modern bungee jumps were made in 1979 from the 76 m Clifton Suspension Bridge in Bristol. The students, Kirke and Keeling of the Oxford University Dangerous Sports Club, came up with the idea after discussing the “vine jumping” ritual of Vanuatu. Organised commercial bungee jumping began with the New Zealander, Hackett, who made his first jump from Auckland’s Greenhithe Bridge in 1986. Since then, bungee jumping has become a world-wide, lucrative business. The cultural appropriation has never been recognised or compensated for. In 1995, the people of Pentecost Island, with the support of Vanuatu’s attorney-general declared that they would endeavour to get royalties from bungee jumping enterprises because they viewed the tradition as stolen. I have no idea whether anything ever came of this.
With that we were done. The jumping had taken all afternoon. Everyone made their way back to the beach. The sun was starting to set as we headed back to the ship.
Another sea day and we have arrived at the Vanuatu island of Ambrym. The island is roughly triangular. 50 km wide. The centre of the land mass is dominated by a 12 km wide caldera containing two lava lakes. The caldera was formed around AD 50 by one of the largest volcanic explosions in recent geological history. Several times a century, Ambrym volcano has destructive eruptions. It is one of the most active volcanoes in the world. The island is also a particularly important bird conservation area. There are many rare, special and endemic bird species here. This all sounded extremely exciting and interesting. As we approached, I was scanning the volcanic cone for signs of smoke or other activity.
We went ashore to watch the locals perform a dance.
The Rom Dance of Ambrym is a sacred, ancient ceremony performed by men in elaborate banana-leaf costumes. The tall, conical masks represent ancestral spirits. They become the ancestors and must be burned afterwards because they contain the powerful spirits of the dead. Ambrym is considered to be the black magic epicentre of Vanuatu. This dance is a ritual that tells stories of good versus evil and is traditionally connected to yam harvests and initiation rites, such as circumcision. The ceremony honours ancestors and wards off evil spirits. The dancers are completely covered in banana leaves and wear brightly painted masks. It is a pulsating, hypnotic dance using highly repetitive drum rhythms.
Off to one side were a group of women dancers. The Rom dance is men only. It is fierce and war like. However, since we were also being welcomed to the village, the women were dancing their own thing underneath a large tree.
Tamtam drums are massive wooden slit drums. Made from a hollowed-out hardwood tree trunk with sealed ends and a longitudinal slit. They are struck with a short, solid drumstick. Technically, these are not drums because they lack a membrane stretched across the top. They are idiophones, where the entire instrument vibrates. On most islands of Vanuatu, the drum has little to no decoration. It is played horizontally on the ground. On Ambrym the drums are set vertically into the ground. They are decorated with faces representing ancestral figures. The distinctive shape of these large eyed figures has become iconic of Vanuatu as a whole and is represented on their banknotes.
The ceremony is considered a profound and rare experience, often regarded as one of the most significant traditional performances in Melanesia. Not quite volcanoes and rare birds but sometimes you just need to make the best of what is available.
We were arranged around the edge of a performance area where we sat on rough benches. It took the best part of an hour for everyone to be ferried ashore and helped up the short walk to the arena. Eventually, we were all ready and then the drums started. I quite liked the monotonous rhythm of the drums. The dancers very slowly danced their way into the arena. Village chiefs, wearing almost nothing, formed a group in the centre. Costumed and masked dancers surrounded them. Everybody was swaying to the incessant beat of the drums and stomping their feet. The ground vibrated with the rhythms.
The dance went on for a long time. It went through several phases but I have no idea of the meaning of each section. Eventually, the dance finished and we were invited to photograph the dancers and the chiefs. However, we were given a strict warning to avoid touching the dancers, the masks, the costumes or the drums. In fact, we were not even to get too close to them. The dance had awakened ancient spirits that were now in the costumes and masks. Extremely dangerous. As soon as the photographs were finished the dancers slipped away. Even before we had walked back down to the beach, the dancers were busy burning the costumes, masks and everything. The big drums are not burnt but they are treated with respect and nobody touches them until the next dance.
On the beach was a small band playing cheerful music. A few vendors were selling local craft items. Fruit and coconuts were being handed out for refreshments. We ate some pomelo. A large grapefruit like citrus fruit. Extremely sweet, juicy and with a fantastic taste. We see them in the UK supermarkets occasionally. Unfortunately, by the time they have arrived in Todmorden, they are a dried up, tasteless, sad reflection of the real thing.
We headed back to the ship for lunch. Diane had found two small children that she wanted to adopt. Unfortunately, they were not allowed onto the zodiac because they did not have lifejackets.
After lunch, I heard on the radio that three tourists had tragically died on an Indonesian volcano when it erupted. They were part of a group that, ignoring local advice, were hiking in a restricted area close to the crater rim. The eruption was expected. It had been building for days. The locals were anticipating that it would be a big one and it was. Many people were rescued from around the volcano. It seems likely that others are missing. They sneak into an area that has been closed because it is dangerous. They do not tell anyone where they are going with their drones and cameras. It can be difficult to account for them later.
Next day was the end of another leg. We hauled in at Lautoka, Fiji’s second largest city. The morning was spent getting one set of passengers off the ship. In the afternoon, a different set of passengers was embarked. Meanwhile, those of us that were continuing the voyage, the in transit passengers, were sent off on a trip to get us out of the way. It was not a great trip. We have done some coach trips that set the bar low and this one was right down there. We were driven to a marina. Given some fruit. Shown how to open a coconut. Driven to a shop and finally brought back to the ship. This was stretched over nearly four hours. The shop, a multi-floor upmarket emporium, was aimed exclusively at tourists to the extent that prices were all in US dollars.
Now the ship was full of strangers again. We spent much of the afternoon doing safety drills, listening to safety briefings and generally being bombarded with information that we had already received twice before. Outside, big black stormy clouds were brewing. Rainy squalls were all around us.
Pacific swallows
Next morning we were intending a landing at another small Fijian village called Nabukeru. This time the weather was against us. For the most part, we have been remarkably lucky with the weather on this trip. Today it did not work out for Nabukeru. The swell and wind were just a bit too much. We repositioned to an alternative landing site on the north coast but this was deemed to be just as bad. A group of locals, meanwhile, had come out in their small boat to see what we were messing around at. They were bouncing around in their small white boat without any care for the sea state or wind. They shouted “Bula” to us in loud, cheerful voices. This is the Fijian greeting. Often delivered as an explosive shout with wide open arms. All to no avail though. We waved them goodbye and headed all the way back to our landing site of two days previously close to the village of Yasawairara. Here there was better shelter from the land and we could finally put the zodiacs out.
The rest of the day was just about hanging around the beach and the village. For Diane and I, it meant two more snorkelling trips. While many others were lying on the beach or buying souvenirs in the village, we were in the water.
Lined SurgeonfishBlue FusiliersYellowfin Goatfish
The visibility had improved a little. This helped with the photography. I had found a setting to do with focusing. This helped as well. Unfortunately, I also managed to put the camera in a low-resolution jpeg mode. This did not help. Once you are in the water, it is a bit late to start messing with settings. It is difficult to see well enough for this, so I just tend to assume (hope) everything is set correctly and off we go. Since then I have been studying the manual some more. Partly to help get the right setup but also to find a way to lock everything so that I cannot inadvertently mess it all up when I jump I the water.
My ability to identify fish is still woefully inadequate. Like with bird identification, Google helps a lot. There are also some fish experts on the ship. One thing I have learned, is to not touch things underwater. There are many reasons for this. Much of the coral is quite fragile and also has sharp edges. Possibly worse than this however, are the wide variety of poisonous creatures. The Lined Surgeon fish looks very nice. Bright colours. Easy to spot. Very photogenic. But possesses sharp, venomous spines, or “scalpels,” located on both sides of its tail base for defence against predators.
Surgeon fishTomato ClownfishClam
There was a wide variety of fish on the reef. And a wide variety of corals. I know even less about corals than fish. Corals, somewhat surprisingly, are animals. Although they look like plants or rocks and are sessile (fixed in one spot), they are, in fact, animals. Individual corals have a stomach, mouth and tentacles used for capturing food and defending themselves. They also have a symbiotic relationship with algae. The algae live in the tissue of the polyps and provide oxygen and food (glucose, glycerol, amino acids) through photosynthesis. This process also gives the coral its vivid colours. Over thousands of years, the calcium carbonate skeletons of the coral polyps build up to form reefs. Some of which are enormous.
Doublebar GoatfishBluestreak cleaner wrasse
I saw several schools of yellowfin goatfish. During the day, they often form large, inactive schools for protection. This is great. They stay still so that you can photograph them.
Chevron butterflyfish are very pretty. They feed almost exclusively on the polyps and mucus of the corals.
Indian mackerel
Surgeonfish are generally herbivores that consume turf algae. They are often found grazing on coral and rocks.
Doublebar Goatfish have a big spot around their eye – making them look like they have big eyes.
Gracile Lizardfish
A school of Indian Mackerel swept in. These are strange looking fish. They are a reasonable size (20 – 30 cm) and were swimming in a school of 30 or more. They were moving fast and my first impression was that they had plastic bags on their heads. On closer inspection, they were swimming with their mouths open. These fish are ram feeders. They swim with their mouths wide open to strain plankton and macroplankton from the water using their gill rakers.
Lying on a patterned section of coral was a lizardfish. These are ambush predatory feeders. Normally they camouflage themselves against the sea floor. This one apparently did not realise that on the regularly patterned coral, it stood out like a sore thumb.
Finally, there was a sabre squirrelfish. These are nocturnal and this particular one was hiding in a hole. I waited patiently for it to come out. Good job I did not reach in for it. They have small spines that secrete venom for protection. While not deadly to humans, their stings can be painful. Do not touch things underwater.
Lomaloma is a small village on Fijian island of Vanua Balavu. We arrived there just after lunch and got ferried ashore by zodiac. A tour of the village consisted of walking down the small main road to the post office. Then we looked at the church, the hospital and the school and came back for the cultural presentation. I often find these presentations a little tricky. This one began with sharing Kava. A few of the onlookers were singled out to sit cross-legged and drink out of the coconut cup. Kava is a mildly psychoactive local drink used as a welcoming ceremony. Next the children were pushed in front of us. Along with a begging bowl. The children were made to sing a song while the Americans donated money via the begging bowl. Diane and I headed back to the ship fairly soon after this and then I received a call.
I am in trouble. I am on the naughty step. I am standing outside the headmaster’s study. I have been summoned by Guest Services to the Hotel Manager’s office. The Hotel Manager is tall with white hair and is clearly a wizard. The assistant captain is also there. He is young, small and sports a prominent ginger beard. I don’t know his name. In my mind, he is Gloin Redbeard. Gandalf rather cryptically tells me this is not about yesterday’s incident. So why am I here? The incident has been reported and logged. Someone’s version has been logged. Gloin reads me the rules concerning zodiac operations and the importance of holding hands. I wholeheartedly agree while wondering if the crew member received a reminder to let go of guest’s arms. We all shake hands and I am allowed to leave. I still don’t know if the offence was that I arrived in the boat with someone still attached to my arm, or calling them a dollop, or both. But I am free. I have escaped keel hauling, flogging, walking the plank or being turned into a newt. Time for a celebratory drink.
Next day, we were moored off from the wonderfully named Yasawairara, another small Fijian island village. Yet again, we were all invited ashore for a walking tour and a cultural presentation. This time it went much better. Straight out of the zodiac, I met an island chief called Prince Philip. He shared with me a large cup of Kava. It made my tongue slightly numb and tingly. The walk around the village was slightly more interesting. There were some goats on a rock. We skipped the dancing part of the presentation and went snorkelling.
The expedition team had set up two zodiacs. We could snorkel between them by following a reef wall. This was up to 10 m deep and included a wide range of different types of coral.
Striated SurgeonfishScissortail Fusiliers
The water was often a lot deeper than we had experienced before. This was fun but made photography difficult. Visibility was not so good either. Photographing fish is not so straightforward. I am used to looking at a scene through a viewfinder. Now I need to watch a small screen on the back of a camera, through goggles that are typically a bit misted up. Fish are twitchy, nervous things that vanish at the slightest movement. I end up stalking them. Hanging motionless in the water in the hope that they will ignore me and get on with their fishy lives.
Moorish Idol
I am also having to learn how to use a new camera. Like most cameras, this has a myriad of complex settings. It does not seem very practical to start messing with the camera controls in the water. I spend some time reading the manual. Then try fiddling with a few settings. Jump into the water and see what happens. Fortunately, we have quite a few more opportunities for snorkelling on this trip. Hopefully, this will be enough for me to get the hang of it.
Tonga is a Polynesian kingdom of more than 170 South Pacific islands, many uninhabited, most lined in white beaches and coral reefs and covered with tropical rainforest. 45 are inhabited supporting a population of 100,000. It is a constitutional monarchy. They have a real king. King Tupou VI. There is also a strong democratic movement but like most kings – he does not want to go. The monarchy has taken criticism for some bad decisions including, in the 1990s, when Topou IV considered increasing national revenue by allowing Tonga to be used as a nuclear waste dump. There was also a scheme to register foreign ships which came unstuck when the ships were shown to be engaged in illegal activities, including shipments for al-Qaeda. Male homosexuality is illegal. The economy has a large nonmonetary sector and a heavy dependence on remittances from the half of the country’s population who live abroad. The royal family and the nobles dominate and largely own the monetary sector of the economy. Especially the telecommunications and satellite services. Tonga was named the sixth-most corrupt country in the world by Forbes magazine in 2008. Tonga has one of the highest obesity rates in the world. Tourism is relatively undeveloped although the government see potential and are trying to encourage it.
Cruise ships visit the Vava’u island group occasionally for whale watching. We dropped anchor outside of Neiafu, the second-largest town in Tonga, population 4,000. It is the wrong time of year for whales so instead we were bussed to a botanical garden. The garden looked to me like an area that had just been allowed to grow wild although there were signs nailed to a few trees. It was hot, humid and the mosquitoes were biting.
We wandered around for a while. There were a few interesting plants and an impressive spider. Everything seemed very lush and green. The plants enjoy this weather even if I don’t.
After half an hour or so and three laps around the garden, we were taken down to a building on the beach. Here, we were given some fresh fruit and there was a cultural presentation. It was not very good. We were so crowded into the small, wooden building that it was difficult to see what was going on. There were dancing girls but even so I wandered off down to the beach to photograph some birds.
Back to the ship for an early lunch. We clambered onto the zodiacs from a concrete jetty so there was no need to get wet. It was a very easy two steps down into the boat. Even so, there were five expedition team members helping guests onto the boat. You are required to hold their arms in a fisherman’s grip and follow their instructions. A few guests are quite challenged in the mobility department and essentially get manhandled into place. As I stepped onto the boat, in the approved fashion, one of the people holding my arm forgot to let go. I don’t know if they were daydreaming, gossiping or what but the effect was to swing me around as I arrived in the zodiac. Nothing bad happened. I caught my balance and sat down. I did however remonstrate about hanging onto to me unnecessarily and called the offender a dollop. This was to have consequences.
The ship was repositioned to a nearby, uninhabited island and we went snorkelling. It was only a small island which sported a tiny, brilliantly white beach. Looks lovely but bits of broken coral can shred your feet if you are not careful.
Diane’s confidence at snorkelling is growing all the time. We jumped into the water without any messing around. Just past the beach, the water got quite deep. We could follow the slope around the island. Here there were masses of coral and many fish.
Clam
I keep thinking I should try and learn the names of a few more fish. The reality is that I am quite happy looking at them as if we were swimming in a giant fish tank. It is also fun to try and photograph them. It still feels strange to be operating a camera underwater. I keep expecting it to pack up at any moment.
Latticed Sandperch
There were several blue star fish, some sea cucumbers, a few clams and some feather stars. These are curious creatures. Look a little like a type of plant but they are actually more of a star fish. They can, if the urge takes them, detach from the coral and swim around.
Feather Star
We spotted a few Moorish Idol. A distinctive yellow and black fish. It is popular in marine aquariums although notoriously difficult to keep because it is a fussy eater.
Samoa is another island country. This time just four islands, two of which are uninhabited. 200,000 people live on the other islands. We arrived at the capital and largest city of Apia at the north of Upolu Island. We docked at a place that was called the cruise terminal. However, it looked just like any working cargo port to me. No facilities for passengers but a lot of containers piled up all around the place.
As is the way, we were loaded into a variety of local buses and sent off on a tour. My first concern was as to how our driver could see where he was going. The windscreen was plastered in little mirrors, numerous silhouettes of curvaceous women, brightly coloured fluffy material and a variety of certificates and notices. To see the road, he needed to squint through the remaining, small gaps. I hoped that his utterly enormous bright green gear stick helped in some way.
First stop was the cathedral. We got there without hitting anything. The church was a moderately simple wooden building. Smartly painted in white and blue. Adorned with many intricate stained-glass windows. I was impressed by one design in particular. There, sat amongst the disciples was a Samoan. You could tell he was Samoan from the traditional tattoos. He was looking very relaxed. Laid back, eyes partially closed. Very comfortable. He holds a fan to keep cool and is smoking a big, fat doobie. This explains much that is conventionally considered supernatural. Photograph from Susan. Thank you.
Taro
Then we got dropped off at the vegetable market and told we had an hour. It was a little over 30°C and extremely humid. Not the ideal conditions for spending an hour looking at vegetables but we gave it a go. Because of variations in altitude, the farmers can cultivate a broad range of tropical and subtropical crops. Many of these were on offer in the market. Taro used to be a major source of income for Samoa. A fungal blight devastated the plants in 1993. From a peak of 50%, taro now accounts for less than 1% of export revenue. The roots can be roasted or boiled. Other tables were laden with coconuts, papaya, avocado and citrus fruits. There were bananas still growing upwards from their stalks and prickly skinned soursop. This has an aromatic pulp used to make healthy juices, smoothies and ice cream.
It took about half an hour before the heat and humidity combined with the excitement of raw vegetables was getting to be too much for us. Back at the small, grubby bus we found most of the other members of our group taking advantage of the air conditioning. It was not especially cool in the bus but it was better than sitting outside. Since everyone had come back early, we left early to head up to the museum.
This was the Robert Louis Stevenson museum. After writing Kidnapped and Treasure Island he came here at the end of the 19th century for his lung health. It did not work and a few years later, at just 44 years old, he dropped dead in his purpose-built smoking room. We were shown around a replica of his bed, his wife’s bed, his mother’s bed and somebody else’s bed. We were also shown the only two fireplaces in Samoa. At 30°C it was easy to understand why fireplaces are not really needed. Quite possibly, neither of these have ever been lit but they do provide an nice, homely feel for a family originating in Scotland.
Round the back of the museum a seating area had been set up so that we could watch a cultural presentation. This started with a guided description of the tattoos on the back and legs of a large local lad. Then came the music and the dancing which involved a lot of shouting. The details were all meticulously recorded by a veritable army of phone wielding tourists.
Back at the ship, we had a few hours before departure, so we went snorkelling. It was only a few minutes’ walk to a small beach. We were charged $5 each to enter one of the smallest, least impressive beach areas I have ever visited. I have not visited many beaches. There may well be many worse. Diane opted out of getting into the water. The approach was steep and rocky. Great scope for minor injury or worse. I carefully picked my way down to the water and played with the new camera for half an hour. There were quite a few fish around and after much searching I manged to find some coral.
We were comfortably back on board before the ship sailed. A tug escorted us out. I doubt the Seabourne Pursuit, our ship, needs a tug. However, I imagine that port rules need to be followed and the tug probably needs the money. As the sun began setting, Samoa receded into the distance and Tonga was calling.
The Cook Islands are a group of 15 islands, population 15,000, forming an island country. The country is self-governing while in free association with New Zealand. This means that New Zealand acts on their behalf in foreign affairs and defence issues but only when requested by the Cook Islands government and with their advice and consent. Cook Islands has no armed forces but the Police Service owns a patrol boat provided by Australia. The government is a unitary parliamentary constitutional monarchy. King Charles III is their monarch but I don’t imagine he has much say in island affairs. Maybe just pops in occasionally for a cheap holiday.
The economy is based on tourism. They advertise the country as an affordable, exotic South Pacific archipelago with no crowds. No building is taller than a coconut tree. There are no high-rise hotels, traffic-lights or stop signs. Just unspoiled natural beauty; lagoons ringed by stunning coral reefs teaming with life, isolated beaches, rainforests, waterfalls, caves, unique bird life, and so much more.
We anchored outside the reef at Aitutaki Island. Diane and I went ashore by zodiac and had a short walk. It was hot. A bit too hot for me. We wandered up the road for half an hour and then took refuge from the sun at a table by the beach. The road was not particularly interesting. There were a few small shops and houses. All widely spaced with well kept gardens. Many of the gardens contained graves. Some of which were quite elaborate. I imagined children being told to go out and play by their great-grandparents. The beach was much more interesting. There were some birds fishing along the shore. Little crabs were running around. They rushed to hide down holes in the sand if you went anywhere near them. We went back along the sand under the shade from coconut palms. Carefully, of course, to avoid danger from falling coconuts.
A full-sized coconut weighs about 1.5 kg. If one fell on your head, it would probably hurt. Following a 1984 study on “Injuries Due to Falling Coconuts by Dr. Peter Barss “, exaggerated claims spread concerning the number of fatalities by falling coconuts. By the early 2000s, the urban legend of death by coconut had grown to 200+ fatalities per year. Barss was awarded an Ig Noble Award for his work. A press release from Club Travel, a UK-based travel insurance company, selling travel insurance for Papua New Guinea, stated that coconuts were “ten times more dangerous than sharks”. The truth is that occasionally, rarely more than once a year, people do get killed by coconuts. Sometimes it is their own fault. In Pennsylvania, a man died while trying to crack open a coconut with the butt end of a loaded revolver. The gun discharged and he got shot in the abdomen.
We arrived back at the docks unscathed. In the afternoon was a snorkelling trip. I grabbed my new camera, Diane grabbed a blue pool noodle and we were good to go. After transferring to a local boat, we were taken out into a large lagoon. Here we made a brief landing on Honeymoon Island to admire the white sand. Looked nice but was made of broken coral so it was sharp and unpleasant to touch. A short way offshore we went snorkelling off the boat.
Lagoon Triggerfish
This time my photographic efforts were a little more productive. There was plenty to photograph. Big lumps of coral reef interspersed with giant clams on the seabed. The clams look amazing and often have intricate patterns on the mantle parts. Giant clams are bi-valve filter-feeders. However much of their nutritional needs are supplied by zooxanthellae. These are photosynthetic single-celled organisms that live in symbiosis with the clam. Around the edge of the mantle are primitive eyes. The clams can weigh over 200 kg and live for more than 100 years.
I also spent a lot of time looking at fish. Small fish all around the reef. Some are actually eating the reef. Some eat other fish. Some eat parasites off other fish. Some eat algae. The reef is a whole complex ecosystem. The fish come in all shapes and sizes. Some are quite shy and hide in the reef. Others are very bold and in your face. I am trying to learn the names of some of these fish but it is a steep learning curve. All too soon we were back in the boat. I usually wear shorts and a t-shirt for snorkelling. By the time we were back on board, half an hour later, my clothes were completely dry.
Raʻiātea is the second largest of the Society Islands, after Tahiti, in French Polynesia. We arrived there early in the morning and tied up along side a large quay. After breakfast everyone came out to mill around on the dockside for a while before we were herded into groups. Our flock was shepherded round the corner to a small, local boat. Our new captain introduced himself and then sang to us while he guided the boat to a medium sized island. Then we got into some 4×4 vehicles and were taken to a black pearl farm.
They showed us how they make the pearls. Take a mature, black-lipped oyster and kill it to remove some of the mantle tissue. Take a freshwater scallop from the Mississippi, kill it and send it to Japan. They will reduce it to small, round, smooth beads which get sent to Tahiti. Take another local, black-lipped oyster but try not to kill this one. Instead, prise it open a little bit. Make a cut into its sex-gland and insert the bead from Japan along with the tissue from the donor oyster. The nacre that the gland secretes will cover the nucleus and form the pearl. Takes about two years during which time the oyster lives in an underwater rack. Finally, you can kill the oyster and retrieve the pearl. Inspect the pearl and hope it is a good one. This is Tahiti’s $10m black pearl business. Seems a cruel and unnecessary vanity to me however the number of people worldwide that will pay handsomely to decorate their necks with oyster gonad growths is enormous.
Messing with oysters
Next came a vanilla pod plantation. This was far more pleasant. The pods come from a type of orchid which grows as a vine. Measured by weight, vanilla is the world’s second-most expensive spice after saffron. Growing vanilla seed pods is particularly labour-intensive. At this plantation, the vines were grown up small trees. Each flower must be pollinated by hand. This can only be done in the early hours of the morning when the flowers open for about an hour. The plantation is carefully controlled for moisture, nutrients and pests. Other types of trees and a lot of manual labour are used to create the correct balance.
Artificial vanilla products contain vanillin. This is produced synthetically from lignin, a natural polymer found in wood. Synthetic vanillin is a byproduct from the pulp used in papermaking. The lignin is broken down using sulphates. Vanillin is only one of 171 identified aromatic components of real vanilla fruits and a poor substitute for the genuine thing. Diane voluntarily tested the veracity of this statement by eating a pot of genuine vanilla ice cream.
PlantationVanilla pods
The tour went on. We were driven up to a viewpoint and fed some fresh fruit. On the way we saw avocado trees, various citrus trees, mango, papaya, the ubiquitous coconut palms and many other plants. It rains a lot here. Most days apparently. And it is hot. Pushing 30°C most days. The plant growth is lush and verdant. Our captain magically reappeared at the top of the hill. He whipped out his small guitar and proceeded to teach everyone to dance. Fortunately, for me, this did not last too long. Then we were off back to the coast and his small boat.
Last part of the trip was some snorkelling. This was particularly exciting because I had a new toy, the underwater camera, to play with. We were taken out close to the edge of the reef by a small island. On the island was a bit of a resort with deck chairs and a bar. However, we did not go there. We simply stopped several hundreds of metres away and got in the water. Thirty minutes later I had taken a lot of photographs and encountered a Tahitian stingray. I know little about rays but I did spot a long tail with a spike which I suspected, correctly, was venomous. I gave it a wide berth. Later I looked through my photographs and was a bit disappointed. I was not despondent though. There was bound to be a learning process.
Eventually, we were back on the ship and sailing away. The sunset was gorgeous. Gorgeous but quick. This close to the equator, once you notice the sun beginning to set, there are only minutes before it has actually set and darkness falls. I grabbed some pictures of the beach and vegetation in the golden light. Another cruise ship, the Star Breeze, passed us on the way to occupy our recently vacated berth. We were on our way to the Cook Islands.
Papeete, on the island of Tahiti, is the capital of French Polynesia, a group of 121 islands and atolls spread over an immense area of the South Pacific. Technically, French Polynesia is an overseas collectivity of the French Republic – whatever that means. French Polynesia is associated with the European Union as an overseas country and territory despite being over 16,000 km from mainland Europe – what that means is that the locals here are EU citizens, can vote in EU elections and have freedom of movement across the EU.
Papeete marked the end of the first leg of this voyage. Around two thirds of the guests left the ship this morning. They will be replaced by a similar number this evening. Meanwhile, those of us staying on board were getting in the way so they shepherded us into coaches and sent us on various trips around the island. Our first stop was a small museum dedicated to the American author, James Norman Hall. He co-wrote a trilogy of historical novels about the Mutiny on the Bounty. I imagine that our popular view of the mutiny comes from these stories and the subsequent three films. For me, the museum was remarkably boring. I found I had little interest in the eighty-year-old desk of an author I had never heard of before. Outside was a breadfruit tree. We were assured that it was directly related to those that Bligh was carrying on the Bounty. For me, it was interesting to see exactly what a breadfruit looks like.
Next stop were some black sands where part of the 1962 Mutiny on the Bounty film was made with Marlon Brando. Then we went for lunch. Lunch was served at nice restaurant that was literally on the other side of the island. An hour and a half drive in a coach. The drive was moderately interesting. Our guide managed to talk continuously throughout the entire trip. Sorry to say, I fell asleep.
BreadfruitBlack sands
After lunch, a salad, we set off back around the south side of the island. This was just as exciting as the north side but before I had properly settled down, we stopped at the Vaipahi water gardens. Small but pretty. Nice little waterfall and a collection of exotic tropical plants. I did not recognise any of them but I did take a few photographs. There were a few chickens running around which I photographed as well.
Lunch
Last stop was a very modern museum just outside Papeete. Most of the exhibits are wood. Canoes, drums, statues and pieces of unrecognisable driftwood. All lovingly displayed and labelled. The display room was nicely air conditioned and comfortable. It amused me to see some very serious and intellectual people standing around a lump of driftwood. Even better was an early carving of Groot. However, my favourite piece was a large iron container that looked to be the perfect comic book representation of a cannibal’s cooking pot.
Groot?
Two cannibals eating a clown. One says to the other “Does this taste funny to you”
We got dropped off just before the cruise terminal so that I could go a buy a camera. There was just 30 minutes for this mission. If we dallied, we would miss the ship. Fortunately, I had researched the camera and the shop. There was only one left because they were in great demand that week. At least, that is what the shop keeper explained as he overcharged me for it. No time to argue or even discuss the extras he wanted to sell me. We made the ship with ten minutes to spare and now I had an underwater camera to play with.
Back on the ship, we had a lot of new people to deal with. As the ship prepared to leave, there was a little party on the back deck. Drinks and some live music. We stood around for a while and completely failed to talk to anyone, never mind the newcomers. The sun set so went for dinner.
Two more sea days and we have arrived in French Polynesia. Our route, past Easter Island and Pitcairn, has taken us through the centre of the South Pacific Gyre. This is a system of currents rotating between South America and Australia with a large, static area in the centre. The lack of currents here makes the ocean relatively unproductive. Sometimes described as an oceanic desert. What we experienced was clear blue seas but no bird life and no whales. The ship’s crew have been putting on a variety of games and events to keep us happy. The latest of these was the “Teddy Tumble” or, as I thought of it, teddy tossing. An hour before our arrival at the first atoll many of the passengers were to be found at the top of the main staircase. Five floors below was a small bucket. The objective was to drop a teddy bear from the top into the bucket. Each passenger was given three bears. I think two bears actually made it into the bucket.
Back in the real world, we took on board at pilot just outside Katui, our entry point to French Polynesia. Nobody went ashore here but some officials came aboard to stamp a few passports. After many days at sea, the area seemed alarmingly crowded. There were two more cruise ships, a plethora of yachts, an airport and many buildings. The World caught my attention. This is a cruise ship but it is run like a condominium. It contains 165 cabins which can be purchased outright. The residents live onboard as the ship travels. Some choose to live onboard full-time while others visit periodically. They all have a say in where the ship goes. It has traversed the Northwest passage. In 2017 it broke the world record for being the southernmost ship at the Bay of Whales. The same place that our ship, the Douglas Mawson, pushed the record even further in March. https://salter.blog/2026/03/02/bay-of-whales/
Paperwork done, we left in the evening to anchor off Tahanea Atoll, an uninhabited chain of islands. Next morning was zodiac cruising. This was fun and pleasant in the warm early morning sunshine. We saw some Black Tipped Reef Sharks. Quite small animals. Usually, a lot less than 2 m. As our friend Bruce explained, these are not dangerous unless you pull their tail or try to cuddle them. There were a few birds around but they seemed quite shy and mostly kept their distance.
In the afternoon we went snorkelling. No photographs of this. I am planning to get a waterproof camera because the sights along the reef are amazing. Many brightly coloured fish, giant clams and the occasional shark. Only about the fourth time Diane has been snorkelling ever but she is really getting the hang of it now.
Next day we moved up to Anaa where a small community lives. We were all invited to a cultural presentation. First, however, we got up early for some more snorkelling. There is no stopping Diane now. Warm water. Masses of brightly coloured fish. Interesting coral. Small sharks. Great way to start the day.
A shower and a change of clothes later we arrived at the presentation. They gave us cold, green coconuts to drink. This is terrific stuff. Tasty and not too sweet. We wandered around the place a little. There was some music and dancing girls. There was a demonstration of how to prepare a mature coconut. Coconuts are everything here. They are used for eating, building, decorating and many other things. No part of the plant is wasted. We were served some local foods. To my surprise this was not all fish. I mean, there was quite a lot of fish but there was also savoury coconut fritters, breadfruit fritters, a savoury cake made from coconut milk, some sweets and other things. It was all very tasty. If asked, I will usually say that I don’t like coconut. There is a coconut taste, the flavour you get in a Bounty bar, which I am really not bothered about. But this coconut was lovely. A much more delicate and interesting taste.
Coconuts all finished, we headed back to the ship at lunchtime. The anchor was pulled up and we set sail for Tahiti.
In 1787 the HMS Bounty sailed from London on a mission to collect and transport breadfruit plants from Tahiti to the West Indies. They stayed in Tahiti for five months. Many of the men lived ashore and took wives. Shortly after resumption of the voyage, Captain Bligh became increasingly harsh with the crew. Eventually they mutinied and put Bligh and eighteen loyalists adrift in the ship’s open launch. Bligh managed to get back to England in 1790 and set about tracking down the mutineers. The Admiralty despatched HMS Pandora which apprehended fourteen of the mutineers in Tahiti. The ship went aground with the loss of 31 hands including four mutineers. The ten surviving detainees reached England in June 1792 to be court-martialled. Four were acquitted, three were pardoned and three were hanged.
Meanwhile, Fletcher Christian, the leader of the mutineers had kidnapped several Tahitian women and sailed from Tahiti, along with eight other mutineers in the Bounty. They eventually found Pitcairn at the start of 1790. It was difficult because although the island was known, its position was very inaccurate. They chose to settle on this hidden island. The ship was stripped and then set ablaze. An event which is still celebrated every 23rd Jan using a wooden model that is burned by the shore.
Christian’s group remained undiscovered on Pitcairn until 1808, by which time only one mutineer, John Adams, remained alive. His fellow mutineers, including Christian, were dead. Killed either by one another or by their Polynesian companions. No action was taken against Adams. His grave can still be seen on the island. Today’s Pitcairn Islanders are descended primarily from nine British HMS Bounty mutineers and twelve Tahitian women. In 2023, the territory had a permanent population of 35, making it the smallest territory in the world by number of permanent residents.
A dozen cruise ships call at Pitcairn each year. Very few of them attempt a landing. The approach through the swell is gnarly in all but ideal conditions and they do not occur very often. We were exceptionally lucky. Very little swell and a gentle breeze. Almost perfect. Many people managed to get ashore. We set off quite early with Philip and Susan for a walk. There was an organised trek up to the highest point of the island. We did not fancy being part of a big, organised group so we slipped off on our own.
After a bouncy Zodiac run into the quay, we were faced by the “hill of difficulty”. A steep, iconic, paved incline of roughly 70 meters (about 0.5 km long) that leads from Bounty Bay up to the main settlement of Adamstown. This was hard work. I was quite sweaty by the top.
First stop was a small store selling souvenirs. Diane was attracted to the honey. I got chatting to a local who showed me the avocadoes growing over the road. This was very cool. I have wanted to see avocadoes growing on the tree for a long time. Next came the museum. Here a very friendly American gave us his life story and I took a photograph of a canon in a plastic box.
We walked up to the highest point of the island. 347 m of steep track. Technically quite straightforward but strenuous in the hot, humid weather. The Pitcairn Islands are a British overseas territory with a degree of local government. Traditionally, Pitcairners consider that their islands officially became a British colony on 30 November 1838. The islands of Henderson, Oeno and Ducie (the atoll of two days ago) were annexed by Britain in 1902. Panting and sweating our way up a steep track through dense jungle vegetation did not feel particularly British. Eventually we reached the top. Rather thoughtfully, someone had already been up on a quad bike and left some chilly drinking water.
We had a pleasant break taking in the views, taking photographs and rehydrating. A rainy squall had us running for cover and then we set off back down. This was a lot easier although we got rained on a couple more times. Diane had to swap her boots for sandals part way down but we made it back intact. The villagers had set up a little stall right next to the old anchor from the Bounty. They were selling milk shakes and scones. Ideal post-hike recovery food.
We took a leisurely stroll back through the small village. Diane collected some honey. Pitcairn is famous for its honey. Out here, in the middle of the pacific, there is no air pollution and plenty of flowers. This makes for happy bees and tasty honey. Back down the hill of difficulty, which seemed even steeper in descent. Then another bouncy zodiac ride back to the ship.
Two more sea days and we arrived at Ducie Island. Imagine the archetypal deserted island. Small and sandy with a single palm tree. Sharks circle the island. Ducie Island does not have a palm tree but otherwise there is a strong similarity. It is an uninhabited atoll in the Pitcairn Islands group. A couple of kilometres across and roughly circular. A large atoll fills the centre. The only land is a thin, horseshoe shaped strip. Despite its sparse vegetation, the atoll is known as the breeding ground of a number of bird species. More than 90% of the world population of Murphys Petrel nests on Ducie. Sharks and other dangerous sea creatures encircle it.
We only had time for a half day visit. A landing was out of the question. A couple of young, fit, expendable members of the expedition team did go ashore to investigate a small boat that had been washed up there. However, trying to get over a hundred geriatrics ashore would have taken all day and been a little pointless. There was not a lot to see. Zodiac cruising was fine. We were in the second group to go out. I whiled away the time photographing some boobies.
Brown Booby on final approachFlaps downSmall heading correctionFull flapsTouchdown
Just as they were about to call time on the first group, the rain arrived. Nasty little deluge. Everyone got soaked. We put our waterproofs on. Set off in the rain and got too hot. You cannot win. Fortunately, the sun came out. We bobbed around for a while and I managed to photograph a few birds. Diane saw a shark.
Murphys Petrel
Eventually, we were all done and back on board. As the ship turned to leave, a catamaran yacht came around the atoll. The strangely named “six & half” was heading for New Zealand. They were not in a hurry. Estimated arrival of the small family is about a year from now. Next stop for us is Pitcairn Island, home of the mutineers.
Easter Island is remote. Really remote. You might think that Cleethorpes is a long way away but that is just peanuts compared to Easter Island. From Robinson Crusoe Island, it took us four days sailing to get here. Six days in total from the Chilean mainland. You could fly, from Santiago, 3,500 km, in 5 hours. The island has a population of 5,000 and a surprisingly big runway. It is roughly triangular, 25 km long and half as wide. The closest inhabited neighbour is Pitcairn Island (pop 50), 1,931 km to the west.
Rapa Nui, as the island is also known, is famous for its monolithic human statues called Moai. Polynesians, from islands further west, arrived here in 1,200 AD and created an industrious and successful settlement. They carved enormous Moai, cleared the land, grew crops and kept chickens. When the first Europeans arrived, in 1722, the population was around 2,500 but the ecology was under serious stress. Most of the trees had gone. Soil erosion was becoming a problem. Many endemic species of flora had been made extinct. The Polynesian Rat was firmly established and causing widespread damage. Cannibalism was a widespread practice.
As is usually the story, the arrival of Europeans did not help the locals very much. Diseases, slave raiding expeditions and emigration to other islands such as Tahiti severely depleted the population. Whaling expeditions introduced tuberculosis. Slaving was made illegal and a handful of islanders were repatriated. Unfortunately, they brought smallpox with them. By 1877 the entire population was just over 100. By this time, many of the statues has been toppled although it is not entirely clear why. Clan warfare may have been part of the reason, as might a tsunami.
In 1888 the islands were annexed by Chile and things started to improve. A little. In 1903 the island was bought by the English sheep-farming company Williamson Balfor. The locals were no longer able to farm for food and were forced to work on the ranches in order to buy food. In 1953 the company’s contract was cancelled and administration of the island handed over to the Chilean Navy. In 1966 the island was properly re-opened, and the Rapanui were given Chilean citizenship. At the same time, the airport was built and the Americans came. Between 1965 and 1970, the United States Air Force (USAF) settled on Easter Island, radically changing the way of life of the Rapanui. They became acquainted with the customs of the consumer societies of the developed world and then began to embrace tourism.
The tuff quarry where all the Moai come from
We dropped anchor in the bay off Hanga Roa, the main town. Technically it was a few days after Easter but I liked to think that we were visiting Easter Island at Easter. Zodiacs ferried us ashore and then we were herded, sheep like, into small busses. First stop was a replica village where I nearly fell asleep. The high light was a stone chicken house. Next stop was the quarry where the Moai were carved. This was a bit more interesting and chance to stretch my legs. Approximately 1,000 Moai were made and they were all carved from the volcanic Tuff in this quarry. Tuff is essentially compressed ash. It is quite soft, for a rock. Easy to carve but not exceptionally durable. Most of the Moai look a bit past their best these days. Walking around the quarry it is possible to spot Moai in most stages of construction. So far, I have not found a good explanation as to why the Rapanui stopped carving the statues. What I like to imagine is that, after several hundreds of years of banging out statues, they finally realised it was not working. Nothing happened. There was no divine protection. The mana did not flow. They simply did not function. It was just an awful lot of arduous work. The stone masons discussed this for a while then downed their tools and went off to find a religion that worked a bit better.
We went to see some Moai that had been restored and erected on the coast. Most Moai look inland. They are supposed to be keeping an eye on things. They do look quite nice. I prefer the ones without eyes – gives them a sense of being a bit haughty. There is considerable discussion about how they were moved. Some of the statues weight in at over 50 tons. One idea is that they were rocked while upright while being pulled at the same time. This makes them walk forward. It is an interesting idea but would leave great scope for accidentally pulling one over. We got dropped off in town where we found a nice café for empanadas, chips and some wine.
Next day, we were off in the minibuses again. This time we went to a place where the birdman competition was held. First job was to say hello to our guides grandmother. She was selling souvenirs off a little table just outside the ticket office.
Our guide’s grannyGet your egg from the far island
The guide explained about the birdmen. Turns out my stone mason hypothesis was not too far off the mark. As the island became overpopulated and resources diminished, warriors known as Matatoa gained more power and the Ancestor Cult ended, making way for the Bird Man Cult. The concept of mana (power) invested in hereditary leaders was recast into the person of the birdman, apparently beginning circa 1540, and coinciding with the final vestiges of the moai period. This cult maintained that, although the ancestors still provided for their descendants, the medium through which the living could contact the dead was no longer statues but human beings chosen through a competition. The competition began, where we were standing, on top of a substantial cliff. Candidates needed to climb down the cliff, swim to island, collect a particular type of bird’s egg, swim back and reclimb the cliff. First one back got to be the new chief with all the pleasures, honours and responsibilities that were included.
Looking inland from the birdman cliff is a deep circular caldera. The volcanoes here are long since extinct. The caldera is now just a big lake. Nonetheless, it is still an interesting and impressive feature. We wandered around a couple of viewpoints and then went off to look at some more Moai on the coast. From there it was back into town. This time we found pizza and beer. A stroll back to the harbour, a short zodiac trip and we were done with Easter Island. Next stop Pitcairn. But not for a few days because Easter Island is really remote.
Our second day at the Juan Fernández archipelago was all about zodiac cruising. There are few landing spots anywhere in the islands. We began to the north of Cumberland Bay. It was still early in the morning. Not at all cold but the orange sun was still low in the sky.
There is a cave visible here that, apparently, was where Alexander Selkirk spent the first few weeks after he was marooned. Later, he moved further inland because the density of fur seals on the beach made the ocean completely inaccessible. He mostly lived on goats rather than fish. The goats had been left on the islands much earlier by the very first European explorers. It was common practise, back then, to leave goats, sheep, chickens or similar in remote places. The hope was that they would survive and be of benefit to ship wrecked sailors. This clearly worked well on Robinson Crusoe Island but only up to a point. Although the introduced animals did well, it was to the detriment of the overall island ecology.
Back on the ship I photographed a giant petrel and a masked booby. After lunch, the ship moved down to Santa Clara Island. Meanwhile, I discovered that Selkirk was not the first person to be marooned on Robinson Crusoe Island. 24 years earlier, a Miskito pirate from Mosquitia (now Honduras) called Will was happily hunting goats on the island. He had been landed off an English vessel to gather supplies. He did not notice the Spanish ships approaching and was probably quite surprised when he saw his own ship scarpering over the horizon to escape the Spaniards.
Masked Booby
He survived on the island for three years. At times he needed to hide from the Spanish who came ashore for goats and water. Eventually, in 1684, he was rescued by the English. Later, possibly, his story was the inspiration for Man Friday in Defoe’s famous novel.
The zodiacs were back in the water at Santa Clara. The island is uninhabited. There is no permanent fresh water supply. Many birds nest there including several endangered species. The whole area is internationally recognised as an important bird area. Much of the coastline is steep, treacherous looking cliffs. Despite the uninviting aspect, there are many seals here. More Juan Fernández fur seals. In places, we could spot some deep, inaccessible caves. Possibly a handful of seals hid deep in these cavities to evade the hunters. Now they are back out, breeding well and happily frolicking in the surf.
Santa Clara is a volcanic island. The whole Juan Fernández Archipelago was erupted from a hot spot under the Pacific floor. Tectonic movement has advanced the islands beyond the hot spot now. The volcanoes are all dead but much interesting geology still remains. Santa Clara is clearly built from layer upon layer of ash and lava deposits. On one particular cliff face, these layers are cut through by dykes. Formed when magma forces its way through vertical fractures, dykes often solidify underground and appear as narrow, wall-like ridges after erosion. This particular cliff was cut by a myriad of dykes that, from a distance, look like tree roots.
After an hour of looking at seals we were done. The zodiacs were hauled back onboard. Most people settled down for lunch. The skipper meanwhile set a course for Easter Island, four days of steaming through open ocean away.
The Juan Fernández archipelago consists of three main islands called: Robinson Crusoe, Alejandro Selkirk and Santa Clara. Robinson Crusoe island has a population of 800 and mostly relies on fishing and tourism. As you may have guessed from the name, it used to have a population of just one. Scottish privateer and Royal Navy officer Alexander Selkirk was marooned here for over four years. He asked to be put ashore in 1704 after a disagreement with his captain over the state of the ship. Selkirk thought the vessel was unseaworthy. A valid sentiment as the ship sank not long afterwards. After his rescue, Selkirk’s story became well known in Britain and was almost certainly a significant part of the inspiration for Daniel Defoe’s story, The Life and Surprising Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, published in 1719.
Diane and I went for a walk. There were a couple of organised hikes but we preferred to wander off at our own pace. We went through a forested area behind the main town and I photographed a lovely little orange hummingbird. Later, I discovered that the Juan Fernández Firecrown is endemic to the island, critically endangered and exceedingly rare. The archipelago is very isolated and much of the flora there is endemic. Knowing this, I took some pictures of a few flowers. I have no idea whether these are endemic, rare or in any other way interesting – but I did think they looked quite nice.
Juan Fernández Firecrown
Making our way back into town, we found a lovely restaurant with a view and had some coffee. From here we could contemplate the vista, contemplate the town and contemplate our ship anchored out in the bay. Sitting there in the warm sunshine enjoying the coffee was an excellent way to pass a few minutes.
We walked to the north end of town. Here there is a nice viewing platform ideal for watching seals. The Juan Fernández fur seals are endemic and numerous. One of the smaller types of fur seal and very cute. Later, a guide explained to me that the seals had almost died off. Now, with their protected status, they were doing well. It was a great success story. Another way to look at this is that they were almost hunted to extinction. A handful of seals survived by hiding in the caves until people finally decided to leave them alone. It was a fortunate survival story in the face of mans greed and cruelty. All a matter of perspective.
Behind the viewing platform, there is a shell stuck in the rock wall. This is a live shell, apparently, from the Battle of Más a Tierra. The German cruiser, SMS Dresden, was hunted down by the British HMS Kent and HMS Glasgow in 1915 and sunk just a few metres from the shore. When we wandered back towards the pier, we spotted a small gun turret. There was no indication as to whether this had anything to do with the battle. Reminded me of an early form of Dalek.
Live shell?
We spotted a few more hummingbirds. Exceedingly small and fast. Difficult to photograph but amazing to watch. I think the green birds are the females. We found a statue of Robinson Crusoe and a welcome sign. Then we went to the pirate party. This was billed some sort of cultural get-together involving pisco, empanadas and local music. Sounded promising. We were served a pisco sour that was quite nice. Then we found there was nothing for us to eat. It was all fish, octopus and other dead things dragged out of the ocean. The music was proving to be a bit harsh on the ears so we skipped the rest of the party and headed back to the ship.
Our zodiac driver made a ten minute detour to the seal colony just past the south end of town. This was great to see and gave me another chance to photograph the animals playing around.
Leaving El Calafate in the morning, we flew to Buenos Aires. Another day and another flight later we were in Santiago. Chile’s capital and largest city. 7 m people in a modern, bustling city nestled in a valley surrounded by snow capped mountains. Here we hired a small apartment for a few days. We like to do this occasionally. Slow down. Cook our own food. Catch up the blog and generally just potter around at our own pace. The apartment is built just for this sort of Airbnb use. We have encountered quite a few of these. It is too small to live in for any length of time. No storage. Of course, this is not much of a problem, if all your possessions fit into a single suitcase weighing less than 23 kg. It is reasonably equipped. A hob and oven for cooking the food we have been missing. A washing machine. There is a limit to how far you can go just rinsing clothes out in the sink.
After a few pleasant if rather unexciting days we packed our bags again and got a taxi to the coast at Valparaíso. Time for another trip on a ship. We were going to join the Seabourne Pursuit for a voyage that will take us across the Pacific and back to Australia. On the way we will be visiting a few remote islands.
First job was to actually get on the ship. This can sometimes involve an awful lot of queuing and filling in of forms. Fortunately, Seabourne appeared to be well organised and in less than half an hour we got to our cabin. They prefer the term suite rather than cabin. Maybe a cabin sounds too basic or something. Anyhow, our suite is lovely. Well equipped bathroom, good sized bed, nice balcony and a bottle of champagne waiting for us.
The ship sailed late afternoon. Before then we spent a few hours hanging around on deck and watching life in the port of Valparaíso. Some sea lions popped up onto a pontoon close to the ship. South American male sea lions are big boys. 350 kg of blubbery animal. Nobody was going to argue with them, so the tourist boats just worked around them instead. Let sleeping sea lions lie. A few cormorants were making good use of an upturned boat. Some turkey vultures floated above us and an Inca tern watched us from a repurposed tyre. We sailed on time, just before dinner. Next stop the Juan Fernández Islands and tales of Robinson Crusoe.
El Chaltén, is the self-proclaimed “National Capital of Trekking”. Located within Los Glaciares National Park at 400m, it serves as the main starting point for hiking around Mount Fitz Roy and Cerro Torre. I was first attracted here in 1990 because I wanted to see Cerro Torre, 3,128 m. Not so high but it has a reputation as being the hardest mountain in the world to climb. Quite which mountain is the hardest appears to depend on how you define “hard”. Details notwithstanding, to climb Cerro Torre requires scaling a 1,000 m vertical granite spire. There are massive overhanging ice mushrooms on the top. And the weather is notorious for changing viciously and rapidly. It is a properly difficult climb. Remarkable stories and mysteries cling to this mountain like ice rime. The first undisputed ascent was not until 1974.
Back in 1990, I came here with a couple of friends. We hiked close to Fitzroy for a few days. The weather turned bad and my friends headed back to El Calafate. I spent a few days on my own wandering around. The weather came good and I got to spend a couple of nights camping close to Cerro Torre. I enjoyed just being up there, soaking in the scenery and taking a few photographs. El Chaltén was just a bus stop at the end of a long dirt track. There was a bus every few days. In all the time I was there, I did not see anyone else until the bus driver arrived. Here are a few pictures from back then. My mechanical film camera had a clockwork timer which allowed me to take the occasional selfie.
Today, El Chaltén, is vastly different. It is a substantial town bustling with brightly coloured tourists and shops. The hills are a maze of tracks and signposts. The roads pulse with small tour busses and cars. It was an easy three-hour drive from El Calafate. Along the way we saw Guanaco and a few birds including a rather magnificent condor.
Andean condorRufous-collared Sparrow
We continued past the town, over a rather exciting suspension bridge with a wooden deck and along a dirt track to the glamping pods. We were welcomed into two large pods which formed the main dining area. Then we were guided along wooden walkways through the forest to our pod for the next few nights. It was rather nice. We had a view of the mountains and a comfortable bed. There was a wood burning stove close to the foot of the bed. Behind the bed and behind a wooden wall, was compact bathroom. All very cosy. However, we did not hang around. The weather was great but the forecast looked awful. The Andes mountains catch the wind blowing in from the pacific. The weather can change alarmingly.
Chimango caracara
Making the best of the sunshine, we headed up a well-worn track to a place called Mira Torre. Here was a popular viewpoint for Cerro Torre. The path was heaving with people. All sorts, from ill equipped youngsters in shorts and training shoes through to those more our age with walking poles, sensible boots and rucksacks. We plodded up hill for a couple of hours. No real need for a map. The route was clear and there were many signs. Some benches, a large sign and a rudimentary toilet marked our arrival. It was a nice walk and I enjoyed seeing Cerro Torre up close again. I also sat and ruminated on how much fitter I was forty odd years ago.
Clouds were blowing in and the sky was darkening as we came back down. The scene of the last kilometre reminded me of the Lake District on a bank holiday. I could see scores of people streaming off the hillside. Large, guided groups, small groups, individuals, families and all possible combinations. The bars and restaurants were filling up. Everywhere, hill walkers were returning from the mountains and embracing the evening. National Capital of Trekking may well be a good description.
Patagonian Sierra Finch
We got back late. The sun had set and the cold evening was drawing in. Fortunately, dinner back in the main pod was excellent. Generous portions of home cooked food, a blazing stove and delicious Argentinian wine. Then we had to find our way back to our pod in the dark. When we arrived, the fire had been lit making everything snug and cosy.
In the night the rain arrived. Rain and wind. It was loud, noisy and cold. I got up in the middle of the night to reload the stove with heavy, dense wood to keep it going until morning. Later, over breakfast, we felt a bit smug while listening to some of the conversations around us. Many of the other pod dwellers were unfamiliar with the vagaries of wood burning stoves and had started the day in a freezing cold pod.
The next two days were wall to wall rain and wind. We kept our pod warm and cosy. It was really very nice sitting in there while the wind howled through the forest and the rain battered the roof. Eventually, we braved a short walk and got completely soaked. On the second day, we drove up a track to the north. There was not much to see. We did find a lake with a tourist boat. However, we declined the offer of an hour in a cold, open boat on a misty lake in the rain. On the way back we found a waterfall which provided half an hour of distraction.
Pods
It was still raining the next day as we left. Things improved as we headed back to El Calafate. The sun was beginning to break through as we arrived at our previous hotel overlooking Lago Argentina. We went into town for dinner. Earlier, we had spotted a restaurant offering home made pasta. This proved to be excellent. We ate early and then headed back to the hotel so that we could pack in preparation of a few days travelling.
The software I use to publish this blog has an AI powered SEO headline analyser. This suggests that my usually pithy and occasionally cryptic titles are no good for attracting visitors. Now, I am not entirely sure that I want to attract more viewers. This blog is written mostly for the benefit of my baby sister, Helen, and incidentally for anyone else that has an interest in what Diane and I are up to. However, as some sort of experiment, I have been trying to write headlines that the AI SEO analyser approves of. You may have noticed.
El Calafate is a tourist hub on the south side of Lago Argentino. When I was here in 1991 it had a population of 3,000. There were a couple of bars, a restaurant and a grocery shop. Today, with a population of over 22,000 it is not recognisable as the same place. The main street is packed with tour agents, restaurants, gear shops and late-night theme bars. The sleepy little town is now a bustling, colourful place heaving with a great mix of different people. The old airport has been overtaken by the conurbation. The runways have been turned into streets. This is why El Calafate has two concrete roads each six lanes wide. The new, international airport is several kilometres away. The most recent World Altitude Gliding record, over 22,000 m, 2018, was set close to El Calafate in a glider with pressurised cabin.
People come to El Calafate for the bird watching, 4×4 tours, trekking and particularly because of El Calafate’s proximity to the Perito Moreno National Park. Tourists flock to see the Perito Moreno glacier which supports many tourist activities such as sightseeing, hiking, walking on top of the glacier, sailing and kayaking. We joined in with the flocking and took an early morning drive to the park where we joined a small boat. It was just a short trip. About an hour. We went out to the glacier, hung around a while and came back. The views were spectacular. The glacier is 30 km long. The snout, some 5 km wide, calves into Lago Agentino. Its origin was part of, yet another, border dispute. Argentina has a rich history of border disputes. The Southern Patagonian Ice Field dispute was resolved in 1998 leaving a small part in Chile and all the rest in Argentina.
The glacier pushes across a narrow part of the lake and occasionally dams it. Water builds up on the Brazo Rico side of the lake. Sometimes as much as 30 m before the dam breaks and there is a massive outrush of water. This happens irregularly, every few years. The rupture of this glacier is considered one of the most impressive natural spectacles in the world. It did not happen while we were there. There was no rupture rapture. Although we did see some minor calving events.
Back on shore, we went to the visitors centre and the walkways. An immense chain of steel walkways have been constructed on the hillside opposite the glacier. These extend for several kilometres with hundreds of steps. We wandered around for a while. It was remarkably crowded. I was quite surprised that so many people would turn out to see a glacier. Fortunately, the weather was almost perfect. Clear blue skies and plenty of sunshine. Eventually we had done enough walking and glacier gazing, so we headed back to El Calafate.
Next day was very relaxed. We had a walk along the shore of Lago Argentino and I photographed a few ducks and some upside-down flamingos. That was it for the whole day. We stopped at a coffee shop and had cheese toastados. Next day we woke early and relaxed to set off for El Chalten.
Ushuaia is the self-proclaimed official end of the world. Their moto is Ushuaia, fin del mundo, principio de todo (Ushuaia, end of the world, beginning of everything). It is generally recognised as the southernmost city in the world. There are settlements further to the south, such as Porto Williams in Chile, but Ushuaia is only one that can genuinely claim to be a city. Interestingly, in a change since I was last there, Ushuaia also claims to be the capital of the Falklands. In recent years, the assertation that Las Malvinas son Argentinas (The Falklands are Argentinian) is becoming increasingly manifest. Signs and posters abound. There is a memorial park with plaque, statues and an eternal flame. Roads have been renamed. Our hotel was on the Heroes de Malvinas road. The Mirador Heroes de Malvinas is a layby with a pleasant view across the Beagle Chanel. Prominent billboards have been erected at viewpoints so that you can include a Las Malvinas son Argentinas message in your holiday snaps.
Presumably, Argentina is trying to up the ante, again, with regards to its territorial claim over the Falklands. I can’t help thinking that this is a little pointless. Ignoring the fine detail of the relative claims, it is clear that the UK considers its claim more than adequate. This was proven in 1982 when Argentina invaded. They were forcibly ejected a few weeks later by a UK task force. In a recent poll, 99.8% of Falklanders reported that they wanted to remain British. The Falklands is financially self-sufficient and important to the UK with regards to its operations in Antarctica. It is unclear, to me, what Argentina is hoping to achieve. An increase in diplomatic tensions is the only likely outcome and that does not seem beneficial to anyone.
We decided to spend a few days in Ushuaia. It is a interesting place. Last time we had been here we went straight to the airport from the ship. Prior to that, I had spent the best part of a week here but that was 35 years ago. Things have changed massively since then. Back then, although nearly ten years after the Falklands war, there was almost no reference to territorial claims.
We took a short drive into the Tierra del Fuego National Park. This is where the Pan-American Highway officially ends at Lapataia Bay. Here is also the end of the Andes. The vast mountain range tapers into the ocean and then reappears, much further south, as the Trans-Antarctic Mountains. A few ducks and geese accompanied us on a short walk along the edge of the bay. Then the rain started again. Fine for ducks but miserable enough to encourage us to give up and head back Ushuaia.
One of the great tourist trips in Ushuaia is to take a boat out into the Beagle Chanel. It is rich with wildlife including birds, seals and whales. Our boat was a medium sized catamaran called Anna B. It was filled to capacity. 100 people. Barely a spare seat anywhere. The morning was overcast and gloomy. We splashed out on some instant coffee in paper cups from the onboard shop and huddled around our table for a while. Then, thoroughly wrapped up against the cold and damp, we went out on deck.
There were some albatross, giant petrels, shags and dolphin gull. We approached Snipe Island quite closely which gave us an unobstructed view of the shags nesting and the lighthouse. In May, 1958 the Chileans built the first lighthouse here to aid navigation. Argentina, obviously, disputed ownership of the island. The following month, Argentina pulled down the Chilean lighthouse and built one of their own. This only lasted a few weeks before it was demolished and a second Chilean lighthouse erected. Next day, in a fit of pique, the Argentinian destroyer ARA San Juan razed the building with its main guns. They then landed a company of naval infantry to occupy the island and assert their claim.
The dispute simmered for 20 years. In 1978, Argentina developed Operation Soberanía, a plan to invade all the Chilean disputed territories. Chile pre-empted the invasion and placed troops on Snipe and other islands to the south. In 1984 Argentia held a referendum on the disputed territories around the Beagle Channel. The motion to recognise Snipe, Picton, Lennox and Nueva islands as being Chilean territory was carried by an 84% vote. The following year, a treaty was put in place marking the end of disputes over the Beagle Chanel.
We continued east past Peurto Williams and past Isla Gable. On a small spit of land, we spotted a dead whale being enthusiastically recycled by some giant petrels. Further on we came across the steel hulled, three masted barque called Europa. Previously, we had seen this rather lovely ship at the Argentine Islands down on the Antarctic Peninsula.
Southern Crested CaracaraTurkey vultures
Our catamaran pulled right into the beach at the east of Isla Gable. There are many seals and penguins here. We spotted Gentoo penguins along with a few Magellanic penguins. I think most of the seals were South American Sea Lions.
MagellanicGentoo
There were also a few Turkey vultures. Obviously, they have their place in the world but this comes with the sort of face that only a mother could love. Much more elegant was a juvenile Southern Crested Caracara although its diet is similar. Nice looking bird but don’t look too closely at what it is eating. There were more shags and giant petrels. In all, an impressive gathering of birds and animals.
Several other boats arrived and proceeded to disgorge their passengers onto the beach. Here, the tourists mixed freely with the sea lions and penguins. This all seemed a little too invasive to me. People were very clearly disturbing the birds and animals. We were under strict instructions to stay on the boat. I think this was the more appropriate option.
One more day in Ushuaia and we drove north over the Garibaldi Pass. Wonderful mountainous country. We explored a few tracks. Needed to be a bit careful because we only had a very ordinary hire car. Nonetheless we found some lovely lakes, forests and hills. We discovered a beaver dam. This was all set up with a picnic area and a viewing place. We spent a while hoping to see a beaver but nothing. I did spot a Night Heron that was rather striking. For our last night, we treated ourselves to a meal at the hotel complete with an over-priced bottle of wine. Tomorrow we were flying to El Calafate.
Campbell Island has the distinction of being the closest land to the antipodal point of the UK. The antipode of any location on the planet is the point on the globes surface diametrically opposite to it. Points that are antipodal to each other are situated such that a straight line connecting the two would pass through Earth’s centre. In other words, we are as far away from home as it is possible to get.
Far from home and in trouble. Our cabin came up on the naughty list today, so we had to go and clean our boots. Yesterday there was a general discussion on biosecurity. The issue, the problem, is cross contamination by non-native species to the sub-Antarctic islands. Back in the day it was common to introduce new species in the hope of improving things. Pigs to help castaways, plants that might grow better, that sort of thing. There was also truly little control over the accidental introduction of foreign organisms. Rats came ashore off ships. Cats were brought to control the rats. Food stuffs contained seeds which got into the local environment and so on. Unfortunately, some of these foreigners became invasive and changed the ecological balance of a whole island. Rodents could wipe out entire bird species. The avians had never dealt with mammalian predators before and were devoid of defences. Similarly, some plant species could end up displacing local, more specialised varieties. Rabbits could munch particular and rare types of vegetation into extinction. These are all valid and real concerns. The basic approach, to ensure that no cross-contamination occurs is valid. However, there is this pendulum thing again and I do wonder if some people go a bit overboard. The end of the talk explained how we could use an opened paper clip to pick the grains of sand out from the label on our boots. We were also told about a spider. This had been spotted in a corridor. It was now safely caught, identified, boxed and packed into a freezer for return to New Zealand.
Biosecurity requires that we cannot go to the toilet when we go ashore. Because a shore trip can last three or four hours this means getting yourself into a state of dehydration before you leave the ship. Half rations on the coffee at breakfast and no orange juice. Today we went for a walk up a hill. A little over 7 km up a steady slope and then back again. The weather was wet and windy. Gusting 30 knots near the top. This would have been a steady morning stroll with a flask of tea and some biscuits to have at the summit. But no food allowed. At all. Nothing. No tea. You can take some water but if you drink it then your bladder will have to suffer the consequences until you get back to the ship. It was quite a nice walk and I mostly enjoyed it. We passed several nesting albatrosses and there were some interesting views when the clouds briefly lifted. Diane found it very challenging. You are not allowed to sit down. Not even any kneeling. A few breaks, being properly hydrated and some chocolate would have made all the difference. There was a bench at the top where we had a brief respite. The wind picked up some more and the guides appeared to get into a bit of a panic. They started clucking a lot. We all had to group together. We should stop and squat down (without sitting or kneeling) if there was a strong gust. There was quite a lot of shouting, unnecessary organising and general confusion. Fortunately, as we dropped down the hillside, the wind dropped and things calmed down a bit. There was an incident with someone trying to take a selfie with an albatross on a nest and that did, quite rightly, end in a bit of a ticking off.
Getting back to the ship was a big relief in many ways.
This morning the expedition team announced and posted their first naughty list. The night before, they had been round the lockers in the mud room checking everybody’s muck boots. If they were not clean enough, you were put on the naughty list. Anyone on this wall of shame needed to go down to the mud room and scrub their boots before breakfast. Fortunately, Diane and I escaped the dawn punishment and we could have a peaceful breakfast.
Tomtit
Enderby Island is the most northerly of the Auckland archipelago. The island’s northernmost point is Derry Castle Reef, named after the ship which foundered there in 1887. The sole passenger and 7 of the 23 crew made it ashore at Sandy Bay. They found a castaway depot but it had been looted. After 92 days they discovered an axe head in the sand and were able to build a boat from the wreckage. With this they could reach a second depot at Port Ross. Here they survived for a couple more months before finally getting rescued.
They may have dined, at least some of the time, on rabbit. The animals had been introduced to the island 20 years earlier specifically for this purpose. It was a common practise. Elsewhere, pigs, sheep and even cattle had been left on islands for the benefit of shipwrecked sailor. The Enderby rabbits were there for 130 years by which time they could be classified as a distinct species. The rabbits were eradicated from the island in the early 1990s. A few were rescued and the breed still survives in captivity.
Double-banded plover
We also went ashore at Sandy Bay. There are a few researchers huts here and also quite a lot of sea lions. The males can be a little territorial and not so welcoming to tourists. We didn’t have any trouble but there was an interesting stand-off with one of the expedition team when another group came ashore. Elsewhere there were groups of female sea lions lying around. Also, young pups playing with each other. Like most pups, these can be quite fun to watch.
Yellow-eyed penguin
We tip-toed round the various groups of sea lions and then could follow a walkway up the hillside a short way. This gave us a nice view and also took us past a few nesting albatrosses. These were Royal Albatrosses. Big birds with a wingspan of over 3 m.
Coming back down, we needed to circumvent another large sea lion male which had set up on the path. “Don’t stop, don’t take photographs and avoid eye contact” we were instructed. Some of the expedition crew get quite domineering and like to order the rest of us around like we were school children. Occasionally this is irritating but mostly I find it faintly amusing. I ended up reflecting on the notion that for well over 200 years it had been perfectly acceptable to club to death anything that looked like a seal. Now, we were being told to not even look at them. Behavioural pendulums swinging between extremes.
Back on the beach we spotted a yellow eyed penguin. These are endangered and quite rare. I took a photograph. It is not a very good photograph but I do at least have a picture of a yellow-eyed penguin.
First day on a new ship is often all about finding things. We had never been on this vessel before or with this company. We knew nothing about how things were done or where they were done. The night before we had found our cabin, always a good start. Also found the restaurant so today we knew where to go for breakfast. There was a man there making omelettes. Not quite a masala omelette but pretty good and with a few chilli flakes on top I felt off to a good start. Coffee, yoghurt, fruit, toast. Grilled tomatoes and hash browns to go with the omelettes. We were going to survive. At least until lunchtime.
We were issued with muck boots. Big, warm, waterproof neoprene boots for going ashore. These are kept in a locker room on deck 3 which is called the mud room. I am not sure why. Our life jackets to use in the Zodiacs are also kept there. I thought that was going to be about our lot for the day’s excitement. On the itinerary, it was designated a sea day. Instead, mid-afternoon, we arrived at Snares Island. I thought this was a much better idea that bobbing around in the ocean. As we approached, there were many birds circling the ship. In particular, some albatrosses. I spent a while trying to photograph them. They are large but move fast. Also, the ship is moving. If you concentrate on the view finder too much you are liable to lose your balance and fall over.
There are about eighty passengers on the ship. Not very many but even so, if everyone is invited to the mud room at the same time to don boots and lifejackets, it gets a bit chaotic. Aurora could take some notes from the other expedition ships we have been on. We eventually got our boots and life jackets on but then we did not know where to go. First, we were queuing on one side of the ship, then the other, then we were waiting, then it was cancelled and ten minutes later it was back on again. We kept smiling and hoped the crew’s organisational abilities would improve once they had got over the teething problems.
The sea state was marginal. It was not particularly windy but there was a good swell running. Getting in and out of the zodiacs requires careful timing. They rise up and down well over a metre compared to the ship. The trick is to wait until the RHIB is on the top of the swell and then step purposefully across the gap. It is not as difficult as it sounds. For me the bigger problem was all the crew members grabbing at my arms and shouting advice. Somehow, we all manged to get into the boats and set off for a look round.
Snares penguinSnares Snipe
The smaller zodiacs could get into the lee of some islands and small inlets. So, once we were away from the Douglas Mawson, everything seemed to settle down a bit and we could get on with looking at the flora and fauna. The Snares Islands are a group of uninhabited islands lying about 200 km south of New Zealand. They are significant as a bird breeding area and have several endemic species, notably the Snares Penguin and the Snares Tomtit. The islands are heavily protected and generally it is not allowed to land on them. Having a look round in a small boat is fine.
Our trip began with a cave. This was fun and unexpected. It also brought us to a very calm little cove which was teeming with wildlife. We saw plenty of the yellow crested Snares Penguins. We also saw a tomtit which I failed to photograph. However, I was luckier with a Snares Snipe. There were quite a few fur seals lying around and a bewildering variety of sea birds. We came across a great mass of birds floating together in the sea. I can only assume that there was something plentiful and good to eat here.
We were out in the boat for well over an hour. There was far less chaos about getting back on board and then it was dinner time. In summary, a good start to the voyage.
Monday morning. We were ready to set sail but the ship was not ready for us. Our ship, the Douglas Mawson, had docked early in the morning and disembarked her passengers. However, there were many things to do, like cleaning the cabins, before we could be allowed on board. The company that owns the ship, Aurora, put in place a program of activities for the day to keep us distracted. This began with telling us to go away and come back to the hotel at lunchtime.
We wandered down to the Chinese Gardens. For a modest fee you can wander around this small, tranquil garden. It backs onto the railway track and is surrounded by city buildings. High walls keep most of this urban pressure out and a lovely pond area draws your attention inward. Were I stuck in Dunedin again, I don’t think I would go out of my way to visit these gardens but we had a couple of hours to kill so it was fine.
Back at the hotel we joined a group for an hour’s walking tour. This was all about the street art. Dunedin has a bit of a reputation for painted walls. There is some graffiti but most of the paintings have been commissioned by the city. Some of the pieces, up to a decade old, are getting a bit tatty around the edges now. Our guide was very enthusiastic about the plethora of murals we were shown. I didn’t share his engagement but it did pass another hour.
Next up was a bus ride. We all piled into a coach and were driven around the outskirts of Dunedin. Eventually we rocked up at the ineffably famous Baldwin Street. This road is officially recognized by Guinness World Records as the world’s steepest residential street. 19°, 35% or 1:2.78 depending on how you like to measure these things. It is 350 m long and, apart from being steep, is very ordinary. I declined the invitation to walk to one end of it. Instead, we stayed on the coach. As did many other people. We reflected that we had paid a lot of money for the Antarctic trip of a lifetime and were being shown a steep road.
Then came the Dunedin Botanic Garden. This at least gave us the chance to use a toilet. Baldwin Street may be famous but it is not sufficiently in the limelight as to have public toilets yet. At the botanic gardens, the toilets were broken, apart from one. Queuing passed some more time and then we had a comfortable stroll around the gardens. We found a winter garden, a heated Edwardian glass house, a rose garden and a herb garden. Eventually we found ourselves sitting by a duck pond seriously wondering if we should buy some duck food. Instead, we took a slow walk back to the coach and I ended up taking photographs of flowers, again.
The coach took us to a look-out point where a bust of Admiral Bird stares vacantly southward. From here we could see our ship. It was small and distant. There was a bit more driving around to show us something or other. I managed to doze through this part. Then we were finally taken to the ship. We had to queue outside to have our photograph taken. Then came passport control followed by registration. Finally, we were welcomed on board with a small sandwich and a glass of fruit juice.
Less than an hour later, we cast off. Dunedin is at the end of a long bay. It takes an hour or so to reach the entrance of the bay and open water. On the way, we did our obligatory emergency drills. I saw a cormorant on a sign post. We waved at some girls doing some rowing. I waved at a guy on a tanker as we passed the start of the deep-water channel but he remained enigmatic. The sun began to set. The pilot disembarked. An event always worth watching. We passed out of the sheltered bay and turned south towards Antarctica.
