First ice

This morning after breakfast we got the treat we have all been waiting for: a fantastic tabular iceberg passing at barely a few hundred meters from the ship.

Tabular icebergs carry their name well. They are flat like table-tops (at least the visible part is). We were close enough to this one to make out vertical fractures at regular intervals, and brilliant ice-blue reflections at its base. The color was so vivid it seemed painted on. Fantastic!

As this was our first berg, it got its fair share of photographs. I'll share some of them as soon as I can, though I fear they will not convey the same impression as we got first hand.

Otherwise all is going well, we are at 64 degrees south, proceding at a leisurely 10-12 knots. The sea is calm (a welcome change) and pretty cold (0.4C). The Astrolabe has gone back to a gentle rolling regime, enabling us all to get a good night's sleep and to finally enjoy a hearty breakfast. The mood is good all round, though we're all fairly impatient to get to Dumont d'Urville at last.

From the Fifties to the Sixties

So much for the Antarctic convergence zone leading to calmer waters (see previous post). We are now nearing the end of the Howling Fifties in great southern ocean style: white-topped waves as far as the eye can see.

There are two sets of waves coming from different directions, leading to a very disorganized sea. The Astrolabe rolls and pitches in an unpredictable manner. This motion is called cork-screwing. It feels like we are ping pong balls in a washing machine.

The sea is beautiful to watch, dark blue fringed with white crests, and dotted with ice-blue patches where waves have broken. There are albatros and other birds circling our ship, but there have been no whale sightings (the sea is too rough for us to distinguish much).

The rumours of us hitting sea ice before long have been confirmed. Apparently the ice pack is still well formed around Dumont d'Urville. Our instructions are to stay out of the navigator's way once we reach the pack, as they will have a lot of manouvering to do.

I'm looking forward to reaching ice, firstly beacause I have never seen an ice-pack for real, much less navigated through one, and secondly because ice-pack equals calm water, and we haven't had any of that since we left Hobart 4 days ago.

Antarctic convergence

Today we have passed the Antarctic convergence, where the waters of the southern Indian Ocean meet the circum-Antarctic current. The net effect is a cooling of the water temperature (it is now below 4 degrees, down from 9 at the same time yesterday) with a corresponding drop in air temperature. The sea is also a bit calmer than before, which makes writing this post less of a sporting activity than it was yesterday.

Unfortunately the weather has also changed. Instead of blue skies with the odd cumulus cloud (which we - as good children at heart - had good fun seeing animals in) we now have monotonous grey all around, with a stiff but constant tail wind, and drizzle. I still fully intend to brave the outdoors while I can. I'm sure the polar equipment we have been issued with will keep me warm enough.

We have been making good speed, and are now at 55 degrees south. If all goes well, we should start to see ice tomorrow, maybe even tonight if we are lucky. As soon as we do, I'll let you know.

Into the howling fifties

We have just passed from the roaring forties to the howling fifties, and the change is noticeable. We are now regularly rolling 30 degrees from vertical in both directions.

I am writing this mail by touch-typing while doing my best to keep my eyes on the horizon. The chair and the computer are both bolted to the deck, and I have to keep myself in the chair by jamming my feet against the sides of the desk.

Sea-sickness is being kept at bay, but only just. I'm ok so long as I can go outside every now and again, or am where I can see the horizon. The only other solution is lying horizontal in my bunk.

Otherwise the crossing is going well. There is not much to do except eat if possible, sleep when possible, watch the sea or - if your stomach is solidly attached - a movie.

We have been sailing for two days now, though it feels much longer than that. Another three and we should be there.

New Year's celebrations on the Astrolabe

New Year's greetings to you all.

I am writing this on what is for me the morning of January 1st 2008. Our current timezone is UTC+10h, which places us 9 hours ahead of central Europe, and 18 hours ahead of California. The sea is rougher than yesterday (white crested waves are everywhere) and the ship is as unstable as ever. We are currently enjoying regular 10-15 degree roll with occasional waves sending us over 20 degrees in either direction. The sky has cleared, and we have cold sunshine to greet on deck.

Last night we celebrated the coming of the new year in stlye. After an early dinner (we dine in two shifts, one at 18:00 and one at 19:00) we mostly hung around either outside or in the bar, waiting for midnight to arrive. The music began in earnest at half eleven, as did the dancing. The first bottle of chmpagne was uncorked at exactly midnight (as it should be), and from then on the party really took off.

All I can say is that dancing to disco music in a restricted space on a rolling ship is an experience to be had at least once in one's life. After a slow beginning, we all got used to dancing on the moving floor, and had a great time. The music, dancing and champagne lasted until 2am. This morning, only about one third of the passengers made it to breakfast. Many are still sleeping off the combined effects of alcohol, dancing and anti-seasickness medication.