February 2, 2012; Isla Gordon, middle arm of Bahía Tres Brazos, approximately 54º58’S, 69º41’W
You might have noticed that I didn’t write yesterday. About 5 p.m. I came down with a bad headache and went to my bunk. Apparently I missed some bad seas, including 9-10 foot waves in the Beagle Channel as we moved sites. I got up around 8 p.m., decided against dinner, took a couple of aspirin and went back to bed. I didn’t get up until about 8 a.m. I still have a mild headache, but felt that I needed to deal with yesterday’s collections.
So, while the others are out collecting this morning, I got yesterday’s haul onto the dryer and am now catching up on my blog. I had hoped to do this on the deck because it wasn’t raining this morning, and there were even a few patches of sun, but typical of the region, the skies have darkened again, and it is now spitting rain (at least not sleet or snow). I have managed to be able to sit outside, but under cover, which is a real treat because, once again, the scenery is spectacular. My vista is a row of snow-capped peaks, with much of the snow fresh. Usually when it is raining at sea level it is snowing on the mountains and since yesterday was colder than usual, the snow is lower down on the slopes.
The engines started at 7 a.m. as we headed toward our morning collecting site, Ventisquero Alemania (ventisquero is an archaic Spanish term for “glacier,” and this one is located at approximately 54º53’S, 69º25’W). The weather seemed to want to remind us that we were in the sub-Arctic; it was cold and rainy. When we arrived, the weather caused some hesitation amongst our group about heading out, but in the end we all suited up and were soon on our way.
A wet, frozen, but happy Matt von Konrat dispalys a bag full of great liverworts
I had planned to collect at a site featuring large, moss-covered boulders and an open Nothofagus woodland that I had previously seen a photograph of, but I made a logistical error. When the Zodiac left me on the shore, I soon realized that I was not in the site I had seen in pictures, but that, rather, I was trapped on a steep, densely vegetated hill. Laura had gotten off the Zodiac with me and neither of us wanted to stay where we were. We returned to the beach and tried signaling for an early pick-up.
What a difference a day makes! We anchored last night in Caleta Olla (approximately 54º56’S, 69º09’W) and for the first night of the trip we could see the Southern Cross and many more of the bright stars that illuminate the Southern Hemisphere’s night sky. But by morning it was completely overcast with a cold wind spitting light rain. Today, we were hoping to hit three localities rather than our standard two, the first being Caleta Olla itself. The group spread out to hit the various habitats, including a beaver-disturbed peatland and various forest types, while I chose to collect along an extensive cliff base not far from the harbor. It was not the richest cliff face I have seen, but it occupied me for well over an hour, and I even had time to make a few large collections of pleurocarps for Bernard Goffinet‘s genomic work. However, I was anxious to get to our next site, Glacier Italia.
January 29, 2012; Canal O’Brien, on the way to the Brazo Noroeste of the Beagle Channel, approximately 54º55’S, 70º35’W
The day and a half in Punta Arenas flew by. Upon arriving, our luggage was taken to the hotel while we went to the Universidad de Magallanes where we have left our collections to dry completely while we are on the second half our trip. The humidity in Punta Arenas is so low that all we have to do to is leave all the plant materials spread out in a warm room. The whole next day was spent doing chores, depending on need. Some went shopping, I worked on keying my blog into a laptop, and others were simply tourists. That evening we had a final dinner, in part to say goodbye to Ricardo and Mauricio, but also to see some Spaniards who were in transit to and from Antarctica (including bryologist Francisco “Paco” Lara).
Drying specimens at the Universidad de Magallanes
We had hoped to get an early start the next morning, but of course we didn’t. We finally left the dock at around 2:30 p.m. The weather was glorious and the seas calm; patches of blue sky showed through the clouds and the sun shone brightly on the glacier-capped Monte Sarmiento. With such surprisingly good weather, our spirits were running very high.
January 25, 2012; Isla Darwin, Caleta Virginia, approximately 54º57’S, 70º10’W
Today is the last field day before we return to Punta Arenas for a few days in order to process all of the specimens that we have collected in these first nine days. We are currently anchored at Isla Darwin, but we will be setting off shortly for the long trek home, about 24-hours of travel.
January 24, 2012; Unnamed sound off Isla Whittlebury, in Bahia San Jorge, west of Isla Hoste, approximately 55º16’S, 70º00’W
Before retiring for the evening last night I talked with the captain and told him that ideally tomorrow, we would like to get to one of the more exposed southern islands, Isla Waterman, and that he would have to decide–based on weather and sea conditions–if it would be possible in the morning. As a backup, I told him we would be quite happy collecting on Isla Whittlebury, off of which we were anchored for the night. This morning the engines started at 7 a.m., and almost everyone just stayed in their bunks for the ride. Because we were moving for about an hour, and we hit rough seas for about 20 minutes on the way (while crossing Seno Christmas), I realized that we would soon be arriving at our first choice, Isla Waterman.
Last night, as we rounded the west coast of Isla Hoste around dinnertime, we hit the roughest waters of the expedition, and our meal was delayed by several hours. Our destination had been a secluded sound on the west coast of Isla Hoste, but we ended up spending the night tied-in at Bahía San Jorge on Isla Whittlebury. I was told that we would be able to get to our desired destination, but it would have to wait until day because the waters were too shallow to navigate at night.
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I had previously explained our itinerary to the captain, so he suggested that we just flip-flop our intended destinations. The engines started up in the pre-dawn hours and we arrived in another spectacular site, at the end of (yet another) unnamed sound on the north side of Estero Webb. Once again we found ourselves surrounded by glaciers, and since it had been raining regularly for the last day or two, the number of waterfalls coming from the cliff tops had increased exponentially.
I was wrong about everyone getting up early to go into the field today; late nights and early mornings are catching up to all of us. I have told myself that I will be in bed by 10 p.m. tonight, but we’ll see.
Where we spent the night, at the extreme south end of Estero Fouque, is one of the most amazing places I have ever seen. From the ship’s deck you can see at least five glaciers and in the fleeting moments when the sun comes out, the reflection off the glaciers is almost blinding.
January 20, 2012; Isla Hoste, Estero Fouque, approximately 55º11’S, 69º35’W
After yesterday‘s late night, we were all slow to rise this morning. Which turned out to be okay, because at around 5:30 a.m. the crew decided to move to our next site; the movement of the ship was all the incentive we needed to sleep in.
When the ship stopped we got up for breakfast. Today’s first site is–like yesterday afternoon’s site–on Isla Gordon. From the map this site appears to have a glacier-fed stream that enters the sea near the end of a small sound, and this is indeed what we have found. But what we couldn’t see from the map is that the glacier is over the rise of a tall, steep slope, and after yesterday’s exhaustion, there wasn’t much enthusiasm for such a climb. So most of us chose to collect specimens on a relatively flat Magellanic tundra.
January 19, 2012; Chile, unnamed sound on north-central coast of Isla Hoste, approximately 55º00’S, 69º12’W
As the sky slowly darkened last night, we passed site after site that we all thought looked like great collecting localities. Today we begin finding out.
Isla Hoste
For our first collecting site, we have headed as far east as we will go on this leg of the trip. We are anchored in one of the innumerable, unnamed sounds that dot this area, on the north-central coast of Isla Hoste. Between Isla Hoste and Isla Gordon lies the Beagle Channel (named for Charles Darwin’s ship, the HMS Beagle), and we are planning to bounce back and forth across the southwest arm of the Channel.
