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.
We have a strong science department at The New York Botanical Garden. Botanists of all backgrounds come here to work on topics that span each corner of the discipline, from ethnobotany to plant genomics. The scientists host Friday lectures where members of their staff or researchers from the wider community come to give presentations of their work. During the quiet winter months, I sometimes have the luxury of attending these seminars.
A few weeks ago, I attended a seminar on invasive plants. Invasive plants are an important topic for anyone who is interested in the environment and their community. With over $120 billion being spent annually on removal of invasive weeds (whether in the realm of agriculture, roadside maintenance, or habitat restoration), invasive plants are a very real problem. I always hear about it from the standpoint of a gardener and an educator. It was interesting for me to hear it from the perspective of a botanist and an ecologist. Not surprisingly, many of the warnings, lessons and take home messages were the same.
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.
January 18, 2012; Canal O’Brien, just south of Isla O’Brien, 54º55’S, 70º35’W
I first stepped out onto the deck of our ship around 5 a.m. today. The sun wasn’t quite up and the mountainous islands were dark shapes against a gray, cloud-choked sky. I love early mornings alone with nature. Unfortunately I was dressed only in my sleeping clothes, so the light rain and cold quickly drove me back to my warm bunk.
Barros Channel, West of Isla Gordon
We have a different ship this year, the Don José Miguel. It is relatively new and belongs to the same owner as our ship last year, the Don José Pelegrín. It is about a meter wider than the Pelegrín, making it seem much more spacious. On the Pelegrín the bunks were narrower and lower; the roomier bunks on the Miguel allow me to turn over without bumping into the bunk above me. But although the bunk room has more space, there is no place to put luggage except under the lower bunks, an inconvenient process which requires the removing of mattresses and the slats. As a consequence, most of our luggage is piled in the middle of the room, providing an obstacle course, especially in the middle of the night.
You might call it something dramatic–the “Lazarus Quandary,” maybe. It’s the scientific milestone we’re all hoping will be uncovered before we’re pitched off this mortal coil. Each year we read news articles which claim that stopping or even reversing the effects of aging is a trope of science fiction nearly within reach; it’s just beyond the next major research grant. But a simple plant–well past ancient as a species–has already cracked the code.
Calling Pleopeltis polypodioides(pronouncing it is like calisthenics for your mouth) the lazy greenthumb’s plant is an apt description. It doesn’t take much to keep it vibrant. In fact, a glass of water in the course of a century might just do the trick. And if its fronds shrivel up and seem to die off in the interim, don’t fall for the ruse–the “resurrection fern” is only playing opossum.
We have a large group this year, with eleven scientists and five crew. Out of the ten flying into Punta Arenas, only four made it on time. I arrived eight hours late due to mechanical problems in Atlanta causing me to miss my connection in Santiago. From Santiago I was scheduled to fly to Punta Arenas, on Sky, but when I arrived late, they told me that there was nothing they could do that day and that they had no responsibility to do so. So, I went to the larger airline, Lan, and was able to purchase a new ticket for later that same day; almost surely cheaper than a hotel and dinner in Santiago! When I arrived in Punta Arenas at around midnight, I found an empty airport completely devoid of taxis.
Our Chilean collaborator Juan Larraín, also had a Sky flight to Punta Arenas that was delayed–he was stranded at his layover in Puerto Montt and arrived four hours late. This is not an airline I intend to use again! Matt von Konrat, of the Field Museum in Chicago, also found himself delayed and had to spend the night in Dallas/Fort Worth. He arrived about eight hours late, finally landing in Punta Arenas around 3 a.m. After my late-night, taxi-less arrival, I knew Matt would have the same problem. Seeing as he speaks very little Spanish, Juan and I arranged for a taxi to pick us up at our hotel at 2:15 a.m., take us to the airport, wait, and bring us all back to the hotel. When Matt arrived in the baggage claim area, he looked very tired and weary, but his facial expression changed immediately to one of relief when he spotted us waiting for him.
The team en route to Isla Hoste
Returning for a second expedition is Blanka Shaw from Duke University, as well as Matt (who has made a really great project website), Juan, and our facilitator/scientist, Ernesto Davis. I don’t think I can count how many trips Ernesto made to the airport, especially with all the missed and canceled flights. He is our hero.
