An Antarctic Experience - Richard Manning
By Richard Manning
M'Our Bruin left Vigo on 12 November 1999. She is an 1987-built Oyster 43 ketch, and had a through refit before departure. A five week passage with calls in the Canaries and Cape Verde islands had her in Rio by 16 December, where 1 and a change of crew joined for Christmas and the Millennium Celebrations. We found Rio to be a fine city, and the people wonderfully friendly. The street food markets were on a par with Harrods for quality and cleanliness, so by the time of our departure south on 6 January we were well laden with food, drink and fuel.
Nine days of mixed weather, on a course 200 miles offshore, took us to Mar Del Plata. Evan at 0030 they were hugely welcoming and served us dinner in the club, Then a very friendly barbecue at the home of the Commodore of the Yacht Club de Argentina had us staggering back to sea after four days, fully laden once more.
Four days to Caleta Valdes: deserted, barren, and forbidden to go ashore by wild life people. Not recommended if you draw 7ft - we went aground, and were happy to leave after two days. From there south-southwest for Caleta Hornas: head for the cliff covered in graffiti, when 40m off turn 90° to starboard, and there you are. A superb pool opens up, remote, desolate, and wonderful. We enjoyed great walking looking for desert animals and birds - how do they survive? - and ancient relics such as arrowheads and bone saws. We dug huge clams from the sandy beach, washed them for three days, and had a feast, Then five days to Staten Island, where we bore away west to the first anchorage, Puerto Espania. This was our first use of the brilliant Chile cruising manual*.
Over the next: three and a half weeks we went to Ushuaia and then Puerto Williams to obtain our zarpés (friendly patience is the order of the day), for first a cruise to Cape Horn and then the west Beagle Channel. M'Our Bruin was then laid up afloat, at the Yacht Club de Mecalvi at Puerto Williams, in March 2000. By the time we left, the crew were determined to return and complete the cruise to the Antarctic.
When we returned to M'Our Bruin on 30 December we found her in excellent condition, having been cared for by the Chilean naval boatswain responsible for the Yacht Club de Mecalvi. Seven days were spent servicing, checking, stocking, and equipping her.
On Monday 8 January we left for Puerto Eugenia, only 15 miles away but giving us a chance to check our systems at sea. All worked well, so on Tuesday at 0600 we departed, sailing south. We were all a little quiet - not nervous exactly, just contemplative of what the next few days had in store. From our experience the previous year we had learned a vast amount about sailing in the area. Winds varying between 0 and 50 knots in 15 minutes keep you alert. Anchoring and mooring lines must be placed so you sleep soundly at night (and always anchor facing where the waves can get at you, as "slap ... slap" under the stern leads to a disturbed night). Five days later, having passed Smith Island in the mist and seen it only on radar, we crossed the Drake Passage in a mixture of light winds, two good reaches and one strong blow. We tiptoed into the crater of the Melchoir Islands, turned left into Anderson Harbour, pushed our way past an iceberg blocking the entrance to a 20m wide canal, and edged forward under 100ft ice cliffs to find a notch where we moored with bow and stern lines to rocks, After a few hours sleep, Sunday afternoon saw the young end of the crew ashore, tobogganing down a snow slope and building a 10ft snowman, watched by the old end from the cockpit with "tinnies" in their hands. A seal climbed onto an ice floe, grinned at us and flapped her tail. We had arrived in Antarctica!
The following morning we departed to face the spectacular view of Brabant Island, and to be met by a school of killer whales diving and twisting alongside us. An hour later we were beating against 35 knots of wind against tide to get into the Gerlache Strait. Once there we bore away for a wonderful sail southwest into the Neumayer Channel, passing huge tabular icebergs, rock mountains and glaciers falling into the sea. We became aware that there was no seaweed and no green on the land - just shades of black and white. So to Lockroy Harbour, where we again tiptoed into an anchorage at Alice Creek. With an anchor and three lines ashore we relaxed. We sniffed the odour of the rookeries of Gentoo penguins, listened to their chatter, and said "Hi chaps, we'll see you in the morning".
Next morning all five crew were ashore with cameras. Wandering through the rookeries we admired the 10-inch high fluffy grey chicks, and watched the antics of the adults swimming, diving and walking around. A warning: when they defecate I swear they turn away from you and jet it 3 feet! You have to move quickly or you've got it for at least a week. There were also blue-eyed shags nesting and with chicks. A seal flopped onto the beach to be photographed.
We then rowed across to the Bransfield Station to meet the British Antarctic Heritage Trust crew. We joined them for a beer, and then returned in the evening for dinner. Their work involved the study of wild life. They had no water, having to melt ice, and no boat to get off the island. However during the three months that they manned the station they would collect around £300,000 for T-shirts, cards, stamps and so on from the passengers of cruise ships. When signing their visitor's book we learned that we were the first private cruising boat to visit in eighteen months.
A day passed. We rose the next morning to clear blue skies and the most spectacular view of the whole cruise. There had been a huge snow and ice fall from the snow cliffs across the harbour, and all the water was covered in a brash of snow and ice We motored slowly out through this. What an amazing scene! We were aiming for the Ukrainian station at Three Little Pigs (where we understood they brewed their own vodka), but it was not to be. The north-easterly of the previous few days had blocked the Lemaire Channel with icebergs, floes and snow brash making it impassable - certainly for a GRP hull - and the areas outside the islands were marked "Uncharted". At 65°O5'S we regretfully made the decision to turn back, and headed for Paradise Bay.
A northwesterly filled in to give us a wonderful sail past towering mountains, glaciers and icebergs - one we reckoned at 200m long. Evening saw us anchored, plus three lines ashore, in a cove next to the Chilean radio station. We went ashore and were given coffee - our bottle of whisky helped to warm the relationship. Next day the sun shone and, stripped to the waist, we strolled around the shore of mainland Antarctica, admiring the chirtstrap penguins and their efforts to protect their chicks from the ever present skuas.
A few days earlier the reducing valve on our gas bottles had exploded, leaving us with no means of cooking hot food. The Chileans came to our rescue and cooked all our pasta, rice, potatoes and the two legs of lamb that had been hanging in the rigging. This we lived on, plus tins, for the next eleven days. It's amazing how well we survived. Gin and tonic, and white wine, were of course excellent chilled. Red wine was warmed in front of the central heater vent for 30 minutes. We ate muesli with longlife milk for breakfast, though porridge soaked overnight becomes quite edible by the next day. Rolls bought in Port Stanley survived for three weeks until we reached the Falklands. Lunch was generally salad, and for dinner we ate tins plus pasta etc. As a crew we did not have sugar in drinks, but we cadged some sugar sachets from the Bransfield Station, which they in turn had "borrowed" from the cruise ships.
At 1500 we left for Enterprise Bay, a zig-zag motor past ice and bergs, through Danco Bay into the Gerlache Strait. Minke whales dived and waved their tails at us. We arrived in the half-light at 0100, when there is no shadow and it is very difficult to assess distance. We moored to a wreck with a line ashore in a small cove under towering 200ft snow cliffs, but not before one heart stopping hump aground when reversing.
Next morning, after photographing the old whaling station, we left for Deception Island. The weather was changing and deteriorating - no wind, but visibility down to about 100m, and the radar came in useful for iceberg spotting. More whales were about. Twenty-five hours later we entered the crater through Neptune's Bellows, motored past the hot springs to a cove at the top end and anchored with three lines. Visibility did not improve but the wind got up to 35 knots from the southeast. After 36 hours we decided to leave, having seen nothing of the island, which was a shame as it must be delightful in good weather. Before we reached Snow Island the wind went northwest, so we struggled into the Drake Passage. A little earlier, while making 7 knots under retied headsail, the lookout shouted, "Iceberg!". I spun the wheel to port and saw the sunken mass slip by a metre away from us. In the evening the skies cleared, giving us a most memorable view of Smith Island 25 miles away. The 7000ft peak, with its snow-covered flat top and volcanic crater appeared above the clouds, reaching to the sky.
Seven days later, and after three storms with winds in excess of 45 knots - plus a visit from a humpback whale who surfaced alongside like a Trident submarine - we dropped anchor at Port Stanley in the Falkland Islands. The crew at Port Lockroy were glad to hear of our safe arrival, as they had learned of the extreme conditions in the Drake Passage from the cruise liners, and there had been a distress call 100 miles away from south of Cape Horn.
Our stay in the Falklands and onward journey to Mar del Plata is another story. The yacht performed magnificently at all times and never had us worried. Our congratulations to both Oyster and the designer, Kim Holman. In the 22 days of our adventure we saw five species of penguin, three types of whale, innumerable different birds, five cruise ships and just one other yacht.
* CHILE : Arica Desert to Tierra del Fuego, by lan & Maggie Staples and Tony & Coryn Gooch, edited by Oz Robinson. Reviewed in Flying Fish 1999/1.
