We actually saw Elephant Island a couple of days ago, a ragged coast line hardly discernible in the blizzard, covering everything like a blotchy fog. That was the last of Antarctica for this trip, and we were heading out to sea towards Falkland Islands. I was looking forward to get up close to Rockhopper Penguins there, the little fellows with the sideways orange Mohawk hairdo.
The Captain warned us - several times during the day and evening - that conditions at the Falklands promised to be even worse than we experienced during the last day in Antarctica.
Barometer in free-fall, wind rising, seas building...60 knots (hurricane force) and 30 foot waves in the offing for the overnight passage to the Falklands. The storm was forecast to last for at least 18-24 hours. Batten down the hatches everyone aboard as well.
I stored all that needed to be stored in the stateroom, leaving 2 waterglasses out to be washed, and to be stored when I returned from dinner. Got in a couple of dances in the Ocean Bar before the dancef-loor would turn into a ski slope, enjoyed a scrumptious Dutch themed dinner, and even an Argentinian Gaucho/Tango show afterwards.
I don't know, how those dancers kept their balance on the stage, that tilted this way and then that way. The female dancers wore six inch spike heels, and managed to stay not only upright, but perform split second kicking and jumping moves without batting one of their almost six inch long glittering eyelashes. I sat in the first row, ready to duck a flying Argentinian tango dancer, who might be catapulted off the stage by an unpredictable big one hitting the ship. The guys looked 'cool' in their zoot suits, and the ladys wore tango dresses so minimalist, that apparently naked buttocks 'abounded' . But to the disappointment to the Viagra subscribers in the audience, the ladies DID wear something: Copa Cabana bum floss - propriety prevailed.
The dancers slinked and jumped their way through the performance, however things must have gotten a little rushed behind the scenes, as one of the trim male dancers appeared on stage after a split second costume change with his fly unbuttoned (or at least that what it looked like in the first row) thus rivalling the dancing ladies in offering revealing glimpses of scant black underwear.
Great ovation, not only for the performance (unimpeded by any wardrobe malfunctions) but also for the guts these kids showed to dance through this rising storm.
And storm it was. I woke up at midnight to the sound of rollers bombarding the side of the ship and some glass breaking against a cabin wall. One of the water-glasses, which I had neglected to store as intended, had flown off the side board, crashed against the opposite wall and covered the carpeted floor with shards.
Turned on the light, slipped into my shoes at the ready, and cleaned the broken glass - up to a point. Nothing else had taken a flying leap, so I went back to my heaving and bouncing bed. Pretty nasty outside, judging by the violent motions and the infernal noise of water and bow colliding at the more mountainous rollers.
Of course, anchoring this jmorning anywhere near the Falklands in that stuff was out of the question. The Captain had chosen - last night - to take the less stormy route to the east of Falkland Island (our intended destination Port Stanley lays on the west side, fully exposed to the tempest), pass without stopping and head direct for Buenos Aires. Well if we sailed the 'protected' side, the Stanley side must have been pretty wicked.
There was momentary joy aboard, hoping for an extra day in Buenos Aires - but, no room at the inn. So we cruise at about 18 knots to get there on original schedule.
Once past Falkland, the storm ceased somewhat, swells stayed high, the skies cleared and sea birds soar, dive and hover around the ship. The stormier it is the better they like it, no flapping of wings necessary, and enough lift to take off from any waves, should they decide to alight on the sea surface for a quick siesta.
