Antarctica 4: Piecing the last jigsaw of Antarctica

The crossing of the 7-mile Lemaire Channel, widest at 1 mile across and half-a-mile at its narrowest was first navigated by De Gerlache in 1898. Expedition members on this journey made the journey again on Christmas Day, 107 years later - a very short period of time in terms of history.

As such, the crossing was met with much anticipation and excitement. Everyone on board was struck silent just listening to the ice-crushing barge cruising through ice precariously between the twin snowed peaks (below). It reminded me of the blockbuster movie, ‘Jason and the Argonauts’. It was simply awesome! The finale of the Antarctic expedition came when announcement bellowed through the loudspeaker to prepare for a ‘zodiac’ cruise among the icebergs. With the numerous landings we have had and rehearsed, dressing up for the outdoor became much easier and quicker. Soon, even the senior members were strapping on life jackets expertly, double layered socks inside our boots and were able to waddle smartly up and down staircases and onto awaiting zodiacs in a jiffy. In complying with strict regulations of the Environmental Protocol, on each returned trip to ship, we had to walk passed a trough of disinfectant solution. Leaned against the edge of the ship, front facing, we lifted our foot behind us, and had our boots water blasted under high pressure jet from a fireman’s hose (above).

Cruising around the ice, this was what we saw.
















Ice came in various sizes and formations (above). Some white, some with many hues of blue; there was the green Jade ice, black ice with dimples like orange peel that has been floating in the sea for many, many years. Surfaces of ice carved by ocean currents came in different facets, designs, each unique in appearance and in form. On some icebergs, nature’s frozen platforms were created for crabeater and leopard seals to laze around (below). Encrusted on some cliff rocks were nesting colonies of the Antarctic Blue-eyed Shag (Phalacrocorax atriceps), a species of cormorant with a more efficient swimming foot - with web connecting all four toes instead of 3 in most seabirds. They have no external nostril openings and their breeding grounds are often near or among penguin colonies. Another unique species of bird is found here - the ubiquitous Snowy Sheathbill (Chionis alba) – the flying ‘cleaning machine’ of Antarctica (above).

This pigeon-sized species while appearing white, quiet and innocent looking, is the most conspicuous scavenger of all. They are the flying cleaning machines that gobble up penguin ‘poo’ and thrive on anything organic from carcasses and afterbirths of animals to sucking eggs or even kill life chicks of penguins. With rounded wings, they can swim and when on land, would perch unperturbed, taking their place amongst the penguins in a compromised liaison of recycling.

How does one continue to keep the largest wilderness area on earth relatively pristine yet permitting tourists’ visitations to this ecosystem wonder of nearly 14 million square kilometres? The National Environmental Research Council recorded 10,000 visiting tourists in 1999 alone during the summer season.

















Much of the stimuli for Antarctic exploration in the 18th and 19th century were of commercial interests, bringing the Antarctic fur seals to near extinction and an over exploitation of various whale species that ended up in numerous sushi bars.

In 1980, the Antarctic Treaty nations adopted the Convention for the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources, to correct and maintain the populations of all the species in the Southern Ocean marine ecosystem through its strict monitoring and effective fishery management.

Activities in the Antarctic are governed by the 1959 Antarctic Treaty, signed by various nations designating Antarctica to be for peace and science. In 1991, the Antarctic Treaty Consultative Parties adopted the Protocol on environmental protection designating Antarctica as a natural reserve. It sets principles, procedures and obligations for the comprehensive protection of the white continent and its wildlife within and oceans around.

The Environmental Protocol applies to tourism, governmental and non-governmental activities in the Antarctic Treaty Area ensuring that minimal impact on the Antarctic environments is made as possible.

Hence, the IAATO (International Association of Antarctica Tour Operators) was conceived and began the registration of tour operators to adopt a voluntary code of conduct for visitors to Antarctica. Today, tour operators adhere to strict guidelines and undertake the responsibility to ensure visitors to the continent abide by the set rules as delivered by the expedition cruise company.

It does not end here. Many works are still being done quietly behind scenes by scientists and researchers on their tour of duties to the continent (above). They claim no glory for themselves but for science. The British Antarctic Survey is one of them and aspires to become the leading international centre for Global Science in the Antarctic context by 2012.

Having visited this 7th continent, it is not hard to see who those people are and why they are drawn to this cold, isolated and inhospitable world. One needs either one or all - passion, aloneness and addiction to the wilderness to be able to stay on and want more of it!

To me, it has been an educational field exercise of environmental and soul searching expedition; an open university in evoking the awareness of the importance of environmental conservation in one’s own conscience; of which guarantees no participant failures. It fuels a challenge to put thoughts into practice… a lonely and uphill path to take and few would really succeed.














Global warming is real in Antarctica and every visitor to the continent is a witness to view dramatically, frozen iced cliffs breaking off. The whipping sound of cracked ice was like a gunshot fired across the bay and chunks of ice formed millions of years ago just collapsed and crashed into the sea, creating a tsunami-waves enough to stir and wake a sleepy ocean bay.

By encouraging fellow birding friends to follow one’s own environmental-conscious behaviour; advocating the protection and conservation of important habitats in the world we live in and love the birds that live within; will we hope to contribute, to ensure whatever that is left, remains pristine for the enjoyment of future generations.

Have humans learned from past mistakes or are we continuing to abuse, hack down natures’ wonders as though there is no tomorrow?

Will Antarctica… the final, frontier continent be next to be axed?

SUBMITTED BY DAISY O’NEILL, PENANG, MALAYSIA.

The Antarctica series is dedicated to the memory of my English foster parents - Bert and Phyllis Johnson and to my spouse, James O’Neill, without which this journey could not have been made nor be written.

Antarctica 3: Passage to Antarctic Peninsula

On the wings of the Wandering Albatross (Diomedea exulans) will we imagine to fly, visit flightless birds that epitomize the Antarctic- the penguins (Sphenisciformes). We will visit 3 species-the Adelie (Pygoscelis adeliae), Chinstrap (Py. antarctica) (below right) and Gentoo Penguins (Py. papua) (below left) - a near threatened species.

Seventeen species of flightless penguins are identified in the southern hemisphere; while being the most aquatic of all sea birds, land only when moulting and in breeding mode. For the rest of the time, they live in the oceans, feeding on squids and krill (crustacean) - food of the whales that roam the Antarctic waters.

The first continental landing was made with the zodiacs (inflatable boats strapped with Yamaha engines). This is where we will alight from the boat craft systematically and wave ‘adios’ to the ‘Queen of the Southern Ocean’.













I soon found myself on an alien land, walking on black pebbly stones of the shoreline, fully clothed in all winter gears in a summer lit Antarctica. Strapped in by my life-jacket like a moon walker, I waddled like the Adelie Penguins and was greeted by loud and noisy honking calls (below). A colony of rabbit sized birds with reduced wings, flat and stiff were flapping happily to receive the expedition members. We received mandatory briefings on good bird ethics. ‘Strictly no less than 15 feet distance from any bird at anytime or at any distance that would startle a nesting bird’. That was the order of the day. In summer Antarctica, most of the penguin species are social, open nesters in colonies where most nests are lined with pebbles collected from the beach or stolen from nearby nests. Both parents share the incubation of eggs and feeding the young.

The sights, sounds and odour emitting from these penguin colonies were simply unforgettable. Bloodstained rocks were the result of duel fights that drew blood as seen in the picture, where lonely males approached partnered females too near for male competitor’s comfort.









There were times when eggs got predated by scavengering Brown Skuas (Stercorarius antarctica) in unattended nest sites (above).

While incubation usually lasts 5-6 weeks, fledging of chicks vary according to different species and may range from 7-14 weeks. The penguins have no problem surviving in the harsh climate of Antarctica with 80 % of insulative feather properties, 20% fat with a high internal body temperature of 38ºC (101ºF).

With bodies extremely streamlined, penguins developed a method of swimming- termed ‘porpoising’. While most penguins can submerge for 5-7 minutes, the largest species - Emperor Penguin (Aptenodytes forsteri) a breeding endemic, can submerge for up to 18 minutes and takes to dives of 630 meters with a swimming speed of about 24 kph. Unless one is involved in a specialized, winter scientific expedition, it is not likely to chance the sight of the Emperor Penguin as this species breeds only in winter, close to shore or near edge of pack ice where it is thickest.

The fascination of this species is that the male incubates the egg by huddling the egg in his feet covering it with a brood pouch and shuffles around for about 2 months bracing the harsh winter, while his mate it out at sea feeding. Luc Jacquet’s Oscar award latest winning documentary, ‘The March of the Penguins’ tells of this fascinating wild life of the enduring Emperor Penguin in search of a mate by walking miles upon miles in blizzards of the Antarctica, the courtship that followed, and to just lay an egg… only to see it taken. A ‘must see’ documentary film of endearing avian love that puts in question the inadequacies of Homo sapiens compared. The passage through the Antarctic Sound is paved by the ice-breaker cruising in between huge icebergs and crushing smaller floating ice along the way (above). The ‘Iceberg Alley’ as it is nicknamed, holds spectacular icebergs formation of various sizes. There were several landings made to interesting historical places and observation of whales, dolphins and several species of seals were also had. Apart from a polar plunge by some high spirited and adventurous expedition members, a walk up the snow mountain was simply breath-taking.

It was on this mountain that Christmas Day, I sat on the snow slopes and looked around, that it hit me - I was in a different world! A place beyond my humble dreams but a journey well taken, fulfilled to keep in memory. I felt grateful and so lucky. I would deeply have regretted if I had not taken this personal journey, had not the yearning to be with oceanic birds, wild life and nature beckoning me on.

It is a world with a horizon made by peaks of undulating snowed hills; a white world not even a tree stands with wood that can make a toothpick from or for a bird to perch on a branch; a world, with no neon lights or concrete jungles nor the aroma of fresh bread from a bakery for the city sleekers.

Can any human live in such an ecological wonder- a wilderness so barren, yet so serene, pristine yet soul searching and rich in avian and wild animal life?








Join me for the final fourth part series of this adventure to view the highlights of my travel. To view… the scenic Lemaire Channel and imagine King Poseidon- the mythological Greek god of the oceans, awesomely hold twin, snow-peaked mountain rocks apart with his outstretched muscled arms, his fish tail beckoning your arrival, whipping up a water rainbow shower splash and water falls like colourful sparkling confetti to welcome you!

Come, view…. the endemic bird that completes the avian portrait of Antarctica.

SUBMITTED BY DAISY O’NEILL, PENANG, MALAYSIA.

Antarctica 2: Birding, bracing the dreaded drake

The journey of a thousand kilometres began late afternoon when it was time to walk up the ramp towards the welcoming expedition crew of the Yugoslavian made icebreaker, chartered to lead 104 passengers on a 10-day expedition to visit Antarctic Peninsula.

Passengers were invited to the stern deck to participate in a ceremonial last look at Ushuaia and the snowy Feugen mountains beyond. Many hands were waving. I wasn’t quite sure who was waving to whom but to the shorebirds of ‘The Land of Fire’ I did.

In my heart, I took on a mission to carry an unspoken message from the Andean Condor (Vultur gryphus) ‘King of the Andes’ to the ‘Queen of the Southern Ocean’- the Wandering Albatross (Diomedea exulans) that I can just about summarised in verse.

A gift of feathered-donut garter pure and white,
Seek her, ride her, tell her as she wanders wide.
Whisper, “I’ll always cherish you in my dreams,”
But my home is the Andean mountains of Fire,
My lover, the Southern Ocean of mans’ desire.

Garter her with all my love much can be,
To love her is to leave her and be set free.
She lives on krill and I a scavenger freak,
I say, I am ebony and she in gilded ivory,
Of a piano keyboard brushed in eternity.



















And soon the time finally came to find myself on a huge floating, metal barge cruising the calm waters of the Beagle Channel. Ushuaia slowly disappeared into the horizon, chased by Patagonian winds eastwards towards the treacherous, famous Drake Passage.

This dreaded stretch of watery corridor was sailed by various explorers during the Golden Age of Exploration (15th Century) and after; and more recently by scientific explorers of the early 20th Century- Robert Scott and Ernest Shackleton.

It was not until satellites were beamed from the sky that the outline of the continent what used to be known to the early Greeks as, ‘Terra Australis Incognita’ was revealed. It showed places and seas later named after famed explorers and scientists who contributed immensely to the upside world. Scientific explorers too, mapped out oceanic avians known to congregate in and beyond the Antarctic Convergence.

The Antarctic Convergence is a natural boundary like a ring of water around the continent of Antarctica. It is the meeting area of the warm Sub Antarctic Surface Water and the cold Antarctic Water where the latter dense water sinks beneath the warmer waters resulting in a drop in sea surface temperature. This zone of convergence of more than 20,000 kilometres of watery area around the continent is of distinctive importance as a biological phenomenon, influencing the distribution of fish, plankton and various species of birds.

I wasted no time in orientating myself to the ship for the best vantage point to view the oceanic birds from deck. Many hours were also spent at the ship’s library to research the varied interests of this journey, gulping cups of tea, coffee from a 24-hour, beverage-snack bar and treated to unending rounds of mouth watering pastries.

The Forward Lounge where mandatory briefings, lectures, recaps, cocktail parties, entertainment shows, documentaries and movies were held brought passengers of 17 different nationalities together like a big family.

A professional ornithologist with the expedition crew was also at hand to enlighten us with picture slides and talks on some of the 45 species of birds found in the Antarctic Peninsula and surrounds. Daily sightings of birds were ticked off on a bulletin board to update birders.

Leading to my own cabin, I noticed seasick bags hung along the winding, staircase railings ready for the ship to ‘Rock N Roll’ at the Drake Passage. My cabin was at sea level and through the porthole, I could see the waterline and the blue sky and had opportunities to view birds that would follow-fly with the cruise ship (above).

I wasted no time to taking my first prescription tablet when I noticed the first splash of sea water smacking the porthole.

Frequent important announcements were issued by the expedition leader, in keeping passengers alerted to climatic changes and to standby for any eventualities. There were two life jackets in my room and they soon became my best and closest companions for every ‘zodiac’ (landing craft) landings.

Despite the bitterly and freezing temperatures outdoor, I would make the effort to dress up on every opportunity that came whenever announcements were made of birds’ sightings. With 8x42 binoculars, field guide and a camera, I made a quick exit for the deck (above). I could however, tolerated only 5 minutes of viewing at a time before my bare fingers went numbed. With thick gloves on, it was extremely difficult to even feel the grip of my ‘point, zoom and shoot’ camera. What more to feel for the ‘click’ button!
The first flock of Cape Petrels (Daption capense -35cm) with striking black and white dorsal patterns were seen and soon there were more chasing the ship (above). Although the flocks were small in number, less than ten, they provided the thrill of seeing them ‘zoomed’ past like sorties of miniature fighter planes, along the starboard and port and suddenly disappeared as fast as they first appeared… from nowhere.

Social evenings went well and friendships made over sumptuous Austrian 5-star catering in the dining hall. When the sea became rough and the ship was tossed like a bobbling matchbox in a roaring ocean, only one-third of the passengers were seen trickling into the dinner room and brave enough to tuck in their dinners while struggling to keep their cutleries on the table. The rest remained in their cabins. I was staring at my sick bags and eventually surrendered my steak dinner in one of them. Eating came to a full stop.

Tall waves churned clockwise by sea currents were crashing on to the ship as it charged forward, splashing the decks, sending retreating waters only to be met with the next onslaught. Contents kept inside my bolted bedside table were rolling inside the drawer. I could hear the crashing of loose drawers and unlocked wardrobe doors swung opened and slammed shut in neighbouring cabins, in competition with mine.

I could do nothing right but lay in bed and stared at the porthole of continuous churning of water outside, followed the rhythm of the waves and drifted in and out of sleep. I felt as though I was inside a, ‘switched on’ washing machine and confined for two and a half days and night!

Eventually when the promazine tablets did kicked in, I was able to tolerate small amounts of dry bread and banana, which a kind soul of a new, found friend brought to my cabin. However, when I had to stagger around and had to cling on to side railings for support, I felt like I just wanted to be back to bed and die quietly. Had the Wandering Albatross (Dio. exulans) appeared to receive her garter, I wasn’t at home!

Finally when I found my ‘sea legs’, I was up and about and out onto the deck in no time to catch up with the birds. I was not disappointed as sightings of the Gray- headed Albatross (Dio. chrysostoma - WS:2M), Black-browed Albatross (Dio. melanophrys - WS: 2.2M) (above), Light-mantled Albatross (Phoebetria palpebrata - WS: 2.10M) - Near Threatened were made.

Finally, I made visual contact with the ‘Queen of the Southern Ocean’- the Wandering Albatross (Dio. exulans - WS 3.2M) arriving almost in white with black winged tips and reminges. She was like wearing a white silky gown laced with black trimmings at the edge. She wore a long rosy bill with a horn coloured tip. Her eyelids -the colour of pink rose petals.

Sharing the ocean with the ‘big boys’ were the Antarctic Giant Petrel (Macronectes giganteus WS: 2.15M) -Vulnerable, Southern Fulmar (Fulmarus glacialoides - WS: 1.10M), Antarctic Petrel (Thalassoica antarctica - WS: 1M)-Breeding Endemic and the small Antarctic Prion (Pachyptila desolata - 28cm).

Land was first sighted on the third day of my journey at Penguin Island but landing was impossible due to strong winds.

The official first landing on Antarctica came on the fourth day at Brown Bluff (above). I was left staring at a rust-coloured, giant, ice-capped rock from deck and white, pigeon sized Snow Petrels (Pagodroma nivea - 34cm) were gregariously flying around with quick erratic flight displays.

“Was that all to see in Antarctica?”







The sea that began yielding fragments of ice in the Antarctic Ocean; the ice that was swelling in size, shape and frequency soon were dominating everywhere as though the horizon has disappeared, leaving only hanging clouds in the sky and occasional ozone free rays of sun shining through - to warm my body amidst the bite of the wind (above).

“So, what’s behind the Bluff?”

Come, ride with me and see through the eyes of the Wandering Albatross and be taken on a royal tour of some breathtaking icebergs, see how many penguins and species of penguins you can help me count in my third part series.

SUBMITTED BY DAISY O’NEILL, PENANG, MALAYSIA.

Antarctica 1: A prelude to avians of Antarctica

It is quite difficult to begin writing an article about the white continent Antarctica, for there are so many topics that can be had and one just wouldn’t know where to begin.

From an ornithologist, marine biologist, botanist, geologist, surveyor, research scientist, environmentalist, naturalist, conservationist, photographer, artist, historian, travel journalist and tourist’s point of view, each has a marvellous contribution to impart… the mysteries of Antarctica to our disintegrating and restless world we live in.

I decided perhaps it is best to write and let readers visualise this seventh continent from a bird’s eye view (be like a bird) thus enabling me to share my experience a bit more than dwelling primarily on oceanic birds that roam the Southern Ocean; and do justice to this inhospitable… yet alluring place and where species of penguins spend breeding during their summer holidays. My journey began in Ushuaia pronounced ‘oo-shuay-yar’ - world’s southern most capital city (Lat 54S, Long 68S) of Tierra del Fuego, Patagonian state of S. America (above). This small, booming touristy city is gateway to all cruise ships embarking on a 1000km voyage - a journey crossing the coldest (-40º to -70ºC), windiest (72km/hr), driest (<5cm rainfall), densest water (freezing point -1.8ºC) on earth and >3000 m deep, the Antarctic Ocean.








With 24 hours to spare before embarkation, I took precious moments to bird watch along the seafront. Three species of gulls were identified with the help from my guide book companions - Tito Narosky and Dario Yzurieta, for after a while I was able tell the difference between a Kelp (Larus dominicanus) (below), Dolphin (Leucophaeus scoresbii) and Brown-hooded Gull (Larus maculipennis). Trotting along pebbled beach, covered with a carpet of slimy green looking algae was the only way to get close views of the Magellanic Oystercatcher (Haematopus leucopodus) and the Blackish Oystercatcher (H. ater) with 8x42 binoculars held over thick layer of gloves. I had to admit the raw, iodised odour emitting from those kelp washed ashore, reminded me of my first authentic bowl of Japanese miso soup. Yuk! The gusty Westerly winds sent my body to a shudder and teeth chattering. I had to dash for warmth under a disused shed in spite of several layers of clothing worn. How I envied the Rock Cormorant or Rock Shag (Phalacrocorax magellanicus) perched on an abandoned ship under a mid-December summer of mean annual temperature of 5.5ºC, while his cousin the Neotropic Cormorant (Phalacrocorax olivaceus) was skimming happily along the waterline of the Beagle Channel!

Just when those freezing winds decided to die, a loud rattle ‘ke-kekeke’ flew in and announced their identity to be that of a pair of migratory Ringed Kingfishers (Megaceryle torquata) from Mexico. Their heads and backs were a sky blue grey with contrasting white underwings and undertails. The rest of underparts were rufous with female having a broad band matching colour to the back and a white demarcation line across the lower chest. It was a heart warming sight to see this lifer pair of 40 cm and known to fly in twos, frolicking on the wooden gate displaying their erected grey crests.

Walking up further towards the airport road, I kept my eyes locked along the shoreline to view small flocks of White-rumped Sandpipers (Calidris fuscicollis) and Pectoral Sandpipers (Calidris melanotos). A flock of Magellanic Plovers (Pluvianellus socialis) feeding along the mudflats caught my attention with their reddish eyes and feet while terns, impossible to tell the difference, remained airborne with undulating flights of Sooty Shearwaters (Puffinus griseus) diving for fish.

Finally, I headed towards a huge pond. I was rewarded with more lifers - Silver Teal (Anas versicolor) recognised from the Speckled Teal (Anas flavirostris) by its bluish bill with yellow base.

With 17 summer daylight hours and in a day where four seasons can possibly be seen, I could go on and on if only it wasn’t that chilling cold. Although I was almost mummified by my headscarf, I was rather pleased to chalk up a total of 23 lifers.

This self-learning and birding on the ‘go with backpack’ had to come to an end as my stomach was groaning for ‘Big Macs’ round the corner. A surprised bonus awaited me by my first sighting of a South America raptor - a Crested Caracara (Polyborus plancus). He was seen perched near the roadside, long enough to admire a demure, blackish plumaged bird with black barring on the back and breast and with ochraceous throat. Next morning, I joined a coach tour to visit Patagonian only coastal National Park - ‘Parque Nacional Tierra Del Fuego’ (63,000 ha) where the Upland Goose (Chloephaga picta) and Ashy-headed Goose (Chloephaga poliocephala) live and the hope, to catch a rare glimpse of the elusive, Magellanic Woodpecker (Campephilus magellanicus). Instead, I was rewarded with exciting shouts from the bus driver, who sent his vehicle to a screeching halt and pointed to the sky, directing us to view the king of the Andes- a pair of Andean Condors (Vultur gryphus).

This is the largest American vulture species – standing 95cm tall with a 2-3 m wingspan that look like wings of Wright Brothers’ early jet planes. The ugliness beauty of this mountain living bird can be described as a baldy headed, black plumaged bird that wears a donut looking white feathered collar, round a naked neck. This ‘Prince of Carrion’ glides majestically in high altitudes with ease and nests on inaccessible high rocks along the Patagonian coastline. Imagine flying like the Andean Condor, how enchanting from a bird’s eye view to see snow-capped Andean mountains, with holiday skiers looking like moving dots on melting sundae cones. Sheep grazing on flat northern lands of Patagonia, and the rugged south of thick Andean-Patagonian forests and steppe areas that embrace over 500 species of flowering plants, 400 species of mosses and 30 species of ferns and be mesmerised by deciduous foliages that riot in autumn colours.

Fly through alternating deep valleys, rivers, peat bogs, spectacular coastlines of glaciers and lakes - haven to anglers admiring you from below and pay a visit to various species of birds, marine mammals, crustaceans, and colonies of Magellanic Penguins (Spheniscus magellanicus) living along the rugged coastline and the list goes on…

Bringing one down to earth again would mean finding oneself in a touring coach, sticking one’s head out of coach windows to gaze one more time at the wonders of parasitic fungus – Pan del Indio (Indian bread) which grows on the beech trees and ‘Barba de Viejo’ (Old man’s beard) which attaches itself to trees. The coach left behind an enchanting world – an ideal world for the makings of a romantic poet as it rolled towards the pier. Greeted by rows of pink and purple lupins (Lupinus) (above), passengers alighted and headed towards the embarkation hall to begin another journey - a journey to cruise the Southern Ocean and visit Antarctica – the white continent.

SUBMITTED BY: DAISY O’NEILL, PENANG, MALAYSIA.