Learning to “Mush” in Montana

I am making this out-of-sequence entry into the blog because I had such a great, small adventure learning to dog sled and "mushing" on the northern edge of Yellowstone National Park in the Gallatin National Forest before attending the annual dinner dance and auction at the Museum of the Rockies, Bozeman, Montana. Last year I had a one person exhibit, "Penguins of the Antarctic," with lectures and a book signing at the museum. Everything went very well and a member of the staff called after the exhibit and invited me to attend the annual dinner dance event. I had learned about a dog sledding school south of Bozeman during the exhibition and was eager to attend the dinner dance so that I would be close enough to spend a day learning to mush. (I came to find out that "mushing" was a linguistic devolution from the early French explorers of Canada for the word, "marche," to walk or hike. I had never felt my French Canadian heritage until Julie explained the history of "mushing.")

The Museum of the Rockies is a natural history museum focused primarily on dinosaurs and the numerous skeletal remains found throughout the region. I was pleased and enthused by the opportunity of the venue because while I look at the images of Antarctica and Penguins as composition and art, others see my images as pictorial natural history.

Hunter Johnson and I arrived in Bozeman, Montana, a few days early and drove to Paradise Valley. I have the best cold weather gear for Antarctica and almost never have the opportunity to use it in the United States. We were ready when we met Julie, our teacher and guide. The sun was out and there was very little wind. It was cold, but not that cold. Julie showed us how to set up the sleds, harness the dogs and gave us the commands and sledding techniques. Off we went.

The small, approximately 35-pound Siberian and Alaskan Huskies employed by Julie were much faster and stronger than I imagined. When Julie said, "Hang on!" she meant it. It was a lay-you-on-your-back lightning start. Going up inclines one helps like riding a skateboard and pushing off along the way, but you really have to ride the brake on the downhills. Turning was reminiscent of my earlier days of riding a motorcycle to art school...leaning left, leaning right and around you go. But of course the best part of it was the dogs. What characters and what joy they seemed to have in pulling and running. They also liked the hugs when we stopped for lunch and they really liked the little chunks of meat Julie brought along for each of them. There was not a growler among them, all seemed to be happy and joyful and were ready to go after our lunch and rest. The way back was much different in that a storm come in and we were surrounded by large snowflakes that fell faster and faster as the sun disappeared and the temperatures dropped. It never snows in Los Angeles and rarely have I seen snow in Antarctica itself. I like snow and the return trip was very fast in the growing gloom. By the time we arrived at base I was as cold as I had ever been in Antarctica. Maybe next year I will be able to arrange a full day or two and dog sled into Yellowstone among the bison, elk and wolves.

www.museumoftherockies.org
www.hunterjohnsonmusic.com
www.yellowstonenationalpark.com

Circumnavigating South Georgia – Part 4

Elsehul Bay

Our early afternoon arrival in Elsehul Bay allowed us time to anchor, tidy up the ship after an arduous four day crossing and launch the zodiac for our first landing. Dion's familiarity with Elsehul made for an easy landing spot that would allow us to learn to cross the fur seal and elephant seal covered beaches with relative ease and in safety. Ever present and very curious penguins came up to our landing as if they were a welcoming committee for the local inhabitants. Fur seals are almost always aggressive and it is not uncommon to be charged by various individuals who it would seem want to eat your leg off. Dion had brought each of us a long lightweight pole and with the first attacking seal he shouted and lightly brushed it's long whiskers. This ferocious being pulled up instantly yelped in surprise and retreated. Dion had not even touched any part of this seal, except the whiskers. This he informed us was all that was necessary to "navigate the beach" and avoid being bitten. By the end of our three weeks crossing many over-populated beaches we became adept at out bluffing these frightenly furious charges without anyone, seal or human, the worse for wear. Several years before I was walking beside the expedition leader of a larger group passing through fur seals, when one successfully slashed our leader's heavy outer garment and tore his rubber boot. Fortunately, his skin was unpunctured which had it been would have threatened serious infection. Fur seals are cute and very attractive to look at from a distance, but most knowledgeable beach-crossers really want to stay out of their way to avoid any confrontation.


We had landed on this first beach in order to see remnant trypots from the past when seals, penguins and whales were boiled down to retrieve their oils. In spite of the rising weather, wind and snow, we decided to cross the bay to another beach in order to climb the bluffs to photograph Grey-headed Albatross. While our ascent was not vertical rock climbing, the slope was greater than 45 degrees and often required that we grab the tussock grass to pull ourselves up the slippery slope. That was us, but Dion seemed more sure-footed than a Big Horned Sheep and easily out-distanced us to the top...for us nearly an hour’s climb. The weather continued to close in and wind was blowing more strongly.

Normally one would like to deal with good light and safe weather for taking photographs of your subjects. In South Georgia one is very lucky to have any perfection of conditions and you have to be prepared for whatever comes. By the time we had achieved the goal of shooting these Grey-headed Albatross on their nests we were covered in icy mud, nearly being blown off the bluffs by huge, cold blasts of wind and tired. Dion exercised his command prerogatives and called for a retreat. He figured the winds were closing in on 40 mph and was concerned that we still needed to return to the beach and get back to the Golden Fleece before things became worse! The descent was fast and smoother than I would have imagined. It reminded me of scree-running that I had learned many years ago in the Canadian Rockies. We made it to the Golden Fleece when I learned that our climbing was not over just because we were about to board the zodiac. Every return was to be terminated by one last climbing obstacle. The Golden Fleece is not a tourist boat...it does not have a gangway and a crew to assist your coming aboard. From the rocking zodiac one has to learn to hoist themselves the five or six feet over the gunnels from the unsteady platform of the zodiac. When you are wet, tired and cold--loaded down with pounds of Antarctic gear this is a daunting feature of the trip never considered. But what exhilaration to accomplish the day's goal and still have the energy and strength to pull yourself aboard what now seemed a safe and snug home. There were hot showers, clean clothes, warm food and a bunk to fall into that was not falling away from or rising up to greet you. I did sleep well this first night in South Georgia.

Daybreak was in much better weather and our enthusiasm for another day ashore was greatly enhanced. I wanted to photograph in detail the trypots and surroundings. To that end we returned to that beach. The trypots are smaller than the big rending vats found in the whaling stations in various bays of South Georgia...more about this later. The pots were left over from the early days, 1800's, of the whaling industry. Today a large, male fur seal made it clear that the trypots were part of his territory. He eyed my activities with intense interest and as a result he is in many of the images I took that morning. We boarded the zodiac went back across the bay to our previous climbing site.

After our climb from the previous afternoon we were all prepared for the ascent. The weather was much better and we quickly came to realize that there were reasons for the mud channels we had climbed up in the wind, rain and snow of the previous day. In fact it was a great surprise to me that fur seals appeared in the tussac grass as we climbed. They were the cause of these muddy, slippery and smelly trails all the way to the top! And at the top there seemed to be as many fur seals as on the beach. Amazing. I found that for some reason we had not seen them the day before or they had simply not been there or the weather had captured our non-bird attention. Now I had to be alert that a fur seal might be asleep behind the tussac grass and if disturbed from its slumber, would some be charging out. My initial reaction was, "What on earth are they doing way up here?" But I was not up here myself to deal with fur seals. I was after the Grey-headed Albatross with their very attractive yellow stripped, black bills. Often a nesting couple would be cuddled together looking peaceful and content.

We then came across Black-browed and Light-mantled Sooty Albatross. What a treasure trove of these handsome and endangered birds. We spent hours hiking the backbone of the bluffs and cliffs, watching the soaring and cliff take-offs of these large birds. No matter how high we seemed to climb we found fur seals.


Early in the afternoon we returned to the Fleece to clean up after our climbing-hike and to eat lunch. There was an agreement that we had used up a lot of energy and strength and that a zodiac cruise to Joke Cove would be nice and perhaps there would be something to photograph. Joke is a small cove in Elsehul Bay. There were more fur seals, shags and a Gentoo penguin colony. As we came into the cove we saw many of the Gentoo in the water returning from fishing going to their nesting sites. Dion indicated that we would leave Elsehul Bay in the early evening and sail onto the next stop during the night. The five hours of climbing in the morning made it a sure thing I would sleep soundly and be ready for bed immediately after dinner that night.

Circumnavigating South Georgia - Part 3

*Fleece finds Willis Islands and safe harbor at Elsehul

After leaving Shag Rocks in the afternoon the day was sunny and totally beautiful. The sea allowed us on deck with our binoculars and cameras without fear of being drenched in ruinous saltwater or washed overboard and seabirds soared back and forth in our wake. That morning a speck of land that is Willis Islands, the northwestern most part of South Georgia, was found on the horizon. As the speck on the horizon grew with its backdrop of clouds, the clearer the attacking sea could be seen ravaging the rocky cliffs of Willis Islands. People are not supposed to land on Willis Islands or its near neighbor, Bird Island, because they are seabird sanctuaries. Seabirds nest on the ground and are vulnerable to rats. These islands are presently rat free. Rats, however, have ravaged many populations of ground nesting birds around the world and these rats are usually introduced by people.

A few miles from Willis Island Dion lowered the sails and we went to engine. Within moments the backdrop of clouds raced toward us, obscuring the sun, surrounding us with horizontal snow and a screeching squall. The Fleece did not fail and we motored from snow into a fog bank being pushed by high winds. Nonetheless we cruised the crashing coast of Willis Islands and then Bird Island thinking we would go on to Trinity Island and drop anchor in Jordan Cove. The entrance to the cove was blocked by large ice and Dion suggested we make a course for Elsehul a larger cove to the East. The observable beaches along the route were covered in fur seals and elephant seals. It is the beginning of the breeding season and each grouping of seals was in turmoil establishing and defending territory. Thus we came to Elsehul and its calm inner bay where we dropped anchor prepared to spend our first night in South Georgia.

Elsehul is a nesting place for grey-headed albatross, light-mantled sooty albatross and black-browed albatross that find its high bluffs and hills good for nesting. For those of us lugging 30-pound packs of camera gear, the 45-degree slopes to attain the heights and photograph these beautiful birds is quite daunting after four days of being tossed about of the Southern Ocean.

WEATHER

The weather around and on South Georgia is fairly consistent throughout the year because the island is anchored in the East flowing Antarctic Circumpolar Current that surrounds Antarctica with its colder water temperature than the world's oceans that abut this current. These colder waters erect a natural barrier in the seas and determine the weather of a place like South Georgia. Sea ice does not form at South Georgia, except in a few sheltered fjords. South Georgia does produce its own small icebergs from glaciers. Glaciers and snowfields cover about half of the island in permanent ice and snow. The large tabular icebergs that are seen in the seas in the neighborhood of South Georgia are from the crumbling ice shelves of Antarctica itself. The high mountain ranges contribute to the changeability of the weather on South Georgia. The island itself in arc shaped from northwest to southeast. Antarctica dominant weather blows in from the underside, southern side, of the island and is confronted by the high mountains. The cold air is compressed as it is forced up and over the mountains by the prevailing high winds. As the cold air crests it is often as if demons were suddenly released from confinement and that wind of recently compressed air now races down the northern slopes at ferocious velocities until it hits the bays and open sea on the other side. It is not uncommon for these winds, called williwaws, to reach 100 km or more.