Right Whale Bay; an incredible huge horseshoe of crags surrounding a flat glacial gravelled dry riverbed. Fur seals and King Penguins abound. Snow in the morning. Actually with a 40 mph wind, more like blizzards!
Then glorious sunshine that feels warm on the face. The wind can stop in an instant and total silence prevails for a minute then a second later a maelstrom of howling wind cracks off almost instantaneously. Summer to winter in the blink of an eye. We work in the smallest weather 'windows', and then move onto new areas.
This Island is very artful and it is enchanting. I have taken shelter from the wind while we wait for conditions to allow helicopter operations to commence again. I'm sitting in a restored wooden villa by an abandoned whaling station. We are now in Stromness bay. Out of the window by the table where I am typing I can see the gravel shoreline a stone throw away. There is a small inlet of water where, in front of the window, a 'school' of young seals, about 50 of them, play like children at the local swimming pool. If I glance left I can see around 30 King penguins staring at the sealy wriggling water fights with disinterested haughtiness.
The bay almost appears to close off at its mouth, about 4 miles in the distance. Beyond that intense white icebergs on the horizon lay serenely on a vivid blue sea. Yet this Island can turn from an idyllic Eden to a howling hell of Antarctic hypothermia in just the seconds it takes to type two words; 'The Tempest".
Shakespeare would have had a field day down here in South Georgia. I do not feel I can conjure and spin the words to adequately describe the intensity of this place, but I will keep on trying. I hope I may indulge and let the spirits set my imagination free.
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