Driving winds have prevented the mad Antarctic ratters from baiting for several days. The radical conservation, toxic warriors have been kept on the ground by the atmosphere that just seems to hurtle round relentlessly in these latitudes. The cloud base has been fine but the unpredictable 40kt gusts and vicious downdraughts, lurking in the generally manageable 20-25 winds, make flying with the heavy bait buckets simply too much of a liability.
We sit and plan. We also take the opportunity to walk and enjoy the stunning scenery all around us; steep alpine-like peaks running straight down to the sea, vast glacier heads, their blue grey ice fracturing into the sea in colossal blocks.
We also eat.
But not camping food as you might imagine it. For a start, simply for the views from the window alone, the old abandoned whaling station room we are using as a dining area, must rate at least one Michelin Star, in my opinion. Now add our brigade of 3 chefs experienced in the rigours of Antarctic life. Their artistry, skill and imagination all add up to producing some of the most memorable meals I have eaten while 'roughing it'. We are temporally living in a land that is completely uncompromising in regard to safety and rescue but we eat in a 'restaurant at the end of the world'. We enjoy views that few have experienced while savouring high quality food.
Home made, roasted granola at breakfast. Freshly made and baked New York bagels at coffee break. A daube of mutton with puy lentils at lunch. Venison fillet carpaccio with capers and shaved parmesan followed by the rare roast loin with redcurrant jelly, at dinner.
Oh and did I mention the sunrises? Every day a different Technicolor extravaganza as we enjoy our fresh ground coffee, looking out over the bay and headland from our unique 'restaurant', the fur seals, elephant seals, skuas, petrels, king penguins, and gentoo penguins gathered before us on the beach 100 yards away.
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