Part III: Antarctica and Academe - Scott Polar Research Institute

Later another male hauled out near the group, but didn't approach it; the resident
became agitated, peering over the ice hummocks and rolling on the floe; and the
female was restless too. Thus, it seemed that at least three, possibly four, males had
been attracted to this female in two days. By now the pup was very large and its
moult so advanced that most of the back and sides were clear of fur.
Leads were opening around us and several leopard seals surfaced in them but
didn't appear to see the crabeaters. A male/female pair was sighted later and after
dinner we walked over the pack ice to them, a distance of about 400 yards. It was
very cold in a brisk wind and the snow on the floes was crisp and firm and ‘creaky’.
This pair was a very large female and a small but old-looking male - pale-coloured
and with scars on his head and neck. We drugged, tagged and measured them.
While we were on the floe some other crabeaters surfaced and there were several
leopard seals around. We found a place to lower the hydrophones through the ice
and Ian did more recording of leopard and crabeater seal sounds. These were
interspersed with the creaking and groaning of the pack ice as it moved gently. It
was rather strange to think that we were supported by a thin layer of frozen water
over the black depths in which the seals were feeding.
That evening was very beautiful; the low sun lit up Smith Island showing up all
the icy flutings on the highland ice like a crisp etching, the floes around us sharply
shadowed in deep cobalt and the surface of the snow pink in the sunshine. As we
stood there we noticed that the leads were enlarging and widening and so we
returned to the ship at 8.30 pm. The ‘Hero’ was in an enlarging pool as we climbed
up the ladder, so it was as well that we had not delayed further. Once we were back
on board the captain started off. By now the leads were growing rapidly under the
influence of the wind and it took us only half an hour to get to open water, through
the peripheral floes which were looking decidedly rotten. By now Smith Island was
pink and purple in the setting sun, with wisps of incandescent salmon pink cloud
and the floes looked like icing-sugar, with bright pink floss where the hummocks
caught the last rays of the sun. In contrast the water in the leads was a dull pewter
colour. A wide lead led northwards and we turned around the north end of Smith
Island, intending to turn into Boyd Strait. As we rounded the island we could see
Deception Island, Snow Island, Castle Rock and Livingston Island.
We had Pisco sours to celebrate our release from the ice, even though we had been
beset for only four days! For dinner we had centolla (spider crab) and Chilean wine,
while we talked about problems of the education system in the United States.
Meanwhile we had been unable to get into Boyd Strait and were proceeding
northeast. At 11 o’clock I went up to the bridge just as we approached the ice edge
again, which was barring our way, the searchlights in the bows picking out the white
brash which thickened into pack, with snow petrels fluttering like white bats in the
light beam. A few minutes later we came to a stop in a safe berth for the night and a
short release from the ice. We had to wait until daylight to decide on our best course;
Smith Island was 23 miles away.
(During the day I had been talking with the ‘Biscoe’ again although radio
conditions were bad. The BAS aircraft had been grounded all day by bad weather -
John Allen at Marambio, Giles Kershaw and Garry Studd at Rothera. ‘Biscoe’ had
completed the Damoy operation and was at the far end of the Neumayer Channel,
well to the south of us. We discussed the plans for the ship, which it had been
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