Weddell Seal - Leptonychotes Weddellii © Sebastian Arrebola

Article Summary: Sailing the Drake's passage, the most tempestuous waters of the planet in route to the Antarctic Continent, is the best prologue to the harsh environment we will find once we pass through the Antarctic Polar Front to approach the Antarctic Peninsula.
Encounters with the Antarctic wildlife are always unique moments, where with just a little patience and a bit of empathy, we can experience a true "Close encounter", with no need to approach or disturb the individual itself.

Landing in the Antarctic @ Agustin Ullmann

While sailing these waters, we can encounter big whales, such as blue or fin whales, even orcas (as a biologist and a Fan, I resist to call them “killer whales”) and amazing albatrosses and petrels, all of them which don't seem to mind at all the 30 feet waves and 40 knots winds we sometimes find while crossing the Passage.

As my eyes witness this amazing landscape again and again (as an antarctic guide, I visit often) I internally agree with Werner Herzog's words: “I see nothing but the overwhelming indifference of nature...”, in that moment in which I can fully face the fact that we are not made for this environment, we are just visitors, outsiders. However, these thoughts sometimes melt away a bit, like that foggy morning when we visited Gourdin Island, and witnessed a special encounter between a man and a seal cub.

So, still with no teeth, but enough fat to survive until it can hunt (milk and fish have not been found together in the stomachs of baby seals), big black kitten-looking eyes and only one known way to connect with the world through sound, there is this cub. With its head sticking out of the water to stare at my Expedition Leader, who is standing on a rock on the shore as a beacon to the zodiac drivers trying to find a safe site for picking up passengers to go back to the ship. And there I am at my post, staring at both: the cub seal making vocalizations at him, and him looking at it, with his hands behind his back. He (the human) replied something. The seal cub replied back. Me, trying not to laugh to break the mood and prevent any of them from distraction, started thinking that that indifference of nature that is magnificently revealed to me in this environment, pulls its veil for a moment in this scene. Where I can see a “kid” that has been left alone a couple of months ago, connecting for a moment with something that calls its attention, in a timid and at the same time blaring attempt to find some company. In the distance, the zodiac driver spots the scene too, and turns the engine to neutral so as not to disturb the encounter. Respectfully, the seal in the water and the man standing ashore at 4-5 meters away, maintain a conversation that slowly fades when the cub loses its interest and peacefully starts swimming away. He stopped and looked back a couple of times, maybe thinking “this was not my mom”; maybe thinking “what a strange creature standing ashore”; or just maybe thinking…

Final thoughts...

Antarctica is a place where wildlife is not -yet- afraid of human presence. They don't run away when they see us (unless we do something to scare them, of course).

This therefore represents an enormous responsibility on our part, to always respect distances and observe that these encounters are always met under the rules of those who are not visitors or outsiders, but who have lived here since the earliest times.