In the early hours of the morning, the oceans greet us with a barrage of bow-breaching waves spitting venomous white caps, their violent slaps resonate through the hull, our bow breaching, falling endlessly into the deep troughs of angry swells, the winds howl with a fury we haven’t yet known on the Gojira. My breath is clearly visible as the temperature continues to drop inside the ship. A stark contrast to the last few days when the Gods have been kind to us, the seas uncharacteristically calm.
A truly amazing sight we have been able to bare witness to, thousands of white tuxedo’s amassed on the beaches of a lone Antarctic rock island, the King Penguins huddled in a patchwork quilt of black and white stretching up into the hillsides. From a distance, looking like nothing more than rock formations, the pungent aroma the only clue to their existence, a beautiful example of nature untouched, unthreatened by man, I hope we are able to revisit!
In high spirits, refreshed from our time in Hobart and full of anticipation as we continue our journey south on what is now the second leg of the campaign for the Gojira and her crew in our quest to limit the hunt claimed by the Japanese whaling fleet.