Lisa Trapp, 2011 Antarctica student blogger, writes:

December 23, 2011

After two days of fog, I was elated to wake up and finally see the sun gleaming off the Antarctic mountains. I gazed almost hypnotically out the window as I slipped into my warm clothes and wet-skins for the first expedition of the day. Chad’s voice drifted over the intercom once more, “Due to some ice buildup, we won’t be making a landing…instead, be prepared for some zodiac cruises.” He said more but I tuned it out. I was a bit disappointed, some of the crew had raved about the penguin colonies the night before, and I was eager to try out my new camera. But I slipped my feet into my boots, slid on my sunglasses, and hoisted my camera over my shoulder anyway. I had yet to be let down, and despite the change of plans, I was eager to get out in the sunshine.

Out on deck and climbing into the zodiacs it was far more beautiful than I ever expected. The water was smooth, like a perfect mirror for the sky to look into. It was the most stunning thing I had ever seen. I wanted to hold my breath and take it all in, but the thought of missing out on even the slightest inhale of the pristine air kept my breath steady. We ruffled along through the water, sliding the zodiac between ice flows and watching out for seals and whales. We were moving at a lurid pace, but even that disrupted the glassy surface and sent ripples through the water.

A seal on an ice flow in the distance caught our attention and we pointed our zodiac straight towards it. It seemed hardly to care about our presence and every now and then it would stretch a fin, and look up at us before seeming to strike a yoga-esque pose. That captured our attention for only moments though before a crackle came over the radio, “Two humpbacks, appear to be mother and baby.” Everyone snapped to attention and settled in as the zodiac cut our way through the ice to make our way over to the whales.

I spotted the telltale blow from the surface not far off before watching a tiny dorsal fin split through the water. I watched them from a distance through my camera lens, the mother’s fluke, a short passage of time, and then the baby’s fluke. Our zodiac driver Catalina pulled back from following the pair, they were moving quickly, and she felt as though our presence was pushing them away. Much to our excitement though, there was another humpback not far, resting just beneath the surface.

We pulled up as close as we dared and cut off the engine, drifting nearby the gentle giant. His blowhole rested just above the water and almost rhythmically he would push water out. I snapped a few photos and just sat quietly for a while, listening and enjoying the company of the whale.

After several minutes of watching the slumbering creature one of the other zodiacs cut its engine back on. The humpback dipped under the water quickly. I gazed beneath the surface, hoping to catch site of the stark white markings sometimes visibly muddled below the water. Nothing was visible, and I had only barely enough time to let out a small sigh before he curled through the water a mere couple feet beside us. The members on my zodiac “assumed the position” as we all tried to see and take pictures. He had no sooner disappeared beneath the water before I heard a loud breath of water behind me. I spun around and caught the aftereffect of his second appearance as he disappeared below the surface once more. I waited in a half crouched position, not quite sure which direction to look next, but the whale never resurfaced.

We settled reluctantly back into our seats on the zodiac, the water once more seemed still and quiet. I glanced solemnly at my watch; we didn’t have very much time left on the water before we had to go back to the ship for lunch. We drifted towards an iceberg halfheartedly as Catalina gave us some more good news, “There has been a leopard seal spotted on an iceberg; I figure we loop around, have a good look at him and then head back inside!” I was excited; we had yet to see a leopard seal. But no sooner had we turned our motor back on and changed course when two minke whales breached not far from our zodiac. Catalina turned off the engine once more and we gazed out over the water. We drifted for another five minutes before Catalina made the call to keep on heading towards the leopard seal, again as if on cue, the engine started up and both the minke whales breached again. They were so close I probably could have reached out and touched one. I let out an uncontrollable laugh, the playful creatures seemed to be tormenting us, should we stay and continue to watch for them? Or move on to something different?

Read tomorrow to hear what happened next…