A Dream in the Time of Covid

Is this all a dream?

Six weeks ago I was placed in self-isolation by my hospital for ten days.

“I had a dream that you asked me to polish your shoes” my maid, Londiwe, messaged me a few days later. Now you should know I have never asked her to shine my shoes. Erasmus does my shoe shine at the airport regularly (I fixed his shoulder years ago so please look out for him at King Shaka Airport after lockdown). I had asked Londiwe to stay away from work until I was cleared of a possible Covid-19 infection.  Londiwe in Zulu means “protected or kept safe”; I truly hope that both of us stay safe.

I knew immediately what her dream meant.

It has been a long journey and we are still in the early hours of the first morning of the months that will unfold in social and economic upheaval. I have found it important to choose my words carefully during this time. This pandemic is a global crisis but I believe it will change who we are and how we do things for the better. At a price, I know.

Yesterday at the screening entrance of my hospital I saw the matriarch of a Zulu family with her daughter and twenty-year-old grand-daughter. They were tense, as most people are now, and were huddled too close around the Perspex shield protecting the nurse attending to them.

In my surgical mask outside the hospital I introduced myself, and then asked them to move apart and stand two metres behind one another. There was a sense of loss and fear in their eyes, from old to young. 

“I’m sorry” I said, “we need to keep social distance to protect each other.” They didn’t move apart and I stopped myself from being authoritative. 

“Can I help?” I am saying that many more times than I used to. I act on it many more times as well.

I cannot remember what the nurse said. I should. It was important. But it was a blur of “they have come to see or pay last respects” to the grandmother’s husband who had died in ICU. 

No visitors are allowed into the hospital now. No one can be at the bedside of a dying family member, and no one can gain closure by seeing or touching the cold lifeless body of the departed.

“Please wait here. I’m afraid we cannot allow you in. I will find a manager to help you”. You have to speak clearly and loudly in a surgical mask in order to be heard. That removes any tone of sympathy. The assistant nursing manager grasped the urgency and went out immediately to explain. As I turned to look back the daughter and granddaughter walked away, their souls battered by the new normal. The next I saw was the nursing manager opening a big official book, with carbon copies, for the matriarch to sign away the body of her beloved outside the hospital.

I was shattered. Even in my first world hospital I had once seen a young man reverently carrying a branch of the Mpafa tree, the Zulu Tree of Life. A Straight thorn points to the future, while a curved throw connects us to our past. He was taking a branch to the ward where his father had died. He would rest it on the on the body and capture the soul of the departed and take the branch home to tuck into the eaves of the homestead. On the way home he would buy a ticket in the taxi for himself and the spirit in the branch.

In this dream in the time of Covid I thought we could allow families to bring a branch of the Ziziphus mucronata,  the Mpafa tree, and we could put it in yet another safe plastic bag, and leave it with the body. They would never be allowed to take the branch home. It would burn or be buried with the body.

Londiwe, may we be kept safe, had a dream to prepare my shoes for this long journey. A dream in the time of Covid.

A storm over the Indian Ocean, Friday 24 April 2020

Stay safe..

Dear Nurses

I am so proud of all of you.  You have applied yourself to everything that is new. You have patiently listened as we explain protocol after protocol, and then frustrated  you by changing it the next day. I am proud of how you showed care to my 99-year-old patient whose hair is perfectly coiffed and her makeup is ready for a BBC interview.

Like you I don’t know what day it is. I need to check a calendar to see if it’s a working day or a weekend. Not that it makes any difference to you, working shifts and three-day weekends every second weekend.

I try, and yet I fail to talk to you in the corridors and in the nurses stations and in your offices in management suite.  

I failed to act ten days ago when someone asked me to write something motivational for you. This is a time when failure is commonplace: the only solution is to acknowledge it, learn from it and move on. With this letter I hope to move on.

We are facing a global crisis in our little hospital that has always served our community to the best of our ability. It seems sometimes that nothing we do is enough for our patients, our hospital, the whole world. But we have not failed!

The sense of failure, the fear of not being in control, the quarantine, the concern for our families causes us all to feel anxiety.

Feeling anxious about things in today’s world is completely normal. Although I am no master, I’d like to share with you how I have learnt to deal with my anxiety over the years and what works for me now:

We need to deal with it. Learn from our failures. Consolidate and move in a new direction with calm and strength and compassion. I believe we all, and especially you, have this ability.

In our medical training and our experience at the workplace over the years we have all faced stressful moments: a patient’s death, a complication, a disagreement with a colleague. Think back to those times. Now empower yourself by reminding yourself that you dealt with those crises before, and you have the tools to deal with this crisis. You have achieved so much, and will continue to achieve.

Over the last decade I have been blessed to meet many wise and caring people who have helped me deal with fear and anxiety. The essence of their help for me can be distilled into three words: 

Remember to breathe (even if it is behind a suffocating mask).

Breathing is the essence of life, and we can control it. In the beginning just acknowledging your breath is enough. Start to feel the place where your inbreath gently fades into your outbreath. Feel your diaphragm move. If you want you can pause, and count to four at the end of each breath.

It is as simple as that. Now you have something you can control. In controlling that you can reduce your fear and anxiety. 

I salute you all. For once the world is recognising your calling.  They are appreciating your service for the greater good of humanity. They understand your sacrifice. 

Stay safe.

Ask for help if you need it.

Best wishes

Basil

Sunrise over the Indian Ocean …

My Impossible Project: The Beginnings

My first Polaroid in 30 years on PX Silver Shade
My first Polaroid in 30 years on PX Silver Shade: Impossible Picture #1

Edwin Land, the founder of Polaroid and the inventor of the world’s first instant camera and film, once said,

Don’t undertake a project unless it’s manifestly important and nearly impossible.

The Impossible Project is just that!

Photography teaches good philosophy if you are aware of what is happening in your life: try taking pictures with a 35 year old camera and use space age paper to make instant pictures. For me, in the beginning, it is indeed impossible.

I first heard about Polaroids still in use in Italy from Willem Oets, when he attended his first TPW (Tuscan Photographic Workshop) in 2011. I have played around with developing and printing black and white film in My Darkroom in Africa and love watching a picture come to life. After my tantalizing introduction to instant photography I knew it was a lifestyle I wanted to explore. In this age of instant gratification instant photography is actually not instant at all. Even the modern Fuji Instax film takes a minute to show a washed out image and ten minutes to mature. Furthermore, although a picture appears on paper, there is no instant digital sharing option, and the picture really is one of a kind.

In July this year at TPW I met the master of light and prints, Enrico Borgogni and have now embraced instant film cameras and love it. When we all presented our digital portfolios by way of introduction at TPW this year, Enrico passed around large prints of his masterpieces. Seeing and touching a masterpiece is far more sensual than looking at a good quality digital projection.

The new Polaroid film made by the Impossible Project needs to be kept dark for 4 minutes after exposure and then there are still chemical defects caused by the old rollers on the camera that set the chemical cascade in motion to reveal the picture. These add a timeless aura to the picture. Using the old Polaroid camera is not easy. There is no light meter, no histogram and no live preview. The exposure compensation ability is crude. Worse still my current camera (Polaroid CL600) seems to have a sticky shutter and the curtain is not moving out of the way fast enough. When I get my pictures right they will have a unique identifying shadow feature on each side.

In this day and age of instant mass production isn’t that what we strive for: to be unique.

The Impossible Project is teaching me patience; and allows me to be unique.

Impossible Picture #2
Impossible Picture #2

Impossible Picture #3
Impossible Picture #3

Impossible Picture #4
Impossible Picture #4

 

Watching a Picture come to Life

There are two special moments in darkroom work: the first is when you unroll the wet film from the black developing tank and see the negatives, and the second is when your first full size print comes to life in the developing tray and you see the image in the red light.

Basil-3446 It was a hot and humid day in Durban and I loaded the film into the reels and developing tank in a small windowless and airless room under the steps at home. Then I set about the chemistry of mixing the DF11 Ilford film developer, a homemade stop with vinegar and the Ilford fixer. The temperature of the developer is critical and fortunately Ivor Ginsberg had sent me a thermometer that fitted in the irrigation spout of the developing tank.

 

Classic equipment in original boxes with manuals
Classic equipment in original boxes with manuals

Using the Durst “Made in Germany” mechanical timer and Mike as a time keeper, I poured the developer into the tank like a celebratory glass of champagne and agitated the mix every minute until I poured that out and poured in the stop to cease the developing process. Then a few minutes in the fix, and after the first wash, I opened the tank lid and peeped at the negatives. My heart sank initially as I had exposed Mike’s film by opening the camera back as we had forgotten how to rewind the film in his “automatic” Minolta 500i. The OM1 was much easier with a manual rewind lever. But the negatives looked alight.

I used dishwasher rinse as a wetting agent, then dried the film with a chamois, as I only had an old squeegee that would scratch the film because the rubber had perished. Ivor had sent original film hanging clips so we left them to dry in the shower and had lunch.

After lunch I set up the spare room as darkroom.  I placed the Meopta enlarger and timer and the Patterson enlarging “computer” ( just a simple exposure meter) on a table. After a few test prints, as I had no idea of what time to use, we found some images appearing. When I changed the enlarger bulb to a full 150 Watt light things really started happening. Ivor had sent some old (from the fifties or sixties) Agfa Bronica paper. This was not a resin paper and dried badly without a proper drier or press. Then we started using the Ilford Mutilgrade resin paper and my first picture was born.

The equipment was working well enough to plan a darkroom party at Costa Calla.

Basil--5

New Batteries and Loading Film

Olympus OM-1 with remote shutter release on a tripod
Olympus OM-1 with remote shutter release on a tripod

My camera needed new batteries and the film had to be loaded manually. There were  a lot of reassuring levers, clicks and mechanical confirmation sounds. My motor winder missed the engage occasionally and just spun. But the manual winder on top of the camera still worked.

I had replaced the small hearing aid type battery, which operates the light meter.  The response of the light meter seemed dulled so I had to check it with the Light Metter App I have loaded on my iPhone. That worked a charm.  The Olympus OM 1 has an On/Off switch, an ASA ring from 50 to 1600 ISO, a film winder, shutter release button, film release button, self timer and a flash hotshoe. The interchangeable lens has the shutter speed ring at its base, with the aperture ring in the front. That’s it! Oh, and as far as I remember the battery would last a few years. Simple but beautiful!

I opened box of film and unplugged the canister. I had forgotten about the celluloid smell.The cartridge fell into my hands and I loaded the camera easily, checking the drag to ensure it was running and loading just the tip to get an extra frame out of the roll of 36 exposures.

The OM1 is a small camera. The Zuiko optics are great. The viewfinder is tiny and dark especially with an f 4.0 lens.  The focusing screen has a central twin prism surrounded by a circle of smaller prisms and then the ground glass. I have another focusing screen that I can insert (yes, they were interchangeable) that is an open circle and ground glass much like the ones in most DSLRs today. There is no diopter adjustment on the viewfinder, so I had to look through my glasses to see.

Through the (small) viewfinder of the Olympus OM-1 - note the split prism to assist in focussing.
Through the (small) viewfinder of the Olympus OM-1 – note the split prism to assist in focussing.

I took a few pictures around the house with an ISO of 125. I had to use the tripod, and also think about the picture I wanted, then check the light reading with my external light meter.

The beach was more fun. I felt that I had been transported in a time machine and had arrived 40 years earlier, taking pictures the old fashioned way. I only took about 30 at the beach, though a whole lot more than normal and enjoyed looking at the light, the light meter and caressing my camera.

Janvier and I did capture a proposal at the end of the pier. How lucky are that couple to have their special moment captured on celluloid in 2014?

A couple on the pier: he proposed to her….
A couple on the pier: he proposed to her…. ( negative processed in Lightroom)

Reliving the Photographic Tradition

My classic Olympus OM-1
My classic Olympus OM-1

A few weeks ago  a plan came together that had been hatched four years ago.

 I made a major challenge to myself, but hedged my bets. The challenge  was to embrace modern digital DLSR technology, so I bought camera equipment that performs far better than I make pictures.

But I hedged my bets by purchasing some second hand Zuiko lenses for my Olympus OM1. They cost a fraction of what my new lenses did, and weighed only a fraction as well.  I had to because about 15 years ago we had a robbery at home where I lost most of that kit, and all I was left with was an OM1 body and motor winder.

 I hedged my bets because if the digital experiment failed, then I would go back to film.

 Digital photography has not failed me. I have learnt so much and have so much more to learn, and have made pictures that make me smile.

The equipment from Ivor Ginsberg arrived in three boxes
The equipment from Ivor Ginsberg arrived in three boxes

 However, roots are important. In life and in photography.  I trawled the Internet for darkroom equipment: like everyone else I asked, I had given my darkroom equipment away. By a stroke of luck I found Ivor Ginsberg’s contact details on one of the smalls of a site and left a message on his mobile. He called back a few days later and three weeks later I collected 44 kilograms of darkroom equipment from the freight office at King Shaka Zulu airport. I had a large Meopta enlarger, 3 lenses, timers, exposure meters, safe lights, trays, developing tanks, measuring cylinders and some old Agfa Bromide Paper.

For modern film and paper I had been told about Photomax in Durban, so on the way to collect Ivor’s delivery I stopped by and bought Ilford film, paper, developers and fixer. Later I bought a contact print device there as well.

 The next day I unpacked Ivor’s boxes. An original Durst Timer, in the box with instructions. Made in

Classic equipment in original boxes with manuals
Classic equipment in original boxes with manuals

Germany. A Paterson Exposure “Computer” in the box, with the instruction manual. Made in England. The Meopta enlarger in its original cardboard box. Made in Czechoslovakia. Like the timer.

 I stored the film, paper and chemicals in the fridge. I had to look up equivalents for Stop (used vinegar to make up a solution of 1.5% ascetic acid) and dishwasher rinse aid as a wetting agent.

 I cleaned my lenses and camera. Ines tolerated the spare room beginning to look (and smell) like a darkroom. 

It was time to mix the chemicals, black out the darkroom and take some film pictures!

 

 

 

 

A digital picture that makes me smile: Humpback diving in front of a glacier wall
A digital picture that makes me smile: Humpback diving in front of a glacier wall

Almirante Brown: An Englishman in Argentina

This was to be our last morning on land. I was filled with trepidation.

This would be my goodbye to this fragile wilderness and hello to my fragile health.

My health was fragile as we were to cross the Drake Passage after the landing.

William Brown is anathema. He was born in the 18th century in Ireland, emigrated to Philadelphia with his family as a nine year old and lost his father soon after to yellow fever. He was offered a job as a cabin boy on a steamer and worked his way up to captain. He was pressganged into fighting for the British in the Napoleonic wars. He then established and fought battles around Argentina and is an Argentinian national hero, and popularly regarded as the founder of the Argentinian navy. Then the Argentinians named a research base after him on the Antarctic Peninsula.

The Vavilov with ice blowing in
The Vavilov with ice blowing in at Paradise Harbour

I often wonder how the passage of world history would have changed if it were not for the Irish that stood up to the English and the United Kingdom. Is say this because of one of my great grandparents who was Irish and who came out to South Africa to support the Boers in the Anglo-Boer War.

Paradise Harbour is a beautiful natural bay on the Antarctic Peninsula. The mouth is not too narrow but steep mountains rise up from all sides, with glaciers reaching the see in the valleys. We landed at Base Brown, and Argentinian Scientific base that was not occupied. A colony of Gentoo penguins were breeding in and around the buildings. The base had suffered a serious fire when one of the Argentinian doctor who was conscripted into military service set he base alight when a service ship did not have space to take him home after his due service. He and his team were forced to camp in tents till the next ship a few months later. The base has ugly debris in its center.

Glacier mouth in black water
Glacier mouth in black water

Most of the Vavilov’s passengers fanned around the base and up the hill to the highest point. The came tobogganing down on their backsides, whooping in excitement. Reece, her boyfriend, proposed to the ship’s doctor, Sarah, on top of the hill. There were loud whoops of joy and congratulations as the messages were relayed down the slope to the base.

The peace of Paradise harbour
The peace of Paradise harbour

I stood alone absorbing the peace and grandeur of the place. The stillness away from the passengers was intense, broken by occasional glacier calving. The sea in areas was black and reflected the glacier faces like a mirror.

Blue….
Blue….

I looked back on the sturdy Vavilov moored in the bay. It was small, but I knew I would be safe in the Drake crossing. I was just scared I would be sick. Then the bay filled with ice as the wind changed.  The winds were only supposed to pick up later in the afternoon. Back on board Boris announced that we would be making a dash for the Drake on account of some serious weather that was coming.

Oh, boy. My heart sank!

Norwegian grave stone: hidden but not forgotten….
Norwegian grave stone: hidden but not forgotten….
Ocean Notes Day 16
Ocean Notes Day 16

 

A Scintillating Afternoon in Cierva Cove

Humpback Diving in front of a glacier wall
Humpback Diving in front of a glacier wall

After lunch we entered Cierva Cove. The Vavilov moored in the bay.

We lined up eagerly on the gangway. The northern sky was a foreboding grey yet filled with texture.

Humpback whales were swimming in front of giant icebergs.

Nothing can prepare you for the beauty and peace of this land at the bottom of the world. The ice masses intrigue. From steel blue to pure white, geometric and haphazard, the shapes appear in front of your eyes and fall away as the next more beautiful piece appears.

Near a giant iceberg we slowed the zodiac and had humpback whales diving in front of us. Their deep sigh near us as they breathed out resonated somewhere in my soul. I have felt their breath before in False Bay in the Cape, but here in this wilderness I was truly honoured.

The most beautiful sight on earth?
The most beautiful sight on earth?

 

We followed another whale, then another, trying to frame the big tail as it dripped water first against a glacier face, then an iceberg and finally a black cliff. Taking pictures in the freezing cold and poor light from a kneeling position in a zodiac is not easy, but the experience was worth just being there, even without a camera.

Penguins prints in the ice
Penguins prints in the ice

 

We left the whales and made our way to the western edge of the bay, to look at giant icebergs. Along the way we saw smaller more interesting shapes and shades. We had penguins on the ice, a small group on a massive slab. Then two on a smaller block. Suddenly they became three as one flew onto the ice from the water. Penguins transform in water as pure swimming machines to land on ice  as  clumsy clowns. The transition is instant.

 

Chinstrap penguin porpoising
Chinstrap penguin porpoising

It started snowing and we headed back. We were far from the ship and were thinking up excuses for Boris, the expedition leader, to explain the delay:

 

Giant icebergs in front of a Giant Continent
Giant Icebergs in front of a Giant Continent

“Tell him we had a puncture” piped up one voice.

“No, tell him a whale breached right next to us and we nearly sank” said another.

As we joked and squinted through the sea spray and snow three Minke whales breached right next to us a few times, feeding. It was a beautiful and inspiring sight.

Back on board the Vavilov we celebrated with a whisky on glacier ice. As we steamed out of Cierva Cove we had humpback whales circle feeding on either side of the ship. The lounge erupted like a rowdy football crowd, with each side cheering as their whales breached.

 

Floating penguin troop on a n iceberg
Floating penguin troop on an iceberg

Truly, a spectacular sight.

I have no idea why we still hunt whales. Nor do I understand why we are systematically destroying our fragile earth?

Three pairs of happy feet
Three pairs of happy feet

My Travels: Gentoos Being Born

Gentoo Chicks
Gentoo Chicks

The Vavilov had sailed on the north of the South Shetland Islands because thick ice prevented us entering the Antarctic Sound.

Now we had turned and were sailing in the channel between the islands and the Antarctic Peninsula.

On ether side of the ship rose towering black cliffed mountains with thick glaciers cutting the valleys right to the sea.

Inquisitive land birds: the Gentoo penguin
Inquisitive land birds: the Gentoo penguin

After a fresh smoothie from Amanda and breakfast we landed at Mikkelsen Harbour, facing the great continent. The ice and snow shone bright white in the sun, under a blue sky with small cumulus clouds dotting the horizon.

We landed amongst the debris of whalebones, geometric vertebra lying like toys in the gravel and ice blocks. I lay down to compose pictures with the ice shapes and the Gentoo Penguins came to investigate me. They were inquisitive, like short-necked giraffes; dreamy eyes stretching forward to see what was lying on the ground.

After a while I climbed a short hill to the other side of the bay, where the weathered red container structure of an Argentinian base scarred the rocky promontory. Before reaching the Gentoo colony at the base, I played around with penguins on snow highways and then moved to the colony. From there we had sight of a long highway coming straight at us down the slope, but somehow the pictures were not working.

Lost in a penguin highway
Lost in a penguin highway

Another sunny morning in the Antarctic
Another sunny morning in the Antarctic

There was a lot of excitement around the base. The penguins were not feeding but roosting on their eggs. Movement was limited. Then slowly one would bend down and nudge the speckled white egg as the chick breached the shell and came to life. We saw a few at various stages of birth. Time seemed to stand still as these noisy garrulous ungainly on land birds shifted up and moved back to allow the egg to crack and the young chick to hatch.

We had to rush back to catch the last zodiac to the ship, passing another Gentoo on the beach that was pecking at the remains of one of his kin.

On deck the sun remained low and it got much colder. The kitchen staff had put barrels on the stern and had prepared a braai (a South African barbeque). The smells were incongruous for me and as the meat came off the grill it froze to the plate in my hand. I was warm initially from the activity on Mikkelsen Harbour and did not take all my outer gear to the braai and froze. I found a protected spot and stood chatting to Luis who guides for Rock Jumper birding tours and also Suricato in South America.

As lunch wound down and people snacked on the fresh profiteroles for desert, the sky became grey and we set sail for Cervia Bay. Between the

peninsula and us we spotted 5 Orcas, about 1 kilometer off the starboard. What excitement on the ship.

Family of Orcas
Family of Orcas

 

This way, then that way
This way, then that way

 

Ocean Notes Day 14
Ocean Notes Day 14

Ocean Notes Day 15
Ocean Notes Day 15

My Travels: Halfmoon Island before Full Moon and Deception on the Vavilov

Chinstraps on a highway
Chinstraps on a highway

Penguin Highways

Penguins on snow highways. That was one of the photographs I wanted to capture, Today was the day.

After three days at sea it was exciting to be doing an excursion again. This morning we would be landing on Halfmoon Island, with three big Chinstrap Penguin Colonies, and perhaps one or two Macaroni penguins.

It was like being in grade school again. We were all very excited. Waterproof bags were shouldered with camera kit and after breakfast we loaded onto the zodiacs and landed near the wreck of an old rowing boat.

There were no seals here, just snow ice, penguin highways and penguins. I stepped of the contour highway that passed the first colony on my right. You have to step off to give the penguins right of way. I was on my knees gazing at the sheer beauty of the colony nestled on rocks stained red with regurgitated feed against a backdrop of black peaks shouldering above the white ice.

A colony on the rocky in majestic surroundings
A colony on the rocky in majestic surroundings

After a while I flopped exhausted onto my back and gazed up at the blue grey sky. Everyone passed me on foot and looked down at this crazy snowman. But I was so happy. And tired. I was exhausted by being bunk bound for so many days and not eating. But this was the new me on ice and snow.

I moved to a saddle where a few people were sitting. It was a great position as from our left we could see the penguins walking towards us along a contour, and from our right we could see the clean penguins coming up from the sea, cresting in the s-shaped path.

We made our way along the beach to another colony where we say the macaroni Penguin and many

Reaching for the sky: Chinstrap penguins
Reaching for the sky: Chinstrap penguins

young Chinstraps. We could see across the bay to glaciers carving their way through mountains reaching the sea.

It was wonderful and invigorating to be on solid land again, even if it was covered with ice. The outing broke three days of sailing and being ship bound. It was good to get back to the Vavilov and have a hot lunch.

The topic at lunch was the visit to Deception Island and the Polar Plunge. Before the trip I had thought about the raw beauty of the continent I was to see, of the explorers of the last century and of the amazing wildlife spectacles I would witness. But I had no idea that people made a thing of swimming in the icy waters. I first saw this the morning before we left when I was doing some research on the small ship I had seen from the helicopter. But I knew I would want to do something crazy like that and soon I would be.

Deception Island: Whaler's Bay - the safest harbour in the Antarctic
Deception Island: Whaler’s Bay – the safest harbour in the Antarctic 

Deception Island

Entering Whaler's Bay
Entering Whaler’s Bay

We entered Whaler’s Bay on Deception Island through a narrow gorge. More tension showed on the Russian crews’ faces. About as much tension as on the faces of the rest of us who would be doing the swim. We landed in a Mad Max world of the remains of a whaling station. This was destroyed not only by the severe climate but also by a volcanic eruption in 1970. Yes, we were in the crater of an active volcano. The air temperature was -2 °C and the water surface temperature was 2 °C but close to zero  a few centimetres below the surface. It had snowed heavily here two weeks before, and although thick snow lay on the slopes, the beach was dry with dust from the heat of the volcano. I took my gloves off and could not feel any warmth. Come to think of it, my feet were not warm either!

Marius, Steven, Johan and I walked around the bay, up onto a hill and had a relaxing afternoon of fun photography. It is important to do that in photography, because if you do not have fun your pictures die a slow death. It always amazes me how photography ( or any creative pursuit) is just like life. Best to enjoy it.

Ira Meyer (left) and me in full kit before the swim.
Ira Meyer (left) and me in full kit before the swim.

Then we met at the water’s edge for the swim. I joined the girls who would be swimming with me: Angela, Danielle and Alex.  The truth be told I could not sneak a peak at them in their bikinis because my eyes were watering.  There is only one way to do the Polar Plunge. Strip and run into the water. You have to submerge your head to qualify. I did

No looking -we just ran into the water!
No looking -we just ran into the water!

that and came up with a mouthful of sulphurous volcanic gravel.

Back on land everything froze. The wind had picked up. It was difficult to dress: numb fingers would not pull zippers, my face and head were locked in a grimace, trying to breathe but there was no warm air. I do not recall any of the pain of entering the water or submerging. Nor trying to run out onto the dry gravel. But the drying and dressing part was excruciating.

After what seemed like a full moon rise we clambered aboard the zodiac and saw whales breaching between the Vavilov and the beach. On board I had a hot shower (I declined the invitation to the sauna with the girls on account of me still searching for my manhood) but took my bottle of whisky from duty free that had not been touched for two weeks up to the bar and celebrated.

I was Polar One. Angela Polar Two. Danielle Polar Three. And Alex was Polar Four. We were crazy enough to have gone for a swim in midsummer in the Antarctic waters.

I was so happy. What a fantastic day on and about the Vavilov!

Thanks to Johan Slazus for the pictures of the Plunge.

PS: if you have enjoyed reading this post and you can think of friends and family who would like to read it, please share.

Certificate of Insanity!
Certificate of Insanity!

Ocean Notes Day 14
Ocean Notes Day 14