52° 32′ 24″ S 169° 8′ 42″ E

Over breakfast on New Year’s Day, I learn that last night the Southern Lights – the Aurora australis – lit up the skies over Perseverance Harbour. After I had gone to bed. To be honest, I’m a little heartbroken. I’ve longed to see the aurora for so long, and last night, in this wild place, it would have been so perfect. The thought even tickled my mind as I went to sleep, marvelling at how clear the skies were in this place famed for persistent rain. I should have stayed awake. I guess I’ll just have to come back and hope for better luck!

An intrepid crew set off for the summit of Mt Honey early this morning. I wanted to join them, but the call of the albatross was too strong. I’m ringing in the new year photographing some of my favourite birds instead. The skies have cleared a lot since yesterday, and Campbell Island stretches out before us. The top of Mt Honey is still wrapped in cloud though – I wonder how much of a view the hikers will get. 

The megaherbs are in bloom, and there’s such a variety. Purple Pleurophyllum, yellow Bulbinella, and the pastel to fuchsia spectrum of Anisotome are everywhere. There’s no Snipe to be seen, but plenty of Pipits underfoot, hunting for an insect breakfast around the boardwalk.

I’m well overdressed for the walk up the Col Lyall Boardwalk. It’s a gentle meander up through gardens of megaherbs and golden tussock behind Beeman hill and the base. The wooden boardwalk is slippery in places, which is not surprising given the amount of water it must soak up. The wire mesh helps. The plastic mesh doesn’t. I wonder whose idea that was.

I make it my mission to get to the top before stopping too long to photograph the albatross – otherwise I know I’ll never make it. The view out to North West bay is clear today, and Dent Island is finally visible. It’s a ragged tooth of rock jutting out of the sea. I’m amazed at how the Teal survived there for so long while rats ravaged the main island. Anything adapted to life down here is tough. 

Southern Royal Albatross are scattered over the hillsides, nestled in the tussock. There’s not much wind, so there’s not much flying going on. They’re all settled on their nests, sleeping and preening. I sit down in the tussock just off the boardwalk and watch. Breathing in the sweet scents of blooming megaherbs, the warmth of the tussock, it doesn’t matter at all when raindrops start falling. It’s all part of the environment here, and I feel so incredibly lucky to be able to experience it. To be able to share quiet moments with these massive, gentle birds –  in their world.

It’s all too perfect. And too soon we have to leave again, to head back on out to sea, back home. I could stay up here with the albatross forever, and I can’t help but feel that there’s still so much left to explore.

Our last moments on Campbell Island, and we’re scrabbling on the slimy rocky shore, sneaking after a foraging Campbell Island Teal. I’m lying flat, seaweed in my face, rocks poking into my legs and stomach. The teal is steadfastly dipping into the water, snuffling around, and popping back up with a face-full, water trailing from his bill. The shimmering green iridescence that tells me he’s a ‘he’ is bright against his ruddy chestnut feathers, so beautiful with subtle patterns. The albatross are glorious. The pipits are endearing. The snipe are a gift, and the teal are like little jewels – so small, and so precious.

We’re back on the zodiacs. I’m grinning wildly, although I’d rather not be leaving. Of all the places I have been, there’s something about Campbell Island that has caught me. Something in the wildness of it, the promise. The success of making it a haven once more, free from rats and wild sheep. So much to learn.

I forgot to take my sea-sickeness medication this morning. I take it before lunch, and then skip lunch in favour of eking out every photographic opportunity that presents itself as we steam out of Perseverance Harbour, into the rising swell, swirling with seabirds.

Previous adventure here – 

Next adventure here –