“Sometimes, a day will so utterly change you, that when you look in the mirror at the end of the day, there is someone you do not wholly recognise yet looking back at you. Being hit by a wall of water that annihilates everyone on the back deck will do that to you. The aftermath is a whirlwind of dry everything, save photos, try to save your cameras, and the turmoil of feelings that come with it.”

That’s an excerpt from my journal from the 1st of December. It could have been the worst day of the trip – but I can say with complete honesty that it was one of the most amazing experiences of my life.

As we were leaving the Chatham Islands bound for Dunedin, we were gathered on the back deck to watch Mangere and Little Mangere fade into the distance, with albatross wheeling all around. I was out with both cameras – the D500 with the 200-500mm for seabird photos, and the D700 with the 18-35mm for people on the deck photos. We spent about an hour out there, the weather bright and the sea calm. Out of nowhere, a huge swell tipped the ship – the bow went up and over, and on the stern we went briefly down, then up, up, up – and then we dropped into the trough of the wave. My stomach had relocated to my throat, and as we dropped I looked up to see nothing but white water. A lot a of white water. Rapidly advancing.

After that is nothing but cold chaos – everything is white and very very wet, and the force of the water knocked me on to my back and across the deck. Apparently I made a somewhat useless attempt to keep my cameras above the deluge (which is impossible when the deluge is above you), and the next thing I remember is being pulled to my feet.  Sodden from head to foot, water sloshing merrily along in my Grubb boots, I was back in my cabin dripping on the floor, tearing off wet clothes, and pulling the batteries and cards out my cameras. Wiping my cameras down and trying to dry them off, in what I knew was probably a useless exercise. There’s always room for hope, though. The 200-500mm had water swilling around inside it, but everything else looked remarkably alright. I did a bit of running around helping other people with their camera gear – and it took me a little too long to realise that I was only wearing my shorts and a bra. A+ effort there Edin! Now go and put a T-shirt on.

Cards in computer, all my images downloaded without a hitch. But adrenaline doesn’t just disappear. I was jittery, bleeding all down my knees, and my wrist had swollen up. There was a grinding feeling when I moved it, and I couldn’t make a fist or hold on to anything with my left hand. One visit to the doctor later, and painkillers and a wrist support were the order of the day – nothing to do but wait until we got back to New Zealand to x-ray it. Between some manic laughter and a cup of green tea, I came back to something resembling normal. And our day continued. We had lunch together, and laughed together. No one was seriously injured, we didn’t lose anyone overboard – and while there’s a lot of big insurance claims for those of us who lost camera gear – that’s just life. Camera gear can be replaced. It’s just metal, plastic, and glass.

December the first was a change in perspective for me, and I’ve come out better for it. When it’s happening, there isn’t time to process what’s going on in an event like that. That comes later, and you realise how lucky you were. At the time, all I remember was someone yelling “Hold on!”, swearing, and a voice in the back of my mind that said “This is probably appropriate.”. Travelling in the Southern Ocean comes with risks, just as everything else does. We accept these risks to experience these places in their wildness and beauty. And I’ll do it again. In the same situation, I’ll be standing in the same place – because you can’t foresee a rogue wave. To be honest, even though my gear was ruined, it was exhilarating.

It’s the first time I’ve lost camera gear like this. Losing that much in the space of about 5 seconds is impressive – not in a good way, but impressive nonetheless. Holding the dead D700 in my hands, I admit to being quite sad. It’s a camera that has been with me for a long time, and it was going strong till the last. But in my life I will probably total a lot of camera gear – working in wild weather, wild places, having wild adventures. And the photos I take will be worth it. My favourite photo from the whole expedition was taken a few seconds before the wave hit. The guys at Nikon NZ have been fantastic, and are helping me replace my camera gear so I can be ready for more adventures soon.

We travel on nature’s terms, and we take what she gives us. She gave us a hell of a beating for most of the trip, and we couldn’t land on Macquarie Island – more on that in later posts. Regardless, the whole expedition was the best experience of my life. But on a calm day, out of nowhere, there can still come a reminder that we don’t live on a tame planet – and the sea is a force to be reckoned with. I love it. And once I have some new kit sorted out, I can’t wait to get back out there. Being at sea is where I feel truly at home, and the happiest I ever am is surrounded by seabirds and water from horizon to horizon.