54° 42′ 00″ S , 158° 54′ 00″ E

People have mixed reactions to waking up early this morning. I’m not usually a morning person, but this all goes out the window (or the porthole) with the prospect of this morning’s activities. We have reached the furthest south we will on this expedition, to visit Lusitania Bay. What’s so special about Lusitania Bay that has me flinging myself out of bed at whatever hour of the morning? One word. Penguins.

The sea is choppy. It’s not wild, but it’s rougher than it has been so far. I’m sitting right at the front of our zodiac, which means I’m probably going to get the wettest. It starts to rain. My camera is thrust hastily into the top pocket of my bag. It’s not waterproof, but it’ll keep the worst off until we get closer in. I should have put the rain cover on, but there’s no time for berating myself. Out in the crisp southern air, I’m wide awake and tingling – although that may also be the coffee I downed just after waking up.

There’s a few penguins. Just a few. Not thousands or millions, stretching along the coast in an uninterrupted wash of white. Not so many that we can hear their strident voices out over the water, the high-pitched squeaking of the chicks chiming over the more sedate calls of adults. Who am I kidding? I think my eyes are going to fall out of my face. There is just. So. Much. Life. The swell keeps us well back from the beach, but it doesn’t matter. The scale is ridiculous. My wide-angle comes in handy. I wish I could take a panorama, but in a bobbing zodiac it’s a futile exercise. 

Instead of us going to the penguins, they come to us. On either side, rafts of Kings with the odd Royal fly past, catching quick breaths as they porpoise above the water. They’re in their element, the water shearing off waterproofed feathers making them look as though they’re encased in glass. Sleek. The water is glowing blue, even with the sky grey and heavy above us.

It’s not just King penguins on the beach. There are little groups of Elephant seals hauled out together, mostly young ones, moulting and snorting and fighting. The penguins give them as wide a berth as they can – I wouldn’t fancy being squashed by an over-zealous seal. And while these are just little Elephant seals, they’re still plenty big enough to squash a King penguin.

I begin to feel the scale of the Southern Ocean when I think about the fact that each and every one of these penguins, and plenty more besides, all must find food in the depths. Each one must find enough squid, fish, and krill to feed itself, and often a growing chick as well. There’s a lot of ocean out there, and here we are in a tiny rubber boat. Drifting in front of Macquarie Island, a penguin paradise. 

We can’t stay long, the weather isn’t co-operating and it’s breakfast time. Heading back to the ship in the rolling swell, we take a wave right over the front – flung up by the wind. My parka keeps most of me dry, but my gloves are soaked through. I try to work some feeling back into my hands – gloves drenched in Southern Ocean water don’t tend to hold heat very well. Giant Petrels are wheeling around us again, further away from shore. It’s back up the gangway and inside for something warm, and the wait to see what the rest of the day will bring.

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