While most of the passengers shuttle to shore via Zodiacs, the paddlers set out from Cooper Bay to Drygalski Fjord, along a spectacular alpine shoreline. Like ducklings leaving the security of their mother, we bunch together and head southwest across the aquamarine sea. Squadrons of macaroni penguins, identified by their robust bills and plumelike golden crests, follow in our wake. Things are substantially more carefree at an enormous cliffside rookery of macaronis, hard to miss for the guano fumes wafting through the air and the constant din of penguin chatter. We hold offshore just to listen and watch.
Endless flocks return from the sea with food for waiting mates or nestlings.
There are mountain-ringed coves and otherwise good landing sites. The problem is that each location is packed solid by a herd of fur seals, watched over by a territorial, ill-tempered bull who isn't about to let us come near. Just as bladders reach the bursting point, we sight a smidgen of rock and cobble where fur seals outnumber us by only 50 to 1. Armed with paddles to fend off interlopers, we manage to relieve ourselves and gobble cheese and crackers without getting bitten. But dawdle, we do not.