February 27, 2018
Cuverville, Canal de Errera
64 ° 41 ’00 “S, 62 ° 38′ 00” W
Good morning possums, breakfast will be served in 5 ‘.
The morning started with Fabian reading us a story about a tiny little penguin scared of living his life. I allowed myself to let go and followed his adventures as if they were mine. I realized how much I missed spending the evenings diving into books.
After the story we started the visibility session that would lead to a very interesting discussion about the stereotypes that we women, as women in science, face. It was devastating to hear the experiences that some brave people dared to share. It ranged from the subtle condescence to a thesis supervisor biting his student tit. If that was what could be said out loud, I wondered what it was they the silences might keep.
After lunch we enter Errera straight. We were sailing between ice and whales. The afternoon coaching session could not outcompete with such a manificent landscape. I slipped through the dining room and went on deck with Mel and Hilary. When we returned to the living room, Greg looked at us and laughing he told us: – It looks like somebody has been naughty.
We arrived at Curverville. After a while the penguins got used to our presence. We placed ourselves in a semicircle and read the letters to the penguins that Paola had brought from different schools in the most remote corners of Colombia. Mine was from a little boy: Antarctica does not belong to anyone and freedom exists. While we were reading, the penguins did their penguin things (getting in and out of the water, tripping over the stones, collide with each other) completely oblivious to our gesture of gratitude to those children embraced the idea of saving the planet.
We returned to the ship followed by a leopard seal almost as big as the zodiac. It was amazing. I had dinner in less than 5’ and ran to the bridge. I wanted to see if I could find the killer whales. We had been looking for them all day and they had not shown up. When I got to the bridge Cata, Julieta, Natacha and a couple of officers were already there. No sight of the killer whales. I spent a little while scanning the horizon without much success. The pink mixed with the blueish/purpleish icebergs and the moon raised behind the mountains as if she was showing off and competing to be the prettiest.
-Orcas at one thirty, I screamed.
– Are you sure they’re killer whales? – Alan said.
– Yes I felt the ship turn to port and simultaneously my chubby cheeks flushed with emotion. My heart was warm with joy. I couldn’t be happier.