The silenceis shocking.I listen
harder, andcatchthe fizzof
bubbles burstinginside icebergs
and the trickle of snowmelt.pureemotionthatLemoinedescribed.SuddenlyI’m
acutely,almostpainfullyawareofeverything:thepearly
translucenceofthesky,thefrigidwaterthatsplashes
myhands,thebelchingofbergsastheylurchontheir
moorings.Likequicksilver,penguinsflashbeneath
thekayakanddive-hopbesideus.Wecircleaniceberg
resemblinganEasterIslandhead,glowinginpure
saturatedblue.Whenwerestthepaddlesandglide
fora bit,thesilenceis shocking.I listenharder,and
catchthefizzofbubblesburstinginsideicebergs and
thetrickleofsnowmeltalongtheshoreline.Latitude 64°56.21’S
Changeofplan.Ourjourneyfurthersouthto
PortCharcotis blockedbypackice,sowestretchour
legsinsteadat ParadiseBay.I castmymindbacknow
andwonderif thisentiredaywasa dream.It begins
withthedazzleofsunshineonconicalpeaks,pure
andperfect.Soonwe’reoutinthewatersofparadise
watchingcormorantsnestinginicecliffsanda
glaciercalveinthedistance.Wecirclea poolparty
ofcrabeatersealslollingona floe,theplushsilver
velvetoftheirbelliesflashinginthesun.(Despite
theirname,theyeatkrillratherthancrabs,using
remarkablesieve-liketeethconsideredthemost
specialisedofanycarnivore.)
BackonLeSoléal, wehavea poolpartyofourown.
Firstweraisea sweatinthehammam– alongwith
surprisinglyreliableWiFiandfreshlybakedbaguettes,
it’soneoftheship’sgreatluxuries– thenweraceto
thepooldeckwherethecrewhashoistedchunksof
iceintoartfulpositions.Manuthebarmanis shaving
glacial ice into glasses of blue Curaçao. Aroundus128 GOURMET TRAVELLER