It slipped right out of our grasp

Port Stanley was in our grasp.  As well as the King penguins.  A town of more than 3,000 (2012) was waiting for the cruise ship and its passengers to descend on it.  It must be overwhelming, but we were here and the anchor was being lowered.  Let the penguin adventure begin.

And there we were, Port Stanley, gateway to the King penguins.

We were there, our ship anchored, us waiting in the Princess Theatre with our group to disembark to a tender that would take us to the port and on to our transportation out to see the King penguins.  It was noticeably colder here, and the temperature this morning was 49.  That’s way cooler than we’ve been used to, and feels like home. 

 

It was not to be.  The wind was blowing so hard that they cancelled the tender operations.  We waited in place for our ship’s captain to make an announcement.  Would it be a yea, or a nay!!!  Dahmmit.  It was a nay.  The excursions were cancelled and the ship was to set sail for our next port, Ushuaia, or Tierra del Fuego.  I figure we’ll just need to come back here another time.

There we were; there we went ... away.

 

We were so disappointed as this whole trip has been about seeing penguins. There are several colonies near Port Stanley, King penguins, the second largest species, Rockhoppers, the smallest species, and Gentoo penguins.  Luckily, we have one more shot in a few days to see more penguins. 

But the wind truly was blowing, about 55 knots, and the tenders took on a lot of wave action.  There was a bit of trouble getting them lined up and back on the ship.

The tender was fighting the waves and eventually made it along side to be loaded back onto the ship.

 

And then we were underway again.  Jaz and I were going to do some deck walking; however, that was not to be as the decks were mostly closed due to high winds and we couldn’t get out onto them. 

Maybe we've sailed all the way around and are near home again?  It's quite cool.

We came up with Plan B and started on Deck 15 and walked up and down the halls and down the stair cases until we got down to Deck 5.  That gave us a 5K or more.

The ship was doing some rocking and rolling, and when we did another check it was still blowing about 29 knots, so we need to make sure our sea legs are in good working order. 

On we push now … but in the meantime, more Bingo this afternoon.  And the musician tonight, playing a saxophone.

The day Saturday, March 7, was not beautiful.  It was cloudy, overcast, cool, windy.  It sure did feel like home.  And that’s not necessarily a good thing.

We cruised along, occupying ourselves with a port lecture, a DVD viewing of a penguin video and bingo.  Yesterday Jaz won.  I’d won a little the day before.  Today was not our day to win again. 

But this was one of the moments we’d been waiting for … the rounding of Cape Horn.  The weather hadn’t cooperated up until now, but it seemed as though it wanted to show its best side … the weather got better, and the water wasn’t nearly as rough as it had been earlier.  Yesterday, though, was the worst winds and wave action we’ve seen this trip.  The horn was beautiful in a wild and primal way. 

Cape Horn, something I'd only seen on maps or in movies.  I never in my wildest thoughts, would have believed I would be here, with the stark coastline in a photo.

Waves slapping against the ship and the rocks in the distance remind you that many a ship has not fared well in these waters, where the Atlantic and Pacific oceans join around the rocks.

The water and landscape is beautiful ... it seems as though everything on trips just gets better and better.

Rocks jutted out of the water all around us like snaggly teeth and we had a local pilot on board to guide us through them.  The lighthouse on the point is Cape Horn Lighthouse, but is not the real one.  That one is further along on our travels today.  Both are beautiful at a distance.

 

The little lighthouse in the distance is so isolated I can't imagine working at something like this.

 

The isolation here must be horrendous to some.  I know it would not be a place I’d want to stay for very long.  There seems to be nothing else here except thousands of birds seen at a distance, flying over the water, standing on the rocks.

 

Snaggle-tooth rocks sure can make you believe how so many ships and boats can go aground.

Some of the best was yet to come … the Beagle Channel.  This is where I full expected to hear the howling of Beagles.  I wanted to see them swimming, their ears a-flapping, doing the dog paddle.  Perhaps I could use a fishing pole and catch a few to bring up to the room to use to snuggle with in the bed at night.  Hahahaha!!!  I think the name is awesome. 



And still others rise high above the water line, towering in the distance.  As we entered the Beagle Channel later on in the evening, the rocks and mountains became hazy as they faded into fog and possible rain behind us, and we sailed the channel under the cloak of darkness.  But I could hear the howling as we moved quietly through the water.  The idea of seeing the Beagles faded from my mind.  Maybe tomorrow.



 

On to Ushuaia … between islands and through beautiful channels with rocks that reach up to touch the sky.  It’s mesmerizing … and something I never dreamed of seeing, much less even considered … sailing around Cape Horn.  Who’d a thought?

 

We're here ... Ushuaia, Argentina.