21. Brilliant Islands

A white, dreamlike snowstorm envelops the sea, erasing the horizon.

The temperature in the cabin has dropped to around two degrees Celsius. I fear an iceberg might suddenly emerge.

If Aomi doesn’t gain speed and reach the Antarctic soon, I’ll be caught in another Southern Ocean storm.

Still, she remains under the small storm jib. If I hoist a larger sail, I worry the next storm could come sooner. Baseless fear has kept me from changing sails.

In the cool, refreshingly clear expanse of the Southern Ocean, schools of dolphins leap one after another, their sleek black-and-white bodies slicing through the gray waves.

These dolphins, mostly white with black areas, occasionally glide beneath Aomi, darting in all directions. They are known as Commerson's dolphins.

Since yesterday, pintado petrels—small birds with striking white spots on their chocolate wings—have been gliding through the cold, smoky sky as snow sweeps sideways. Seeing birds after such a long voyage is a sign that land is near. The Antarctic islands I'm heading toward must be getting closer.

Because of bad weather, I can't confirm my position with the sextant. Fortunately, before leaving Argentina for Antarctica, a Japanese company lent me an NNSS, an early satellite navigation system. Roughly once an hour, when a satellite comes into range, the device automatically receives a signal, begins calculating, and displays my position, though it's from 5 to 10 minutes ago.

Even at night, the Southern Ocean in summer remains dimly lit, with the horizon always in view. Dressed in a bright red mountaineering jacket, pants, and two pairs of wool socks, I light the benzine pocket warmer.

I poke my head out of the hatch to watch for icebergs, my shoulders stiff from holding the same position for so long. After several sleepless nights, I'm utterly exhausted.

Before I know it, I've fallen asleep. When I check my watch, only five minutes have passed. Maybe I'm still in a dream, dreaming within a dream.

The sky and sea have been all gray and black, but now the blue light of pre-dawn begins to seep into the scene.

Soon after, as the sun rises between the clouds, the sky transforms into a patchwork of gray, dark blue, and orange hues.

Below, on the endless expanse of ocean, the islands along the Antarctic coast begin to reveal their majestic forms. Though their peaks are veiled by clouds, some islands tower over 2,000 meters.

The ice-covered, silver-white islands bask in the sunlight, their mountainsides dazzling in white—no, it's more like gold, undoubtedly gold! Each island seems to radiate light into the sky.

"I would love to ski down this brilliant, huge slope."

Strangely, it doesn't feel like I'm seeing this vast landscape of islands and sea for the first time—have I seen it before in a dream?

Perhaps the most famous island in the Antarctic is Deception Island. Captain Palmer, the American who is said to have discovered the island, sailed the Antarctic Ocean with his crew in search of seal fur in the early 19th century.

One day, their sailing ship Hero was caught in a blizzard, forcing them to seek shelter. As they pressed on, a massive wall of rock and ice appeared, opening into a giant, mouth-like gap.

Deception Island, a doughnut-shaped landmass roughly 15 kilometers across, has a break in its ring. Hero is said to have slipped in through the opening, taking shelter within the island, waiting for the blizzard to pass. I've decided to anchor Aomi here on my first day in the Antarctic.

Some things are hard to believe until you see them with your own eyes. Can a doughnut-shaped island really exist?

It's been a month since I left Buenos Aires, and every day, I mark my position on the charts. Aomi's course toward the Antarctic Peninsula is clearly marked. But did I actually mark it?

How many years or decades ago did Aomi leave port? Where is she heading? Can I be sure my memory isn't mistaken? Who can confirm the truth when I'm all alone? Is the view before me even real?

Aomi and I might have sunk into the 4,000-meter-deep sea during a storm in the Drake Passage, and now I'm heading to... Who can guarantee this won't happen? Where is the person who can be certain of this?

Cold fear creeping up my spine, I sail along the cliffs surrounding the island, searching for a break in the ring. Could there really be an entrance? It all seems like a solid mass of rock and snow. Maybe this is the wrong island?

I take the chart out on deck and compare the island's shape to it over and over. I must get inside the ring before the next storm hits. After several nights of watching for icebergs, I feel my physical strength fading.

If I don't find the entrance before the storm hits, I'll be... The strong tide shapes small triangular waves on the water, and I feel the eerie pull of the current through the tiller stick at my fingertips as I steer Aomi.

Then, like a massive door opening in a castle wall with a loud, creaking sound, a cut appears in the cliff, revealing a channel before me.

"This is undoubtedly Deception Island."

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For more details, see the Explanation page.

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