21. Brilliant Islands

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

The temperature in the cabin has dropped to around 2 degrees Celsius. I fear an iceberg might suddenly emerge.

If Aomi does not gain speed and reach the Antarctic soon, I will be caught in another Southern Ocean storm.

Still, she is sailing with 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 chocolate-brown 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 am heading toward must be getting closer.

Because of bad weather, I cannot 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 is from 5 to 10 minutes earlier.

Even at night, the Southern Ocean in summer remains dimly lit, with the horizon always in view. Dressed in a bright red mountaineering jacket and pants, with 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 am utterly exhausted.

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

The sky and sea have been all gray and black, but now the blue light before dawn begins to spread into the scene.

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

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, there is even an island towering more than 2,000 meters high (2,012 meters).

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

“I’d love to ski down this brilliant, huge slope.”

Strangely, it does not feel as if I am 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. It is a doughnut-shaped landmass about 12 to 15 kilometers across, with a break in its ring. Through this narrow entrance, vessels can slip inside and find shelter. I have decided to anchor Aomi here on my first day in the Antarctic.

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

It has 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, myself, really mark it?

How many years or decades ago did Aomi leave port? Where is she heading? Can I be sure my memory is not mistaken? Who can confirm the truth when I am 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 am heading to… Who can guarantee this has not happened? 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 again and again. 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 do not find the entrance before the storm hits, I will be… The strong tide shapes small triangular waves on the water, and I feel the eerie pull of the current through the tiller at my fingertips as I steer Aomi.

Then, as if a massive door were opening in a castle wall with a loud creaking sound, a narrow cut appears in the cliff before me.

“This is undoubtedly Deception Island.”

---

For more details, see the Explanation page.

---