24. White Phantom

On the third morning in the Antarctic, the temperature inside Aomi is near freezing. I don't want to leave my warm bed, so I delay my 5:00 a.m. departure.

I finally raise the anchor at 8:00 a.m., three hours behind schedule. Aomi sails for over an hour, surrounded by a dazzling ring of snow-covered mountains, heading toward the exit.

Carefully passing between black cliffs and a wrecked ship at the exit, Aomi leaves Deception Island and sails into a cold sea dotted with ice-covered islands. A strong current seems to flow around her as numerous small but steep triangular waves rise.

Aomi's next destination is the Melchior Islands, about 200 kilometers away. I've overslept and lost some time, but I should still reach them by tomorrow evening. I stay optimistic, even now.

Soon, I encounter several icebergs. One passes dangerously close, nearly colliding with Aomi. Why are they so translucent and blue? How do those surface patterns, like mineral crystals, form? Pure white waves continuously crash against the vertical blue ice walls.

 

A strange light suddenly appears on the horizon ahead. It's already past ten p.m., but it never gets completely dark.

As Aomi sails forward, the shining spot on the horizon takes shape, transforming into a glowing golden mass that appears to radiate its own light into the sky. I grab my binoculars.

A large church with a domed roof? A massive rocket hangar? Why here, in the Antarctic? Why is it so shiny? It can't be an alien base... can it?

I aim my hand compass at it and check the chart. Though a large rock called Austin is marked in that direction, what I see now—like a man-made structure or artificial object—never looks naturally formed.

 

The next strange experience begins just after midnight. In the dim light, warmed by two pocket heaters and a cup of tea, I watch the horizon, searching for icebergs as I sail through the night.

With almost no wind, I lower the sails and use the engine to cut through the inky-black water.

In the surrounding darkness, ice-covered islands seem to float, emitting a phosphorescent glow. They resemble pale human figures, like the ones I've seen in nightmares, lying in a sickbed.

Strangely, the islands on the black water have not shifted positions for over an hour. Even after a few more hours of sailing, the islands, like pale white phantoms, don't move behind me at all.

It's mysterious; Aomi should be running at four knots, her engine roaring in the midnight sea. She shouldn't be stopped. Am I trapped in a strange nightmare, trying to escape but unable to move forward?

I grab the flashlight and sweep it from side to side. The black water beside Aomi rushes farther and farther away. There's no way she's stopped. Why isn't a single island passing by?

I immediately push the engine to full speed, and Aomi cuts through the black sea at her maximum speed of five knots. Then, the islands—like phantoms glowing with faint white light—slowly begin to move in the darkness.

If I had taken any shortcuts or made any compromises in the engine's maintenance, it wouldn't be able to withstand the high rotation, and moving forward would be almost impossible.

 

As Aomi powers through the strong current at full speed, the short Antarctic night ends, and the sky dawns cold and white. The chart on the cabin table shows that over 100 kilometers still remain to the destination, the Melchior Islands.

Why didn't I leave Deception Island at 5:00 a.m. yesterday, as planned? Now, it'll be almost impossible to reach the islands before sunset.

But entering the islands at night is also impossible; Aomi could crash into rocks or ice hidden in the darkness. Even if I waited until morning in front of the islands, another all-nighter would drain my strength, and that could lead to a fatal accident.

What can I do? I have no choice but to keep going.

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For more details, refer to the Explanation page.

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