First Steps

We loaded into the Zodiacs ten at a time, swathed in layers of Gore-tex and neoprene like Antarctic space suits. The opening in the side of the ship was an opening to an inhospitable environment, a breach in civilization. We sat on the edge of the oversized inner tube, bouncing along only inches from the frigid water. Looking back at the ship from the zodiac was like seeing Earth from space, watching our safe haven recede further and further away.

Stepping out onto Aitcho Island felt like stepping out onto the moon—if the moon was densely populated with penguins. Chinstraps and Gentoos strut along with complete disregard for the humans gawking and clicking away; celebrities ignoring the paparazzi. Rookeries blanket the island in small breeding colonies. The penguins have only one chance a year at parenthood, so they get a head start by revisiting their old nests. Penguins are very particular about their domestic environment, and like to gather specific rocks and arrange them just so; home decorating Antarctic style! The wind whipped across the island, freezing our fingers, chaffing our skin, but the penguins didn’t stir. They remained, lying on their eggs, on a pile of rocks, on an island in the middle of the Antarctic Ocean; the indigent inhabitants of a hostile land.