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Ice Walk
jammed into ice
a ship-stick in the popsicle?
we alight on three-feet fast ice
(hitched to shore, thus safe)
around us thousand-year ice-bergs laze
in blue-tinted purity, unsalted
i could stay forever
but they give us 2 hours
and hot chocolate
to leave the Emperor Penguin
Weddell Sea and its seal as well
alone
Half-Moon Landing
Spurned by Barrientos, we continue towards more clement crescent
Half-moon island welcomes the zodiacs and their contents, 10 by 10
ice-bergs bluff us into momentarily believing their austere elegance
till suddenly sinking bottom deep in virgin snow
sliding downhill with the penguins (seeking still the up)
we have no choices left to celebrate but
the clumsy accident of the route we were dealt
Land H.O.
we approach antartic landfall after breakfast
objective: shetland islands south
specifically, barrientos,
part of the Aitcho Group
thus dubbed by brits in short
for their Admiralty’s
Hydrographic Office
the naked eye now sees
black rock outcrops
rising from blue-grey waters
tipped by white ice
the bow purports to split through metres of spray
the ocean spits right back
Shipboard
out on the Drake Passage
the swells are moderate
the moderates aren’t swell
( the conservatives
and liberals dominate)
the former Norwegian PM
(onboard as keynote speaker)
is serious and stodgy, I’m afraid
she doesn’t take my comments
on communists and culling well
still the starboard port-hole
the right-left view, so to speak
in my little cabin sanctuary
is more than grand enough
to compensate
It’s the end of the world as we know it
The southernmost point you can reach by car….
… but we have alternative transportation (anchors aweigh at 6 pm today)..
Descent (Buenos Aires)
transitioning from Incan spirituality to urban sprawl
the awakening is rude
riding in from the airport
this could be bangkok or jakarta
it’s not, of course
so at the end of the day
close to my run-out date
for bus tour quotients
there is quiet regoletto cemetary
in which eva finally lies
and, i believe, martha’s family too
bringing respite and some return
faintly, to peaceful calm
on the eve of likely turbulence
of the drake crossing
San Blas
At Piazza San Blas, there's still time to watch the vendors' set-up routine
(before later-rising tourists ascend from Cusco via the via)
woven woolens, leather packs, Santiago's pipes
and all manner of trinkets
a young Andean maiden endearingly brings her pet alpaca to market day
or so I think
only later to discover she is part of the photo mafia posing for pennies
it's disappointing
most incongruous yet is uncle selling granite chacanas
who breaks into whistle
i expect The Mission Morricone
pan-fluted
but hear, instead, Gloria
circa Brannigan, not Rutter
Transit Through Sacred Valley
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leaving Cusco soon after dawn
we traverse the Sacred Valley
to Ollaytantambo
before the 82nd kilometre
the Vale believes, before and beside catholic Spanish,
much as moderns post-Mass yet worship Mother Earth, bet hedging
each home is guarded by rooftop Christian cross bestride two bulls
and a pull of corn beer (that deities drink up overnight)
even thus, gods bless with rain that washes river banks away
while seeding the white corn fields with fatted kernels
in a land where the young dream of becoming celebrity chefs
and tourists shortcut their way to peak-top Pisac shrine
by bus, rather than terrace climb from mountain foot
the natives will tell that the sacrifice be not worthy
till the gods feast on our full and our folly
antipodal 2011 