it’s a north wind, says Kim

that blisters us off our feet

on booth island where we

are first boots off-boat this season

to the left we lay the year’s new trail up Charcote’s Cairn

the gale so fierce that hugging the hill

i finally feel expedition-worn, scott and shackleton worthy

hoary, weather-beaten and, at the edge, the first true fear of fall

Charcote took two ships south last century’s turn

wintering deliberately, frozen in fast ice

chosing his crew for fortitude to last

through tunnel of perpetual night

some scientists, some explorers and a novelist

his transmission post today a fallen crucifix

swept downhill, we skirt the roiled bay

whipped into black ungruent gruel

yet a family of crabeater seals frolic unimpressed

among the feather-tailed penguins

`