We say goodbye to the quaint village of Stanley Harbor, in the Falklands Islands, our last contact with civilization for weeks. We chug out to the open ocean and head east, in the company of black-browed albatross and pintado petrels. Our ship, the Yermelova, seems a small and flimsy platform in the blustery sea, more alien to this world than our feathered companions. They seem to relish the wind and spray.

Between the Falklands and South Georgia the seas grow rougher, grayer, and colder as we reach the Antarctic Convergence, a pelagic version of timberline. This is where icy Southern Ocean currents clash with more temperate northern waters and enormous concentrations of phytoplankton bloom. This rich "pasturage" in turn supports krill, base of the Southern Ocean food pyramid, fuel for whales, seals, and birds. Antarctic krill is said to be the greatest biomass in the world, representing more protein than all of human flesh. Believe it or not!

Finally, a waning moon illuminates some distant, snowcapped peaks, hung by low clouds. Primal is the word that comes to mind. As the sky brightens the mainland of South Georgia lays dappled before us, rock and ice, wind and wave.