For Crying Out Loud

This rather assumes a more organized government than actually exsisted. I think it was more of a nature preserve by mutual agreement, tradition and that there were not enough people to populate all the little islands that surrounded the two main islands.

The idea was to be taken out to the island by boat, spend the day, roam around, look at the rookery, and meet the boat and go back. I don't remember what, if anything, was planned for lunch, but it was to be an all-day affair.

We set out mid-morning, dressed 'for the weather', but the weather changes constantly. I remember Nathan was wearing his denim jacket and a hat with ear-flaps that snapped under his little chin . I don't think I had any mittens on him. After all, it was summer. I was wearing a windbreaker that had been treated to be moderately water proof. There was a light drizzle. The temperature was maybe 50. Or 48.

We arrived on the beach and started across the island. I had no idea what to expect and was surprised by the tussock grass. It grew in 'tussocks', hence the name. What this means is that each plant, maybe 3 feet across, grew in a column, building on the roots from the previous years. That meant that there was little level ground. There were paths about 2-3 feet wide between the tussocks. Or you could leap from tussock top to tussock top. That is what the group choose to do. You could see where you were going and, at first, it seemed like a challenge, maybe even fun.

We leapt from tussock top to tussock top, either Daddy or I carrying Nathan. We were able to keep that up for maybe an hour. After a while it was just exhausting. Each leap was a bit of a risk, and if you slipped off the wet grass on the top of the tussock, it was a slide of about 4 or 5 feet into the mud below. Yes, the tussocks were that tall. After doing that for about an hour, we decided to walk the paths between the tussocks. You had two choices. You could walk upright and be whipped in the face by the wet blades of grass (think of a spider plant gone berserk) and still not see where you were going, or you could hunch over and avoid being hit in the face. For the most part, we opted for the latter. While carrying a two-year old.

It started to dawn on me that bringing Nathan wasn't our smartest move ever. But, in our defense, I had no idea what we were getting into, and we really didn't have anyone to leave him with. And he was there, so, of course we pressed on. We started to hear the sounds of the rookery up ahead, so knew we were getting close. The other way we could tell was the smell and the growing muck under foot. It had been muddy before, but this was 'special' mud, even more slippery and disgusting than before. It was very suffucating under the tussock. You couldn't stand up, so your back hurt. You couldn't see where you were going, so you had the feeling that you were making no progress at all. Each tussock looked like the one you had just passed and the one on either side of you. The path wasn't straight (they were native to the island, not planted in neat rows) so we could have been wandering around in circles for all we knew. And the blades (there is a reason they are called blades -- they are sharp and cut) would still whip you in the face, just less than if you tried to walk upright.

Finally, we got to the other side of the island where the rookery was. The tussock ended and we could breathe again. We stood up and stretched. This was a good break, but we still had a dilemma. We were on the other side of the island -- from where we were going to be picked up. And on this side of the island, there was no beach, just a cliff and rocks that dropped off into the sea. We had a choice of going back through the tussocks or going around the island's perimeter on the rocks. While carrying a two-year old.

The group opted for the latter. I can tell you, I had had enough of the tussocks. I just had no idea what lay ahead. At this point, Daddy took Nathan. (Thank goodness!) It probably took us another hour and a half to climb around those rocks. It was really treacherous. I was doubtful each time I had to leap or climb. Fortunately, Daddy is strong and managed to keep his balance while holding Nathan and tip toeing from rock to rock, barely reaching to make it. My heart was in my mouth most of the time.

Finally we arrived back at the beach. We were all exhausted, wet, cold, and miserable. I think there was an abandoned shepherd's hut at the top of the hill that we waited in till the boat came. At least we were out of the rain, but not warm. And I don't think we had two crackers between us. At least, I hadn't pack anything. I was so relieved to be off the tussocks and off the rocks, I just couldn't wait until the boat came.

When it finally did, it just sat there in the harbor. We couldn't figure out why he wasn't coming in with the dinghey to get us. Then someone spotted the seals. You know those cute animals they train to perform at Sea World? Those sweet-eyed, soft as silk animals? Yes, those. There were leopard seals between the boat and the beach, so the captain wouldn't come and get us. It was too big a risk. A leopard seal will tip a boat, or so we heard. So we waited. Finally the seals left the harbor and we were fetched and on the homeward journey.

History is repeating itself. Cancer has become my Weddell Island.