A morning of driving around Godthul, South Georgia. We sailed through a narrow gap in the mountains into this wineglass-round cove, steep scree-covered walls with occasional grassy ledges and craggy cliffs rising out of the water, hundreds of metres high. Our landing site was a gravel beach alive with fur seals and king penguins. I was one of the first on the water and for a time, I was all alone. There was a light swell and no breeze. We are supposed to drive around for a while on low throttle to warm up the engine. So I did that. Is there anything better? Slow moves. The gentle pulse of the ocean.
Later we hiked up a steep tussock slope to a beautiful glacial lake.
A few of the passengers were frustrated with the pace of the walk - they found themselves too slow for the fast group, and too fast for the slow group. Their solution - to blaze their own trail somewhere in the middle - was less than satisfactory for those of us tasked with guiding them, so I jumped up ahead to walk with them.
We walked together slowly, more slowly than anyone, pausing to take in the beautiful lush moss beds, lichen-covered rocks and a flicker of movement in the tussock. You have to walk slowly to notice the flicker. And in a moment the flicker becomes a figure, a living beating thing moving through blades of green.
It was a South Georgia pipit, the southernmost passerine (songbird) on earth. And they sing a sweet song. These tiny, mottled, sand-and-dirt coloured birds are recovering extraordinarily from near-extinction. Until a couple of years ago, introduced rats were running rampant across South Georgia, decimating their population. The South Georgia Heritage Trust recently completed a comprehensive rat era(t)ication program, which seems to have been successful. Apparently only a few years ago it was extremely rare to spot a South Georgia pipit. This year we’re seeing them everywhere. I find it heartening to see such these tiny songbirds bouncing back with such vitality. Who would have thought they would multiply like this, so quickly? The ceaseless press of life seeking life. It gives me hope.