From Ushuaia, Argentina, to the Cape Verde Islands: 19 March to 23 April 2004
Trip Report by Tony Marr, Tour Leader

Summary
This was the fourth Atlantic Odyssey for Tony Marr on behalf of WildWings, and the most successful so far. Every island endemic species was seen on this extraordinary journey of 8,500 statute miles from the icy cold of Antarctica to the tropical heat of West Africa. As a seabird trip, it once again confirmed claims by previous participants, illustrated by articles in birding journals, to be probably the best pelagic birding trip anywhere in the world. Highlights this year included 8 Emperor Penguins, 7,500 Antarctic Petrels and 3,000 Snow Petrels in one day in the pack ice of the Weddell Sea; Wandering Albatross at the nest with young, South Georgia Pipit and tens of thousands of King Penguins on South Georgia; thousands of seabirds around Gough Island, including 50 Tristan Albatrosses, 1,200 Little Shearwaters of the race elegans and thousands of Northern Rockhopper Penguins, while Gough Moorhens and Gough Buntings were seen at close quarters from Zodiacs; in the Tristan/Nightingale/Inaccessible Island group, the endemic Tristan Thrush, Tristan Bunting, Grosbeak Bunting and Inaccessible Island Rail, the worlds smallest flightless bird, alongside breeding Atlantic Yellow-nosed and Sooty Albatrosses, Great Shearwaters and Spectacled Petrels; on St. Helena, the endemic Wirebird, or St. Helena Plover; and on Ascension Island thousands of breeding Sooty Terns, egg-laying Atlantic Green Turtles, 3,000 endemic Ascension Frigatebirds, Red-billed and White-tailed Tropicbirds, and Masked, Brown and Red-footed Boobies. From Ascension to the Cape Verde Islands we added Fea's Petrel, Cape Verde Shearwater, Little Shearwater of the race boydi, Leach's and European Storm-petrels, Sabine's Gull and Roseate Tern to the final trip list.
Most of the WildWings group flew home from Ascension Island on 15 April, when after four weeks at sea we had recorded 8 species of penguin, 10 forms of albatross, 17 petrel species, 4 prions, 4 shearwaters, 5 storm-petrels, 3 diving-petrels, 2 tropicbirds, 3 boobies, and 7 forms of skua. Add the numerous marine mammals and the wide range of South American species seen around Ushuaia before departure, and it makes for an outstanding and unique expedition cruise.
This annual trip is the repositioning voyage of the ice-strengthened Russian former research vessel Professor Molchanov from Antarctica back to Europe before it heads north to the Arctic for the summer there.

Ushuaia, Tierra del Fuego, Argentina (17-19 March)
We got off to a great start on the day before our departure with a very successful outing to the National Park where we found (inter alia) Andean Condors, Spectacled Ducks, Austral Pygmy Owl, Black-chested Buzzard Eagle, White-throated, Chimango and Southern Caracaras, Patagonian Tyrants, White-throated Treerunner and in a last-minute cliffhanger, a pair of magnificent Magellanic Woodpeckers. Most of the group spent the morning of 19 March along the shore at Ushuaia between the scenic splendour of the local rubbish tip and the delicate fragrance of the abattoir, and were rewarded with Magellanic Penguins; many more Southern, Chimango and White-throated Caracaras; Flying and Flightless Steamer Ducks, Chiloe Wigeon, Speckled Teal and Yellow-billed Pintail; Rock Shags and Imperial Shags; Black-faced Ibises; Magellanic and Blackish Oystercatchers; Turkey Vultures and American Kestrel; Southern Lapwings and Long-tailed Meadowlarks.
We sailed that evening down the Beagle Channel, where the birders were out on deck, seeing the first Black-browed Albatrosses, Southern Giant Petrels and Sooty Shearwaters of the voyage. It was not long before a Magellanic Diving-petrel was spotted on the water, and plenty of Magellanic Penguins in small groups moved aside as the ship approached. With Chilean Skuas, South American Terns, South American Sealions and South American Fur Seals, the trip was off to a good start.

Drake Passage (20-21 March)
Results over the two-day crossing were very satisfying, with several species of albatross (Wandering, including the Tristan form, Southern Royal, Black-browed and Grey-headed) and a variety of other tubenoses. These included Southern and Northern Giant Petrels, White-chinned and Soft-plumaged Petrels, Blue Petrels, Sooty Shearwaters, and several unidentified diving-petrels. Wilsons and Black-bellied Storm-petrels danced over the waves in the wake of the ship, whilst identification skills were severely put to the test by the prions, sweeping round the ship just too far away for most to be positively identified. One or two Slender-billed Prions were separated from the others on the first day and Antarctic Prions on the second. As we approached the South Shetlands, we identified our first Kerguelen Petrels and a Grey Petrel, both species unusual here, plus more Soft-plumaged and the first Cape Petrels and Antarctic Fulmars to greet our arrival in Antarctica.

South Shetland Islands (21 March)
On a late afternoon landing at Aicho Island we were welcomed by a mixed committee of Gentoo and Chinstrap Penguins. As they had already finished their breeding season, they were quite relaxed about our presence and allowed us to come close enough to get good photographs - they obviously did not know about the five metre rule for approaching wildlife established for visitors by IAATO (International Association of Antarctic Tour Operators). At close quarters, Aitcho Island turned out to be rather green and fertile, at least by Antarctic standards, and mosses and lichens covered much of the ground. Our Expedition Leader Peter Balwin led us on a short walk along a narrow track up the slope away from the beach, to make sure we caused as little damage as possible to the fragile environment, until we reached a plateau which was home to a number of several breeding Southern Giant Petrels whose fluffy chicks were sitting on their nests, waiting for the parents to come back with food. A group of miserable-looking Gentoo Penguins were standing still on the hillside, enduring their three-week moult, when they cannot go out to sea and find food until their winter coat of new feathers has grown through and the old feathers have been replaced. We then proceeded down another slope towards the beach on the far end of the island. which featured volcanic ruins with basalt columns, some raised beaches and a large brackish lagoon. Both Southern Giant Petrels and Brown Skuas were here in large numbers, and on the far shore some Antarctic Fur Seals were asleep. We returned to the ship at dusk and sailed eastwards into the Bransfield Strait and on towards the Antarctic Peninsula as darkness descended.

Antarctic Sound (22 March)
By next morning we were cruising between the large tabular icebergs for which this stretch of water is renowned, to reach Brown Bluff, where we planned to set foot on the seventh continent. We duly celebrated this important moment with a group photograph as soon as everyone was ashore, and then had time to explore the beach, which was covered with large boulders and snow and ice. Most penguins had already left for the sea, but there were still small groups of moulting birds here and there, mostly Gentoos, but with some Adelies as well. These dainty, elegant penguins, with their white eye-ring, are very characteristic of the Antarctic Sound. Pale-faced Sheathbills and Brown Skuas were present in substantial numbers, carrying out their role as Antarcticas dustmen, cleaning up droppings and corpses of dead young penguins, of which there were many. These had probably died of starvation when the parents were unable to find enough krill and fish to rear both their young, and in some broods only one chick would have survived. This is natures form of insurance, in years of plenty both young living and boosting the population.
In the afternoon we landed at the Argentinian Base of Esparanza at Hope Bay, where we were warmly welcomed on such a bitterly cold day. There were few birds here, but it was interesting to be shown round the buildings, which include a hospital and a school, and to meet the members of the wintering party of 50 or so people, including 21 children, who will be here for the next six months through the long, cold, dark Antarctic winter.
We then proceeded further south, heading towards tomorrow mornings destination in the Weddell Sea, through Fridjov Sound, a narrow channel between the Tabarin Peninsula, the north-eastern corner of the Antarctic Peninsula, and nearby Andersson Island. Fridjov Sound turned out to be full of large tabular icebergs, and most of us stayed on the bridge to observe how skilfully our Captain, Vladimir Kobets, and First Officer, Andrey Ponomarev, carefully navigated through these difficult icy waters with their strong currents. The birders were rewarded with a brief sighting of an elusive Snow Petrel, and several whales, including Humpbacks and Minkes, were seen briefly between the large icebergs. After dark several of us ventured up on to the bridge again, and were rewarded with views of Snow Petrels flying around like moths in the strong searchlights as the ship threaded its way between the numerous large icebergs in a horizontal blizzard. Later in the evening the anchor was lowered off Devil's Island, a small island close to the larger Vega Island in the north-western Weddell Sea.

Weddell Sea (23 March)
The temperature was -8.6 degrees C as we went ashore on to the beach at Devil's Island. The water, at -1.7 degrees C, was as cold as it could be, with young pancake ice forming everywhere on the surface as a precursor to it freezing over completely. The site is home to a large colony of Adelie Penguins during the short Antarctic summer but was now largely deserted. Just a very few adults were enduring their three-week period of moulting before heading out to sea for the winter. Around the hillsides, empty but for the frozen corpses of hundreds of young Adelies which hadnt made it, were flocks of South Polar Skuas, totalling just over 50 in all, which delighted our keen birders and photographers. After two hours, we returned to the ship, and as we recovered from the intense cold with hot drinks, the anchor was raised and we turned northwards. This was the southernmost point of our long journey, and now the ship headed north-east towards Paulet Island, our last Antarctic destination.
The wind had completely died down and the sun came out to make it the most perfect of days. Soon the almost symmetrical cone of Paulet was visible from many miles away as we steadily approached through the ice. Seals and birds sat on the floes basking in the sunshine, and the occasional Minke Whale was seen. With the icebergs shining in the sunshine all round us, we reached our landing place at Paulet, which in summer is home to one of Antarctica's largest colonies of Adelie Penguins. As with the other landing sites, this large rookery for which the island is famous was already almost completely deserted. After climbing up a steep short slope behind the beach, we then moved on to visit a frozen lake in one of the old craters of the volcano, after which we made a loop back to the beach. Antarctic Fur Seals were hauled out everywhere, and Pale-faced Sheathbills were busily looking for food. Following the shoreline, we soon reached a large rock close to a steep boulder slope, both of which were home to more Sheathbills and large numbers of Antarctic Shags which had not yet left their colony. The remarkably tame Shags allowed us great photo opportunities. Half a dozen Weddell Seals were stretched out in the sunshine asleep on or close to the beach.
Reluctantly we returned to the ship to resume our journey north-eastwards towards the Subantarctic islands of the South Orkneys and South Georgia. On such a glorious evening nearly every passenger was up on the bridge or on deck as we passed huge numbers of icebergs of every shape and size on our way through the Weddell Sea. We seemed to be surrounded by seals, mostly Crabeaters and Antarctic Fur Seals, together with a few Weddells, all hauled out to rest on ice floes. Minke Whales were very numerous, and around 40 altogether were estimated.
Later in the evening, some tireless individuals were to be found up on the bridge, unable to drag themselves away from the sight of the ship slowly making its way through endless ice and snow which the powerful searchlights lit up like daylight. The Captain and his officers were glued to the two radar screens, as they carefully picked their route through the seemingly impenetrable mass of ice ahead of us. Snow Petrels appeared in the lights, and the occasional penguin, dazzled and confused, shuffled off the ice floes and swam away. Snow fell for much of the time. This irresistible sight held several people in its grip until well into the night, by which time some 100 or more Snow Petrels had been estimated. It was truly a night to rememberÖ..

The pack ice (24 March)
Shortly after first light, ships ornithologist Tony Marr spotted an adult Emperor Penguin passing on an ice floe, seen also by several other early rising birders. Soon afterwards he informed us from the bridge that the chances for further observations of these high Antarctic penguins ought to be quite good. And there was no chance to have breakfast undisturbed, as the first Emperor was indeed soon followed by a number of other observations. There was by now an air of great excitement throughout the ship as we followed the situation from the bridges messages, and the catering and cabin staff were to be seen out on the decks with their cameras, photographing in particular one fine adult Emperor which stood obligingly on an ice floe close to the stern of the ship. The final tally was no fewer than eight, all adults, and easily beating last years group of three.
Throughout the morning, the ship made its way slowly yet very carefully through the seemingly endless pack ice. At times the Captain had to nudge aside large floes to make a way through, and although there were few icebergs of any size, the amount and scale of the ice was quite extraordinary. Everywhere there were Snow Petrels, dozens and dozens of them as far as the eye could see, and before long increasing numbers of the rarer Antarctic Petrel began to appear, many of them in flocks. A few Antarctic Fur Seals were hauled out on to the ice, and the odd Antarctic Tern appeared, but the icy scene was dominated by the two petrel species. Time and time again, we would reach clear water, only to see yet more sea ice ahead of us.
Shortly after lunch, we approached the final field of heavy sea ice, with larger floes through which we had to fight our way towards the open sea visible to the north. A Leopard Seal and several Crabeater Seals were on the last area of ice. The wind was by now getting up, and the ocean swell started to make itself felt, letting us know that we would soon be leaving the ice for good. It had been an amazing experience, from the remarkable and endlessly fascinating ice landscape itself to the extraordinary selection of truly Antarctic birdlife. The swell was by now increasing and caused some movement of the ship, so we had to make our way around the decks very carefully. But the wildlife was still spectacular, with even larger flocks of Antarctic Petrels around us and still many Snow Petrels. In one amazing few minutes in mid-afternoon, a huge flock of Antarctic Petrels ahead of the vessel proved to contain 5,000+ birds, sweeping and swirling all around us as we passed some large icebergs. When later we added up our petrel totals, we were astonished to find that the day had produced some 7,500 Antarctic and 3,000 Snow Petrels, unprecedented on previous Atlantic Odysseys. With our eight Emperor Penguins, we had surely had an unforgettable day, and one of the best ever for many of the birders aboard.

At sea between Weddell Sea and South Georgia (25-26 March)
Yesterday's slow progress through the sea ice had lost us a lot of time, and we had to change course and give up the scheduled visit to the South Orkneys to ensure that we arrived on time in South Georgia. There were not likely to be any additional species to be seen there, from experience of previous visits, which was explained carefully to the passengers before the decision was finalised. Last night had been more than a little rough, and on the morning of 25th visibility was quite poor, so watching for birds and other wildlife sightings was mostly from the bridge out of the wind and spray. A vagrant Franklins Gull, a North American species which winters in South America, was watched circling the ship for over half an hour, a rare sight in these waters at just about 60&Mac176;S, the northern political boundary of Antarctica. It was 434 nautical miles to the south-west of South Georgia.
Even stranger, a number of migrating Cattle Egrets had apparently become lost in the storm, managing to find our little ship in the middle of the boundless ocean, and decided to settle for some rest here. Of a total of 14 following the ship, four came aboard between 0930 and 1100. Tony and some of the other birders collected these exhausted birds and offered them a temporary home in the hospital in empty wine boxes from the bar. The other 10 flew on strongly north-eastwards, remarkable for birds which had probably left The Falklands or Argentina many hours or even days before, heading to who-knows-where?
Sadly, they were likely to perish, as they are not at all adapted to the harsh conditions of the Southern Ocean and its remote islands. If the cold weather and lack of natural food did not finish them off, the merciless Skuas probably would. The least that could be hoped for is that they could recharge their batteries on board and perhaps fly back home again from South Georgia, but that is a very remote possibility. It was definitely worth a try, so we fed them regularly with small pieces of pork meat washed down with plenty of water.
In addition to the seabirds, such as over 900 Antarctic and several Fairy Prions, White-chinned and Kerguelen Petrels, Light-mantled Sooty and Grey-headed Albatrosses, and Cape and Blue Petrels, the birders spotted a number of distant whale blows. These proved to be five Sei Whales, and five other whales which could not be seen well enough to be identified. A dead Antarctic Prion was found under the freezer container on the aft deck, and examined in the hand. It had a broken neck, doubtless the result of hitting part of the ship during the preceding rough night. It was educational to be able to study one of these small seabirds in the hand, as they are so difficult to separate when at sea.
By the morning of 26th the sea had calmed down considerably and visibility had definitely improved, and it was soon to become a good day for wildlife observations. The first King Penguins were seen swimming in the sea, proving that South Georgia was finally approaching. Several enormous Wandering Albatrosses were constant travelling companions of the Professor Molchanov, including two of the fairly distinctive Tristan form, and other seabirds were always around in good numbers. A huge passage of Blue Petrels was estimated to have totalled over 3,000 in the day, and what proved to be the last Antarctic Fulmars and Cape Petrels of the trip were recorded. Some of the seabird families present real identification challenges, and today we met our first difficulties with prions and diving-petrels. We separated 100+ Antarctic Prions from 12 Fairy and 4 Slender-billed Prions, with another 1,000+, more distant birds, remaining unidentified. The diving-petrels were identified as 7 Georgian and 10 Common, leaving a further 10 unidentified.
Shortly before 1000, some special guests gave us the honour of their company for almost 20 minutes. A group of 5 Hourglass Dolphins appeared right next to the ship and stayed with us, swimming amazingly close to the bow, despite our speed of 12 knots. These beautiful marine mammals stayed close to the surface all the time, allowing us plenty of great photographic opportunities. The only other marine mammals seen were three unidentified whales and ten Antarctic Fur Seals.
During the morning, the weather had cleared steadily, and finally the sun greeted us in the afternoon. Increasing number of King Penguins and Wandering Albatrosses indicated the presence of land not too far away.

South Georgia (27-28 March)
27 March - Within 30 minutes of a wake-up call from our Expedition Leader early on 27th, we had boarded the Zodiacs and were stepping ashore on the northern side of a bay at the south-eastern corner of South Georgia called Cooper Bay. Large icebergs were visible out at sea, and had slowed down our arrival during the night. We were greeted by a good selection of typical South Georgia wildlife, particularly King and Gentoo Penguins, Southern Elephant Seals and many Antarctic Fur Seals. The Fur Seals required respectful attention as most were quite aggressive, although not as bad as they would have been earlier in the breeding season.
We had carried ashore with us four cardboard boxes - our precious cargo of Cattle Egrets. After two days at sea, they were now to be released on dry land. When we opened the boxes, three flew off together strongly, climbing high into the sky and away over the bay. The fourth one hesitated before slowly flying off. He who hesitates is lost, they say, and so it probably proved to be in this case. No sooner was the bird aloft than a Brown Skua chased it, then a second one joined in, and within a few minutes eight skuas were after it. They disappeared within a few minutes out of sight round a corner of the bay, so we were fortunately spared the sight of the egrets fate. It was significant that this bird had refused food over the previous day, and thus was the weakest of the quartet. It took the cunning skuas only a few minutes to realise this. Ensuring the survival of the fittest is after all natures way of maintaining healthy populations, and here we were seeing this in action.
In the first rays of the rising sun, we climbed a fairly steep tussock-covered rocky slope which gave us a great view over Cooper Bay, the majestic mountains of the Drygalski Range towering to the south, and sheltered Cooper Island behind Professor Molchanov resting at anchor. The northern side of Cooper Bay is home to one of South Georgias smaller colonies of Macaroni Penguins which we had come here to visit. It was only a ten minute-walk over the ridge we had just climbed, although not without some excitement as the fur seals were unwilling to let us through their muddy domain. The Macaronis were breeding in the Tussock Grass area, behind which was a slope from which we had a splendid view over these fascinating, colourful birds from quite close range. Although most of them were standing still during their three-week moulting period, the loud braying noises they made were nonetheless impressive. While we were watching them, a Light-mantled Sooty Albatross came over us, and dropped on to a grassy ledge on a nearby cliff end. All too soon, we were back on board the ship and enjoying a hearty breakfast as we sailed to our next destination, Gold Harbour.
Landing on the long black sandy beach was like walking straight into a David Attenborough wildlife film. Hundreds of playful young Fur Seals and colourful King Penguins thronged the shore, and close to the landing site was a large group of Southern Elephant Seals, enjoying their apparently lazy life. Most were sleeping on the black beach, the males sometimes half-heartedly fighting to practice for coming breeding seasons. Being the largest of all the worlds seal species (including the big Walrus of the Arctic), the elephant seals provided an amazing sight, as well as at times sounds and smells that were in the true sense of the word breathtaking. Looking inland from the beach, we could see an impressive colony of King Penguins behind the shore, stretching away into the distance. Surpassed in size only by the mysterious Emperor Penguins of deepest Antarctica, but equally beautiful with their orange head patches, several thousand of them displayed a seemingly endless range of behaviour, most of which was impossible for mere humans to interpret. It seems incredible that the parents coming back from the sea with food for their chicks find their offspring by means of sound. To us, it seemed quite impossible to be able to single out any separate voice from this wall of sound coming from the many thousands of squeaking King Penguin chicks and loudly arguing adults, let alone to be able to identify it. With a background of steep snow-capped mountains, glaciers, and low grass-covered cliffs, the many King Penguins provided an remarkable sight, so typical of many Subantarctic islands. The icing on the cake was provided by a pair of lovely Light-mantled Sooty Albatrosses which were sitting on a high ledge, and which we could see clearly through a telescope despite the distance. Unfortunately the weather this morning, with steady drizzle and rain, made photography difficult and frustrating. At least the winds had been friendly enough to let us go ashore, as these can often be merciless over Gold Harbour and can prevent a landing. Cold and wet began to seep through our layered clothing, and people began to return to the landing site where a Zodiac shuttle was offered to transport us back to the Professor Molchanov from Cold Harbour, as we renamed it. Back aboard, we continued our journey north-westward along the coast, heading now into increasingly strong wind and heavy rain towards Gritvyken for our afternoon landing.
The adverse weather had slowed our progress, and the time spent during our short afternoon at Gritvyken had to be divided between several tempting sites - the Post Office, the excellent Museum, Shackleton's memorial and grave (on opposite sides of the bay in which we anchored) and the remains of the Whaling Station. The main bird target species here was the South Georgia Pintail. En route to the Museum, we passed a couple of South Georgia Shags on the beach by the track, and several Antarctic Terns (of the South Georgia race) were fishing over the Cove. The birders found several South Georgia Pintail in the boggy ground, close to where a large elephant seal had hauled itself out of the water to moult next to the path. Later that night we set course for the Bay of Isles - Wandering Albatrosses, South Georgia Pipits and more, many more, King Penguins...
28 March - Up very early on 28th after another dawn call from Peter, what waited for us ashore was breathtaking, almost out of this world. Salisbury Plain is home to one of the largest King Penguin colonies in South Georgia, if not in the world. Thousands of Kings were standing on the beach, ready to welcome us ashore, but they were just the beginning. After an easy and short walk, we reached the actual colony, which spreads from the back of the beach right up a nearby hillside. It was impossible to guess how many King Penguins were breeding here - some recent estimates suggest there are perhaps in the region of 100.000 breeding pairs. The sight, the sound and last, but certainly not least, the smell, plus the sheer volume of life which seemed to explode here, were almost overwhelming. So much so, that we scarcely noticed the other wildlife present - the hundreds of baby Fur Seals on the beach, yapping at our feet; the Brown Skuas, Sheathbills and Giant Petrels; even an unprecedented flock of 75 South Georgia Pintail flying around. We had plenty of time to digest the extraordinary experience and to take an awful lot of pictures and images, despite the gloomy, wet weather conditions.
After a well-earned breakfast, we repositioned just two miles across the Bay of Isles to Albatross Island, a small island covered in Tussock Grass (and Antarctic Fur Seals) which is so-named with good reason - it is home to several pairs of Wandering Albatrosses which breed here. After a landing which was unusually easy by South Georgia standards, we were met on shore by several South Georgia Pipits, an endemic species now largely confined to smaller offshore islands due to rats introduced on the main island in the recent past by man. The weather had not improved from the early morning, and the rain continued to fall steadily. A little gully offered a route to climb this otherwise relatively steep island. Walking was surprisingly difficult, with some deep mud-holes and slippery grassy slopes. To accord with local environmental guidelines for visitors, we split up into two groups. Peter took one group off to one side, and Tony led the others in the opposite direction. Everyone was duly rewarded with close-up encounters with the Wandering Albatross, the worlds largest flying bird, at its nesting site. As Tony and his group discovered three albatrosses sitting unusually close to each other, Peter and his party made a detour to take their turn to visit this site. The three birds appeared to be two on nests and a third on guard next to them. One of the birds stood up, apparently to fend off a Fur Seal which was annoying it, and revealed a tiny chick in the nest. It displayed the utmost tenderness and care in preening the chick with its enormous beak. The bird on guard even stretched out its wings, showing us the full extent of its almost 12-foot wingspan. It was a humbling experience to be in the close presence of such majestic and serene birds, made all the more awe-inspiring by the failure of any of them to take any notice of us whatsoever. To them, we were totally irrelevant.
As the rain continued relentlessly and the weather showed no sign of improvement, we headed away from Albatross Island and abandoned the idea of a third landing further along the coast. Soon we were heading out to sea and leaving South Georgia behind in the rain and mist. We were now en route to Gough Island, some four to five days away. During the afternoon the birders were straining their eyes to identify the seabirds through the fog and continuing rain as we passed among gigantic icebergs. There were four species of albatross, six of petrels, two of diving-petrels, two of storm-petrels, and two prion species. None of these was new, but all were interesting. Five lucky people saw a pod of three Orcas pass the ship in mid-afternoon, but they were gone so quickly that there was no time to make an announcement about them.

At sea between South Georgia and Gough Island (29 March - 1 April)
29 March - We awoke to find it was still raining, it was still rough and there were still icebergs. There were still plenty of birds too, with four new species appearing during the day - Sooty Albatross, Atlantic Petrel, Great Shearwater and White-bellied Storm-petrel. The most numerous species was Soft-plumaged Petrel, with 200 estimated during the day, and three King Penguins before breakfast were the last to be seen, a long way from their home in South Georgia. On the cetacean front, a rare Southern Bottlenose Whale was seen for a few minutes early in the morning, and three more beautiful Hourglass Dolphins in the late morning, bow-riding and leaping right out of the water, staying alongside the ship for many minutes and enabling most passengers to see them.
30 March - During the day, the wind picked up to reach Force 7 on the Beaufort Scale, but as it came from a favourable direction - from behind, to be precise - it did not slow us down to any considerable degree and we maintained a good speed of more than 12 knots. We continued to be astonished by the large numbers of big icebergs surrounding us despite our now comparatively low latitude of 47-48&Mac176;S. At one time in the early afternoon there were more than 100 visible at one time on the radar screens, and from the bridge and the decks one could see some of the largest and most beautiful we had seen at any time, even when we had been way back down in Antarctica.
The birding was again good, with new species today being a Northern Royal Albatross from New Zealand, and the first Atlantic Yellow-nosed Albatross and Spectacled and Great-winged Petrels. The single Spectacled Petrel was interesting as it was 887 miles from Gough Island, the first island where we would expect to see any numbers of this endangered species. A highlight was undoubtedly a live Antarctic Prion found in one of the Zodiacs by our Bosun Vladimir. It was seen in the hand by everyone before being released and, to our delight, it flew away strongly. In pleasant sunshine, our first since leaving Paulet Island one week ago, we saw a whole range of species already recorded, including Soft-plumaged Petrels which reached a peak of some 300, and included one flock of about 150 around an iceberg. Two more Orcas were briefly seen just before lunch, as before by just a few lucky observers. This species seems determined to elude most of us on this trip.
31 March - We woke up to meet a day typical for this area of the Southern Ocean/South Atlantic: strong winds of up to gale force (8 on the Beaufort Scale) which pushed the waves to heights of up to 6-7 metres, and white foam streaming from their crests. But at the same time, warmer temperatures made it possible to stay outside to enjoy the wide open ocean and the sunshine. We had left the last icebergs behind during the night, and the two engines were pushing us forward at a speed of 12-13 knots towards Gough Island. The birders enjoyed another day of exciting sightings as we progressed steadily north-eastwards. Two separate White-headed Petrels were very rare in this part of the ocean, unfortunately not seen by everyone, and the first Little Shearwaters appeared. It was a great day for albatrosses (6 Black-browed, 5 Grey-headed, 3 Sooty and a Light-mantled Sooty, 2 Snowy and 2 Tristan Wanderers, and one Yellow-nosed); for petrels (50 Soft-plumaged, 20 Kerguelen, 10 Atlantic, 9 Grey, 4 Great-winged, 3 Northern and 1 Southern Giant, the two White-headed mentioned and a Spectacled); for shearwaters (15 Great, 8 Sooty and the 2 Littles mentioned); Storm-petrels (12 White-bellied, 6 Wilsons, 3 Grey-backed and one Black-bellied); and prions (4 Antarctic, 4 Slender-billed and a Fairy).
1 April - What was to be the last day at sea before reaching Gough Island was again full of seabirds, with most of the species seen yesterday recurring. Prions and skuas were a special feature today. The first two (presumed) Tristan Skuas appeared (race hamiltoni of the Subantarctic Skua) and an Arctic Skua was also spotted. Prion identification proved to be very problematic, and of the estimated 5,000 seen during the day, none was identified with complete confidence, but most were considered to be probably Broad-billed, which breeds in the Gough-Tristan group of islands.

Gough Island (2 April)
Cloud-covered on top, the green slopes of Gough Island rose steeply from the sea as we arrived in the early morning after four and a half days at sea. There was a moderate wind and the surf crashed impressively at the foot of the cliffs. Many of us thought about the planned Zodiac cruise with some nervousness - would it be possible to get close to the island? Seabirds were all round us as we approached one of their most important breeding islands in the world. Accurate estimates are hard to obtain for such an inaccessible island, with its vegetated steep cliffs and mountains intersected by deep-sided valleys. Many species breed here, some (like the Atlantic Petrel) nowhere else in the world, and few scientists have visited the island for long enough to obtain accurate censuses or samples, but an overall figure of some 20 million pairs of birds has been suggested.
Certainly as we approached, we were delighted to see hundreds and hundreds of Great Shearwaters and of Little Shearwaters (here of the silver-winged race elegans), and dozens of Atlantic and Soft-plumaged Petrels, Broad-billed Prions (we were now becoming more confident of their identity, thanks to numerous digital pictures taken and analysed), and White-bellied Storm-petrels. There were smaller numbers of Kerguelen, White-chinned, Grey and Great-winged Petrels, one Snowy and several Tristan Wandering Albatrosses, Yellow-nosed, Black-browed and Sooty Albatrosses, and 8 Common Diving Petrels. We paused later below the cliffs to do some chumming (putting out fish as bait to attract seabirds) and pulled in many of these, with no fewer than 52 Tristan Albatrosses at one time (they breed high up on top of Gough), scores of Southern Giant Petrels, 10 Spectacled Petrels, and 30 Tristan Skuas. It was all very impressive and exciting - where should one look next? We passed the South African Weather Station above the cliffs and exchanged radio greetings with some of the eight residents, who told us that we were only the second passenger ship they had seen during the whole summer there.
We then proceeded further north along the south-eastern coast of the island to reach The Glen in Quest Bay, where Peter intended to arrange a zodiac cruise. And indeed, it came as a great relief to all of us - not least to Peter and Tony - that this side of the island was well protected from the heavy swell which was rushing in on the west coast. The sea was almost flat calm as we boarded the Zodiacs at 1015 hours to explore the steep coast. We had two vital endemic species of bird to see - Gough Moorhen and Gough Bunting.
From the ship, we had spotted several colonies of Rockhopper Penguins, so we decided to pay them a visit as we cruised along below the cliffs looking for the Moorhen and the Bunting. Our Zodiac drivers had to find a way through the dense kelp fringe surrounding the island, after which we were able to come as close as ten metres to the narrow, steep boulder beach. And while we were looking at the penguins, the first Gough Bunting was sighted, flying and hopping about in the rocks, soon to be joined by several others. Not long after this, the second hoped-for call was heard: I can see a Moorhen - in fact two! Trying to enable everyone in the four Zodiacs to see them proved difficult, but after several minutes of frustration and uncertainty, all was well and the birds were in the bag, so to speak, to the obvious relief of all the birders. Fur Seals were hauled out on the beach, this time not the Antarctic Fur Seal we had seen so far, but its Subantarctic brothers and sisters which looked quite different with their golden face and chest. They may have looked more attractive, but they seemed to be just as noisy and aggressive as their relatives further south.
With its green covering of dense vegetation, the whole island had a feel of Conan Doyles Lost World, and as Tony said as the Zodiacs moved in close to the beach at The Glen, one could almost expect a dinosaur to appear from the deep valleys running up into the centre of the island. It would no doubt be a GoughosaurusÖ
Among those apparently not so impressed by this primeval landscape were several large Elephant Seals, lying sleepily on the beaches in a few suitable sites on Goughs otherwise steep coastline. We knew that they were living here in small numbers, and it was nice to see the very same species we had already seen in South Georgia in such a different environment.
After an hour and a half in the Zodiacs, and complete success in our quest for the two endemics and the Northern Rockhoppers at close quarters, it was time to return triumphantly to the ship, where at 1300 hours we set course to the north towards Tristan da Cunha. It was a good time to refuel with another tasty lunch which our chefs had prepared for us. After this, the birders continued watching the procession of seabirds which followed us as we left this legendary and magical island, which had lived up to its reputation so well for us this morning. An appropriate ending to a brilliant days seabirding was the appearance of a Shy Albatross later in the afternoon, keeping well behind the ship as befits its name.

Tristan da Cunha (3 April)
The huge volcanic cone of Tristan da Cunha was visible on the horizon when Peters early morning call woke us at 0700 hours. Already before breakfast, most of us were up and about so as not to miss the first glimpse of this remotest of all the inhabited islands on earth. More than 2000m high, it was partly hidden behind some clouds, but we could see steep slopes bathed in sunshine. Many seabirds were around the ship, from tiny White-bellied Storm-petrels, through numerous petrels including Great-winged, Atlantic, Spectacled, White-chinned, Grey, Soft-plumaged and Kerguelen, to huge Sooty and Yellow-nosed Albatrosses. There were hundreds of Great Shearwaters and dozens of Broad-billed Prions. Groups of penguins could be seen gathered along the foot of the cliffs at various points, presumably Northern Rockhoppers, which are the only penguin found here. We arrived off the settlement of Edinburgh in heavy rain showers and sunshine, which produced the most enormous rainbow over the coast with each end in the water on either side, perfect timing and positioning. Despite a fresh wind, the islanders were able to come aboard for the necessary customs and immigration formalities, and soon we were heading shorewards in the Zodiacs. The friendly islanders had arranged two tours for us, one to the top of the site of the volcanic eruption which occurred in 1961, and the other, much more ambitious, to climb to The Base, the plateau on top of the steep cliffs which encircle the elevated interior of the island below Queen Mary's Peak (6,760 feet high). A number of people chose to just stay in and around Edinburgh, some walking the two miles or so to 'The Patches', the small fields where the islanders grow their all-important potato crop.
The dozen or so who chose the hike and climb to The Base included several birders who hoped that they might see an albatross at close quarters, or even one of the few Tristan Thrushes said to be up there. It was a very demanding climb, with fixed ropes provided for the last section, and higher up we climbed into rain and low cloud which prevented us from seeing anything at all. We reached The Base after two hours, where we had our sandwiches in the rain. It was cold and unpleasant, so soon we started back down. Very soon after starting the climb down the steepest part, using the ropes hanging there, we heard a strange clacking sound, and discovered three beautiful adult Yellow-nosed Albatrosses displaying to each other around an empty nest. We were able to approach to within a few yards and watch them from the path as they crossed bills and nodded their heads to each other. One flew off into the fog, leaving the other two to continue with their affectionate pair-bonding, and we, too, soon left them in peace. This unexpected insight into the private life of the albatross was a privilege, and made the whole climb worth all the effort.
We rejoined the others, and found everyone impressed by the peace and tranquility of this remote community of just 270 people. There was an atmosphere of timelessness and calm, accentuated by warm, sunny weather and light winds - not always the situation here, and Tony told us about the 2002 WildWings visit when gale-force winds prevented us landing for two whole days. Part of the quiet atmosphere was through the strange absence of birds on the island, with no chattering sparrows or whistling starlings to break the silence. The presence of Brown Rats, some of which we saw, explains this. The only birds to be seen regularly on our annual visits are Antarctic Terns over the fields, where they feed on caterpillars on the grass; the occasional Tristan Skua; and over the cliffs above, Yellow-nosed and Sooty Albatrosses wheeling about. We saw two Cattle Egrets in 2002 and two in 2003, and there are always plenty of chickens, but we cant count them for our list.
We were joined on the ship in the evening by a dozen islanders for a barbecue, and they stayed overnight aboard to enable us to make a very early start in the morning for our proposed visit to Nightingale Island - another legendary seabird island, and also home to three endemic passerines.

Nightingale Island (4 April)
We left our anchorage off Edinburgh at 0420 hours and reached Nightingale before breakfast, which set us up for a very full day. After breakfast we were quickly into the Zodiacs on a fairly calm morning, with a mixture of showers and occasional sunny periods - good weather for these parts! With help from our drivers and guides, we quickly managed to get everyone ashore on the beautifully wild, rocky coast of Nightingale Island where we were welcomed by Subantarctic Fur Seals - our first close encounter with these animals - and tame Tristan Thrushes and Tristan Buntings hopping about on the flat rocks where we climbed ashore. When everyone had gathered, we followed a track up the rocks and passed by some huts which are used by the Tristan islanders during their occasional visits. Most of them were badly damaged in a catastrophic cyclone in May 2001 and have yet to be repaired. Just beyond and below the huts, some 250 Northern Rockhopper Penguins were standing in groups, coming to the end of their moult before returning to the sea for the winter. With their long golden crests, stout beaks and red eyes, these very appealing penguins (some clearly suffering from a bad hair day) provided a memorable sight and plenty of good photographic opportunities.
But the wildlife which had found protected breeding sites in the Tussock Grass habitat was amazing in its variety and volume, from Tristan Buntings and Thrushes to Great Shearwaters and even larger Yellow-nosed Albatrosses. It provided evidence of the richness of the sub-Antarctic and cool-temperate marine ecosystems of the southern hemisphere, whose seabirds can safely gather on this and a small number of similar islands for their short breeding season. To us this was another world, in its remoteness and isolation far removed from the large and overcrowded cities most of us came from, but strangely similar in supporting, albeit temporarily, a huge population as a seabird city.
Yellow-nosed Albatrosses were nesting directly on the path, taking advantage of the space which provided a useful take-off runway through the Tussock Grass. Being immature, the birds did not yet display the yellow stripes on the bill which gives the species its name, but with or without such stripes, these huge seabirds were graceful and beautiful. They let us come as close as a metre - the dense Tussock did not allow to pass at a distance greater than that - but expressed their displeasure by clattering their bills at us as we squeezed by. Alongside the path were hundreds of small corpses. These were of Broad-billed Prions, some of which still had their heads intact so that we could study the extraordinary wide black bill which gives the bird its name. They are also called Whalebirds, because like whales they eat krill, and they have similar lamellae fronds at the side of their bill through which they sieve their food and squeeze out the seawater. They would have been killed by the rapacious Tristan Skuas, which wait for them to return from the sea at dusk with food for their chicks in small burrows beneath the Tussock Grass and kill and eat them, or feed them to their own chicks. Its a tough world out there.
As we slowly ascended the path up the hill towards the top of Nightingale Island, we had splendid views over the island, its tiny satellite islands of Middle and Stoltenhoff, and the endless South Atlantic with its hazy horizon, upon which we could just make out the distant distinctive shape of Tristan, 22 nautical miles away. In the higher parts of the hills, the dense Tussock vegetation was mixed with small trees, most of which had been badly damaged or killed during the infamous hurricane of May 2001, but which were now clearly regenerating. After approximately an hour, we reached a plateau between the hill tops where the otherwise dense vegetation gave way to a swampy area with scattered trees and bushes. It was here we hoped to find the rare and elusive Grosbeak Bunting, a scarce endemic which last years Odyssey had failed to find. After perhaps half an hour, and after looking at numerous Tristan Buntings, some observers spotted a Grosbeak Bunting, with its heavy blackish bill, and people quickly assembled for a genuine twitch. Before too long, virtually everyone had had adequate views of two or three, and could add it to their list. Another endemic was under the belt.
On the way back down to the shore, by now on a lovely warm day, we encountered several Great Shearwaters using the track as a runway. Their technique was simple. They would run out from under the grass, climb quickly up to the top of a convenient rock in the path, and jump off the top, heading downhill with flailing wings. Sometimes they crashed into people below, or more often brushed their heads as they passed overhead with a loud whoosh of their wings. It was a well-established habit - the rocks were all lined with the scratch marks made by millions of claws over many millenia.
Back on board, we were delighted to learn that we were now heading for Inaccessible Island, where our guides were to try to get us ashore to look for the world's smallest flightless bird, the Inaccessible Island Rail. Last year, the Professor Molchanov had been the first-ever passenger ship permitted and able to land there, and we had seen the Rail - would the weather be as kind to us on this occasion?

Inaccessible Island (4-5 April)
4 April - The landing was successful, on a narrow stony beach beneath the island's near-vertical 1,000 foot cliffs. Now our keen birdwatchers had some very serious business to do, particularly Tony as the ships ornithologist. At the western end of the beach, a small Tussock Grass area was known to be home for the Inaccessible Island Rail. An impressive array of optical and photographic equipment was soon in position, but despite extensive searching through the grass and the maze of tunnels beneath it by Tony and an islander, the bird was not in the mood to show up. Finally Tony decided to try a second beach 700 metres further to the east.
Peter called for the Zodiacs, and in a swift repositioning operation we were soon all standing on the beach at the second site. A narrow waterfall cascaded down from the vertical cliffs to feed a little lake which some Fur Seal pups had taken over and turned into a swimming pool. The non-birders walked over to enjoy this idyllic scene, but most of us were on the important mission of becoming members of the exclusive Inaccessible Island Rail Club for those lucky few people who have ever seen the species.
This beach was much more open than the previous one, with large spaces in the grass through which one should be able to see the birds if they were present and running about. There were also far fewer Fur Seals to disturb the rails than at the first landing place. Behind the ruins of an old building, a reasonably narrow block of Tussock Grass was selected as a promising target area. Everybody lined up with telescopes and cameras near the building, and Tony and the islanders started to walk through the grass from several hundred meters away. Within just a few minutes up went the shout Someones got one!, and after some initial confusion and irritation, eventually everyone obtained good, prolonged views of probably half a dozen in various parts of the beach. Some video was obtained also. Vladimir our irrepressible Bosun and Zodiac driver came eyeball-to-eyeball with one when he decided to crawl under some grass close to the beach, and several other people shared a similar experience. The islanders almost caught two of the birds, and several others were heard calling, so the total was probably about ten present. Mission accomplished, to great ecstasy (and relief) all round. Soon we were heading back towards Tristan, whose 2,060 metre-high volcano penetrated the cloud cover and was bathed in the last rays of the evening sun.
5 April - The three days we had made available to spend in the island group of Tristan da Cunha included one spare day in case of bad weather, a necessary precaution in these waters, but as luck had been very much on our side, we had completed all our important landings by yesterday evening. Peter and Tony decided to use one half of this bonus day to consolidate our Tristan experience by revisiting Inaccessible and circumnavigating the island, pausing for a while to do some chumming for seabirds, especially the rare Spectacled Petrel, which breeds there and nowhere else in the world. We would then leave around noon, to add more time to our stay in St. Helena, our next destination. Leaving our safe anchorage off Tristan at about 0645 hours, we found that conditions were rougher than yesterday, so a landing would probably have been out of the question. However, this was not on the plan anyway, as we would have needed local guides again and we had not made any arrangements for this in view of yesterdays complete success. As soon as we had found some shelter in the lee of the dramatic cliffs, a bucket of food scraps and some unneeded fish was made available and taken down to the aft deck.
To begin with, the birds reacted somewhat reservedly to our offerings, and the Captain had to go through several changes of course to find a good position which the seabirds considered appropriate to join and where the light suited the photographers. And indeed, the birds then did come to follow us, in a complete feeding frenzy. The numbers of various seabirds close to the stern deck where we had gathered were impressive, mostly hundreds of Great Shearwaters but several Spectacled Petrels and Tristan, Yellow-nosed and Sooty Albatrosses. Even Antarctic Terns were diving into the wake and picking up the smaller pieces of fish. Unfortunately, the weather let us down at the height of the frenzy with heavy rain, but it was good timing, as Tony and Jenny, who were throwing out the bait, had run out of fish at that very moment anyway.
We retreated to the bridge or to sheltered spots on the outside decks, as we now proceeded around South Hill, the 347 metre-high vertical rock wall which marks the southernmost point of the island, and Pyramid Rock.. As soon as we had passed these, West Point came into sight. Being the only sizeable flat area of Inaccessible Island at sea level, this was the site where a scientific expedition many years ago had built a hut which was replaced by a new hut in 2000. Heavy surf broke on the boulder beach and dismissed even the slightest thought of a landing, had we wanted one there. Soon we were out in the rather turbulent open sea, and on our way to our next island destination, St. Helena. We continued to look back as long as Inaccessible and Nightingale remained in sight - the main island was hidden beneath some clouds - to silently say our individual goodbyes to these remote and dramatic islands. They had revealed so many of their secrets to us in such a short time that most of us had the feeling that we had spent at least a week here.
Then it was time for lunch, before we faced the first afternoon of a number of what should be calm and relaxing days at sea. The opportunity to unwind was greatly welcomed after the intense two days we had just left behind us. The birders, of course, never give up, and continued watching until poor light stopped play. A number of seabirds had followed us away from Inaccessible, including Spectacled and White-chinned Petrels, a few White-bellied Storm-petrels and the occasional albatross. How long, we wondered, would they be in our wake as we headed north towards the Tropics?

At sea between Tristan and St. Helena (6-9 April)
6 April - Several of last nights birds were still with us - an immature Yellow-nosed Albatross, a Great-winged Petrel, up to 14 Soft-plumaged and 11 Spectacled Petrels, two Atlantic Petrels, a Great and two Sooty Shearwaters and three White-bellied Storm-petrels were seen during a long days watching. As yet, these southern cold-water species had not been replaced by any northern warm-water or tropical ones.
7 April - Birds were becoming scarcer - today just 15 of four species were seen despite assiduous watching from dawn to dusk. These were one Soft-plumaged and up to 8 Spectacled Petrels, 3 Wilsons and 3 White-bellied Storm-petrels.
8 April - Birds dropped to an all-time low of four, and of those, only two were definitely identified. One was a Spectacled Petrel, the last of those following us for the past two and a half days from Inaccessible Island, and which was seen to settle on the sea in the early morning and was not seen again; it had presumably by then had enough of following us and had decided to return south. A Sooty Shearwater was the other positive identification. The other two birds were thought to be a shearwater of some species, and a probable Madeiran Storm-petrel.
9 April - It was a better day for birds, with an increase to 15 birds of six species - the first Bulwers Petrel and Red-billed Tropicbirds (two), two Sooty Shearwaters, 5 Madeiran Storm-petrels, a Long-tailed Skua and four Arctic Terns. We had by now left behind the cold-water species and were into tropical birding.

St. Helena (10-11 April: Easter Saturday & Sunday)
10 April - Early risers saw the first rays of the rising sun, filtered through a thin cloud cover, shedding their light on the impressive silhouette of St Helena as we came in from the south-east after a very rough night at sea. As we sailed northwards up the west coast into more sheltered waters, a large pod of probably 200 Pantropical Spotted Dolphins suddenly showed up all around the ship and gave us a very friendly welcome to St Helena waters. They were joined by a variety of tropical birds - Brown and Black Noddies, several Masked and one Brown Booby, White Terns, Red-billed Tropicbirds, and several Madeiran Storm-petrels. Many small boats appeared at anchor, and then Jamestown became gradually visible. We had made it - 1,331 nautical miles (2,465 kilometers) from the cool of temperate Inaccessible Island to the heat of tropical St. Helena in just four and a half days.
The keen birdwatchers set immediately off for a morning excursion to see the endemic Wirebird, or St. Helena Plover, on Deadwood Plain, not far from Napoleons House at Longwood. We stopped at the golf course, where one was seen briefly before it flew off, and then spent an hour at their main breeding area in the fields at Deadwood Plain. Here one or two birds were sitting on nests in the long grass, and others out in the open, showing their long, spindly legs which give the bird its local name. About 20 were seen in all and some excellent pictures obtained, despite the very windy conditions.
In the early afternoon it was time for our popular boat excursion down the coast to see the dolphins and seabirds, an annual Atlantic Odyssey event here. Local boatman Graham Sim was our guide on the Gannet Three, which picked us up from the pier. Everybody soon found a comfortable place on board, and we were able to move around freely but with great care, as it was surprisingly windy. Very soon a large pod of Pantropical Spotted Dolphins - probably our friends from this morning - approached the boat and showed off with a great display before our gathering of paparazzi and spectators. Their playful bow-riding, leaping out of the water and even twisting high into the air, was so entertaining that we wondered if they were under contract to the local tourist office.
Close to the southern tip of the main island, in increasingly windy and choppy conditions, we approached a group of small satellite islands, the largest of which was Speery Island. A circumnavigation of Speery was the highlight of the excursion, and in the prevailing conditions it was a truly moving experience. Unafraid of the wild surf, our fearless skipper navigated the little boat amazingly close to the vertical rock walls of Speery Island, right under the cliffs, and stayed for several minutes to enable us to take photographs of the Masked Boobies, Madeiran Storm-petrels, Red-billed Tropicbirds and White Terns wheeling around above us in the windy sky. The idea of a complete circumnavigation of St. Helena along its east coast, fully exposed to the constant trade winds, was definitely not for us. Sailing back the same way, we kept close in to the shoreline, which enabled us to enjoy not only the outcrops of colourful volcanic rocks, but also close-up views of the birds living on the cliffs here. White Terns, Brown Noddies and Black Noddies were all seen well, many on their strange cup-shaped nests sticking to the vertical cliffs.
11 April - An island tour was arranged for the morning, but as the local passerines have all been introduced, this was not a birding trip. Visits were made to Napoleon's tomb and to Longwood House where he lived until his death, and to the Governor's residence at Plantation House with its ancient tortoises on the lawn. The weather was disappointing, and for much of the journey the scenery was shrouded in cloud and rain. At 1400 hours, the botanists among us set off for an afternoons botanical excursion with Basil George and George Benjamin, the latter being St. Helenas premier botanist with an international reputation for both research and protection of the islands unique flora. Having deep roots here himself, he impressed us with the breadth and depth of his knowledge of his subject, and his ability to show us sites which we would never have found without him. The story of the destruction of St. Helenas native flora is a very sad one, but nevertheless we enjoyed an entertaining and educational afternoon with this remarkable man. Despite difficulties with the continuing cloud and fog at higher altitudes, the group managed to see some 18 endemic flowering plants and ferns out of a possible 43. Back on board for a barbecue, and then shortly after 2200 hours it was time to lift anchor and to start the final leg of the journey for many of us - approximately 700 nautical miles to Ascension Island.

At sea between St. Helena and Ascension Island (12-13 April)
12 April - Bird life was better than before St. Helena. By the end of the day, the many observers straining hard into the tropical sun had logged a total of two Bulwers Petrels, a Corys-type Shearwater, a Sooty Shearwater, three Madeiran Storm-petrels and a possible Wilsons, two Red-billed Tropicbirds, single Arctic and Long-tailed Skuas, 5 Arctic and 5 White Terns and two Brown Noddies. Ten Spotted-type Dolphins were seen also, a Whaleshark and some 75 Flying Fish.
13 April - The mix of species today was similar to yesterdays, with 3 Bulwers Petrels, one Corys-type and one Sooty Shearwater, another Red-billed Tropicbird, one Masked Booby and 2 Arctic Terns, but no storm-petrels. New were a White-tailed Tropicbird and in the afternoon, as we were getting closer to Ascension, a flock of 8 Sooty Terns (heard giving their distinctive wideawake call as they passed) and a total of 7 (Ascension) Frigatebirds. Three distant whales and three unidentified dolphins were seen in the area of the Grattan Seamount, and the days Flying Fish total reached about 100.

Ascension Island (14-15 April)
14 April - First light on a very warm morning found us close in to Ascension Island, passing along the coast near the airport where hundreds of Wideawake (Sooty) Terns passed the ship on the way to and from their breeding colonies on the nearby shore. The outline of this rather stark volcanic island, the highest part shrouded in cloud, was quite different from St. Helena which we had just left. Several peaks and ridges were dominated by tall pylons and huge aerials, others by radar domes and early-warning golf balls. It looked rather alien and very high-tech.
We dropped anchor off Georgetown and Customs and Immigration officials came aboard. Clearance was quickly given and after breakfast we Zodiaced across to the pier to start our day on this new island. The drizzle (by now a regular event wherever we landed!) reached us just as we arrived at the pier, where on this high-tech island we had to pull ourselves up by ropes on to the steps, just as at Jamestown in St. Helena. Our hosts were waiting for us with small buses and a Land Rover from the Conservation Department, and soon we were heading through town and off for our island tour.
First stop was the Sooty Tern colony at Wideawake Fairs, below the airfield. Here we spent an unforgettable hour in the presence of thousands of these handsome birds, many with chicks which were being predated by evil-looking Ascension Frigatebirds. The rain stopped and the photographers were in their element. No sooner had Tara George, our guide from the Conservation Department, told us that it was time to leave, and the cameras were being packed away, than the rain resumed. Perfect timing!
The next major site was Green Mountain, where some gaps in the clouds and pauses between showers enabled us to appreciate the appropriateness of the name, although we were told that nearly all the plants were aliens. The view towards the sea was obscured by cloud and rain, so we headed back down to Two Boats Camp, where we were given an excellent lunch. We returned to the town where people spent the afternoon in a variety of activities, from shopping and e-mailing to snorkelling and birdwatching. Two Barn Swallows over the pier were very rare here (we saw one in 2002).
After dinner and the days bird checklist, we returned to the pier for what turned out to be another highlight of the day - watching the female Atlantic Green Turtles laying their eggs in the sandy Long Beach. We were divided into two groups at the Conservation Office, shown a short video on the life of the Green Sea Turtle, and then escorted along the beach by our guides. It is a very good season, they told us, and there were at least 30 females on the beach this evening. Each of our groups had close views of female turtles laying their glossy ping-pong-ball-sized eggs and then covering them up. Some young were seen bursting out of the sand and scuttling down the beach towards the sea at the start of their lives. It was a real privilege to be allowed on to the beach to watch such intimate scenes. Well satisfied, we retired to the Saints Club for a beer before returning to the ship about midnight.
15 April - Ten hardy and rather sleepy souls arose to Peters wake-up call at 0530 hours for those who wanted to return to Long Beach to see the remaining turtles in daylight. In by now characteristic fashion, steady drizzle was falling as we headed shorewards in the Zodiac and climbed the steps on to the pier. It was just getting light as we reached the area we had visited last evening, and in daylight the whole beach looked like a battlefield, with big holes and trenches among the sandy peaks and ridges. We quickly found two adult Turtles, one filling in the hole in which it had laid its eggs, and the other already on its way back into the sea. As the light improved and the rain conveniently stopped, we were able to photograph this very special scene before both these huge turtles had returned to the water and safety. It had been a busy night, as there were at least 40 tracks leading back into the sea. Already Frigatebirds were wheeling and soaring over the beach, swooping down to look for baby turtles, but few were to be seen, and we were spared the sight of them being picked up and swallowed by these aerial predators. After an hour, and by now in more rain, we headed back to the ship and a welcome breakfast.
As we completed our first meal of the day, the ships anchor was raised and we began to move off for our much-heralded circumnavigation of Ascension Island, in an anti-clockwise direction. An hour and a half brought us to the legendary Boatswainbird Island, a relatively small and very vulnerable rock stack which is the world headquarters of the endemic Ascension Frigatebird, and home to huge numbers of other seabirds. We had been told what to expect on this final highlight of the four weeks of the expedition so far, and all we needed now was calm weather for a Zodiac cruise and dry weather for photography. As we approached, after a fairly choppy journey round from Georgetown, the rain started again and the wind got up. Hearts in mouths, we wondered if we would make it.
We need not have worried. Down went the anchor to a huge clattering which echoed around the nearby cliffs. As Tony had predicted from the experience of previous trips, this caused thousands of Frigatebirds to rise high into the sky above the island and wheel round like a huge squadron of B52 bombers. The Zodiacs were launched, the rain cleared away, and for the next hour we were in seabird city, and for many, seabird heaven.
We cruised very slowly along the sheltered side of the island, where every ledge, hole, cave, nook and cranny was full of Black Noddies, Brown Boobies, Red-footed Boobies (of both colour morphs, each with a white tail), White Terns and both Red-billed and White-tailed Tropicbirds. Masked Boobies and Ascension Frigatebirds wheeled around high above us as cameras clicked and videos whirred. The weather was by now perfect and sunny, and the sea was calm. It had indeed turned out to be one of the greatest experiences of the whole trip, and one which will stay in peoples memories for a long, long time.
Back to Georgetown, we enjoyed lunch on board before the last afternoon for the 22 passengers who leave the ship this evening, most of them from the WildWings group. Of these, 20 fly to England with the Royal Air Force tonight, and two will do the same in five days time. Various activities were enjoyed, as yesterday afternoon, and several people relaxed on board or completed their packing. As it got dark, everyone was back aboard the Professor Molchanov for final toasts and drinks together before our farewell dinner as one group. Then it was time for the Zodiacs to take firstly, the luggage, and then finally, the owners of the luggage, ashore to the pier for their bus to the airport. They descended into the Zodiacs and were waved away into the darkness of a hot Ascension evening.
After the departure of most of our friends who would fly home tonight, life on board the Professor Molchanov changed considerably. We had now turned into a small community of five passengers, nine staff and, of course, the Russian Crew. After all the excitement, the heat and the changes of the last two days, we all settled down in the bar for several hours to celebrate the start of the last part of our Atlantic Odyssey. The anchor had been lifted when the last Zodiac had returned from the pier at Ascension, and at 2030 hours we started to sail north for the last long stretch at sea. This would bring us back into the northern hemisphere and finally, in just about one weeks time, to the island of Sal in the Cape Verde Islands.

At sea between Ascension Island and Cape Verde Islands (16-22 April)
16 April - Tony and Mark Yates were the only birders left now, and spent as much of the day as they could manage in the sultry conditions looking out to sea. There were a fair number of birds, with 3 Bulwers Petrels, 14 Madeiran Storm-petrels, the first 10 Leachs Storm-petrels and first 3 European Storm-petrels of the trip, two Masked Boobies, one (immature female) Ascension Frigatebird, 5 Long-tailed Skuas (of which four were lovely adults with full tails - three seen together passing over the bow), 17 Arctic and 60 Sooty Terns, and 36 Black Noddies. On the cetacean front were a pod of 12 Short-finned Pilot Whales and 27 unidentified dolphins.
17 April - The birding was still fairly lively today, with plenty more storm-petrels - no fewer than 28 Leachs, 5 Madeiran and 22 too far off to be identified - and 5 Bulwers Petrels, one Sooty and 3 Arctic Terns, 3 Corys-type Shearwaters, and two unidentified Skuas. The remarkable glassy quality of the sea throughout this windless day made for excellent cetacean viewing as well, and our two resident observers saw two more pods of Short-finned Pilot Whales (one of 30 and another of 10), one other whale and ten distant dolphins. The calm sea revealed an Atlantic Green Turtle swimming by, and many more Flying Fish than before, with over 1,000 estimated. Many were really tiny, and would presumably be well-nigh impossible to see in windier conditions. We crossed the Equator in mid-afternoon, when King Neptune came aboard and made everyone suffer for entering his Kingdom without first seeking his permission.
18 April - The number of birds dropped today as we grew further and further away from the land to the south, and totalled 33 of at least four species - 2 Roseate Terns (first of the trip), 13 Arctic Terns, 9 Leachs Storm-petrels, and 3 Bulwers Petrels, with 5 unidentified Storm-petrels and an unidentified tern (which may have been a Common Tern). It was a windy day, which may explain why no cetaceans were seen.
19 April - There were even fewer birds today - just 22 of 4 species. These were 2 Bulwers Petrels, 2 Sooty Shearwaters, 10 Leachs and 4 unidentified Storm-petrels, and 4 Arctic Terns. A remarkable group of cetaceans were seen by Mark at about 1710 hours together close to the ship. Two were Bottlenosed Dolphins and the others he considered to be a Brydes Whale and 10 False Killer Whales.
20 April - Today was very windy as we pressed on into the prevailing northerly trade wind, and watching was uncomfortable with a lot of spray flying around. Birds totalled 25 of again 4 species, with 3 Bulwers Petrels, 2 Corys-type Shearwaters and 2 possible Balearics, 10 Leachs and 6 unidentified Storm-petrels, one Arctic Tern and a possible Sandwich. Also seen were a single unidentified whale and a shark.
21 April - In the afternoon we reached land, and approached Isla de Santiago, the southernmost island in the Cabo Verde group, to within a distance of only one nautical mile. We then proceeded northwards along the eastern coast of the island, where, maintaining a distance of about a kilometre from the rugged shoreline, we could see details such as spectacular peaks and valleys, palm trees behind idyllic sandy coves and beaches, various small settlements and several shipwrecks along the rocky shoreline upon which the surf was breaking heavily. The sun shed a dramatic light through the clouds on the scenery. The birds today had increased in number and variety as we had approached the island, and they then disappeared as we headed northwards into the very strong wind again. The day produced 4 Bulwer's Petrels, 2 Cory's-type Shearwaters, single Sooty and Little Shearwaters, one Madeiran and four Leach's Storm-petrels, 4 Red-billed Tropicbirds, 14 Arctic Terns and 4 Fea's Petrels, the close relative of the Soft-plumaged Petrels which had been so numerous in the Southern Ocean and the South Atlantic. A shark, possibly a Basking Shark, was seen very briefly in the morning.
22 April - During the night we had proceeded steadily northwards towards the island of Boavista, which greeted us on the horizon at dawn on a lovely sunny morning. As we approached, several Cory's-type Shearwaters could be seen wheeling over the waves, one passing very close to the ship and proving to be a Cape Verde Shearwater from its narrow greyish bill and slim appearance with a longish tapering tail. Three distant Little Shearwaters were seen. We passed within a mile of the small nature reserve island of Curral Velho, where Brown Boobies and Red-billed Tropicbirds could be seen in flight and on the island. In the afternoon as we reached the low island of Sal, two Sabine's Gulls, several more Cape Verde Shearwaters and a group of five close Little Shearwaters were seen, the last birds to be seen on this Atlantic Odyssey. Soon it was time for the remaining passengers and crew to be taken ashore for the coach to the International Airport and their flights home to numerous destinations across Northern Europe and beyond. Another Atlantic Odyssey was over....

Conclusion
There was no doubt that this was by far the most successful of the four Atlantic Odysseys in which WildWings have participated, which benefitted from favourable weather and landing conditions.On this years voyage, the all-important winds were mostly in our favour, and all landings were achieved, although we were dogged by rain at nearly every landing, which caused problems for some photographers. This unique trip is entirely at the mercy of the weather and sea-conditions in the unpredictable Southern Ocean and South Atlantic, among the most turbulent sea areas in the world. For that reason, none of the landings can be guaranteed in advance. The seabirds at sea are generally predictable and reliable, but seeing the island endemics and other breeding birds on shore is more of a lottery, and each trip is different. The expedition team always work tirelessly to manage the operation, but the reality of this unique trip is that no-one can predict what will happen on future trips or guarantee that the endemics will all be seen.