Photographing Penguins

This article was originally published in the Swedish magazine FOTO

After spending two weeks on the Falklands I am beginning to feel rather desperate. This has been the wettest January ever. The summers are always windy, but I am still suffering from the day when the wind speed reached 60 mph, confining me to my bed for several days with a high fever. I have a deadline, but I am not getting the pictures I want. The book must be ready in three months time, on March 31, including layout and translation of the text that is being produced as I write.

In the United States a new million-dollar film project will soon be showing in theatres, this time it is an animation "Happy feet"; the French film “March of the Penguins�? was recently launched in Sweden.

Sometime around New Year  I was asked to take the photographs for a book about penguins, and a week later I found myself on a plane to Santiago, Chile, which is the stopover for travellers to the Falklands. The only scheduled connections are on Saturdays. All relations with Argentina have ceased after the war. Argentina in fact still claims suzerainty of the Falkland Islands and South Georgia. Only 300 people live out on the islands. These are mostly British descendants and adventurers that have come to stay. The capital, Port Stanley, has a couple of thousand inhabitants. When I visited South Georgia three years ago, seven people were living there, but there were vast numbers of penguins; hundreds of thousands of King penguins living in the most amazing, enormous colonies. In the Falklands there are thousands of Rockhopper, Gentoo and Magellanic penguins and over a thousand King penguins. Most of the latter are found at Volunteer Point on the main island.

Since there is only a ferry service every six weeks, you need to use the local operator FIGAS’ small propeller aircraft that are probably flown by former fighter pilots who negotiate the six-seater planes in winds of up to 30 knots, or 35mph. The only day the flight was cancelled there were hurricane force winds. To fly between the islands is rather like catching the bus. Each farm needs to be visited to help bring a cat to the vet or deliver passengers, mail or pharmaceuticals. After five or six stopovers of no more than five minutes each, you finally reach your destination – after two weeks and twenty-five take-offs and landings, you stop worrying about flying.

What do you pack when there is no forwarding service in case your bags get lost? Inside my hard-shell suitcase I pack a soft camera bag, the largest model available, which has so far accommodated all my equipment. Inside the camera bag I put my long 500 mm telephoto lens, 100–400 zoom lens, flash, a spare camera shell (Canon EOS 1 D Mark II), remote control, two external hard discs, etc. A tripod (I do not prefer the super light models) and my Wimberley head for the long telephoto lens is placed next to the soft bag. Some clothes – I forgot my bird book in the rush – and a toilet bag. Despite my efforts to keep within the limit I will have twenty kilos overweight when I board the Falklands plane – fourteen kilos is all you are permitted, not exactly an ideal situation for a photographer.

My hand luggage is a major problem. If my suitcase goes astray, I still have to survive down there. Only seven kilos is out of the question. My cabin bag contains my Canon 1 Ds Mark II shell, which weighs almost two kilos; my large Canon battery charger (I am lost without it); my 70–200 zoom; a wide angle lens and a light 400 mm telephoto lens. Luckily, I have a jacket with huge pockets. My new, tiny Apple laptop with a twelve inch screen fits into one of the large inside pockets. I could get by with this, if I must.

I have booked accommodation in four islands, but it turns out to be impossible to land on West Point Island. There has been far too much rain. On these islands aircraft land on fields, after the local population have chased off the geese. In case of an accident, there is a jeep with an attached small fire extinguishing unit. I will have to spend another few days on Saunders Island instead where I at last get an opportunity to climb down to the small stream where farmer and photo enthusiast Dave Pole-Evans says the Rockhopper penguins go for a shower. The first time I went there the climb down the rock face was to dangerous due to the high surf. But I was not the one to give up. In the end, during my final week, I managed to take a lot of pictures, and I was able to relax and enjoy spending the days with these wonderful creatures. Before that, I had called home on my satellite phone to mention that I may have to stay on and buy new tickets for the flight home. It is essential that I get my pictures, and for once my budget allows it.

I am to spend my last night with Rod and Phyllis Tuckwood at Volunteer Point. After a rainy afternoon I go to bed at ten p.m. feeling rather despondent. The alarm goes off at 4.15 a.m. I look out of the little window, still without much hope. The sky is clear, promising the first suitable morning light in three weeks. I shoulder my bag, take my tripod in one hand and my camera fitted with a 500 mm lens in the other and walk the one kilometre stretch over to the colony.

The weather stays clear, and this is the place to be. After shooting for three consecutive hours I realise that I have probably taken about 20 different pictures for the book only during the course of the morning. Not only Kings and Gentoos, but I experience one of the most amazing moments of the entire trip. I almost missed it, but from the corner of my eye, over on my right, I spot something strange going on among the Magellanic penguins. What is happening? How many chicks does that parent have? I crawl closer with my 500 mm and 1.4 converter, ready to shoot. Contrary to the larger species such as the King and Emperor penguins, Magellanic penguins are shy; they tend to disappear down into their burrows as soon as you start getting too close. I count no less than six hungry chicks chasing the poor adult. Magellanic penguins never give birth to more than three. I was more than satisfied with the pictures I had already taken, but I manage to shoot a series of pictures before all the chicks and the adult disappear down the same hole in the ground.

What had I just witnessed? Presumably another parent was incubating down the same burrow, and for some reason this parent had taken on all six chicks. A seventh chick tried to join the company, but was immediately chased away.

Just before the jeep arrives to pick me up I walk down to the long beach. The wind is getting stronger again and the sand is whirling in the air. I notice a group of King penguins at a distance and wait for them to come together. With my 100–400 zoom I manage to take several group pictures with the waves in the background and the sand forming a hazy cloud at the bottom of the picture.

My family will after all not have to wait several more weeks for me to return. And it will be easier for me to deliver the message that I after only a few weeks at home will have to go down to South Africa in order to photograph African penguins …