WorldTravelReynolds

Well, folks, we finally made it to Salisbury Plain on South Georgia, and let me tell you—250,000 king penguins is not a typo. It’s a full-on penguin takeover. The beach looked like someone spilled a giant bag of fancy tuxedos across the sand, with snow-capped mountains and glaciers standing guard in the background. God’s handiwork on full display!

Quick King Penguin 101 (because you can’t stare at a quarter-million of them without picking up a few fun facts):

• They’re the second-biggest penguins (only emperors edge them out). Stand about 3 feet tall, weigh up to 35 pounds—basically a toddler in a feathered dinner jacket with perfect posture.
• Those bright golden-orange patches on their necks and heads? Not just pretty—they glow under UV light, which penguins can see. So they’re strutting around in neon party gear trying to catch someone’s eye.
• No nests for these folks. Mom or Dad balances the egg (and later the chick) on their feet under a warm brood pouch. Parenting pros!
• The chicks spend nearly a year as fluffy brown “oakum boys” (named after old tarry ropes) looking like they’re having the longest bad hair day ever before they get their grown-up colors.

The whole scene was pure chaos in the best way: a black-and-gold carpet of penguins trumpeting like a band of off-key donkeys, mixed with elephant seals bellowing like drunk tuba players. And then there are the fur seal pups—some of them act like they’ve had three espressos and a grudge.

Speaking of which… I nearly became a human bowling pin. I was leaning over (no crouching allowed—penguin rules!), snapping photos of a king giving me the classic “I’m not posing, but I totally am” side-eye. Suddenly, a 300-pound teenage elephant seal comes barreling straight at me from behind like he’s late for the seal Olympics. I didn’t see a thing. Next thing I know, our guide Ben launches himself at me, grabs me in a full bear hug, and yanks me sideways just in time. The seal thundered past, splashed into the water, and never looked back. My heart was racing faster than that seal! Thank the good Lord for sharp-eyed guides—otherwise I’d have been flat as a pancake and the headline would read “Tourist Bowled Over by Overenthusiastic Teen Seal.”

After my near-accident, we finally noticed what everyone warns you about on your first South Georgia landing: the smell. Oh my goodness. Imagine a thousand litter boxes left out in the sun for a month. It hits you like a wall—mostly penguin guano and seal “contributions.” But funny thing—after a few minutes (or when the wind shifted), your nose just gave up and said, “Fine, I surrender.” Then you could actually enjoy the magic again.

And magic it was. Penguins stretching to the horizon, glaciers gleaming, mountains towering—it’s the kind of beauty that makes you stop dead in your tracks and just whisper, “Wow, God, You outdid Yourself here.”

Back on the ship for breakfast and a much-needed recovery nap, then off again in the zodiacs to Possession Bay. Calm as glass water, mirror reflections of jagged peaks, and fur seals everywhere—moms nursing pups, teenagers play-wrestling, and a bunch of rare blonde ones (leucistic, not albino) looking like the laid-back surfer crowd of the seal world.

We cruised past the abandoned whaling station at Stromness and the rusty old hulk of the Brutus—a giant factory ship from the 1930s that’s been slowly turning into a seal condo ever since a storm cut her loose. Seeing those old harpoon guns while seals snooze inside the hull is a sobering reminder of how things have changed (thank goodness).

Tomorrow we head to Grytviken and Shackleton’s grave—maybe even a whisky toast at the world’s loneliest bar. But honestly, today felt like the top of the mountain. I’d hit replay on this day forever—even the heart-stopping seal sprint.

May God bless you all! Chuck & Lea Ann