It’s been a few days since we visited Grytviken Whaling Station. Today, we’re sailing in the open ocean toward our next destination, so I’ll take this time to reflect on my visit to Grytviken and nearby Jason Harbor.
An Outdoor Museum
Although Grytviken has an indoor museum, the site itself is a living museum—an open-air archive of the whaling era. The abandoned processing machinery, rusting ships, storage sheds, and nearby cemetery are all part of the historical record. While it’s sobering to reflect on how many whales once swam these waters compared to now, there’s no denying that the combination of glacier-clad peaks, fur seal-studded meadows, and the rust-colored remnants of industry creates a striking landscape.
Grytviken is also the final resting place of Ernest Shackleton, his loyal second-in-command Frank Wild, and 63 others—mostly whalers. We began our visit with a toast to Sir Ernest, raising a dram of Irish whiskey in his honor. I found it ironic to see seals now frolicking and dozing on the graves of men who once hunted whales and seals for a living. Times have changed—today, fur seals rule this place.
The station was established by Norwegian Carl Anton Larsen, an experienced whaler who knew exactly how to outfit an efficient operation. The site once housed cookers, equipment sheds, supply storage, a bakery, a church, dormitories for workers, and homes for management. For years, asbestos insulation kept the grounds off-limits to visitors, but thanks to the South Georgia Heritage Trust, much of the site has now been cleaned up. Most buildings were removed, leaving their inner machinery exposed, while others—like the supply store—were restored and made safe to enter. This year marked the first time visitors were allowed inside the supply building.
I find it fascinating to look through old supply stores and see what people once needed. This one held harpoon tips, chains, heavy lines, machinery parts, and many items I couldn’t identify. Everything was stored neatly in labeled bins, with an office up front where I imagine workers requisitioned their gear.
The sun came out as we explored, gradually revealing the glacier-draped mountains beyond the green hills of Grytviken. Against a bright blue sky, the rusting whale oil vats gleamed orange—a surprisingly beautiful palette for a place with such a heavy history.
The South Georgia Heritage Trust maintains the site today. One building houses a museum dedicated to the whaling industry, and another contains a replica of the James Caird—the 22.5-foot lifeboat that carried Shackleton, Tom Crean, and Frank Worsley from Elephant Island to South Georgia in their desperate bid to rescue the rest of the crew. The original James Caird is on display at Dulwich College in London, named for a Dundee philanthropist who helped fund the expedition.
On to Jason Harbor
Our ship didn’t have far to go to reach Jason Harbor, where fur seals reign. I saw seals everywhere—on the rocks, in the water, scattered across the tussock fields, and gathered near the lagoon. I also saw one sick fur seal, likely suffering from avian flu. Thankfully, the worst of the 2023 outbreak has passed, but visitors are still required to follow strict biosecurity protocols to avoid spreading disease to the colonies—or back to the ship. Seeing this poor animal struggling was a stark reminder of how important those measures are.
On the way to the lagoon, I had to pass close to an elevated tussock where a small blond fur seal was perched. It was at arm level, and when it popped up and growled at me, I hesitated. Seals usually bluff, but with my arm exposed and the seal so close, I wasn’t about to take chances. Another traveler with more nerve passed by, and the seal backed down.
Back on the beach, I spotted a few King penguins—and, unexpectedly, one Chinstrap penguin. The two species seemed to tolerate each other just fine.
A Zodiac Tour
Instead of heading straight back to the ship, our Zodiac driver took us to a neighboring bay. There, we saw Giant Petrels, Shags, Sheathbills, more fur seals, and a Leopard seal. I only glimpsed the Leopard seal’s back, so I don’t quite count it as a full sighting. The guides thought it was a female. She never hauled out while we were nearby. I’ve seen Leopard seals in Antarctica before—usually much larger ones, lounging on ice floes.
The Snowy Sheathbill is the only Antarctic bird that can't swim. Note the "chicken feet" instead of the webbed feet needed for swimming.
The day was so beautiful that we paused by the bow of the ship for a photo op before heading in. A perfect ending to an unforgettable day.
As we sail onward, I’m left reflecting on the contrasts of these places—where history lies rusting in the grass, wildlife reclaims the land, and the echoes of human ambition are met by the enduring rhythms of nature.
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