Wednesday, December 7, 2022 - Entering The Antarctic Sound

The skies remain clear but wind and waves were staying strong and were predicted to increase as the day wore on. We made a fast run through the Bransfield Strait dividing the South Shetlands and the north tip of the Peninsula - the plan being to get into the sheltered waters of the Antarctic Sound before the waves started bouncing us around too much. No one is yet ready for another Drake day - it'll come soon enough. 

As we approached the Sound we started seeing larger icebergs. The Antarctic Sound is a natural channel for the icebergs that calve from the Larsen Ice Shelf. The currents and gyre of the Weddell Sea push them through the channel then out to open water. We'll undoubtedly see more and larger as we draw closer. Overnight the heater in my cabin stopped working and it was 53° F in my room when I got up at sunrise, around 3:00 am. I had to wait until 6:00 before I could get anyone to look at it. It still wasn't as cold as camping on the ice.

Wednesday, December 7, 2022 - Gourdin Island

Our first excursion of the day was a zodiac tour of Gourdin Island at the north end of the Antarctic Sound. Loading the zodiacs was every bit as challenging as yesterday at Spert Island. In fact, there were two crew on the platform and another pair in the boat to assist people boarding and unboarding. One portly gentleman was struggling to get off and very nearly went overboard as two crewmen, one on the zodiac, the other on the platform, struggled to keep him upright. I don't think he'll be returning to a zodiac any time soon. 

The island itself was teeming with wildlife. Because of its location, a significant amount of snow had already melted off exposing considerable rock and some coarse pebble beaches. We counted 11 very healthy Weddell Seals at one beach including one huge bull who was dragging himself up the slope to a patch of snow. We saw three species of penguins on the island - Gentoos, Chinstraps, and Adélie - sometimes in close proximity. There were several spread out on the beach but others had climbed to considerable heights to build their nests. A wide variety of other Antarctic birds were there as well - waiting for the penguins to drop their eggs. 

You get cold on the zodiac tours. You're exposed on the open water, the winds strip heat away, and the spray - which will freeze when it hits the air - pelts you. In addition, because you are just sitting (except for grabbing the side ropes to steady yourself) you're not generating any heat. Consequently, you add more layers. Four layers seem work best with high collars fully zipped, hat with ear flaps down, and the outer shell with the hood raised as well. Along with the life saver strapped in place it's all quite bulky. It's becoming a habit to stop and gather for some hot chocolate or bouillon after returning from a zodiac tour and it’s a great time to chat with fellow travelers. Everyone seems to be getting tired but, not wanting to miss anything, people just suck it up and move forward.

Wednesday, December 7, 2022 - Esperanza Base

We sailed by Esperanza Base at Hope Bay. Argentina established the base to reinforce the claim in the area, probably prior to the Antarctic Treaty. It consists of more than 20 brick red buildings and it did not look like there was any activity there. It was the first sign of civilization we'd seen since leaving Ushuaia. 

The afternoon outing took us to Brown Bluff, well into the Antarctic Sound. We passed by massive glaciers and snow fields and the Sound was littered with ice of various sizes from suitcase size to tabular behemoths miles long. The winds were further intensifying in the passage and, on a quick glance, it was sometimes difficult to determine what was ice and what was whitecap. Because of prevailing winds and the Weddell Sea gyre the path we're on is often choked with glacial ice and impassable. Several ships have already passed through this year though and we will be no different - although it remains to be seen how far south we'll get. 

Wednesday, December 7, 2022 - Brown Bluff

Brown Bluff. It's actually a reddish brown and suggests a high iron content. It is the largest expanse of snow-free rock we have yet seen and it's volcanic gravel and rock beach is a popular spot for penguin breeding - both Gentoo and Adélies. The nitrogen-rich penguin guano provides nutrients for the abundance of lichen and moss there and the whole area was teeming with life. Because the snow cleared from here earlier than on the west side of the Peninsula, breeding started earlier here and the beach and slopes leading to the top of the bluff were filled with nests. Numerous penguins were protecting their eggs, others were tending to their hatchling. 

The small gray puffs of down mostly nestled in their parents warmth but periodically they'd poke their head out for a few seconds to inspect their world. Parental responsibilities were shared and while one parent was at the nest the other would head to the ocean for food, bring it back, and share it with the new chick. And the predators were there too. Skuas perched on rocks patiently waiting for a neglectful parent to leave an egg or a young chick unattended. Seals lurked in the water off the beaches and the penguins' only defense was speed, maneuverability, and numbers. Penguins hesitated at the water’s edge but when one finally mustered the courage to jump in, several followed. Nature in action.

While we were boarding the zodiacs, the Colossal Squid crew were busy baiting and deploying their underwater camera. They've deployed it on two previous occasions but this was the first time I saw them in action. We'll be anchored at Brown Bluff for about 3 hours. I know nothing about Colossal Squid but I do know about hunting and fishing - it requires time and patience. Giving yourself three hours, at best, to lure and photograph an elusive species seems woefully inadequate. My instinct tells me that by the end of our voyage the never-before-photographed Colossal Squid will remain that way. In fairness to them though, research dollars for photographing Colossal Squid are probably pretty meager so they take what they can get.

The weather seemed like it may be turning. We have enjoyed exceptional weather since passing through the Drake and today is still good, but the skies were more turbulent and there was a bite to the wind. Today was the first day I wished I had brought my heavy gloves to shore as, eventually, my fingers turned numb and I could no longer press the camera shutter release. The cold also took its toll on camera batteries - I went through three of them before returning to the ship for a late dinner. And before dinner was over, it started snowing. At the daily wrap-up, Alex announced the creation of a Facebook page - Oceanendeavournovember30 - where people can post and view photos. In light of the painfully slow internet though I have no idea how people can actually post their photos - at least until they get home. It was another physically demanding day and I believe I will sleep well tonight - in a warmer cabin, on an excursion vessel, in the snow, in the Weddell Sea.  

Thursday, December 8, 2022 - Through The Antarctic Sound

Well, so much for my sleep prediction - I was awake just after midnight and started roaming the decks around 3:00 am. One of the things I noticed in the zodiac is also happening on a larger scale with the ship. For the last two days now, I've observed the spray coming over the zodiac bow freeze in the air so when it hits you it's slush - salt water slush. As the Ocean Endeavour slices through the water it does the same thing except the slush falls back into the ocean and lingers on the surface before melting and, once again, becoming sea water. Not a profound observation but it is something I've not seen before. 

Overnight we passed through the Sound and at Cape Green we changed our heading to Devil Island for a morning shore excursion. The plan is to then sail west along the north coast of Vega Island and turn south again into Herbert Sound. Yesterday's evening snow squall was brief and this morning we're looking at calmer seas and a clear sky - our good weather luck is holding! The ship moved slowly through these waters because of ice but it's actually looking fairly clear. Around 4:00 am we crossed paths with another vessel, probably a Brazilian research vessel - our second encounter with civilization in as many days. 

Thursday, December 8, 2022 - Devil Island

We anchored off Devil Island just after breakfast and launched the zodiacs. There was virtually no wind so getting into the zodiacs was effortless. The beach was broad and flat and as the tide receded it left pools for the penguins to wade through. The bank behind the beach was an easy climb for both penguins and humans and beyond that was a gradual slope to the summit that held about 20,000 breeding pair of Adélies. Just as interesting as the penguins though was the island itself. Appropriately enough, Devil Island was born of fire and the eruption that created it left its mark through the myriad rocks it left behind. I found myself photographing the island as much as its inhabitants. Small icebergs deposited on the black, volcanic sand beach completed the setting. All in all, it was a contemplative, even meditative, morning refreshing both body and soul. The nearly 3 hours we spent strolling the beach just flew by and many people, self included, didn't want to leave. On the way back to the ship there was talk of overcoming the guide and commandeering the zodiac to extend our stay. Many were only half-kidding but, of course, in the end, wisdom prevailed and we boarded the ship. 

Thursday, December 8, 2022 - Herbert Sound

After lunch the ship sailed around Vega Island under bright, sunny skies. People joked about vacationing in Antarctica and coming back with tans. We still can't believe our good fortune with such excellent weather that has endured for so many days. We entered Herbert Sound later in the afternoon amidst a growing number icebergs but it was a broad channel and we easily navigated around them. I opted out of the afternoon zodiac session as I've been sleeping very little and felt I needed some down time to re-energize my body. My sinus issues have never fully left, nonetheless, I did get out on deck to photograph the zodiacs heading out, pausing to inspect some of the icebergs along the way. It was interesting watch them sail off until they were mere specs in Herbert Sound and it helped give a sense of perspective to the ice surrounding us. They never made it all the way to shore, opting instead to land the zodiacs on a good size ice flow where the travelers embarked and walked about on the ice. Not many people can say they've stood on an ice floe in the Weddell Sea and I'm not one of them. Lost opportunity. In polling the people when they returned though they said it was unique but that the tranquility of the morning landing was a superior experience. 

There was a little drama during the evening recap surrounding "the Dutch couple". They are a sweet couple who sat at my table the other night and I found them to be unpretentious and charming and just a pleasure to be around. Apparently Kristof proposed to Daisy on Devil Island and someone snapped a photo of the moment. Kristof and Daisy have been traveling for 5 months throughout South America and he revealed he had asked Daisy's father 6 months ago for her hand in marriage. It was difficult to keep his intentions secret for so long but he did manage to surprise Daisy. Since he couldn't get down on one knee on the island (touching the ground with anything other than boots is not allowed per IAATO) he crouched as low as he could go when he proposed and that's when someone snapped the photo. Adam, our master of ceremonies at the recaps, convinced Kristof to "do it proper" and get down on a knee and propose again. Kristof was happy to oblige and he also revealed that the ring he presented to Daisy belonged to his grandmother who passed 2 years ago. There wasn't a dry eye in the house. 

After the recap, everyone went out on deck where the chef's team prepared a wonderful barbecue with burgers, brats, brisket, cabrito, lechon, and an array of accompanying salads and desserts. It was a little chilly out on deck but the great job by the food and beverage staff created a party atmosphere that warmed us all. My sinuses were really bad and I couldn't enjoy it as much as others - I even forgot to take photos. I ate my meal and quietly retired to my cabin to leave everyone to their reverie.

Friday, December 9, 2022 - Herbert Sound

It was a difficult night. The only thing that seemed to help was drinking hot liquids and that compelled me to suit up and head downstairs to grab some tea bags and fill my thermos with hot water. Before heading back to my cabin though I had to go on deck to check out the dawn. The sea surface was perfectly calm and it reflected the rising sun. I finally captured some color in the sunrise and although the landscape wasn't as dramatic as some we've seen, I was pleased with the shots. 

Overnight we tried to exit Herbert Sound but were blocked by ice so we retraced our track, went back along the north side of Vega Island, and headed south again at Cape Gordon on a heading that took us east of James Ross Island toward Snow Hill Island. I think it's unlikely we'll make it all the way to Snow Hill but we're in the more open water of the Erebus and Terror Gulf so that'll maximize our chances. 

In my naiveté, I thought we would plow through light pack ice as we moved further south but reality presented a different picture. There was no pack ice - it melted off weeks ago. It did not mean that we had clear sailing though as there were numerous icebergs of varying sizes around us. The captain, out of an abundance of caution, is moving slowly through those bergs so we don't have a Titanic incident. And if we do have to turn about, or rather when we turn about, he wants to make sure we have plenty of room to do so. As a result, the ship is moving slowly and deliberately on a route that will assure the maximum amount of space to maneuver the ship when the pivot comes. 

Friday, December 9, 2022 - The Naze

Around 8:00 am we anchored off James Ross Island in an area known as The Naze. I've got our location's latitude and longitude and I've plotted it on the map, but the name does not appear. Due to weather, it may be our final landing in Antarctica. In addition to trying to sail as far south as possible, we're also trying to remain within a bubble of calm air. Thick, gray clouds hung over the Weddell Sea and outside our bubble there were high winds that prohibited landings or even zodiac explorations. Our bubble is predicted to collapse early afternoon and the winds will be upon us. For now though, the water is calm and we should have an easy time loading the zodiacs - although, judging from the slushy wakes of the zodiacs, the air temperature is already dropping.

The landing was not bad. There was a gentle, sandy beach with many small growlers pushed there by the wind and deposited by the tide. James Ross Island had it all - Weddell seals, Adélie penguins, fossils, bones from various animals, even an abandoned Kelp Gull nest with 3 eggs. The first dinosaur fossil in Antarctica was discovered on James Ross Island in 1989 - it took them 10 years to fully excavate it. You just had the feeling that there was much, much more that we didn't get a chance to see. We were there for only 3 hours but I could've spent 3 weeks. 

Friday, December 9, 2022 - The Erebus & Terror Gulf

Back on board and not being able to go any further south because of ice, we turned to the northeast and further into the Erebus & Terror Gulf where the grand tabular icebergs reside. As predicted, the winds picked up and they were cold winds. The ship was heaving a bit but nothing like in the Drake as the swells were not as great. My big lens was acting like a sail as Antarctica tried to wrestle it from my grip. I swapped lenses for something smaller which was just as good because as we approached some of the bigger tabular, over a quarter mile in diameter and rising some 80 feet out of the ocean, you needed a wide angle lens to capture them.

Before dinner, there was a wedding ceremony on board - perhaps they were inspired by Kristof and Daisy. The mood on board was cheerful but underlying it was the acknowledgement that our adventure was soon coming to a close. By 6:00 pm we were entering the Antarctic Sound as we said farewell to the Weddell Sea. Paulet Island was visible to the east and if it were not for the wind I'm sure we would've stopped there. 

At the daily wrap up, our expedition director informed us we would be stopping at Deception Island and sailing through the Neptune's Bellows and into the caldera of an active volcano. The room erupted in cheers and applause. It was definitely one of the places I was looking forward to seeing but I really thought we might have to sail by it without stopping so I was ecstatic. At dinner, some of the guides invited me to their table and we had great conversations about kayaking in rivers and salt water around the world; the difference between blue whales and humpbacks; and the guide experience. Each of them reiterated what I'd heard from other staff - that this trip has been one of the best this season and, for some, the best ever. 

Friday, December 9, 2022 - The Hat

On the way back to my room I was chatting with a woman and we both acknowledged that, for reasons unknown, the ship was listing to starboard. It was quite windy outside and the waves were kicking up but the boat wasn't rocking or pitching so we thought it odd that it would be simply be listing so much to one side without a periodic and equal compensating tilt in the opposite direction. I retired to my cabin, and checked the lat long to get a fix on our location - we had already passed through the Antarctic Sound. I changed into my pajamas, and, while brushing my teeth, I decided to take one last look out the window for the evening. Outside were several large tabular icebergs, not nearly as large as the one we saw earlier, but they glowed in the evening light. I tossed the toothbrush back in the bathroom, pulled some sweatpants over my pajamas, grabbed my coat and camera, slid into my shoes (no time for socks), bolted from my cabin and ran up on deck. That's when I found out why the ship was listing to starboard - it was the wind. It was icy. It was strong, as strong as we've seen on this excursion. You could not stand without some support. I found places to brace myself and started shooting - it was a target rich environment.

Those icebergs illuminated by the sun, low in the sky, were spectacular. I kept moving from one side to the other to take advantage of this special moment, bracing myself in wherever I could - any water or ice on that deck and the wind would've blown you overboard, no doubt. As it was, the wind peeled the hat off my head. Gone, a donation to Neptune . . . or so I thought. After getting myself to shelter in the lee of the superstructure I turned back and saw that my hat was, sort of, still on board - literally hanging from the rail support by a thread, fluttering out straight from the deck like a flag as the wind tried to finish its task. I struggled back out into the wind, fell to my hands and knees, crawled to the railing. Behind me, I heard a woman shout, “Be careful!” as she snapped pictures to document the event – just in case. I gripped the railing with one hand and thrust the other through, retrieving my hat.

Friday, December 9, 2022 - The Most Exhilarating Moment

I staggered back to the lee, buttoned down more securely, and ventured back into the wind to capture more photos. One of my shipmates, Jeff, was out there as well. He asked how I could be out there without gloves and, honestly, until that moment, I didn't even think about how cold my fingers were. Shouting so he could hear, I asked him if he'd seen the classic WWII movie, “Das Boot” and, of course, he had. I told him I felt like Jurgen Prochnow in the conning tower of his submarine charging through the Strait of Gibraltar in raging seas - and I did. Things like comfort or discomfort did not even register with me right now. Jeff shot some video that captured the moment as I got myself into a well-supported position, wrapping my legs around some steel mast supports where I had good shooting angles and where the wind could not sweep me off the deck. 

It was the most exhilarating moment of the trip thus far and I simply could not suppress the smile from my face, Jeff called it manic. Eventually though, my fingers went numb and I had to return to the safety inside the ship - still smiling from ear to ear. I just couldn’t stop.  

Saturday, December 10, 2022 - Deception Island

The morning brought calmer winds and snow as we made our approach to Deception Island. It's a tricky maneuver to get through Neptune’s Bellows as it's a narrow passage made even more narrow by the presence of Raven’s Rock, a sizeable mound submerged a mere 8 feet below the waves in the middle of the passage. In fact there is a wreck on shore where a whaling ship did not successfully traverse the gap. I'm sure, relatively sure, we'll do better. The deck had just a dusting of snow but it was icy. If the deck conditions last night during those winds were as they are now it would have been impossible to stand on deck - you simply would have been swept off the ship.

Deception Island was first sighted in 1820 by Edward Bransfield’s expedition and authenticated later that year by Nathanial Palmer.  It became the base for the short-lived fur seal trade in the South Shetland Islands because it was, hands-down, the best harbor in the area. In 1906, a Norwegian-Chilean whaling company, Sociedad Ballenera de Magallanes, established a whale processing base there and it operated until 1931. After the whalers abandoned the site both the British and Chilean governments maintained outposts here until just a few decades ago when volcanic eruptions in the late 1960’s and 1970 eventually drove them off. If there was any doubt that this caldera was still active all you had to do is stick your hands a few inches into the sand at the water’s edge. It wasn't warm - it was hot. You could not leave your hand in it for more than a couple seconds. 

Saturday, December 10, 2022 - Whaler's Bay

We approached Neptune's Bellows before 7:00 am. Breakfast would have to wait. Many people were on deck to document the passage through the Bellows and to take a shot through the Neptune's Window on the east side of the passage. Occasionally, a short burst of steam would appear from the eastern shore, reminding us that, yes, this volcano is still active. Once through the portal and into the caldera, the old buildings of Whaler's Bay, remnants from the whaling, industry came into view. It was quite an operation and I had a tough time wrapping my head around the fact that those old rusted tanks perched on the shore held the oil from thousands of whales that had once lived in these waters. As recent as they are, these dilapidated buildings and infrastructure represent some of the earliest artifacts of Antarctica - a continent which, by normal historical standards, really has no human history older than 200 years or so.

After a quick breakfast we were off in the zodiacs. I'm reminded that the context of anything is important if you really want to understand it because here were several score people wandering around on a hot, black sand beach photographing a bunch of rusted metal and decrepit buildings. It was fascinating to imagine this base as a bustling hub of men rendering whale blubber and shipping goods in and out of the Whaler’s Bay. 

A private sailboat, the Icebird, cruised through the Bellows and several guests marveled at how such a small ship could navigate the Drake Passage and endure a 5-day beating. Snow greeted us at our landing and intensified while we were on the island as well as later when we were cruising Whaler's Bay in our zodiacs. A humpback frolicked in the bay and fluked three times before we left - providing photo opportunities for all. Just before lunch, the Ocean Endeavour left Whaler's Bay and we were soon in open water again headed for Hannah Point and our final landing.

Saturday, December 10, 2022 - Livingston Island

It was a short hop to Hannah Point on the south side of Livingston Island. There hills above the beach were the largest expanse of green we’ve seen since leaving Ushuaia. Skuas and petrels commanded the higher hills while elephant seals laid claim to the beach. Penguins nestled in between both and the rookery was teeming with new life and new challenges as the penguins protected their nests and their young from more predatory species. Mating season and their flipper fights were over and the focus was on feeding and protecting the hatchlings. Many penguins still nested on eggs but there were many more and more mature chicks than we had seen further south.

Saturday, December 10, 2022 - Hannah Point

It was the elephant seals though that commanded everyone’s attention. There was a harem of over twenty females huddled together en masse on the beach and the beachmaster along with a few beta bulls kept a close eye on them and on any challengers who pulled themselves from the surf to threaten his domain. And it was no small feat for a challenger to pull himself from the shore and toward the harem. Typically, the seal would make four or five hops using his flippers to propel himself on the wet sand then he would rest for several minutes to regain his strength.

Saturday, December 10, 2022 - Hannah Point

Meanwhile, the females, who lack the males enlarged proboscis, were constantly repositioning themselves, sometimes squaring off and sparing when a neighbor intruded on their perfect resting spot. They were making all the noises that mammals make and occasionally one of the harem would scoop up a flipper full of wet sand and toss it in the air. The molt had begun and during the month or so that it lasts the seals will not eat.  The females molt first and as their new coats come in and they move back to the water to eat, the males will start the process. They were mesmerizing to watch and the time flew by.

Eventually though, it was time to board the Ocean Endeavour for the final time. Everyone was reluctant to leave the beach and there was not the usual humor and comradery in the zodiac as we headed back to the ship. Everyone was reflecting on, for most, their last sights of Antarctica.

Sunday, December 11, 2022 - Leaving Antarctica

Even though we left Hannah's Point around 6:00 pm we made little progress overnight because the captain granted the Squid People one last chance to put their gear in the water and try to photograph the Colossal Squid. So, we stopped in some fairly deep water between Snow Island and Smith Island in the Boyd Strait. They captured images of colorful marine life on the sea floor, but no squid. The elusive Colossal Squid remains unphotographed, unfilmed. In fact, we know of its existence only by the remains found in the stomach of captured sperm whales.

By sunrise we were on our way and by 6:00 am we were clear of the South Shetland Islands and headed for South America. The skies were clear, the wind was light, and the sea was calm, but the ship was already starting to pitch and roll in the swells as we entered the first waters of the Convergence Zone. Light winds were predicted for our passage through the Drake but as we near the coast high winds are expected, but by then we'll be protected by the Beagle Channel. We have been blessed with near-perfect weather the entire trip, with just enough of a reminder of where we were when the winds picked up considerably as we exited the Antarctic Sound. But, because it was just a taste of more typical Antarctic weather, the good weather enabled us to consistently make two landings per day thereby maximizing our wildlife viewing. 

There is a sense aboard that the trip is over but the reality is that we still have two full days before we land in Ushuaia. That time will be spent doing the initial processing on the nearly 7,500 photos and videos I've taken, proofing the daily writings (you make lots of typos when you do your daily journaling on a cell phone), and some socializing although, unfortunately, I haven't built as many strong connections with people as I've enjoyed on previous trips. But the focus of this trip was Antarctica and I've built a strong connection to this place. I'll be back. 

Around 6:30 this evening we crossed 60.00° South, the jurisdictional limits of the Antarctic Treaty, and officially left Antarctica. The swells continued to increase throughout the day but they were rhythmic with no whitecaps or threatening waters. So far, a gentle passage. I got down to dinner a little late and there were a couple of people already sitting at "my" table; a cabinet maker from New Zealand, an older gentleman with a strong Dutch/Afrikaaner accent; and Scotty, one of the Canadian guides.

During dinner we saw a huge pod of humpbacks in the distance, some said as many as 20, heading south to the place we'd just left. One last gift from Antarctica. The cabinetmaker had one of his three bottles of wine left and he shared it with us as we swapped stories about tree stumps, Japan, grapes, gun control, whales, and travels to cold places. I'd conveyed to Scotty that I intend to return to Antarctica and I’m working on some ideas as to how to finance it. He suggested joining the Intrepid team. I laughed and said that, at nearly 70, I'm probably too old. He dismissed that idea and rattled off the names of some guides who were 70 or older - John Wright the Historian and Marcos, a former mountaineer, who I've nicknamed Wild Man because he reminds me so much of my good friend Allan back in Arizona. Who knows what the future holds? 

Monday, December 12, 2022 - The Drake Lake

Around 2:00 am I peered out my window and it was actually a little dark outside. Darkness - something we hadn't seen for a while. Thick clouds spread to the horizon but our passage, thus far, has remained calm as the ship rhythmically swayed to the gentle swells. Higher winds are forecast for later in the day, but we're already well past the midpoint of the Drake Passage so we should be safe within the Beagle Channel before they hit. 

By 4:00 am the skies were lighter but the thick cloud cover precluded any chance of seeing a sunrise. In fact, there was a dark line at the horizon separating the gray skies from the even darker gray waters. 

At 6:00 am Cape Horn and the southernmost islands of South America appeared at the top of the monitor in my room. I have the channel set to 806 which shows the ship's location and surrounding area and since yesterday it showed nothing but a red cross hair on a field of blue. 

The day was spent packing, bidding farewells, celebrating the staff who really have served us so well - and mentally preparing for the flights that will eventually take me back to Phoenix. I had picked up more souvenirs than I had intended so I'm not even going to attempt a second carry-on, I'll check an extra bag. It's an added expense but it will hopefully avoid some hassle at the airport and I won't have to carry the heavy jacket - it's packed away.