Antarctica

In winter on the Antarctic peninsula, it gets so cold that even the sea freezes over. Frozen seawater makes getting around easier, and once upon a time it allowed three British scientists from the Faraday Antarctic research base to ski their way across the solid sea ice to spend some leisure time away from the base. Around about the time they reached Petermann Island, six miles away, a big storm kicked up and broke up the sea ice. They had radio contact from a hut on the island. At first, they provided updates every day. Then once a week. Then once a fortnight. Eventually, they cut contact altogether. With constant inclement weather and pack ice remaining on the water, it was a long period of time before their location could be reached. By the time it was, they were already presumed dead. When rescuers entered the hut, the one you see above, all they found were penguin feet nailed to the tables. Presumably they had gone mad from hunger and isolation. This was in 1982.

Hearing this story on the seventh day of my Antarctica trip really brought home how inhospitable and remote this place is, and how incredible it was just to be here. Getting here was not easy. Booking my ship four months in advance, I had to be at the very southern tip of South America, in the Argentinian frontier city of Ushuaia, at 4pm on a January Tuesday. My whole plan was skewed towards the south in order to make this. But boy was it worth it.

Setting sail

The smooth boarding of the 80 or so passengers onto our ship, also named Ushuaia, was accompanied with a welcoming introduction to our home for the next 12 days from the expedition staff. A retrofitted former scientific vessel, it was built for utility, not comfort, but after two months of (mostly) hostel dorms, with a bar on board and a free glass of champagne upon setting sail, it felt pretty luxurious to me.

My cabin, shared with two others, was basic but had everything you expect of a hotel room - en suite bathroom, storage, towel service and a heater. Every door, including on the wardrobe and other little storage areas, had a latch to keep them shut, the importance of which we would soon discover.

Drake

To get to the southern continent we had to cross the Drake Passage, the area of open sea between the southern tip of the American continent and the northern tip of the Antarctic peninsula. This is where the Atlantic and Pacific oceans meet, takes two full days of sailing to cross, and is famous for being rough. The expedition staff didn't hold back form hyping it up, and Dilia our on board doctor gave out extra strong sea sickness pills at dinner like pieces of candy. It wasn't until about midnight on the first night that we emerged out of the Beagle Channel into the open sea, and felt the Drake's full effect during the night. Bouncing off the walls trying to take a piss was something I'd just have to get used to.

Our first full day was spent eating and attending lectures by our expedition team, still all the while rocking and rolling our way across the Drake. As it turned out, we had seen nothing yet. In the afternoon we were called to the common area for a briefing - there was a severe storm between us and our intended route to the Weddell Sea (the sea where Shackleton got marooned in ice a century ago). The expedition team were hoping it would clear, but by the next day it had come apparent that this storm was going nowhere, and that we would need to completely change our itinerary, visiting the South Shetland Islands and Weddell Sea last.

   

The priority now was to power south as fast as possible to avoid the expanding storm to our north. By the afternoon of day three, however, the storm had caught up, as you can see in the video above. Every so often there was an extra big wave that could throw you from your seat if you weren't ready for it, as I witnessed personally when I saw three fellow passengers thrown across the common room. Poor Elaine, from England, had her forehead split open just above the eye, needing a couple of stitches. Another woman had her shoulder dislocated, with at least 10 days until she could reach a hospital. Including other passengers in their rooms, there were seven injuries from this afternoon alone. Somehow, I managed to avoid both sea sickness and injury, blogging my way through the whole thing. Sighting Antarctic land on the horizon after escaping the storm provided a huge surge of excitement before heading to bed. The seas around the continent for the next eight days would be far more serene, providing stable ground once again and a good night's sleep.

Land

Wilhemina Bay

The morning of day four everyone hardly took a breath while devouring their breakfast to rush out on desk and get our first taste of Antarctic views - we were right in the thick of the scenery. It was an incredible sight, with pristine vistas of bright snowy mountains jutting out of the dark blue sea spanning 360 degrees. There we were, not quite on Antarctic land yet, but almost close enough to touch it. What a moment.

Our planned zodiac cruise for that morning was cancelled due to katabatic winds surging outwards from the peninsula, but that afternoon we finally set foot on land. Not on the continent itself, yet, but Danco Island was a nice introduction to what to expect, with penguins, snow and some stupefying panoramic views. We could smell the gentoo penguins before we could see them - the smell of penguin shit being something that will linger long in my nasal memory. They're pretty amazing animals, comfortably surviving in a part of the world where you think life would struggle to, constantly waddling up and down their "penguin highways" in the snow to retrieve food for their young.

Penguin chicks hatch in late December, so we were there at the perfect time to observe them with their young. While one parent does the food shopping, the other guards the (at most two) chicks, making a distinctive call back to the food retriever. You have this scenario repeating across the hundreds of penguin families on most rookeries we visited. The poor seals have some very noisy neighbours.

Life

One of the things that surprised me about the expedition was the amount of life that was present all around us. On each landing, there were penguins, usually in huge numbers, as well as multiple types of seal. In the air, a variety of avian species, including skias, petrels and albatrosses, were adapted to the colder climate and could frequently be seen flying about. And in the sea, besides penguins and seals swimming, whale sightings were so frequent that they became mundane by the time we were starting our journey back.

Our first proper whale sighting was one to remember though - a single humpback, who spent a good 40 minutes leaping out of the water again and again. I've been whale watching once before, in the Azores, and it took a good four hours to catch a brief glimpse of one. No such problems round these parts.

The next day, the fifth of twelve with totally calm seas, was the beginning of the action-packed middle part of the trip, with two excursions per day becoming the norm. Our morning excursion was divided in two - first up was a pleasant zodiac cruise in and around incredible little glacial bays carved out of snow, with seals lounging on icebergs dotted around the place. This was really nice, but I was heaving in anticipation of what we were going to do next - finally set foot on the Antarctic continent itself.

My first continental steps were upon the rocky landing by Brown Station, an Argentinian scientific research outpost. Both relief, of finally having made it, and elation filtered through me as I made my way past the perfunctory buildings towards the hill behind. I was properly in Antarctica now.

The views from the top of the hill were absolutely stunning, and waterproof clothing meant we could human toboggan down the steep hill back towards our landing point. By now I was starting to realise that the already high expectations I had of this sojourn south were being not just met, but exceeded.

That afternoon we had more of the glorious same, landing at Neko harbour. We had instructions upon landing to get off the beach as soon as we landed - during the previous expedition a few weeks prior, a large chunk of glacier had split off and crashed into the sea, producing a three metre wave that surged towards the landing site. More gentoo penguins and amazing views at the top of another snowy hill were to be found here, where we also took the time to capture a group photo.

Routine

By now we had gotten into the swing of things, with a pretty set daily routine:

1. Get up. Shower. All you can eat buffet breakfast, with eggs, bacon, fruit, yoghurt, cereal, toast, pastries. Probably more I've forgotten.
2. Morning activity (landing and/or a zodiac cruise).
3. Lunch. Starter, main, dessert.
4. Afternoon activity (landing and/or a zodiac cruise).
5. Afternoon snacks/beer.
6. Dinner. Starter, main, dessert. Beer/wine with dinner.
7. Beers and/or whiskey before bed. Sometimes a movie or documentary.

So if you're wondering just what I actually did in Antarctica, really it was mostly eating and drinking.

Death

Day six's morning excursion brought yet more gentoo penguins on Cuverville Island, except here the chicks were slightly older and bigger.

They were also a little more confident, and with skuas lurking, this wasn't always a good thing. Not long after I took the picture above, another group of passengers were in time to see the chick under the penguin at the far left get snatched as it strode directly towards the skua out of childish curiosity, despite it's parent trying to hold it back. The chick was then whisked to a spot a few metres away, where two more skuas joined in, and together they tore the chick apart, alive. I saw a video of the whole thing taken by a fellow passenger, and it was genuinely disturbing. Having seen the chick in the flesh earlier, the video felt less like a nature documentary and more like a snuff movie. Such is life in the wild.

I didn't have to wait too long after returning to the ship for an amazing show of life to contrast the horrific death earlier. Passing through the Gerlache Strait on our way to our afternoon excursion point, we sailed in close proximity to a pod of orcas, aka killer whales. At first there were three or four, then more turned up, and suddenly they were everywhere. There must have been at least thirty, surfacing together in little groups, with all the space in the world to play in. Seeing so many at once was rare, and a special moment.

History

Our afternoon excursion was one I was looking forward to in particular. Port Lockroy is an old British scientific research station, one that was established by Operation Tabarin during World War Two, abandoned in the early sixties, and converted into a museum in more recent times.

Along with some interesting information to be gleamed, the base has been restored to appear exactly how it would have looked before it was abandoned. It was fascinating to see how these isolated researchers and engineers lived, living almost exclusively off tinned food, and taking turns to go out and gather snow to either melt for bathing or boil for a cup of tea. It certainly wasn't an easy life.

Being a museum, there's a gift shop of course, except this one also happens to have the most southerly post office in the world, so I took the opportunity to send some postcards via Royal Mail that have a unique stamp and postmark.

People

Imprisoned on a boat together for twelve days, with no escape, there was a strong chance of having to suffer some unbearable people. Miraculously, I don't recall meeting any people I disliked. It takes a certain kind of idiot to spend so much money to go to a place like this, and we all had that in common. There were some great characters on board, not withstanding...

• My table #1 crew, Brendan from Canberra, Gus from Winnipeg and Tien from Taiwan, all around my age, and with whom I'm still having the craic with via our WhatsApp group a month later.
• Richard and Mark, my amicable cabin mates from the northern US. Richard was full of interesting stories, and Mark has almost convinced me to do a craft beer tour of New York state.
• Incorrigible Anne from Boston, who at 77 was travelling by herself, full of life and in her own words "would talk to a tree".
• John from Clifden, the only other Irishman, but living in Sydney for decades - a giant of a man full of stories. He supposedly met Pope John Paul II at a Sydney barbecue.
• The WOW gang of women from all over India, seeing the world on their terms.

Day seven consisted of more penguins and icebergs, on and around Petermann Island. By now, I can safely say that penguins had lost their novelty value, but these ones, adelie penguins, were a different species at least. 

The setting for our afternoon zodiac iceberg tour reminded me of Superman's Fortress of Solitude, with stunning ice sculptures dotted around the place like exhibits in a floating modern art museum. At one point, our pilot Emilio killed the engine, and we drifted amongst the icebergs in relative silence. Without the distraction of the engine noise, everyone just stopped talking, and took in the incredible view in our midst. This was a moment that will stay will me forever, the signature moment of the expedition, where it became apparent that this is one of the very few remaining places on the planet that's completely free of the exploitation of nature by humans. It's pristine. 

At this stage, we were approaching the time to start heading back, and there wasn't too much left to do or see. Our eighth day was spent entirely on board, as we sailed back up north to try and reach the Weddell Sea, our original destination at the start of the expedition. There was simply too much ice in our path however, and so instead we had the fallback of a cruise around some enormous tabular icebergs.

Alive

Day nine was to be our last in Antarctica, spend in and around the South Shetland Islands. Our morning stop was at the otherworldly and desolate Deception Island, which is C shaped due to the interior being a massive caldera (a collapsed volcanic cone). It's still very much an active volcano, with a large eruption every few decades, and it was fascinating to stroll around an old whaling station half buried in volcanic ash, as well as exploring an abandoned British base and hangar.

The polar plunge was the big activity here though. Seeing as we were almost on our way back to cities and hospitals, our ship's doctor ran the risk of passenger hypothermia and allowed us to go for a little paddle in the Antarctic waters The more mad folks amongst us, myself included, did just that. It's not as dumb as it sounds though, because the island was an active volcano, and the land was piping hot at the water's edge. Running from the shore, the temperature was like this: burning hot sand -> hot sand -> warm water -> cold water -> fucking freezing, all over five crazy seconds of sprinting. The worst part was trying to get dressed again as fast as possible in the polar wind.

Our final excursion took us to Livingston Island, which was the spot most jam-packed with wildlife that we had seen on the trip. Chinstrap penguins were present in the thousands, along with large packs of elephant seals lumbering about, making hilarious engine like noises. After inspecting some fern fossils, that was it - it was time to leave Antarctic land for the last time, and make our way back to the South American continent.

Back on board, after another very decent three-course dinner with a beer or two, spirits were high and spirits started flowing. A gang of us ending up in a round of whiskies (including the two Irishmen, typical). We were celebrating having "done" Antarctica, and swapping stories of travel and having the craic until 2.30 in the morning, when Dan our barnstorming barman had had enough and went to bed.

The next morning, I woke with my head spinning and the room swaying. We were back in the Drake Passage, and conditions were rough once again. My hangovers are bad enough as it is, but a hangover on the Drake was another level entirely. I barely made it out of bed in time for lunch, and again for dinner. I was looking forward to getting back on to steady ground at this point.

Monika, expedition leader, to my left. Ship's captain to my right.

Once we had escaped the nightmare hangover venue that is the Drake, conditions returned to calm serenity in the Beagle Channel, and would remain so all the way back to port. The final afternoon on the boat was given over to a lovely recap of the whole trip, with a detailed description of where we had been and what we had seen (all provided to us in a USB stick each), with grand applause for each of the expedition staff and crew, as well as a graduation-style round of certificate presentations by the ship's captain to each passenger, which was a nice touch.

The final night on board was a relatively quiet one, before one last big buffet breakfast, some farewells, and disembarking the following morning. Make no mistake, this was an absolutely epic adventure. For me, just to be in Antarctica, that weird white blob at the bottom of the atlas, was a bucket list item checked. But after arriving there, what I experienced was above and beyond what I expected. It's like being on some far flung, distant, cold planet, where mankind hasn't been able to get a foothold, and nature is still unspoiled. If anyone in future asks me if it's worth the quite hefty expense, my answer will be an unequivocal and impassioned yes.

More pictures from Antarctica

My expedition was on board the Ushuaia with Antarpply Expeditions, who I highly recommend