Journey to Antarctica

Antarctica holds an impressive array of titles: Most Remote Region in the World, Largest Desert on the Planet, Most Untouched Area on Earth. After witnessing it for myself, I’m still at a loss for words when trying to fully encompass the depth of my experience.

Entering an awe-inspiring and untamed region is nothing short of special. While the icy landscape is massive I found it to also be simplistic and minimalistic, in a good way, of course. At times, you can even bottle up its distinct brand of perfume (let it be known that the tuxedoed locals are embarrassingly messy). Half the year is spent in complete darkness but come October polar summer emerges bringing 24-hours of daylight and curious visitors to its frozen shores, though make no mistake, reaching the bottom of the world is no easy task.

Although tourism is steadily growing each year, due largely in part to the rise of global warming awareness, only half a million people have visited Antarctica ever. For extreme comparison, the Eiffel Tower has 7 million visitors per year, though it is far more accessible, of course. With the abundance of wildlife, fresh-water glaciers and intense seas, this icy abyss continues to stoke the wonder of travelers, polar explorers, and scientists alike.

To give you an idea of what visiting Antarctica is like, I’ve broken down my journey by day below. Along the way, you’ll learn about the wildlife, find out what there is to do when visiting the edge of the world, and even what it takes to do a polar plunge.

days 1-2

crossing the drake

Just after 5pm, we said goodbye to Ushuaia, the small Argentine port town that marks the jumping-off point for Antarctica. The sun was still high as our ship, Ocean Atlantic, slowly chugged through the narrow Beagle Channel, with Argentina floating past on our left and Chile on our right. Once through, we would not see land for two days. It would be another eight before we saw another soul.

To reach Antarctica, travelers must complete a 2-day crossing of the infamous Drake Passage, considered to be among the roughest seas in the world - with the way it moves you can only imagine it holds that title with great pride. While the journey is far less dangerous than when polar exploring masochists hopped on wooden boats with a few hardy sails in the early 1900s, its reputation has endured for good reason.

Weather is notoriously unpredictable and the Drake is as merciful as it is consistent. While some sail along luxuriously calm seas, lovingly dubbed the “Drake Lake,” many others are not as lucky (or are lucky depending on your stomach for adventure) and experience the “Drake Shake.” (If you’d like a better idea of the Shake, please take a moment to watch this video, or if you’re short on time and want to see what it’s like to lose an engine in the middle the sea, watch this one.)

During our voyage, we blessedly found ourselves in the sea’s good graces and, for the most part, we calmly rode along Drake Lake to Antarctica. Needless to say, our “calm” seas still required that grab-and-go puke bags be available in hallways, sea sickness patches to be worn and people resorted to the fetal position as the boat “gently” rocked back and forth. Or maybe that last part was just me.

day 3

venturing into the weddell sea

After 48 hours on the Drake Passage, we awoke to small icebergs sprinkled on the sea. The more iceberg clusters we saw, the more palpable the excitement was onboard. We were beyond ready to get off the ship and into all that glorious icy goodness out there.

Most ships keep a southward course, sailing along the western side of the Antarctic Peninsula, but our Expedition Leader was no ordinary man. Instead, he opted to take a quick detour into the Weddell Sea, an area on the northeastern side of the Peninsula that most passenger ships breeze right past. Due to severe pack ice and often unfavorable weather conditions of the Antarctic Sound (the passage that leads to the Weddell Sea), it’s difficult to predict if a ship will make it through. It if it does, it’s an absolutely spectacular sight. If it doesn’t, well you’ve just traded a day of off-ship exploration for a day of backtracking on a boat. It’s a risky choice and the odds are often stacked against you.

On January 8th, as we sailed through the Antarctic Sound, the weather was once again in our favor. While we nervously navigated through fog we heard an announcement from our Expedition Leader: we had successfully made it to the Weddell Sea. My oh my, what a sight it was to behold. Later, we learned that at times the captain could only see 100 meters ahead of the ship, a fact that is as worrisome as it is impressive.

The captain was steering us toward Paulet Islet, where we would disembark for a day excursion. Along the way, we were slowly introduced to penguins, with a few porpoising in and out of the water hunting for food near the ship. Soon we began to see dozens of penguins waddling atop icebergs, and then we saw the enormity that is Paulet Islet.

paulet islet: penguin heaven

From the ship, we looked at Paulet Islet in disbelief. Before us was a massive colony of penguins completely covering every inch of the landscape. We eagerly boarded zodiacs to take us to land and soon we were staring at (and smelling) 150,000 Adelie penguins in their poop-covered home. It was beyond anything I’ve ever experienced - or smelled.

Clocking in just a hair over 2-feet tall, Adelies are the smallest of the Antarctic penguins yet they possess a level of sass and feistiness fit for a creature 10x its size. This, coupled with their comical googly eyes, naturally makes them my favorite penguin. Their babies are also something else; these large-footed chunky furballs, speckled with feces and fish remnants, roam around with a pouty slouch as they bear the weight of their fluffy down coat.

While Adelies are plentiful on the Antarctic Peninsula, they are rarer to spy because they prefer icier, more difficult-to-reach areas. Voyages that skip the Weddell Sea may only see a handful of Adelie penguins on their whole trip, if any at all. Yet there I was, on our first day no less, in the middle of the elusive Weddell Sea walking amongst a hundred thousand Adelie penguins.

While on land, visitors may roam carefully in designated areas but must stay at least six feet away from wildlife, who always has the right-of-way. That said, penguins tend to walk briskly and with an air of absolute authority toward nowhere in particular, often barreling right toward you. In this case, humans must stay still and let the penguin pass as it will. While delicately maneuvering through the slippery poop-filled landscape, I was often stopped in my tracks as a penguin hurried toward me only to veer off at the last moment. One started to clean itself a foot from me so I was stuck for a little bit, just watching this tiny guy take a bath.

To say our trip was off to a good start is a vast understatement. It was also a bold start because everything thereafter had the potential of being a little less exciting. Luckily, “less exciting” was not on the itinerary.

day 4

hyDrurgra rocks

Our next excursion took us to a (messy) Chinstrap penguin colony that had (slightly cleaner) seals snoozing on the ice. I’ve come to the conclusion that walking into a penguin colony is much like approaching and entering a frat house – I know, we’re taking it back to college here but bear with me. From afar, they have such a beautiful home with lovely views and well-manicured lawns, but then you get closer and think HOW DID IT GET SO GROSS AND MESSY HERE? ARE YOU AWARE YOU HAVE ACCESS TO WATER!? – AND WHAT IS THAT PUTRID SMELL!? But they’re cute and amusing to watch, so you stay for the party.

Touching the 7th continent

Despite Antarctica’s vastness, many trips spend less time on the actual continent and more time exploring the smaller islands surrounding it. On January 9th, our Expedition Leader informed us that we would finally step foot onto the mainland to make our official “continental landing.”

We giddily geared up with smiles plastered on our faces and loaded into zodiacs to be shuttled to shore. Once there, we were greeted by our Expedition Leader who spoke quietly and calmly as we approached. “We have a seal just over there", he whispered. Seals have extremely sensitive hearing, which is somewhat ironic since those in Antarctica are scientifically classified as Phocidae, or “earless” seals, but I digress. “Please be sure to speak softly and walk slowly,” he continued.

As we exited the zodiac, our boots getting wet as we stepped in the shallow water, we could spy said Weddell seal, perhaps 20 paces away, snoozing the afternoon away. We dramatically tiptoed around him in awe, as if sneaking to peek at gifts under the Christmas tree.

As I reached the seal, I paused and crouched down, maybe 15 feet away, silently watching his thick body rise and fall with each sleepy breath. While other passengers were around me, passing by or taking a photo, it felt like I were alone, just me and this slumbering ball of blubber. After a few minutes, he (or she) gently opened his eyes, tilted his head backwards and fixed his gaze on me. Since I don’t often find myself in staring contests with seals, I didn’t know the proper protocol or course of action; a small smile felt right, or at the very least it didn’t feel wrong.

He held my gaze another moment, likely thinking what a strange smiling fool I resembled, before readjusting his flippers and resting his head back down on the ice to continue his nap. Phew, that went well, I thought, I shall henceforth provide all seals with my most awkward of smiles.

While I’m sure we exchanged a very clear and loving non-verbal heart-to-heart during the interaction, it was more likely one-sided. To him, I was nothing more than another animal on the planet, which felt like an odd yet extraordinarily simple, realization that gave me a comforting sense of peace. It is this sort of experience, small as it was, that has such an indelible impact and what makes visiting Antarctica so special.

day 5

port lockroy

The most popular visitor site in Antarctica, Port Lockroy, offers a small museum, gift shop - yes, gift shop - and research center. It is also home to the beloved Penguin Post Office where you can mail a postcard back to the civilized world. When we visited, I was momentarily taken aback to see buildings after being surrounded by nothing but water and glaciers, but I was quickly distracted by the smorgasbord of Gentoo penguins.

Gentoos are arguably the sweetest and most photogenic of all penguins - two very high honors. Their chicks are on a superior level of cuteness as well, which surely doesn’t hurt Port Lockroy’s popularity. It was here that I had the immense pleasure of meeting my very favorite penguin on the whole trip: a sassy-looking (though presumably very happy) Gentoo just trying to enjoy an afternoon nap atop a pile of crunchy-looking rocks.

sailing through the lemaire

Our journey southward continued, eventually taking us to a longitude of 65°, 10’ S, just shy of the Antarctic Circle, which sits at 66° S. To reach this point, we sailed through the Lemaire Channel, a picturesque strait sandwiched between towering cliffs. The fog was heavy that day and the icebergs plentiful, so we were prepared for the possibility of not making it through.

We stood on the bow of the ship to watch as we neared its narrow entrance - its gorgeous icebergs both beckoning us forward and urging us back. The cliffs hugged the ship and with the fog concealing their tops I wondered how high they soared into the sky (guess I have to go back one day to confirm!). As we passed glaciers and icebergs of all sizes, most with crisp edges and exuding an ethereal appearance in the fog, we were greeted by humpback whales as they emerged beside the ship and showed off their acrobatics. We hit the Antarctic wildlife trifecta as we also spied a lone seal and penguin on a chunk of floating ice. Perhaps most importantly, we had a badass Captain who successfully steered the ship through the channel with the same ease he used to slice through warm butter for his dinner roll.

Kayaking

After making it through the Lemaire, I had the opportunity to kayak, which was an experience that went above expectations. Being intimately close to the environment is something that is difficult to describe or properly convey. It engaged all my senses: touching the frigid water with the tips of my fingers, smelling the penguins as we glided past, feeling the kayak sway with the waves, hearing the crack of an iceberg nearby then watching it calve and roll through the water.

Most memorable was approaching a sleeping leopard seal and hearing its surprisingly soft snoring (seals are constantly enjoying a siesta, I’m sure of this). This was also mildly terrifying as leopard seals are frightful-looking creatures that resemble pre-historic dinosaurs that only want to murder you with great brutality. They are also penguin-eating heathens but perhaps that’s biased of me to say. In any case, it was incredible to have an encounter with such a powerful animal in its wild habitat.

Day 6

Bailey’s Head

On our final full day in Antarctica, the ship sailed north into Deception Bay. It was almost startling to see hints of greenery again as my eyes had adjusted to the hues of blue and white for the past week. We loaded into zodiacs and watched as an army of chinstrap penguins ran into the sea just as another group was heading back to shore. It looked like they had a nice, organized system in place. We weren’t the only ones watching them though. Petrels, the massive penguin-eating birds, were offshore waiting to snag lunch - and sadly I watched as they did. I can’t say that I ever needed to see the inside of a penguin, but here we are.

Polar Plunge

After our last excursion, the zodiac took us back to the ship. Once onboard, we received good news: today we could do the polar plunge! This chilly rite of passage is precisely what it sounds like, a plunge into the polar abyss. Nearly every tourist ship tries to offer a plunge for guests to partake in, however, the weather doesn’t always cooperate or there is too much ice, which deems it dangerous. As we neared the last day - still without a polar plunge - I had low expectations of it happening. This made the good news all the more exciting!

I changed into my swimsuit - packed a week specifically to do a polar plunge - and donned my heavy-duty bathrobe. I followed the music down to the mudroom on the loading deck where I found people happily chatting and whiskey waiting to warm us up post-jump. Never had I seen a group so anxious to jump into below freezing water, nor have I ever looked at whiskey so longingly.

My friends and I opted to go first, purely for selfish reasons. You see, they wrap a harness around your waist to make sure you don’t float away on accident and the first people to go have the luxury of a dry harness. Everyone else has to be fitted with a dripping wet and freezing cold harness around their waist - no thank you. I stepped up to bat, walked barefoot down the metal stairs and without hesitation jumped on in with flair. How do I describe the feeling of jumping nearly naked into sub-freezing waters? Well, it felt like 800 steely knives going into my body all at once and instantly taking my breath away. It was also liberating as hell. All in all, it’s about a minute process: disrobe, jump, run back in for your robe, shoot down whiskey. Then your hot shower is only a deck up and all is right in the warm world once again.

day 7-9

Crossing the Drake once again

Nine days after stepping onto the ship, I once again found myself in the port of Ushuaia, only this time I was preparing to make the journey home. While it was admittedly nice to be off of a boat (I don’t care how “calm” the seas are), it was difficult to say goodbye to new friends and part ways with such a tremendous experience.

As a parting gift from me to you, which also serves as a congratulations for successfully reading this whole post, here is a final penguin picture before you go. It depicts how I lost my mind and only saw pengiuin-shaped things during my voyage. Though in my defense, please just look at this piece of ice and tell me it doesn’t look like a penguin.