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January 9 — farewell SGI

Gold Harbour: There was no gold if you went looking for the mineral itself, but our first landing of the day yielded a goldmine of animals, including king penguins, elephant seals, and fur seals. We spent a bit of time with the animals that greeted us on the beach and then walked inland to get a closer view of the hanging glacier. We found not only the glacier, but a colony of king penguins rimming a large body of water as well. I realized then that we were in the same place depicted on a poster we have on the wall of our dining room at home.

Several of our fellow-passengers hiked up to the glacier; the risk of breaking our necks on the steep scree slope was just a bit more than we were willing to take on. Instead, we found a couple of guano-free boulders not far from the colony and enjoyed spending time with the local royalty. With the brilliant sun warming us, we had shed our parkas and life jackets shortly after landing on the island. Sitting and enjoying the kings going about their business of feeding, molting, nesting, etc. against the spectacular backdrop of the glacier is one of our most treasured remembrances of this trip. That we were able to enjoy all that Gold Harbour had to offer while wearing little more than what we would on an early spring day in Washington, DC certainly added to our pleasure.

Cooper Bay: Later in the morning, our zodiac cruise in Cooper Bay added to the wonderful memories we had already collected. But it was also a bitter sweet time since it was time to say goodbye to the macaroni penguins. En route to Cooper Bay, we saw more icebergs lazily traveling on the currents. Set against the brilliant blue sky and the darker blue of the ocean, the pale blue bergs were an added attraction that kept us on deck until we reached our anchorage site.

The sea outside the protective rim of reefs was quite calm, but once inside, that changed. Having to squeeze in and out of the bay by way of narrow gaps in the reef, the water was a bit choppy when we approached the rocks that are home to macaroni penguins. It made composing pictures quite challenging, since keeping the camera focused on the subject was particularly difficult.

In the same colony with the orange-plumed macaronis, which get their name from English dandies of the 19th century who dyed their hair in streaks, we were thrilled to see chinstrap penguins as well. These penguins get their name from the thin line of black feathers that run from ear to ear under the chin, making it look like they are wearing a black cap. Early explorers called them “ringed” penguins, but I like chinstrap better, and soon we were all calling them “chinnies,” a common nickname for the species. As well as the colony of penguins here, we saw blue-eyed shags, snowy sheathbills, and elephant and fur seals.

Drygalski Fjord: Before we headed south towards the Peninsula, we did a ship’s cruise along Drygalski Fjord to Risting Glacier. This cruise simply made a terrific day even better. Passing closer to the icebergs we had seen earlier in the morning, we entered the fjord’s calm waters. With glorious blue skies above, we sailed close along jagged rocks rising to the sky like church spires. Mountains topped with glaciers that gleamed in the sun like so much icing on a cake made for an amazing spectacle and we felt like we were cruising inside nature’s own cathedral.

The ship approached the terminus of Risting Glacier, which flows for miles and miles, and ends at the edge of the water at an approximate height of 196 ft [60 m]; that’s the portion that shows above the water. The sight of a giant wall of ice, topped with jagged pressure ridges and crevasses, was awe-inspiring. That we had already seen giant rivers of ice like this one in other parts of SGI [and in Alaska in 2001] did not diminish our pleasure in the experience. You can’t say, “Once you’ve seen one glacier; you’ve seen them all.” Each is unique in its own way; a creation of Mother Nature that is mind boggling in its size and beauty.

The Molchanov stayed awhile near the face of the glacier. The water was littered with brash ice and bergy-bits of all sizes, evidence of recent calvings. We waited patiently for Risting Glacier, or even neighboring Jenkins Glacier, to calve for us. Despite the snaps and crackles, however, they remained inactive. One of the receding glaciers on a high slope of the fjord wall granted us our wish on our way back to the open seas.

Icebergs: Captain Cook is said to be the first to set foot on SGI and is generally accepted as the explorer who discovered the island. At the time, he thought he was sighting the Antarctic Continent. It’s understandable, therefore, that he would name the point where he rounded the island and realized it was not the white continent in a manner that reflected his feelings at that moment: Cape Disappointment. It was with a sense of sadness and not disappointment that we watched that same spit of land recede into the horizon. We were sad because we were leaving SGI and its spectacular scenery and amazing wildlife. Our feelings were tempered, however, by the fact that we were heading down the Scotia Sea towards the Peninsula region where even more amazing things were awaiting us.

As though joining us in our “departure blues,” the skies grew overcast as we moved farther and farther away from SGI. The outside decks emptied as the island disappeared from view and we went to the dining room for some hot beverages. We didn’t stay inside long, however. It didn’t matter that it was overcast and a bit breezy outside, giant tabular icebergs were appearing on the horizon. So, like moths drawn to a flame, we donned our warm jackets, grabbed our cameras, and went back on deck to enjoy the magnificent creations of Mother Nature. That these icebergs had originated in the Antarctic added to their appeal.

We watched a line of bergs far on the horizon, the sun shining on them like a spotlight, until their nearby cousins redirected our attention. Our joy in sighting the bergs was increased when one of the bergs closer to the ship revealed penguins rafting on it; nothing like a free ride when you can get one! We enjoyed the sight of every iceberg until they became mere specks on the horizon.

NEXT: THE TRIP - At Sea & Meeting the Adélies

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January 10 — at sea

Although we made no landings, the pace aboard the ship slowed down only a tiny bit. Off-ship activities were replaced by lectures. The icebergs of the day before were long behind us; our entertainment on deck consisted of birds in flight. We used the day to recover from our exhausting schedule on SGI and rest up for the activities ahead.

January 11 — meeting the Adélies

After a reasonably calm crossing, we arrived at the South Orkney Islands. Although there was only one mid-morning landing scheduled, we were on deck bright and early. The attraction: icebergs, icebergs and more icebergs in the Washington Strait.

Some were dirty; some were pristine. Some were flat-topped, reminding us of gigantic aircraft carriers; some were not. Some were uninhabited; some were occupied by penguins hitching a ride. Some were white; some were blue; some were marbled like soft-serve ice cream — except that they were rock hard — and some were stained guano-pink. Some were far; some were close; some were closer still. Some were new; some were old and scarred by the battles they had fought with the waves and winds. They all had one thing in common — they were huge! So much so that our minds had trouble processing the sights around us. We had noticed this on SGI as well. Everything was bigger than life. And, it was about to get even bigger!

Shingle Cove: This small cove on Coronation Island was the site of our only landing in the South Orkneys and our first encounter with the Adélie penguins, named by explorer Dumont D’Urville for his wife. The Adélies are one of two species of penguins that make their home only in the Antarctic. [We may have seen an immature emperor penguin, the other Antarctic-only penguin, swimming in the ocean, but there was considerable debate about it possibly being a king penguin.]

Unlike the other penguins we had seen already, we found this species to be very active, waddling about from one place to another as fast as their short legs could carry them. Seeing them moving about at a smart pace, going to and fro between the sea and their nests, I was reminded of a description of these birds from Dr Edward Wilson’s journal: “They are extraordinarily like children, or like old men, full of their own importance and late for dinner, in their black tail-coats and white shirt-fronts — and rather portly withal.” [Dr Wilson was the zoologist on Scott’s ill-fated attempt to reach the South Pole; Scott, Wilson, and three companions died on the trip back from the Pole.]

It was a delight to perch on one of the rocks and just enjoy the activity all around me. There were chicks chasing parents for a bite to eat; adult penguins chasing scavenging skuas and vice-versa; sad looking chicks who had obviously had a close encounter with the guano-laced muck; penguins preening and showing off their brilliant white chests to guano-pink chested birds that were on nest duty. It was a thrilling site to enjoy; even on a mostly overcast day.

Although we would like to have stayed the rest of the day on this island, we had miles to go if we were to make our “hoped-for” landing the next day at a historically-significant site. Detouring to a rock in the bay where a lone Weddell seal, the only one we were to see on the trip, was sunning itself, we returned to the ship and weighed anchor to resume our voyage south.

We spent the rest of the day watching icebergs … icebergs … and more icebergs; they came in all shapes and sizes. Having calved off one of the ice shelves — most likely the Ronne Ice Shelf in the Weddell Sea — these bergs were caught in the currents of the Southern Ocean. They were helplessly following a path that would some day lead to their demise as the ravages of wind and ocean took their toll. We were at times entertained by porpoising penguins, but there was no sign of the whales that had made a brief showing early that morning.

NEXT: THE TRIP - An Elephant in the Antarctic

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January 12 — an elephant in the Antarctic

In seas that were slightly choppy at times and calm as a pond at other times, we arrived at Elephant and Clarence islands in the South Shetlands. The sunshine from the previous day had been replaced by clouds and the overcast remained with us for most of the day.

The island got its name from the elephant seals that were spotted here by Captain George Powell in 1821. That said, it seems an odd coincidence that the shape of the island resembles the head of an elephant with the trunk extended.

The big question of the day was whether we would be able to visit Elephant Island, a small speck of land surrounded by churning surf that often causes plans to be changed. The answer was — yes. In fact, not only were we able to do a zodiac cruise at Point Wild, we were able to land at Cape Lookout. From all I read before the trip, and what I subsequently heard from the expedition staff, it was an exceptionally lucky day for us. A very nice bonus.

Point Wild: After months of living on ice floes, this narrow, inhospitable spit of land served as home to 22 of Shackleton’s men while he and five others went in search of rescue. That the men survived the four months until they were rescued has always seemed like a miracle to me; even more so now that I have seen Point Wild for myself. Worsley, Shackleton's captain, wrote in his book, Shackleton's Boat Journey, that the men pronounced the island with a silent 't' and an 'h' prefixed, making Elephant Island sound more like “Hell-of-an-Island.” From their point of view, it probably was just that!

We cruised as close to shore as we could to see as much as we could; the surf was too rough to make an actual landing. Sasha, our zodiac driver, kept a wary eye on the reefs nearby, taking us close to the narrow beach where Shackleton’s men lived under two small, overturned boats — lifeboats, really. There’s nothing left of those boats now. In their place stands a statue honoring Luis Pardo, the captain of the Yelcho — the Chilean ship that eventually rescued the men. Point Wild was overrun by chinnies who seem to be flourishing despite the hardships of life on the island.

Sasha then wanted to take us out to a tabular berg on the far side of Point Wild. Most of the people in our zodiac, however, wanted to cruise near the face of the tidewater glacier in the bay. We should have listened to Sasha! We slowly grinded our way through the brash ice, making noises like a blender full of ice cubes. By the time we arrived at the glacier, the fog had thickened. Never mind seeing the face of the glacier, we could barely make out the people sitting at the opposite end of the zodiac. When we were back in ice-free water, we asked Sasha what would have happened if the motor had broken down. “I only have you and a bunch of oars,” was his reply. He was joking, of course. Although it was sometimes impossible to see the all-white Molchanov hidden in the thick fog, we were never out of communications range. [By the way, there were no oars in the zodiac!]

After a brief visit to a nearby Cape petrel rookery, we gave up. The fog was winning the sightseeing battle. We returned to the ship and were soon on our way to the unplanned second landing at Elephant Island.

Cape Lookout: Shackleton and his men may not have considered Cape Lookout as a suitable spot for themselves, but our intrepid group was quite happy with our landing site. Arriving at a very narrow strip of sand beach, we were greeted by a few penguins and some elephant and fur seals. With an agility that would have put an acrobat to shame, we clambered over the boulder-strewn beach to reach the penguin colony a short distance away. Nesting skuas had us detouring along the way, but we all made it safely and no one was dive-bombed by the birds.

The penguin colony started at the edge of the water and went all the way up a steep, rocky hillside. The swath of guano-pink land running up the hill made it easy to see how far up the colony reached. Opting to stay close to the gentoos and chinnies in the lower reaches of the colony, I found a boulder and sat down to enjoy my time with the penguins. There was a lot of activity as adults went to and from the beach and chicks chased newly-arrived parents for a drop of regurgitated krill. Giant bergs passing just off the coast of the island added a sense of freshness to the landscape and I often found my attention wandering from the activity onshore to the activity offshore as the scenery kept changing from one moment to another.

NEXT: THE TRIP - Another Day in the South Shetlands

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January 13 — yet another day in the South Shetlands

We had a relatively late wake-up call at 7:30a, but I was up long before then, enjoying a delightful Antarctic morning. I was entranced by the glacier- and snow-covered specks of land around us. It was the unmistakable smell of “guano in the morning” that alerted me to the presence of penguins. It was just a whiff, and the smell passed quickly, but now I turned my attention to searching the landmasses around me for penguins. Sure enough; there they were — tiny black and white dots against a pinkish background.

Aitcho Islands: Our first landing of the day was at Aitcho Islands. It might sound like a foreign word, but in fact, Aitcho is English — sort of! It stands for the initials of the [British] Hydrographic Office. Say it: H — O.

Chinnies greeted us on shore, but they did not stay to visit with us. Their pristine white feathers told us the story — they had just returned from feeding and were anxious to get to their nests to relieve their partners and feed their chicks. Some of the birds nesting on the high ground adorned the rim of a cliff like a necklace of black and white pearls. As we walked up closer to the penguins, we could make out chicks in their downy coats and adults caring for them.

Although it was a mixed colony of chinnies and gentoo penguins, each species seemed to be keeping company with its own kind. It was quieter in the gentoo neighborhoods, whereas ecstatic displays filled the air around the chinnie nests. There was a great deal of chick feeding going on, although I did not see any chicks chasing after parents, begging for food. It was funny to see the gentoo chicks, which were about half the size of the adults, trying to nestle under a parent for warmth and protection from the wind. They were so adorable; it was hard not to reach out and run our hands through their downy coats.

Deception Island: Back on the ship, we stayed on deck to enjoy the scenery of the Bransfield Strait. The blue skies continued for our onward journey to Deception Island, but there was considerably more wind. This was one of the few times when walking on deck was a real challenge, because the wind gusts were so strong. Most of the passengers were on the bridge as we approached Deception Island, and a few brave souls were on the flybridge. Tucked into a niche on Deck 3, I enjoyed the ship’s passage through Neptune’s Bellow into the sunken caldera of the volcano from a lower vantage point. It was amazing how quickly the howling wind dissipated once we rounded the entrance.

The ship anchored in the calm waters of Whaler’s Bay and we made an easy landing onto a black-sand beach near the remains of a whaling station. I was grateful that for once there was little wildlife around; they would have distracted us from everything else this landing had to offer.

At a leisurely pace, Hubby and I left the whaling station behind and trod across the black-sand beach, sometimes letting the gentle surf wash up over our boots. A lone chinnie was standing guard near the ramshackle remains of an old hut. As though greeting us, he bowed in our direction before hastening into the surf for an afternoon dip.

The landscape was dotted with old whaling boats and buildings half submerged in the ashes of a volcanic eruption, the last of which was in 1970. It was a reminder that we were inside an active volcano. On the cliffs, the green shoots of newly developing vegetation proved that the land was healing itself. Every so often, we came across whale bones; a sad reminder of a not-so-great chapter in human history.

Although the distance was not great — probably a mile or so — it took us a while to get to the trail leading up to Neptune’s Window; we were distracted by everything that caught our eye along the way. This worked to our advantage; by the time we got there, most people were already coming down. The walk up the scree slope to the Window was not particularly difficult or treacherous, but required careful attention to where we put our feet. The short hike up was definitely worth it. Through the Window, we had an excellent view of the scenery behind the island and a close view of a Cape petrel rookery. The sky was dotted with what I believe is one of the most beautiful birds in the Antarctic, and we enjoyed sitting on boulders and watching the comings and goings of the birds. When we turned around to look in the opposite direction, all of Whaler’s Bay was laid out to our gaze with the whaling station in the distance.

Eventually, we walked back down and followed the surfline back to the whaling station, stopping en route to spend time with two polar skuas that were sitting on the beach just out of reach of the surf. Unlike other encounters with the species, these birds did not fly off when we approached and it was a nice opportunity to see the scavengers of the Antarctic up close and personal.

Meanwhile, near the zodiac landing site, there was a flurry of activity. Brave Molchanovites were in different stages of undress; a couple of crewmen were digging a pit at the water’s edge. Since Deception Island is an active volcano, there is geo-thermally heated water trickling up to the surface. We had dipped our hands in the water inside a pit earlier to test the temperature against the temperature of the ocean and found it to be downright “toasty.” However, that’s where Hubby and I drew the line. I know; it wasn’t very adventuresome of us, but so be it! I don’t know if I can say that those who braved the cold waters of Whaler’s Bay enjoyed the experience, but they certainly appreciated their brief respite in the hot-water pit afterwards.

Since we dawdled so long on our walk to and from Neptune’s Window, we had to forego an in-depth exploration of the whaling station. I did manage to wander around the tanks that were used in the heyday of whaling to store oil rendered from whale blubber. Thankfully, these rusted, hole-filled reminders of those days are now filled with just the echoing sounds of wildlife and the occasional conversations of visitors.

On this night we went to sleep in sight of the Antarctic Continent.

NEXT: THE TRIP - Mother Nature's Amazing Wonders

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January 14 — mother nature’s amazing wonders

We had a very full day; not to mention, a very rewarding one. We were up bright and early for the ship’s transit through Gerlache Strait on our way to Errera Channel and the wonders beyond. The blue skies gave way to clouds for a very brief time, but they didn’t last long enough to dampen our enthusiasm. Before we knew it, we were sailing under blue skies again, with whales blowing near the ship, crabeater seals snoozing on the ice floes, and penguins surprising us as they rafted by on icebergs.

Petzval Glacier: Once through Errera Channel, we anchored in Paradise Bay. Our first activity was a zodiac cruise to Petzval Glacier. “Who wants to be the first to touch Antarctica?” asked Mariano as he nosed the zodiac up against a bare rock sticking out of the water. Once everyone had a chance to stroke the rock for good luck, we continued a leisurely cruise under blue skies. The water could not have been calmer — or so I thought at the time. Making our way around “smallish” bergs in the bay, we closed in on the face of the glacier to view the different shades of blue running throughout the ice. The terminus was heavily crevassed and we could see deep into the ice where the bluest of blue colors were visible to the naked eye.

Stepping on the Continent: On the way to our much-anticipated continental landing, we stopped in front of a rookery where Antarctic blue-eyed shags were nesting in the cracks and crevices of a cliff. Many of the birds were just sitting on the nests and probably had chicks hidden beneath them. In several of the nests, however, parents were feeding chicks and we enjoyed the spectacle for a while.

Eventually, Mariano revved up the motor and we continued around a spit of land to the Almirante Brown Research Station, the site of our “continental landing.” With the bow of the zodiac nosed-up onto some high boulders, we made a dry landing as the waters of Paradise Bay splashed against the low-lying rocks. We followed a sign that pointed us to the “tourist way” and made our way behind the buildings of the Argentinean research station.

I have to admit to some disappointment about this landing, although we did not let that dampen our enthusiasm for the occasion. In my mind’s eye, I had seen us making our continental landing in a very pristine environment. That wasn’t the case — and I am not talking about the guano from the small colony of gentoo penguins that tinted the snow pink.

When we rounded the corner of the building, we were greeted by the sight of a multitude of crates, metal drums, etc., lying on the snow in complete disarray. A few of the crates had their lids off, as though someone had cracked them open to check the contents. We later learned that the station personnel had only just arrived and the equipment had been air-dropped the day before — that at least explained all the nets that I was concerned the gentoos could be trapped by. The expedition staff also explained that the station had experienced a fire, which resulted in the loss of the storage building — apparently the doctor did not want to overwinter in Antarctica and set the place on fire. If it’s the same fire I read about, that was back in 1984 and the ruins of the building should have been removed or replaced by now.

The majority of the group climbed a nearby high point and was soon sliding down the snow-covered hill. While they were enjoying their activity, several others stayed with the penguin colony near the buildings. Hubby and I trekked over in a different direction where we were able to enjoy a bit of solitude. The bay that we came to was home to icebergs, pristine snow, and a blue-white tidewater glacier. This was the pristine Antarctica we were looking for. While we were enjoying the view to our right, a loud gunshot crack from the left alerted us to a big calving from the glacier. Hubby was able to capture the action on film — or so we thought. Although the camera was seemingly recording; it wasn’t. Oh well, we have a nice memory imprinted in our minds. The amazing thing about the calving was the speed at which the resulting waves moved across the bay, taking along pieces of ice of all shapes and sizes. In less than a minute after the calving, some of that ice was washing ashore near the huts that were just below us.

We were enjoying the company of the small colony of gentoos when the call came to board the zodiacs for the journey to our southernmost point. We thought we’d had an amazing day already. More was to come!

Lemaire Channel: Soon after lunch, we found ourselves at the entrance to Lemaire Channel — appropriately nicknamed “Kodak Gap”, “Fuji Funnel”, and “Agfa Alley.” I’m sure someone will come up with a suitable tribute to modern day photography at some point; until then, how about “Digital Ditch.”

We enjoyed the ship’s cruise from the bow, rather than the flybridge. It was the right place to be as from this low-on-the-ship location, the grandeur of the scenery was multiplied several fold. Passing floes on which crabeater seals were resting, we slowly cruised the channel in the company of minke whales blowing not too far from the ship. I have to admit this was one time where the scenery had me so in awe that I did not even try to look for the whales.

We had company as we slowly sailed closer to the mouth of the channel — the Whale Song, a small vessel, was just in front of us. With little effort on the part of the Molchanov, we left the yacht in our wake. When the water became clogged with brash ice, the Whale Song had to turn back. Not so our trusty ship; we slowly plowed through the brash ice. For the first time on our trip, we heard the sounds of ice gently banging up against the ice-reinforced hull as we nudged away the bergy bits and growlers that were blocking our way. With an incredible blue sky above, snow- and glacier-covered peaks on both sides, and blue-white ice of all sizes around us, it was a stunning passage through the channel.

Petermann Island: Our spectacular afternoon continued with an extended landing on Petermann Island. [It was rumored that our sister ship had given up her time on the island as she was involved in a rescue.] Part of this island is used to research human impact on penguins [thankfully, there doesn’t seem to be any], so some of the colonies were off limits to us.

Following Nigel, we trekked to a colony located against a beautiful backdrop that included the channel and the glaciers on the opposite side. The colony was a mix of Adélie and gentoo penguins. Chicks were everywhere, huddled against parents. Penguins were coming and going as they returned from feeding to take over nest duties. A pair of Adélies was attempting to mate — I think they were young adults that weren’t quite sure what to do! There was quite a bit of “stone thievery” going on as penguins selected stones from neighboring nests and used them to enhance their own. Seeing a few of the chicks stealing stones, we laughed and commented that the adults were not being good role models. [Actually, they were being good role models; nest-building is an essential activity.] We spent a considerable amount of time just sitting on the boulders near the penguins, enjoying them, the scenery, and our continued good luck with the weather.

Eventually, we moved away from the colony and hiked up to a different part of the island to reach our southernmost point — 65˚10.7’S. The snow was slushy, crisscrossed with melt streams and streaked with green algae. Walking with us at times were gentoo penguins traveling back from the sea to some unseen colony. They seemed to be having an easier time on the snow than we were. The sights awaiting us at the end of our walk, however, made the trek well-worth the effort.

As we crested the top of the hill and approached the rim, our breath was taken away by the sight of many giant icebergs filling a small bay below us. At first we thought they might be grounded, but they were bobbing on the water, so that wasn’t the case. Robert, who was passing by, explained that it was more of a “berg jam.” Driven into the bay by the currents, they will remain imprisoned until one of the bergs blocking the entrance moves out of the way.

It really was hard to leave this spot, but the time was fast approaching for the last zodiac departure, and we did not want to find out the hard way whether the ship would actually weigh anchor and leave us stranded. So, we trudged back through the slushy snow, stopping often to enjoy the comings and goings of gentoo penguins along the way. Closer to shore, we found a pond full of polar skuas taking a late afternoon bath. From all the wing-flapping and squawking going on, it was obvious that they were into this activity. Dragging out our time on Petermann Island to the last possible second, we boarded the final zodiac back to the ship.

Pleneau Bay: If we thought Lemaire Channel and Petermann Island could not be topped, we were dead wrong. During dinner, Jonas announced that we had one more activity before the ship started its return journey north — a zodiac cruise of Pleneau Bay and its countless icebergs.

Shortly after dinner, we donned our gear and boarded the zodiacs. It was 9:30p by our watches [we stayed on Ushuaia time for the duration of the voyage]. The sun was still high on the horizon; we later saw for ourselves that it would not be setting until well after midnight, and then, only briefly. The patchy clouds filtered the rays of the sun and created a magical light. The water was so flat that it acted like a mirror, adding another dimension to the awesome ice creations of Mother Nature.

The zodiacs spread out so that we neither heard nor saw the other boats, except on a few occasions when we welcomed their presence as they added perspective to the giant creations of ice all around us. Jonas frequently turned the motor off, allowing us to drift in complete silence and immerse ourselves in the peace and quiet around us.

We traveled in and around icebergs of all colors, shapes, and sizes. It was amazing to see the underwater shelves of the icebergs changing the color of the water from dark navy to a Caribbean teal. The water was incredibly clear and we could see the swarming krill just beneath the surface. In fact, the krill were in such numbers that they were sometimes jumping on the surface — it reminded us of a still pond on which you might see mosquitoes flitting about.

We explored the meandering channels between nature’s giant ice sculptures, coming close enough to touch them; but we abstained. No one wanted to leave behind a trace of our visit. Gentoo penguins porpoising in the water kept us company, as did some crabeater seals that were relaxing on a large berg. One of them slipped down the ice and disappeared into the water at the sound of our arrival, but the others remained on the berg, curiously checking us out. We also saw quite a few seals in the water, an environment that instantly transforms them from lumbering animals to graceful creatures.

Not far from the berg, we came upon our one and only encounter with one of the two main predators of the Antarctic — the leopard seal. [The killer whale — Orca — is the other predator in these waters; no sightings on this trip.] I was surprised at how unskittish the seal was as the zodiac nosed right up to the ice floe. I was sitting on the floor of the zodiac at the bow and was at eye level with the seal when it opened its jaws wide in a big yawn. It was a bit unnerving to be so close as to be able to see down its throat, but it was an amazing experience as well. Of all the seals, I think the leopard seal, with its Machiavellian grin perpetually in place, has become my favorite — after the adorable fur seal pups, of course.

The wildlife highlight of the evening happened towards the end of the cruise. We had just returned to the gangway and were tying up the zodiac when the call came from the ship that there were minke and humpback whales in the bay. Jonas threw off the bow line, rushed back to the motor, and off we went on an exhilarating ride with everyone holding on tight. We maneuvered in and around the bergs to get close to the whales as they fed in the bay. Turning a corner around an iceberg, we found our way blocked by two low-to-the-water bergs that were almost kissing. Undaunted, Jonas yelled, “duck,” and so we did. Barely slowing down, he passed between the bergs. In the next breath, we were in the clear, once again looking for signs of the whales.

This was our closest encounter with the giants of the oceans. Sighting many blows, fins, semi submerged bodies, and flukes in close proximity was such a thrill that I simply forgot to put the camera up to my eye for much of the time. Nonetheless, I have a couple of good pictures, and even managed to capture the fluke of one whale, which signaled a deep dive. With that last image still vivid in our minds, we returned to the ship and tied up just as the motor sputtered to a stop — we were out of gas!

Sunset: With the adrenaline still rushing through our blood, we weren’t ready to call it a night. It was after 11:00p and dusk was finally falling — albeit, slowly. Grabbing some hot chocolate from the dining room, we joined fellow passengers in a rehash of our exciting outing. As we chatted, the ship weighed anchor and started to make its way back through Lemaire Channel.

Deciding to stay up until the sun bid us adieu, we went up to the bridge to while away the time. It was quiet on the bridge; three officers and the captain were on duty, navigating around nearby icebergs and the brash ice that was choking the channel. Hearing the ice gently banging against the ship as we slowly moved through the water was quite eerie in the deepening dusk. That sense of eeriness increased as the sky ahead and the clouds above turned blood red — the sun was slowly setting.

A stunning end to a spectacular day.

NEXT: THE TRIP - Birthday in Antarctica

eenusa

January 15 — birthday in Antarctica

Happy Birthday, Hubby! Yes, Hubby got to celebrate the end of half-a-century on earth in Antarctica. Lucky guy!

Port Lockroy: We woke up to shale-grey clouds, but by the time Jonas made the wake-up call at 6:30a, the skies had lightened up. We were anchored in a bay surrounded by glaciers flowing down to the water’s edge. In the middle of the bay stood our landing site for the morning — Goudier Island, home to British Base A, Port Lockroy.

The clouds started moving back in even as we boarded the zodiacs and traveled the short distance to Port Lockroy. The wind picked up as well, and by the time our zodiac had nosed up onto the boulders for a semi-dry landing, it was snowing lightly.

First things first, we headed inside the museum/gift shop. Richer by a pair of whale earrings and matching tail fluke pendant, and a couple of t-shirts, we finished our shopping and turned our attention to the other things Port Lockroy offered. While Hubby made a quick tour of the museum inside the building, I found a boulder to perch on amongst the gentoos that breed on the island. It was snowing hard, and the wind was blowing, but that just added to the experience rather than detracting from it. For the first time since arriving at the peninsula, we were seeing the continent’s more common weather-face.

When Hubby joined me, we shifted to an area that offered slightly more protection from the strengthening wind. It was hard to stand up against the gusts, so we found a couple of boulders from which to watch the gentoos coming and going as they traveled from the sea to their nests where hungry chicks were waiting to be fed. We had been warned that these birds would be passing very close to us and to respect their right-of-way. Staying seated ensured that we did not stress them out unnecessarily and allowed us to take steadier pictures in the gusting wind.

Most of the chicks were hunched under their parents, trying to get what protection they could from the wind and snow. Seeing them with their heads hidden and their butts sticking out in the air, I couldn’t help but draw a comparison to ostriches hiding their heads in the sand.

All too soon, the call came to board the zodiacs. Our time was cut a little short because of the ever-strengthening wind. The ride back to the ship was one of the more “interesting” ones thanks to the swells we encountered on the way. In fact, we had to find a relatively sheltered area for a few minutes while the ship weighed anchor and repositioned to give us a better lee from which to disembark the zodiacs. It was a bit disturbing to watch the ship moving away from us while we bobbed away in the zodiac, but knowing why she was moving certainly allayed any real anxiety.

Heading North: Once everyone was back on board, the ship continued its northerly heading. We knew we were traveling through Neumayer Channel, another scenic passage, but the snow and fog was such that we could barely make out the walls of the channel, forget about seeing any distinguishing features.

We skipped the landing at Orne Island due to the lack of visibility. I don’t think anyone really minded; certainly Hubby and I did not. Perhaps we were “zodiac’d” out, but I think it was just that the adrenaline that had kept us going through the long days of our voyage was starting to ebb now that we knew we were leaving Antarctica and approaching the end of our adventure.

The weather abated slightly as we approached Dallman Bay. With the visibility increased, we were able to see lots of humpback whales as they passed us on their way south. They seemed to be all around us, and we could see blows, fins, and flukes. In a few instances, they surfaced next to the ship. Unfortunately, this seemed to always happen during an inopportune moment, like when I was going up or down the stairs on the outside decks. I deemed it more prudent to just watch the whales and record the visual memories in my brain than to let go of the handrail and risk joining the giants of the oceans in the freezing Antarctic waters. The more distant pictures I did manage to take turned out to be of poor quality — not just because of the poor light and the motion of the ship, but also because the camera tended to focus on the big, fat snowflakes that were falling pretty hard at that point.

By the time we reached the Melchior Archipelago, the winds and swells had died down to a manageable level. When the call came to don our gear for a zodiac cruise, we did so with relish, knowing this was going to be our last activity. It wasn’t to be. By the time the first zodiac was brought around to the gangway, the wind had picked up dramatically. We switched to the portside gangway and a few people managed to get into the zodiac. But then things got worse again. Stuck halfway down the swaying gangway, I wasn’t afraid, but the queasiness I was starting to feel from the motion was worrisome [I stopped using the patch once we reached continental waters]. Just as I was about to pass on this outing, Jonas pulled the plug. It was the right decision.

Most people would probably consider our last day to be a very disappointing one. I guess it was; in a way. But having had such fantastic luck with the weather throughout our voyage, it was honestly an interesting experience to see Antarctica showing us her “real face.” I have to say that I am glad the bad weather hit us on our last day in the Peninsula region. Having already experienced the sights and sounds of our landings up to that point, it would have been really disappointing had we missed one or more of those opportunities instead.

So, as the Molchanov sailed north into heavier seas, we steeled ourselves against the voyage across the Drake Passage. It didn’t take long for the infamous waterway to make its presence known, and within minutes the Molchanov became a virtual ghost ship. By the time dinner was served, however, most people were up and about; at least long enough to eat a few bites and wish Hubby a happy birthday when Marco brought out a cake decorated with sparklers. Robert and Mariano, who joined us for dinner, rated the crossing as a 4 on a scale of 10. With no basis for comparison, we felt it was more like an 8. Little did we know that things were about to get worse.

NEXT: THE TRIP - Mild Drake Shake

eenusa

January 16 — mild (?!) Drake shake

Overnight, our crossing of the Drake went from bad to worse. By midnight the waves were much stronger. Trying to sleep was an impossible task; we were too busy bracing ourselves against slipping around too much in our bunks. Despite our efforts, we often found ourselves traveling towards the opposite end of our “private cradles;” at least we did not get thrown out of bed! At times, we could feel the ship rise on a swell and just hang in mid-air. After what seemed like an interminable amount of time, she would start coming back down again, often at an angle that seemed impossible to sustain. I guess at some point we must have dozed off, but we didn’t feel quite “well-rested” when we woke up to greet another day of rock and roll on the high seas.

Visiting the bridge before breakfast was a challenge; we made slow progress down the hallway and up the stairs, timing every step to the ship’s rolling motion. The officer on duty informed us that at the storm’s worst we had experienced waves in the neighborhood of 30 ft [10 m]. “Ahh, but that is nothing; there were no waves breaking over the bow,” he informed us in the next breath. When I asked Mariano at breakfast what he thought of the overnight crossing, he was quick to upgrade his estimation from a 4 to a 7.5 on a scale of 10. In the next breath, however, he too said the waves weren’t breaking over the bow. In the long run, I suppose the Drake Passage was relatively kind to us. Perhaps on a larger vessel, we would have considered the conditions to be a little stronger than the “Drake Lake” everyone hopes for, but few get to experience. On our small vessel, I think we had a medium-to-high “Drake Shake” to add to our memories of the trip.

Despite the rock and roll motion, the day progressed with relatively well-attended lectures with topics ranging from penguins to the South Circumpolar Current. The opening of the Molchanov Shop brought everyone out, but many of the passengers retired to their cabins as soon as the shop closed. In between lectures, I spent my time tucked into a corner in the bar, deleting obviously bad pictures and duplicates from the 10,000+ that I had taken on the trip. I came away with a sore left arm — from getting squished against the door as the movement of the ship shifted me first in one direction and than in the other — but it was worth it. By the time I was done, I had a mere “5,000+” pictures remaining for the subsequent sorts I have been working on since we returned home.

NEXT: THE TRIP - Rock & Roll is Here to Stay

eenusa

January 17 — rock & roll is here to stay

Plans don’t always work out as intended. Jonas had announced that we would be in the calm waters of the Beagle Channel relatively early in the day. With bated breath, we all waited for that moment when things would calm down. It’s a good thing we did not hold our breath for long; our vigil was to no avail. Although the rolling of the ship abated somewhat, we rocked throughout the day. Conditions on the outside decks were such that the watertight doors were locked down to prevent passengers from wandering outside. As poor visibility continued for most of the day, we didn’t get to see the famed Cape Horn.

So, we entertained ourselves inside, resigned to more rocking and rolling when Jonas announced that a freak storm in the Beagle Channel meant we would continue to feel the motion for even longer than first predicted. As well, plans for docking early and enjoying a good night’s rest in port were out the window. In Jonas’s words, the Beagle Channel transit was a “10 on a scale of 10; we’ve never seen it like this before.”

The day’s lectures were more personal in nature. First, Nigel spoke of living and working in Antarctica; mostly at bases operated by the British Antarctic survey. Fascinating! Then, at the end of his lecture about the natives of Tierra del Fuego, Mariano shared with us pictures that his father had taken when he was working in Grytviken. Fascinating!

In the early evening, we attended our last briefing, which included a disembarkation Q&A and a slide show that Hanne had compiled from the photos she had taken of us throughout the voyage. We’re supposed to be getting a disk from Quark in the next few months that will include a voyage log as well as Hanne’s photos and videos. We’re anxious to get the disk to compare our memories of the trip with the official log. However, knowing how long it takes to do post-processing on digital media, we’re going to give Quark some time before we start bugging them.

Dinner was preceded by a farewell cocktail; Captain Baturkin made an appearance and toasted the voyage before disappearing again like the proverbial ghost. After dinner, many people returned to their cabins to pack. Hubby had already completed that chore for us, so we were able to sit back, relax, and reminisce about the voyage until it was time to call it a night.

My last thought, before I dozed off: “When are we going to get into smooth waters?”

NEXT: THE TRIP - The Voyage Ends

eenusa

January 18 — the voyage ends

When I woke up at 5:00a to the ship’s movement, my first thought was, “Are we going to make our flight?” Granted, we were no longer rocking, but I had anticipated that the ship would be docked by the time we were up and about. Obviously, the conditions in the Beagle Channel had delayed us even more than anticipated.

I rushed through getting dressed, anxious to find out just how far out we were. On deck, catching a glimpse of Ushuaia in the distance, I drew a breath of relief. Seeing that we were just past El Faro, the lighthouse we had sailed out to on our Beagle Channel cruise, I figured we had about two hours before we would be docking. That would put things back on track with the initial schedule for a 7:00a disembarkation. I didn’t linger long; it was far colder in the Beagle Channel than it had been when we left Ushuaia behind 20 days before; and there was a lot more snow on the mountain tops as well.

Ever on cue, the PA came alive at 6:30a with Jonas greeting everyone with his typical, “Good morning, good morning one and all.” He then proceeded to give us our position: 54°49’S by 68°13’W — two nautical miles from our anchorage; the temperature: 4C/40F; and the wildlife sighted, which included the birds I had seen as well as blue eyed shags, Magellanic penguins, and South American sea lions.

Putting our luggage outside the cabin door, we briefly stepped out on deck for one last peek at the scenery before heading down for breakfast. Marco, being his usual surly self, kept us all waiting until exactly 7:00a before he opened the doors to the dining room. Even as we began eating, the unmistakable sounds of activity dockside heralded that we were tying up to land.

By 7:30a, we were finished with breakfast, the ship was cleared, and we had our passports in hand. Bidding the expedition staff farewell, we walked down the gangway, bringing our ocean voyage to an end. Identifying our luggage, we watched it go into the belly of the airport transfer bus. Taking a few final pictures of our home-away-from-home, we bid adieu to our co-adventurers who were either staying over in Ushuaia or taking later flights, and boarded the bus.

Ushuaia to Buenos Aires (BsAs): The expedition staff did an amazing job of disembarking everyone and getting them onto the appropriate transport. At 07:45a, 15 minutes ahead of schedule, the driver closed the bus door and we were off to the airport. There was surprisingly little traffic for a weekday morning and before we knew it, we were getting off at the terminal.

Inside the terminal there was not a soul to be seen. We queued up at the counter, first in line to check in for the flight. Fifteen minutes later, the Aerolineas Argentinas agent showed up. Our check-in was painless — they must have been going by the “two-pieces per passenger” rule, as we did not have to pay any overage charges. We later found out that Dr Dan and Henna were not so lucky.

Next stop was the cashier’s cage to pay our departure tax. Five minutes later we were 26 pesos poorer — about $8 USD. The security entrance to the gates was not yet open. Joining a few of our shipmates, we made ourselves comfortable at the café. Noticing our flight listed on the monitor, I went to verify our departure. Already there was an hour’s delay posted. “Looks like we’re not leaving until 10:50a,” I reported. A few minutes later, another fellow passenger on the flight reported: “Looks like we’re here until 10:30a.” Like a bouncing ball, the monitor fluctuated our departure between these two times until boarding was called.

At 9:30a, we went through security and found seats near our assigned gate. At about 10:00a, we saw a plane land. “Must be ours,” I said. No sooner were the words out of my mouth that people started queuing up. “You’d think we didn’t have seat assignments,” I commented. Already picking up her bag and moving towards the line, one of our shipmates said: “That’s not far from the truth; in many cases, the flights are overbooked and if someone else is already in your seat and has a valid boarding pass, you get bumped off.” So we joined the line as well, standing around for the next 20 minutes or so. By then Dr Dan and Henna had also joined our little group. With our recent adventure in common, we whiled away the time with shared memories.

Our flight to BsAs, with a brief stop in Rio Gallegos, went smoothly. Much to our relief all four bags were on the carousel when we arrived at baggage claim. By 3:30p, we were outside the arrivals area where Ana’s smiling face briefly made us forget the humid 86F [32C] heat that blasted us outside the terminal.

Getting the Lay of the Land: We made a quick stop at the Art Hotel to drop off our luggage before proceeding with our city tour. Although our room was small — cozy, I think, is the word used to describe it in the brochure — it was nicely furnished. The room was sparkling clean; had ample hot water; was quiet; and best of all, did not roll or pitch under our feet! Centrally located in the Recoleta neighborhood, this boutique hotel served us well for our one-night stay; I’d highly recommend it even for a longer stay. (http://www.arthotel.com.ar)

Our arrangements with Ana Luna for a city tour worked out perfectly, especially for the La Boca portion. This neighborhood has recently come into its own again and it is now safe for tourists during the day time. “I wouldn’t go there after dark,” was Ana’s comment. We really enjoyed our brief time amongst the quaint, colorful buildings and the narrow, cobblestone streets.

The rest of the tour was more or less in the car, with one stop where Hubby and I got out to take a few pictures. We didn’t mind the lack of walking this time as our intent was to get an overview of the neighborhoods. Thanks to this tour, Hubby was able to plan an excellent walking tour the next day to make the most of our brief time in BsAs.

Some would find it sacrilegious that we did so, but we cancelled our plans for seeing a tango show that night. We were just too tired to do justice to anything other than a soft bed. Instead, we walked to a small sidewalk café on Avenida Santa Fe, about two blocks from the hotel, and grabbed a light dinner. By 10:00p, we were fast asleep.

NEXT: BUENOS AIRES & RETURN TO THE US

eenusa

January 19 — Buenos Aires & return to the US

Although we could have slept in and taken it easy, we wanted to make the most of our one day in the city billed as the “Paris of the South.” We were up at 6:30a, and enjoying a very nice continental breakfast [included in the room rate] by 7:30a. Shortly thereafter, storing our bags with the front desk personnel, we checked out of our room and started walking. The weather was pleasant, with low humidity and a nice breeze; a welcome change from the previous day’s humid heat.

Exploring BsAs on Foot: I don’t think there is any part of the city that we missed; at least it felt that way by the time we were seated on the airplane late that night. We started out by visiting Recoleta Cemetery, where Eva Peron is buried. [We did not do the guided tour, but did pay a few pesos to have someone take us directly to Evita’s crypt; the meandering paths are too complicated to navigate when you have a limited amount of time.] This cemetery has got to be seen to be believed! Some of the family vaults are more like mansions than crypts, elaborately decorated with statues and bas relief carvings. It was easy to tell which plots are owned by families who no longer have anyone to pay for the upkeep; they were in a state of disrepair that stood in stark contrast to the rest of the crypts.

From the cemetery, we walked through the neighboring residential areas until we arrived at the pedestrian-only Avenida Florida. The street, lined with shops on both sides, was crowded with tourists and locals alike. About midway down the street, we sat at one of the outdoor cafés where I enjoyed an ice cold Coca Cola. Hubby decided to have a hot chocolate. He was brought a glass of hot milk and a bar of chocolate, which he stirred into the milk until the bar was completely melted. It wasn’t as creamy and delicious as the hot chocolate we enjoyed in Ushuaia, but it was a close second.

We continued onto Puerto Madero, the old port area that is being modernized. The new, modern pedestrian bridge — Puente de la Mujer [Bridge of the Woman] — stood in stark contrast to an old sailing vessel, the President Sarmiante Frigate, which operated as a school ship from 1899 to 1961 when it was converted to a museum. On either side of the canal, old warehouses have been renovated as apartments, with shops and restaurants on the ground floor. On one side, high rise buildings are going up; more apartments. Cranes — no longer operational — stand guard along the canal walls, a reminder of the original purpose of the area. Some of these cranes were in the process of being painted in bright colors; a version of art deco statuary. We saw white egrets in the trees and black diving birds in the water. Occasionally, a canoeist rowed by, lazily gliding down the canal.

Although the temperature was much higher by mid-day, a gentle breeze kept things from becoming uncomfortable. Enjoying our walk along the canal, we extended our time in Puerto Madero by dining at Donata, one of the many restaurants featuring an outside terrace. We had an excellent Italian lunch, topped off with a chocolate ice cream cake drizzled with strawberry sauce.

We felt no guilt after our high-calorie meal, because we continued to walk the streets of the city from one end to the other. Sometimes we found ourselves in areas obviously not frequented by tourists — we were the only ones with cameras around our necks. Undaunted, we pressed on, finally arriving at Avenida 9 Julio, the world’s widest avenue — eight lanes of traffic in each direction. Taking a peek at Teatro Colón [now under renovation] and the Obelisco, which we found to be very similar to our own Washington Monument in DC, we finally arrived on a familiar street — Avenida Santa Fe. Feeling in need of refreshment, we first bought ourselves a couple of ice cream cones from Volta, and later, further down the street, we sat down to enjoy cold drinks at a sidewalk café. When we finally set off again, it was in the direction of our hotel, just a few short blocks away.

Winging Our Way to the US: Ana was prompt as usual and picked us up at 6:00p to take us to Ezeiza, the International Airport. The drive, in the early evening traffic, took us about an hour. No problem; expecting the long ride, we had asked her to pick us up four hours before our scheduled departure.

At the airport, the check-in queue was long, but moved steadily. An airline official was walking the line and handing out e-ticket vouchers to speed up the check-in process. When our turn came, we were able to snag two Economy Plus seats, one in an exit row; well worth the extra cost for the long flight home. After paying our departure taxes — $18/person, if I recall correctly — we proceeded to immigration. Security here was a joke. In fact, the lackadaisical attitude was scary enough for Hubby to consider registering a complaint with TSA [Transportation Security Administration] upon our return to the US. As it turns out, we did not have to do that — read on.

Our gate was at the farthest point of the international terminal. Thanks to a cautionary word from the agent who checked us in for our flight, we proceeded directly there with just one small delay — Hubby wanted to buy a few things at the duty free shop to spend the last of our Argentinean pesos. [I know; he can always find an excuse to shop!] It took us at least 20 minutes to reach our destination. At the gate, we went through a secondary security check, negating the need to register a complaint with TSA. They checked each carry-on bag and did a “wand” search of each individual. Finally, if you had any drinks with you, you had to consume them at the table where the security personnel were stationed, or you had to turn them in; you didn’t even have the option of finishing your drink in the lounge area, in clear sight and within steps of the security table. There was quite a bit of grumbling about this, but everyone complied. Our two empty bottles passed the screening, and we filled them once we were on the plane.

Boarding was on time and proceeded without incident. Hubby asked the young lady who was seated in the exit row with him if she would mind switching seats with me. Much to my surprise, she agreed — I really had not expected anyone to give up an exit row seat. Dinner was a little better than the food that was served on the flight down to BsAs, but not by much. When the lights were dimmed, Hubby settled down to snooze for the duration of the flight. Much to my surprise, I was able to catch a few winks too. I think I may have finally found the solution to my inability to sleep while traveling — an adventurous expedition trip followed by a day of non-stop walking!

January 20 — welcome home

We had our smoothest ever arrival in the US after this flight: wheels down at Dulles at 6:50a; through passport control and luggage in hand at 7:20a; through customs within a few minutes after that. By 7:30a, we were in the taxi that deposited us at our front door at 7:55a.

It was far colder in DC than it had been in Antarctica; we were ready to turn tail and go right back to the white continent!

--------------------------------------------

If you have any questions, I will be happy to answer them.

Photos will be a while yet; I am just about through with the first half of the trip. I will post a link here when I have them all uploaded.

Kavey

Eenusa

You've really described an Antarctica trip so well and vividly brought back to life so much of our own trip back in 2004.

Like you we wanted to maximise our time on shore and focus on wildlife/ scenery/ history rather than the normal cruise trappings. We opted for the Akademik Ioffe run by Peregrine which took 100 passengers. Like your boat, there were many cabins that were small (triples) with shared facilities. Then there were doubles where there was one bathroom shared between two cabins. Then the next category were the en-suite cabins with one permanent bunk and one sofa which was converted to and from sofa to bed by cabin staff each day. We splurged on the next level up which had two permanent single bunks (both at floor level), a sofa and an ensuite. Above that were two levels of suites. Like your ship ours was very utilitarian and the conversion from a vessel designed as a workhorse was clear to see. Ours was designed as a a marine research vessel with unusually quiet running, a special ballast thing to keep it steadier than normal for a ship that size and some clever underwater sonar tech. My husband kept muttering about submarine hunter rather than marine research but who knows?! The crew were also Russians and very experienced indeed. We loved the ship and at the end of our three weeks it was emotional to return to Ushaia and know that in a couple of hours after we left a new set of passengers would take over "our" ship and "our" expedition crew.

Our ship had a few more public areas, perhaps, catering as she did for a larger number of passengers. We had one single dining room, large tables and free seating too. The food was incredible and as I got on particularly well (given my propensity to spend time in the bar late into the night) with the head chef, I had more influence than is proper for a passenger on the menu - he'd plan the menu for just a few days at a time and I'd often be chatting to him as he did and influence it - oh that lamb you did last Thursday was soooo gorgeous - any chance of something similar again? He'd grin, tell me that it might mean a bit of a limited choice for the last cruise of the season (we were the first) but what the heck. Starters were nearly always soup which was good and hearty and warming after three hours on shore. We also had the most incredible dessert chef on board so puddings were to die for! Meals were included but drinks were not. But I was surprised at how reasonably priced the wine and drinks lists were. Our bill after three weeks was very reasonable.

Oh and no one dressed for dinner ever, that I saw. Which is a good thing. I'm not into dressing up on holiday so it suited me very well!

There was also a bar which was split into two rooms, one with a TV and several Antarctica related videos. There was a beautiful library too with a great selection of non-fiction books on wildlife and history and all sorts plus a small fiction selection too, I think.

And various little nooks and crannies here and there. Oh and we also spent time out on the decks as the weather was so wonderful for us. We did have one force 10 storm which was rough. A lot of sea-sick passengers (of which, I wasn't one). But our captain was fabulous and had anticipated the weather even in advance of the weather forecasts and was able to shelter us from the very worst of it by some island or the other. Our sister ship was unable to get to shelter and was hit by the worst - no safety issues but she did lose her gangway entirely! I never thought to ask what happened next as now I think about it, I'm wondering how they offloaded the passengers onto zodiacs after that!

With one short exception (a few short hours of snowy blizzard) our weather was fantastic for the entire rest of the trip with blue skies, sunshine strong enough for us to be out on deck in just our T-shirts and perfect for photography too! We were so lucky!

We too were welcome on the bridge and there was also a flat roof at the very top of the ship. These two places were fabulous for bird-watching as the birds loved to glide along with us.

Like you everyone (except our parents who had done a similar trip a few years before us) kept asking why we were going. We tried to tell them about the wildlife - "polar bears?", they'd say excitedly before slumping again when I explained that it would be penguins, seals, birds.... We tried to tell them about the scenery and the history too. Few got it!

Our trip was also for our wedding anniversary - our tenth - though we travelled in November/ December rather than in September, the month of the anniversary. Like you we truly thought it would be the trip of a lifetime. Surely, once seen, we'd be satiated in our wish to travel to this region of the world. Who would want to go again?

Answer: we do!

Here's hoping we can do just that sometime in the next few years!

Our itinerary sounds similar to yours - we started in Ushuaia, went to the Falkland Islands, South Georgia and the Antarctic Peninsula before returning to Ushuaia. I have, since our trip, urged anyone considering a trip to this area to push their finances and holiday allowance and do the same. Some of the highlights of our trip were in the Falklands and South Georgia and we would not have missed them for the world.

One of the highlights for us was indeed the excellent expedition crew. We had a birding expert, a seal expert (who'd spent a year at one of the Antarctic stations doing original behavioural research), a historian with a special fondness for Scott though with knowledge of all the explorers and history, a whale and ice expert, plus additional crew and we also had Jonathan and Angie Scott onboard, professional wildlife photographers. Oh yes and we even had a sea-shanty historian/ musician who gave lessons on the history and on writing them and even did a lighthearted competition with teams writing their own and performing them in turn one mealtime! So we all learned so much and had such fun with our crew! Basically on sea days there would be lots and lots of lectures arranged. On excursion days we learned from them during the excursions, on the zodiac crossings and there were sometimes lectures too.

In terms of clothing we packed for layering too but Peregrine don't provide jackets, like Quark do, so we took along our own. They do have a boot-lending system but my husband (who is 2 metres tall) has large feet and we were worried they wouldn't have any big enough. They couldn't confirm they would either. And I have fatter calves than most women of my shoe size too. So we went out looking before leaving home. We were going to buy cheap wellington (rubber) boots and leave them onboard but couldn't find any to fit so in the end we paid more for some fantastic Canadian snow boots. Sorel I think. They came with a thick woollen inner sock and were so incredibly comfortable to walk in. A lot of wellie wearers said wellies were not great for comfort after three hours but we were great. So we did bring them home with us in the end but didn't have any space problems so it was fine. They had a strong hose on deck which we could use to wash them down and even with all the seal and penguin poo we were easily able to get them good and clean to bring home. I agree 100% about waterproof outerpants and the rest of the gear.

My biggest problem was gloves as I couldn't find any with the removable fingers and couldn't operate my camera with the big waterproof ones so most of the time didn't wear gloves. Only time I did was for the fast speed zodiac crossings. Otherwise I didn't bother and was fine.

We had invested in a waterproof camera backpack before the trip and were so pleased we did as it did protect our gear exceptionally well. It's bulky but we were encouraged to leave it near the landing site if we wanted to which we quite often did, popping back to it just to change a lens or the like. I also bought an inexpensive completely waterproof bag to put other items in from an outdoor store which I ended up lending to others as a lot of people thought supermarket plastic bags would be enough!

Thank you so much for writing such a comprehensive report - really bought my own trip back to life and will be a fantastic resource for others wanting to take a similar trip!

Kavey

PS I meant to add that Salisbury Plain was a highlight for us too as was Prion Island. The pre-designated paths were quite muddy and I had a hard time - almost lost a boot a couple of times, as did others. Each group of 10 had a short time with the magificent birds before running the gauntlet of the aggressive male fur seals guarding the beach. It is sad that future visitors will miss out on this island but I can well understand the reason to minimise disturbance to a species in such danger of extinction.

eenusa

Kavey, great to read your summary. Your original short posting and your photos were one of the instigators for pushing up our visit to the Antarctic, and for including the Falklands, and especially South Georgia, in our itinerary. So I owe you a debt of gratitude.

After we came back, I saw some photos from a trip on the Akademik Ioffe (Christmas in the Weddell Sea). I think that or a similar sailing on the Akademik is what we would like to do next.

I'd go back again in the 2007-2008 season if not for the fact that these small-ship trips are so bloody expensive. But now, having been to the Antarctic this way, I can't imagine going any other way. So, I guess we'll just have to start saving again. Maybe we'll make it back for our 30th anniversary.

Thanks again for posting on this thread.

Kavey

I'm delighted to hear that a posting of mine helped give the final push into researching and booking your own magical Antarctica trip. That's wonderful to know!

katybird

Thank you so much for a delightful report!! I could not stop reading. I am intrigued with Antarctica and your report was exceptional!
I have printed it [yes, all 50 pages!] knowing I will read it more than once.
I will be watching for your photos. That will be the icing on the cake!
Thank you once again!

katybird

eenusa - Did you need to book directly with Quark? I'm looking for the best price possible.

katybird

eenusa - Did you need to book directly with Quark? I'm looking for the best possible price. Is there such a thing?

eenusa

I did check with a couple of online sites that specialize in expedition style trips first. I didn't get a price break from them, so I booked with Quark directly. My sense is that Quark has no problems filling the ships, hence no need to discount prices to agencies.

That said, cruises earlier and later in the season are less expensive, but we did not consider them.

There were quite a few people on the ship who had booked with Natural Habitat, which apparently has a "frequent booker" type program that kicks in after the first booking. You might check with them even though this would be your first booking with them (I am guessing).

katybird

Thanks!
What is the best timeframe to go? I'm thinking the end of Dec. first part of Jan.
We're are trying to decide what type of trip we want to take.I've been reseaching and have sent for several brochures..Lindblad, Quark, Discovery World Cruises, A&K, NCV...so much to think about and consider.

eenusa

Katybird; you are right in thinking Dec-Jan are the best times; at least from what I have read. That said; you know Mother Nature sometimes likes to play tricks. We picked January as prime time for wildlife with chicks and pups.

After all of our research, we were down to Lindblad and Quark. Ended up doing Quark because of smaller ship and the fact that Lindblad's Falklands-South Georgia-Peninsula itinerary was in March. Definitely did not want to go that late in the season. Another one to check out might be Zegrahm's (sp?).