Antarctic Epilogue

Well, the long and winding road back home had a few extra, unexpected and unfortunate curves in it along the way, and thus a few more final, memorable tales to my extraordinary, magical, successful, epic voyage to Antarctica. I knew it was just too good to be true that an adventure as bold, ambitious and sweeping as a trip to the Last Continent, at the very back door to the South Pole, a distance of over 17,000 miles, all the way and back, would go off without at least one good hitch.

Migrating north to my own personal rookery in Washington State was not an easy transition by any stretch of the imagination. It was dramatically much more challenging and harrowing than my southbound flight that began my extraordinary journey over two weeks ago.  Let’s just say that I’m totally done with airplane travel for a while. 

Disembarkation from the grand, nimble and sturdy M/S Expedition was simple, quick, efficient and gracious.  Rising at 5:15 a.m., anxious to begin the trip back over the Equator, leaving Ushuaia on my final day started out on the right foot.  I was feeling optimistically hopeful and profoundly sentimental about reaching the end of the trail.

We all felt like royalty leaving the ship, and many good-byes were said. I was able to give the expedition leader, Susan Adie – the amazing guide and grand architect of the entire cruise - a heartfelt hug and a “Thank you!” at the bottom of the long gangplank.  Susan designed and charted the entire ever-changing course; she skillfully demonstrated her deep knowledge and understanding of this vast, white, mystical ice desert.  She knows the heart and the bones of Antarctica.  The Expedition Staff and crew had every last detail covered, and leaving the ship was planned with military precision.  It felt like leaving I my home away from home.

The next 57 hours, unfortunately, were not so pleasant. The long list of calamities included a monsoon-like thunderstorm in Buenos Aires, bolts of lightning and the most intense air, bucking bronco turbulence I’ve ever felt in all my years of flying, a damaged hydraulic system which could completely cripple the airplane (over the Amazon Jungle, no thank you!), a hasty return to the airport with panicking passengers, 2.5 hours of circling the city burning fuel to lighten the load (and dumping it also, I suspect), a white-knuckle landing with eight fire trucks flashing their red lights on the runway, a deja-vu, droopy-eyed shuttle bus trip to posh five star hotel (thank you, United!), three short hours of sleep in a king size bed in a room fit for a king that I never had the time to fully appreciate, and 28 slow-moving hours waiting in the bustling, congested, overcrowded Ministro Pistarini International Airport in Buenos Aires for the plane to be repaired.  Not the best day of my life, to say the least.

I staggered through parts of the downtown area, trying to keep myself awake, waiting to go back the airport and go through all the tedious, laborious hours of check-in, immigration checks, baggage claim and boarding pass paperwork, rigorous security routines, passport signing, customs inspectors, filling out forms and so on.  All those things I’d just done the night before, I got to do twice!  If I never see the inside of that airport again for the rest of my life, I’m good.   

The long, zigzagging lines, one of which took almost five whole hours to snake through, were of historic and biblical proportions.  The slow-moving airline business in South America is a stark contrast to the professional, expeditious pace we are used to in the United States.  It is often sluggish, cumbersome and sorely inefficient.  And it can be maddening if you aren’t patient and learn how to go numb just to cope with it.

After another lightning storm at exactly the same time as the previous night, the plane ready for battle again and two hours behind schedule of course, we finally flew out of Buenos Aires into the storm with only moderate turbulence, successfully this time. I found welcome respite in the very back the plane, Row 38, Seats  C, D AND F all to myself (since the flight was only half full) for some much-needed sleep curled up with four pillows, three blankets, a weary mind, a drained body and just enough memories of my beautiful experience to keep me alive until I reached U.S. soil again.

Back home now, safe and sound, for my first day back in the Northern Hemisphere, warmed deep to the bone (thanks to the two fireplaces burning and several (4) hot baths in the clawfoot tub I longed for at sea every single night), I am running on an odd mixture of adrenaline and absolute exhilaration which is making me feel strangely a big manic, while at the very same time fighting sheer exhaustion, culture shock and sleep deprivation.  

Thinking back over the past twenty four hours to the absolute dream from which I am awaking, reflections of my fantastic journey to Antarctica have drifted like the giant icebergs through my mind and my soul the entire day and literally rocked my body. At times, I still feel the constant rocking of the Expedition on the active sea, and I continue to adjust my balance (but now unnecessarily) as I did for eleven days and eleven nights.  Tonight in my kitchen, I hesitated instinctively when I put down the coffee pot on the counter, wondering if it might slip if the ship suddenly rolled or pitched. 

Seeing familiar faces and hearing the voices of those I love overcome the confusion and tiredness.  I’m filled to the brim with happiness and a sense of pride that I made it back home from the bottom of the Earth in one piece, my camera and my mind’s eye full of unbelievable images.  I didn’t fall off the face of the planet as I had feared as a child. I didn’t fall overboard.  I didn’t freeze to death.  I didn’t get sick or injured or lost. Nothing was stolen.  I had just the right number of batteries.  And I didn’t lose my glasses, not even one pair. 

I did it! I made it there - and back. And I saw so much, did and experienced so much.  I learned an encyclopedia of information about Antarctica, its formation, its geology, its wildlife, its rich resources and immense natural bounty. The stories of the early explorers, those brave men that tried to first conquer its awesome power and formidable, frigid forces inspired me deeply.  I must admit I also learned that I was blindly ignorant and uninformed about it all beforehand.  

I discovered it is the only place on Earth, dedicated thankfully by the Antarctica Treaty (1959) and currently signed by 48 nations, set aside to be a sacred place of peace, of pristine purity, of global cooperation, scientific observation and preservation.   It is the only place on God’s Green (and White) Earth that military action is banned by law, where people cannot destroy the environment out of convenience or greed and animals are guaranteed protection from slaughter and exploitation.  Antarctica is the last true wilderness we have.

Not only is Antarctica the last place on the planet where humans have only recently dared to tread, a whole new world where wildlife and spectacular natural beauty is abundant and breathtaking, as well as the most beautiful place on Earth I have ever seen, The Land of Ice and Penguins is the most precious, unique and special location ever discovered by mankind. 

Maybe there is a very good reason it is so incredibly far away and so hard to get to.  I have seen it with my own two eyes.  And my hope is that many of you have seen it now, too.

I end with an excerpt I found in a book about Antarctic exploration that my father gave me before I left.  It’s by a recent polar explorer, a great Italian mountaineer named Reinhold Messner. It recounts his memory of a conversation he had with this young daughter, age 4, just young enough to be curious about her father’s long travels as she studied her first globe.

When l set off for the South Pole, my daughter Magdalena could not yet talk.

When l returned, she asked me lots of questions:

What did you find down there?

Infinity.

What’s infinity like?

White, peaceful, still, and everything moves slowly.

So, is that like Heaven?

Perhaps that is Heaven?

Did you look for Heaven in the Antarctica?

No, l wasn’t looking for anything there, but l discovered white infinity there.

What do l have to do to see white infinity?

Fight all your life to make sure that people don’t put up buildings and electricity pylons, or burrow around or divide up the last wilderness amongst themselves.

For more information on how to take this same cruise, go to:
http://www.gadventures.com/ms-expedition-cruises/why/
http://www.travelwild.com/AntarcticainDepth/10348/TourPage.aspx

The Long and Winding Road Home

Within the next hour, the M/S Expedition and all her weary passengers, stuffed to the gills with indelible memories, fantastic digital images and superb cuisine from an endless parade of meals will cross back over the Antarctic Convergence, and re-enter the South Atlantic Ocean into the Drake Passage back toward Ushuaia over 400 miles to the north.  My long, extraordinary journey into the Land of Ice will soon come to an end.

The Antarctic Convergence is the political, biological and geographic line of demarcation that separates Antarctica from the rest of the world.  A colossal, clockwise current of powerful winds and bone-chilling water swirls around the continent like an enormous whirlpool isolating this special, magical place from the rest of the world. The Convergence is what keeps Antarctica cold and frozen.  As we crossed the line ten days ago heading south toward the Pole, the difference in air temperature was instantly palpable, and it was then that our first iceberg was sighted.  We all were filled with enormous excitement, joy and celebration at that moment, but now - after seeing thousands upon thousands of them - they have become part of the seascape that no one barely notices anymore. Funny how easily one can become jaded; it's the same with penguins, too. But now, I savor the last of those gargantuan tabular bergs floating by, the final ones that will soon be behind me, knowing it will probably be the last one I see….ever.

After leaving Ushuaia heading south out of the Beagle Channel, the ship was immediately surrounded by an awesome aerial display of cape petrels, medium-size, acrobatic, black and white seabirds that congregate curiously alongside the Expedition and swoop dangerously closely to the waves that the tips of their delicate wings nearly touch the surface of the water. They were soon joined by the giant petrels, twice the size of their smaller cousins and the color of dark, grey, rain clouds, following in the wide wake of the ship. Mixed into the petrel brigade are handfuls of huge Sooty Albatross, appropriately named for their light-charcoal coloring, expansive wingspans and their ability to remain at sea for upwards of seven years without a minute's rest.  The list naming all of the different species of birds we have seen on this magnificent voyage kept by our studious ornithologist on the bulletin board near the reception desk numbers over thirty at this point. Once we crossed the Convergence southward, the birds slowly - within a matter of hours – quietly disappeared and refused to fly with us anymore into the frigid Antarctic Zone. But today, they are at our side once more, welcoming us back, a sign that we are heading back into warmer climes.

The sentimental side of me, the one that dreads saying good-bye, is slowly beginning to emerge, knowing that this magical dream of a trip soon will be over. I will miss the wonderful new friends I have made on board the M/S Expedition. I’ll miss sitting for long stretches of time on the observations decks soaking in the extraordinary, stunning seascapes, the ethereal, floating ice castles, the incomparable sounds of absolute silence in this remotest of places, the gentle rocking of the ocean which I’ve become fond of over time, the pampering I’ve received from the hospitable staff and the privilege of being in a part of the world that only one in twenty million people have the luck to witness.  (A mathematician on board did that calculation for me.)  The thrill of all the “firsts” I experienced now inevitably give way to all of the sad “lasts”.

Things I am missing most and anxious to experience again: taking a long, hot bubble bath with flickering candles nearby and classical music in the background.  I believe this has been the longest length of time in my entire life in which I’ve not taken a bath, one of life’s greatest pleasures for me. (Note: I HAVE showered daily!) I miss my lightning-speed Internet connection!  The last two weeks have brought me back to the early days of computer usage where we all were forced to suffer through the “dial-up” phase of Internet technology. But to be able to witness the staggering, overwhelming wilderness of the last continent, giving up these few small conveniences of my life back home has been a small price to pay and insignificant in the end.

I miss the familiar sound of my cell phone, which has been buried in my suitcase for a whole fortnight.  I miss the smell of fresh, French roast coffee being brewed in my kitchen. I miss seeing dogs and cats. I long to watch CNN, the nightly news and “Dancing With the Stars”. I long for the sound of my parents’ voices. I miss the students and staff with whom I spend my (half) days at school. I cannot wait to get into my little red Honda, open the sunroof, pop in a CD and take a long ride on the freeway. I miss my flannel sheets and the warm, familiar comfort of my own bed. I miss all my dear friends and loved ones. I am ready to come home. I am ready for it all to be over.

Tomorrow I begin packing up and reorganizing the jumbled mess of a suitcase I’ve made for myself, say my farewells to my Expedition family and begin the long, 8,200 mile winding road back home to my life in little, old Everett, Washington, and say good-bye to this unparalleled world of titanic icebergs, waddling penguins, blubbery seals, illusive whales, infinite snow and historical feats of exploration. It will most likely come with a deep, soulful sigh and perhaps another tear on my cheeks, but every journey must come to an end with its final step…the step that leads to my back door when I turn the key and return to my wonderful life and the next dreams and adventures ahead.

But don’t cry for me, Antarctica, the truth is I’ll never leave you.  

F.A.Q.

Frequently Asked Questions:

Is it cold down there?

Although it is obviously expected to be cold down here at the bottom of the Earth, it is now summertime in Antarctica. The temperatures range anywhere from the upper 20's Fahrenheit to upper 30's; it's much like the dead of winter in the Pacific Northwest, say mid-January during a cold snap with snow on the ground.  With the warmth my incredibly effective and cozy U.S. Polo Association parka (bought at a steal on eBay for $35!), I am always toasty even in the worst conditions. Usually, I only have to wear my thermal underwear (the equivalent of a long-sleeve t-shirt) under the parka without a sweater, and I'm perfectly warm.  There have been many occasions when the sun is shining when I've been quite comfortable on deck in just a t-shirt and wool cap to keep my bald head toasty. I've been quite surprised by that.  The only element that creates a bitter cold is when the wind picks up.  But with my parka's four-inch-thick insulation and its fabulous hood with the fur ruff to protect my face and ears, even out on the Zodiak at top speed in splashing Antarctic water spraying me and snow falling, inside I am snug as a bug in a rug.  For those of you who fear it would be "too cold" for you to travel here, get over it!

What's the food like?

The food is as good as you can find at any fine, four-star restaurant - and absolutely delicious. The dining hall serves three meals a day and has a small coffee bar that serves tea, coffee, biscuits and shortbread cookies 24/7 for those early morning or late night snacks that are sometimes necessary.  Breakfasts are buffet-style and consist of an assortment of 8-10 types of cereals and grains, yogurt, milk and cream, for starters.  Then the heavy duty items come next: bacon, scrambled or poached eggs, sausages, bacon, fried bread or French toast, beans, mushrooms, several kinds of fish and honey ham.  Another entire section of the buffet is devoted to breads, rolls, muffins, croissants, pastries, jams and butter with at least two types of fresh juice to choose from.  Another large table offers a wide array of fresh fruits- pineapple, kiwi, sliced or whole bananas, pears, Mandarin oranges, peaches, watermelon and so on. Lunch, again served cafeteria-style, begins with a variety of different kinds of green salads (but NO ICEBERG LETTUCE– talk about irony!) with all the trimmings – olives, artichoke hearts, croutons, etc. – along with dishes like potato, macaroni and three bean salad, followed by a whole host of sliced cheeses and meats and then by the main lunch selections of lasagna, casseroles, meat dishes including beef, pork, chicken and fish. Soup is also served at lunch and dinner as are a wide assortment of delectable, calorie-laden desserts that are always impossible to resist. Dinner is always a traditional, sit-down, more formal event with a selection of at least two or three appetizers and main courses from a wide variety of international menus.  Often there are themes for dinner, as we saw with the recent barbeque and Indian nights.  Last night, it was “Black and White” night to celebrate our penguin friends in which guests were challenged to come up with the most creative outfits using whatever clothes and found materials we could find in our cabins to fit the two-shades-only color scheme. Prizes were given out at the end of the dinner for the most imaginative outfits, and there were plenty of hilarious entries and plenty of laughter. Tonight, apparently it’s “French Night”. Oo la la! I am not accustomed to eating three large meals a day, which I did for the first several days, but I have cut back to only two meals per day so insure I won’t return home twenty pound heavier than when left.

How much is all this costing you?

A lot! I know my homegirl, Ms. Thang, will say it’s tacky to disclose information like this, but several people have asked about it. The price of the just the cruise itself was about $4,400 and the air fare another $2,200, and then there are always the other “extra” expenses for Antarctic clothing, necessities, miscellaneous travel items, tipping, souvenirs, insurance, etc. etc. Bottom line will be around $7,000, but every Lincoln penny of it was absolutely worth it in my opinion.

Aren't you bored being stuck on a ship for two weeks?

Not in the least. On the contrary, they are keeping us so busy that at times I wish I had more “down time” just to relax, read, or check my email. It’s much like polar boot camp. Wake up calls are generally at 6:30 a.m., breakfast at 7:00, Zodiak excursion # 1at 8:00, lectures, briefings, informative briefings at 11:00, lunch at noon, Zodiak trip #2 around 3:00, an occasional meeting or presentation around 6::00, dinner at 7:30 and then we are generally free and exhausted by 9:00. It’s a busy day every day, but always fun, exciting, fascinating and fulfilling. Every day has been extremely well-organized down the very last detail.

Will you be seeing the South Pole?

I will not even be close to the South Pole. The cruise is only touring the South Shetland Islands and about 200 miles southward along the Antarctic Peninsula. To get to the South Pole, I’d have to travel by ship to the Ross Sea on the far side of Antarctica and then fly by helicopter to the Pole, which would be extremely costly.  My goal was to step foot on the continent, and I’ve done that repeatedly now over the past 10 days.  So my goal has been met several times over.

What is the service like on board?         

The entire service staff (room service, wait staff in the dining room, maintenance people, reception, laundry, etc.) is from the Philippines. They work a staggering seven days a week for eight months straight and then take a two month break and begin another eight month contract.  When the Antarctic season ends in February, they all move to the Arctic cruise ships and work up north at the same superhuman endurance pace. The service is exceptional.  Guests are treated like royally.  The beds are made up and cabins cleaned three times per day. The ship is spotless. The bridge is run entirely by Eastern European or Russian seamen who are experienced at sailing in polar conditions and run the ship in the most professional manner possible. The Expedition leaders include a marine biologist, a geologist, a biologist, a historian, a naturalist, an ornithologist, a professional musician, a kayak master and a couple of Zodiak masters. In addition to that, Susan Adie, our head expedition leader, has made over 140 trips to Antarctica and is considered one of the leading experts on the continent and knows every single bay, fjord, strait, glacier, island, mountain, inlet, nook and cranny of this region. Having Susan as our guide has been an incredible privilege for all of us on the Expedition. Not only am I well cared for, but I have learned an encyclopedia of information about Antarctica.  I can see five different species of penguins and identify them instantly and the same with many types of the thirty species of birds we have sighted since we left Ushuaia ten days ago. Overall, the entire crew and staff have made this journey not only fun but also entertaining and educational.

What is your cabin like?

Well, it’s not the Hilton Hotel, but it’s very comfortable. I’m sharing a “Category 2” cabin with one other person who, fortunately, is considerate and thoughtful. Efforts were made to match up guests with similar demographics. When my cabinmate, Robert, finds me taking an occasional catnap (or would that be “penguin nap”?), he tiptoes around me or closes the curtains to darken the room. The cabin itself is about 20 feet by 12 feet with two single beds, a night stand, a writing desk, a closet with three large sections, a standard chair, a public announcement system and a private bath with a Lilliputian-size shower, very tight but ample enough for long showers after being out in the ice, snow and wind. So, I’m grateful for it (but missing my big clawfoot tub back home). "Category 3” cabins have three beds, one being a bunk bed, so I’m grateful not to be in one of those! (Thank you, Kathy, my beloved and talented travel agent!) The beds are small and simple with crisp, white sheets and one large cotton “featherbed”-style comforter which keeps me warm as an oven all night long. I’ve slept soundly every single night, although some nights I’ve stayed up extremely late writing and trying to upload entries on this blog, frustrated by the lack of connectivity to the Internet, and only had 4-5 hours sleep. Thank goodness the Expedition’s coffee is dark and strong. 

How many passengers are on board?

There are 114 passengers on the ship with six empty spaces. The entire crew and staff number approximately 35, I would estimate. It’s a big happy family, and I believe I know about half the guests’ names by heart after more than a week. There is a “no keys” policy on board the M/S Expedition – meaning the cabins have no locks, and everyone is on the honor system. Often, I’ve set my laptop down in the lounge to go grab something from my cabin, and never once was I worried about having it stolen.  It’s wonderful to live in this environment of trust, support, mutual respect and friendship.  I wish the world was more like this group of adventurers I’m traveling with.

Have you seen any whales?

Seen them? Yes, I have seen four whales.  Photographed any? Unfortunately not. It is early in the season for whale sightings, so there are not many whales in the region at this time.  The handful of times the whales have been spotted by passengers, which always causes a frantic stir and scramble to the nearest window or observation deck on board, I have been without my camera. Dang it.

Have you had any mishaps on this trip?

Knock on wood – no major problems to date.  The worst of it was spilling an entire cup of hot coffee all over my lap on my overnight flight from Houston to Buenos Aires – ouch!  How totally embarrassing, looking as if I’d peed my pants for the next two hours until it dried and then smelling like low-grade java for the rest of my trip to Ushuaia.  Also, when I boarded the Expedition, one of two pieces of luggage (my carry-on bag with my prized Toshiba laptop, my lifeline to the Northern Hemisphere) was not in my cabin as the plan specified after it was picked up from my hotel and brought to the ship. For an entire hour, I paced the ship’s halls looking for it, sweating bullets with increasing skepticism about this “keyless” policy with over 100 strangers.  But alas, it had been delivered to the wrong room, and someone dutifully turned it in. Finally, last night after dinner, I was on the bow surveying the exquisite sunset illuminating the Bransfield Strait drinking a cup of coffee, as I entered the ship some ice on the bottom of my shoe caused me to slip and the whole cup of coffee went flying and landed all over the carpet – much to my chagrin. I have the worst luck with coffee it seems…a total klutz. If those three incidents are the lot of my troubles, I count myself lucky!

Are you having fun?

YES! (Duh)

A Visit to Deception Island

It's not every day that one gets to walk in the belly of a volcanic crater filled with the ancient bones of the great giants of the sea and nearly a quarter million squawking penguins, so a most memorable day it has been! Today, the Expedition dropped anchor in one of the first centers of Antarctic's human activities: Deception Island, one of the most visited stops and truly a highlight on any tour of this extraordinary continent.

Discovered in 1820, Deception Island gets its name from the fact that the presence of a harbor is deceptive and confused the early explorers who were first convinced it must be somehow connected to the continent. The horseshoe-shaped island is actually the rim of an old volcano that erupted over 10,000 years ago. In recent years, there have been a number of violent eruptions, the last in 1970, and the island frequently is the center of seismic activity. Fortunately, we escaped the earthquakes and lava on our visit today. In the year of my mother's birth, 1928, the island was the site of the first flight in Antarctica. Today, it is one of the most popular site on the tourist circuit.

The entrance into Deception Island is a dramatic one with its narrow, treacherous opening from the sea and the rocky crags on the starboard side threatening to tear the ship's hull open with any miscalculation from the captain up in the bridge. Neptune's Window, a spectacular opening in the basalt walls of the island's rim, most likely from a pyroclastic blast many centuries ago, is so huge that only a mythical god can peek through it. As soon as we entered into the mysterious basin at Deception Island, the sound of thousands of boisterous cape petrels nesting in the high cliffs filled the air. A light, gentle snow was falling, and a colony of over 140,000 pairs of chinstrap penguins chattering and trumpeting on a rounded ridge high above us on the added yet another layer of noise and excitement to the Expedition's appearance into this unique and amazing world.

Deception Island played an important role in the early whale and sealing industries due to its relatively-northern location in Antarctica and easy access to the markets in South America and the Western World. The first thing one notices after all the initial ruckus is the presence of the remnants of a whaling base long abandoned - four towering, rusty oil silos, ramshackle buildings falling victim to time and the harsh elements and the old iron blubber boilers left behind from the age of whaling. In this pristine land of natural wonders, such unsightly human constructs are conspicuous eyesores but valuable reminders of the misuse of the history and abuse of the precious resources Antarctica has to offer.

The Zodiak ride was smooth in Deception Island's calm, protected waters - a welcome change from the bucking bronco excursions we have had to endure in the chopping water on several of our passages from the ship to shore. Once on land, I was instantly enchanted with the ebony sand slowly being covered in the white snow, the glacier-blue icebergs the size of city buses floating near the beach, the smell of acrid sulfur from the dozen or so of bubbling pools on the shoreline sending ghostly steam into the polar air and the patches of green and bright gold lichen clinging desperately to the rocky cliffs surrounded the scene. Old, weathered rowboats littered the landscape, surprisingly still in fair condition. A walk down the beach led me past fields filled with enormous whale ribs and vertebrae poking up from the sand, a tell-tale sign of the carnage that occurred on this desolate island a hundred years past.

I was walking in a graveyard of the blue whales that were once harvested in numbers reaching 30,000 or more, and a chill - not from the cold from which my trusty parka shielded me - but from the images in my mind of the suffering that these black beaches witnessed - ran up my spine. Many of the wooden frames from the outbuildings jutting from the frozen earth mimicked the skeletal remains of the giants whose remains lie buried on Deception Island, and often I would have to stop and look carefully to tell which was which.

At the end of the beach, at the southern end of the island, two Weddell seals lay lounging in the snow napping, snorting, scratching their fat bellies and seemly unconcerned about or oblivious to the presence of the human beings invading their space with cameras at the ready. The corpulent seals are not the most photogenic of subjects and try the patience of the most dedicated photographer with their extended slumber and generally lazy behavior. But this lack of showmanship allows the spectators time to clown around a little and get creative with their observations, which thankfully helped pass the time.

The much-publicized-on-board grand finale of our tour to Deception Island was the traditional "Polar Bear Plunge" (actually a misnomer in this region since polar bears are only found in the Arctic Circle and not in Antarctic) where anyone willing and brave enough to shed their protective, warm clothes could dive briefly (no pun intended) into the 2 degrees Centigrade waters of the harbor for a quick dip. Part of me was tempted to participate, but in the end my sensibility overtook my adventurous spirit. Stripping down to my underwear in bone-chilling water ultimately didn't sound appealing to me.

I stood and watched instead; bragging rights to that feat of silliness was not something I needed to add to my life's resume. Just being there was enough for me.

A Barbeque in Antarctica

Word spread quickly as an ice flow among the passengers that dinner this evening was going be an outdoor, summer barbeque on the Expedition's spacious deck on the stern.  "They must be kidding us, right?!", I chuckled to myself.  The ship's staff has a wonderful sense of humor, and considering the temperatures the last few days as we move farther south each day, passing 64 degrees South, have dropped close to 20 degrees Fahrenheit with winds at times up to 30 knots, no WAY that was going to happen.  It must be a practical joke, and a very good one at that.

An early morning Zodiak excursion after breakfast allowed us a full hour of touring an expansive, glorious harbor surrounded by colossal, snow-capped, sawtooth mountains all around us that pierced the skyline in excess of five thousand feet or more. Schools of happy penguins frolicked and "porpoised" (yes, they are excellent swimmers!) all around our boat curiously as we leisurely cruised past numerous and massive glaciers, irregularly-shaped icebergs and enormous snow caves.  At one point, we stopped to inspect a swarm of wiggling krill, the pink shrimp-like organisms eaten by baleen whales by the billions, who were feeding off the microscopic algae underneath the smaller icebergs in our path. Suddenly, a thunderous crack from high above signalled the onset of an avalanche from one of the peaks nearby, and our driver quickly cut the engine to allow us to experience the sound of the cascading snowbank, roaring at first and then slowing to a gentle whisper of snow crystals as it came to its conclusion. For a moment, we all sat in awe, speechless at the natural wonder we had been privileged to witness.  Stunned, we all let out a collective sigh and a group "Wow!".

From every direction, I could hear the clicking and beeping of digital cameras, my own included, as we all feverishly captured the magnificent grandeur of Antaractica all around us.  At one point, Andrea, one of our team leaders who hails originally from Austria, instructed the Zodiak driver to shut off the engines, and requested that we all stop and take a rare break from our photography, just to experience the unique serenity and unparalleled quiet of the continent.  And for five entire minutes, we sat silently as snowmen, drifting with the gentle waves, some of us closing our eyes, breathing deeply, simply letting the beauty, the still, the spectacle and the pristine purity of the Ice World surrounding us sink into our souls.  For me, it was one of the most special and memorable moments of all thus far.  I soaked up the absence of any sound and the presence of this natural wonder of the world. Andrea reminded us to take time to return to our God-given senses and put down the technology and snazzy, distracting gadgets of modern life. It was magical.

Later in the day, we sailed into aptly-named Paradise Bay - one of the most exquisite and breathtaking scenes we have seen to date into a small, quiet harbor to one of the only settlements in the region.  The place is called Port Lockroy, a tiny World War I camp set up in 1914 by the British to intercept signals from the Chilean and Argentine government.  Three passengers aboard the Expedition were being delivered to the camp at Port Lockroy as part of the United Kingdom Antarctic Historic Trust to work on restoration of the camp, abandoned in 1962 and soon thereafter falling into disrepair, and to help run the small museum and post office the Trust has established there.  Michael, Cat and Claire, brave and rugged (perhaps crazy) Brits, will be overwintering in Port Lockroy for six, long, frozen months living in the three small huts on the island, which is also home to a colony of nearly two thousand penguins.  We toured the fascinating, little museum and gift shop, and many of us bought postcards to be mailed from Antarctica. (Mom and Dad, watch your mailbox!) 

Back aboard the Zodiaks, we returned back to the comfort of the Expedition.  As our rubber sea chariots neared the imposing, red, white and blue Expedition, our home for this incredible tour, the familiar smell of charcoal wafted through the crisp, frigid air, and the sounds of Reggae music punctuated the silence of Paradise Bay.  It smelled and sounded like....a summer barbeque!!  And sure enough, when we finished stripping out of our boots, snow gear, life jackets, parkas and heavy gloves and climbed the staircase the led us to the deck stern-side, we were treated to a feast of ribs, hot dogs, hamburgers, corn on the cob, potato salad and all the trimmings of a Fourth of July party with Caribbean tunes to create the right ambiance for such a summertime party.  "I guess they weren't kidding!", I had to admit to myself.

The astonishing juxtaposition of summer in the Antarctic provided a memorable meal, a ton of laughter and fun, and a dinner to remember forever for all my shipmates aboard the M/S Expedition.

                                                    Summertime, and the living is easy.

The Wonderful World of Ice

A day like today comes along once in a lifetime, and I am blessed to say today it was delivered to me on an ice platter.  As the day came to a close, I must admit, the big baby I still remain, more than a few tears of joy spilled from my Irish eyes.

The announcement from our expedition leader, Susan Adie, a brilliant woman who has devoted her entire lifetime to the study and preservation of the continent of Antarctica and whose great-grandfather opened the first whaling station here in the early 1900s, woke us up at 6:30 this morning, warning us that it would be an action-packed day and that if we pulled aside the curtains covering our portholes we would see a delightful surprise:  **SNOW!**  Of all the places on Earth that this shouldn't have come as a surprise, it would most certainly be Antarctica.  But snowing it was, and the passengers aboard the M/S Expedition were all immediately on deck celebrating, throwing snowballs and even a snowman was erected on the bow of the ship. It was the first snow we have seen on our voyage, and the sight of this Antarctic Manna from Heaven was only the first thrill of the day.

Following a typically delicious and hearty breakfast, over the loudspeaker came our second big news.  Susan said, "Ladies and Gentlemen, the best of November is upon us.  From the bridge, the captain has just informed me that we have pack ice ahead!"  Pack ice, for anyone who does not know, is that polar ice that flows in it a unique "mosaic" pattern, generally made up of varying sizes but always in straight-line shapes, often packed so closely together that it appears from a distance like solid ice. To me, it looks as if nature has just laid out a puzzle from a box with all the pieces mixed up and scattered about on a tabletop.  Pack ice is found in early summer only in the polar regions after the solid ice sheets of winter thaw and begin to break up. For the next two hours, the ship moved along at a significantly slower pace, 4 knots - about one third our usual cruising speed - as the captain maneuvered through the maze of pack ice.  The Expedition, although not an "ice breaker" vessel, is built for conditions such as this and bravely marched forward following the small open cracks between the pieces called "leads" until we came to a point that the ice was too compacted that we were "garaged" – a maritime term meaning we could no longer move forward without endangering the hull.  The captain reversed our course until we could safely turn around and find another route through the ice to the destination we were expected to reach today.  The "best of November", according to Susan, meant that our cruise - the first of the summer season here in Antarctica - would be the only one to experience this type of ice flow this year.  It was absolutely spectacular, a breathtaking, special, timely and rare treat!

Pack ice is quite different from the true giants, the superstars and icons of the Antarctic region, the "tabular icebergs".  We were fortunate enough to see and sail a stone's throw away from hundreds of these massive, monstrous, towering behemoths as we entered the South Shetland Islands near the Weddell Sea.  Tabular icebergs are distinctly shaped with their rectangular, right-angles and flat tops like a table - thus named "tabular".  Some of them are as high as a 20 story building, and one that we were fortunate enough to skim by was estimated to be a half mile long according to the announcement from the bridge.  They are unbelievable. To see an iceberg this enormous left me speechless and scratching my head over how exactly I was going to describe them to friends and family back home.  But thankfully, a picture tells a thousand words. 

Once back on in safe harbor and out of the pack ice, it was time to hit the Mud Room and saddle up for another Zodiak outing.  Today, we were told, we were going to see Antarctica "up close" and zipped off in our small fleet of black, rubber speed boats off to see ice bergs and ice sheets at sea level.  First we had to navigate through a large area of "brash ice", which is the equivalent of ice gravel - smaller chunks of smooth, rounded glacial ice all mixed up in a soupy mishmash floating on the water. There are three kinds of brash ice; crystal clear like diamonds, translucent and milky-looking, and opaque, which is solid white. Mixed all together, it has the appearance of granite crystals, and when disturbed (by our Zodiak boats, for instance) it bobs and rolls in gentle waves.  Brash ice, in my opinion, is just as beautiful and fantastic as pack ice, and Matt, our driver, encouraged us to reach out, grab a chunk and sample what water 100 million years old tasted like. Of course, I had to try it and was surprised when I was the only person in our boat to took him up on the offer.  I tried the diamond variety. Delicious and clean! 

The rest of our Zodiak tour brought us past relatively smaller icebergs, some reflecting the polar light with a color of blue that I have no mortal vocabulary word to describe. It's been called "glacier blue" by some and is the deepest, most saturated - almost unearthly - blue my own eyes have ever seen.  It's only seen in crevices, small holes in the ice or from below the icebergs underwater. This color is another magic element found in the Antarctic. Many of these ice formations we saw had icicles that looked like beards, and we joked that those ones must be "really old" icebergs. Matt treated us to a special stop on an ice sheet where he "landed" the Zodiak onto the ice (two foot thick and probably 30 feet long by 15 feet wide) and let each of us get out to stand upon it and have our photograph taken. That was an offer each of us eagerly took advantage of, and we all soon realized that we were the only Zodiak team out of twelve that was given that special experience. Later, back in the Mud Room, we had to endure the jealous stares of the other passengers once word spread of our extra special treat.  How lucky am I to have a day like today?!  But the very best was yet to come.

After a hot shower and much-needed nap and another delectable lunch, another Zodiak excursion!  The Expedition dropped anchor in Neko Bay at the foot of a magnificent snow-covered mountain with a serene lagoon nearby and spectacular glacial cliffs in the background.  Truly some of the most gorgeous scenery imaginable!  As we approached the mountain, we understood why the expedition leaders had selected this site.  Ahead of us, covering the white snow on the side of the mountain were thousands upon thousands of black spots which we soon recognized as our cute, little friends dressed in tuxedos, our second penguin colony!  A welcoming party of dozens of Gentoo penguins greeted us at the shore as we disembarked from the boats, coming right up to us - within feet - curious and unafraid.  As I paused instinctively to snap some quick pictures, I suddenly stopped, put my camera down, knelt to the ground and wept quietly where no one could see me for a moment or two, maybe three.  It was the first time we had actually step foot upon the Antarctic Peninsula (all the other landings thus far were on the surrounding islands), and the profound magnitude of these first footsteps moved me to tears. My dream to someday come to Antarctica, which at one point I figured might possibly be impossible, had finally come true. They were tears of joy and gratitude, but they were also short-lived since the comical penguins always make me laugh with their unique waddling movements, flapping flippers and adorable faces.  Tears and penguins do not mix well.

I stood up again, composed myself and hiked up the mountain to an elevation of about 1,000 feet to the top of a ridge past countless pairs and groups of penguins – one of only a handful of animals that mate for life- who were trumpeting, courting, teasing one another, quarreling, resting and watching the line of human beings visitors respectfully joining them in their domain.  With no natural predators, they have no fear nor do not they run away, and we always give them their rightful right of way. Atop the ridge, we spent more than an hour soaking in the spectacular view of the bay, the lagoon, the colony, the glacier, the four avalanches that occurred and majestic Expedition waiting for us below.  To say it was "amazing" just isn't enough.  The scene was beyond that.

Back to the ship, we were informed that dinner this evening was to be of an Indian-theme, something that I am sure made Jyoti and Kishor and my new friend, Sudeep, happy. The serving staff all dressed in saris and kurtas, the men in Jajasthani turbans, we dined on curries, masala, aloo and chutney. Since Indian food is my favorite food in the whole world, it was the Maraschino cherry on my sundae of a day.

Like I said, a day like today…once in a lifetime!