Voyage to the ice
Wild, silent, awe-inspiring... Antarctica entrances Jennifer Byrne, even though it’s her fifth trip to this end of the world.
The sign the on the waterfront says it all, El Fin Del Mundo – the end of the world. I’m at the southernmost tip of Argentina and behind me is the frontier port of Ushuaia. Ahead is ocean, ice and the least-travelled continent of Antarctica. My fellow travellers are adjusting their seasickness patches or throwing down pills as we board the ship that’s going to take us there.
Their nervousness is understandable. The Southern Ocean before us is the world’s wildest and conditions here are so changeable, so unpredictable, plans can change by the hour.
Yet our craft, the Sea Spirit, has been blessed by the weather gods.
The sun shines, the sea is like glass and when we reach our first penguin colony – at the South Shetland Islands, en route to the Antarctic Peninsula – the 100 or so passengers stream out in full strength.
They returned from that landing with what I’ve come to recognise as the Antarctic stare. You expect a lot, but this is beyond...
Partly it’s the sheer beauty and grandeur of the landscape, not all white as one imagines, but with jewel-like glints of blue and green. Partly it’s the thrill of finding oneself in a place of such deep quiet and stillness. For animal lovers, it’s a bit like waking up in a Disney cartoon, among creatures free from fear. We humans know not to approach the inhabitants too closely – five metres minimum is the rule – but no one told them that. Sit quietly and you’re likely to find a penguin pecking your boots, or staring at itself in your camera lens.
I’ve been an Antarctic nut for 20 years now, though strangely, given it’s the top of most travel bucket lists, it’s
a place I never much wanted to visit, preferring heat and palm trees. Then my husband went and wouldn’t stop raving, so buy the woollies and give it a go, I thought – and was immediately hooked.
First time, I sailed from Hobart – a long, slow journey across the Antarctic Circle deep into the continent, where the Australian bases are. One of my sharpest memories is playing cricket in T-shirts on the ice. When passing the same way 10 years later, conditions were so tough we could scarcely leave the ship. That’s deep Antarctica – totally beyond our control.
The Peninsula has its challenging days too, but because it juts way north of 66 degrees south, this crossing from Argentina is the perfect taster: the swiftest, shortest way to experience the Big White without spending weeks at sea. Ten days in and out, no detours.
We ended up coming home early – an ugly storm was raging round from nearby Cape Horn, force 12 they said, so we scooted before the weather hit us, and filled the extra day with an open, sun-drenched barbecue in the Beagle Channel. The history of Antarctica is a wondrous one and lectures are on offer during the voyage about currents, mammals and mighty stories of exploration.
It was on the Sea Spirit with
Chimu Expeditions that I had my first experience of Antarctic kayaking – terror, amazement, bliss, in that order – while others spent a night on shore, sleeping on the ice. “Cold and uncomfortable,” reported one brave camper; another said it was the best thing she’d ever done.
Although this was my fifth trip, I’d go again in a heartbeat because each time it’s different, each time there’s a special moment which is yours alone and returns in dreams.
This time it came around five days in. We’d all climbed into the Zodiacs – rubber inflatables which ferry you from ship to land – to check out a wreck on the shoreline. Our driver, Sven, spotted the blow of whales and peeled off to investigate. He stilled the motor when we came across three>>
humpbacks enjoying a late breakfast. They were “bubble-net feeding” – blowing out air to form a natural net for microscopic krill, which they would then catch in their huge open jaws as they streaked to the surface.
They dived and rose around us for 30 minutes, so close we heard them groaning and could smell their fishy breath on the air. There was just one anxious moment, when they blew a perfect net around our rubber-ducky – are those jaws heading up this way? – but they seemed oblivious to our presence. We never made it to the wreck, but took home this gift from the deep.
It’s a magical place and to visit Antarctica is a life-changing experience. It’s as close to being on another planet as most of us are ever likely to get – I hope you get there. AWW