Heading toward the Drake Passage, expedition leader Michael admonished us and our fellow passengers: “This is not a cruise. If you thought you were on a cruise, it’s time to reassess your life decisions. This is an expedition, and everything is unpredictable.” The first unpredictable involved Michael’s announcement that a Category 4 cyclone to the west was sending strong winds our way, but unpredictable in Antarctica has two sides. Michael assured us that although our original itinerary was now abandoned, there were multiple alternatives. Instead of heading to the western shore of the Antarctic Peninsula, we would sail east into the Weddell Sea. 

 

Exploration occurs throughout Antarctica but tourism is limited largely to the area closest to South America. After an overnight in Santiago de Chile, we boarded a four-hour flight to Puerto Williams, followed by the two-day crossing to the seventh continent. On arrival at the Silversea tour desk in Santiago, we were informed that the charter flight permitted, per person, one suitcase, one carry-on, and one personal item. We had nearly twice that, but a short walk to a nearby mall to purchase another carry-on gave us the chance to repack.

 

Our small ship, the Silver Wind, recently outfitted for ice-breaking, carried 29 expedition leaders, experienced guides and scientists offering three hours a day of lectures on geology, climate, and animal sciences, including, of course, “penguinology” and stories of courageous explorers. We learned how birds lock their wings to exploit air currents; how penguins have very long legs concealed inside their bodies; and how the geologic history of the continents explains why the Drake Passage is often treacherous. 

 

On our first morning in Antarctica, conditions were too hazardous for a landing, but by the afternoon, the weather cleared enough to permit our introduction to a Zodiac vessel. We were outfitted with rubber boots, waterproof pants, and a hooded parka. Expedition leaders who like to announce that the expected will not happen, also have a habit of declaring that the alternative will be special. We spent more than an hour circling Heroina Island, providing opportunities to watch Adelie penguin adolescents take their first plunge into the sea to feed and grow. They would grow, however, only if they made it passed the leopard seal lurking not far offshore. The presence of seabirds on the water’s surface, picking at bits of penguin remains, indicated that the seal had succeeded in its effort at survival even if some Adelies had not. Return to ship in a snow flurry was exciting with ten-foot swells, but getting out of the Zodiac proved easier than getting in, with the rise and fall of our water taxi reduced to about three feet from its earlier six. The welcome-back hot chocolate was delicious. 

 

Tourism in the Antarctic is governed by IATTO (International Association of Trade Training Organisations), a group of more than 100 companies and organizations advocating and practicing environmentally safe behaviors to protect Antarctica, including governing where and when a ship may anchor. The seventh continent also remains a politics-free zone, which was refreshing; 56 nations adhere to the Antarctic Treaty, promising peaceful purposes only. 

 

On days we touched the ground, we stepped into a cleaning solution on leaving and returning to the ship, dipped walking sticks in the solution, and passed through a carwash-like device to disinfect our boots. We had opportunities to give right of way to determined Chinstrap and Gentoo penguins, watch skuas awaiting the chance to snatch a chick, and observe young male fur seals refine their skills at bullying each other for mating contests to come.

 

Porpoises had accompanied us the day we left Chile. Eventually, humpback whales appeared, their great grey hulks parked on the surface of the water, then descending gracefully with an occasional view of the distinctive tail. One day, the whales were so nearby the ship that kayaking excursions needed to be canceled, and the Zodiacs took long, circuitous routes around the ship to avoid close encounters.

 

Our ship’s butler, Iklas, from Uzbekistan, came to our rescue one day with walking sticks. The first hike up a steep, icy slope had been a disappointment. Lesson learned, within hours, Iklas had brand-new walking sticks on our bed. On a later hike, as we approached the top of a snow mound, we heard a long, slow whoosh as a section of iceberg fell into the sea, generating acres of brash ice flowing toward land.

 

Antarctica is dominated visually by snowy whites, rocky blacks, moody grays, and the dazzling blues of the sea and sky. One of the fortuitous unpredictables we enjoyed was navigation through the Neumayer Channel, a narrow, iceberg- and brash ice-ridden pass providing hours of stunning closeup views. Most days the sun was so bright we could feel its heat despite warnings of 18-degree temperatures. 

 

Another unpredictable was of a more cultural nature. We picked up two additional passengers, something we found rather surprising in this wilderness. A team of conservation specialists had spent four months restoring a now-abandoned research hut at a former airstrip. It was odd seeing human-made structures on the ice. Enhancing the intellectual benefits of our trip, one of the carpenters gave a fascinating talk about his work for UKHAT (UK Antarctic Heritage Trust). Not only does Antarctic exploration continue at several research stations, the effort is underway to preserve the history of Antarctic exploration. The conservators had been living in tents rather than in the hut they were preserved for history’s sake.

 

An expedition would not be a cruise without making new friends. Reunions are already planned in Parkland, Florida, and in London. Despite the emphasis on the expedition, luxury was not foreign to this dream trip. We never missed the breakfast, lunch, cocktail hour, or fine dinner that bracketed each of the five days of excursions and lectures. Sommelier Martin, from South Africa, was eager every lunchtime to introduce a new wine. 

 

Perhaps the most memorable moment of the expedition was David’s plunge into the Antarctic waters of 28 degrees. Paul hates cold, so jumping into cold water was not on his to-do list, but the trip for both of us was delightful and memorable. David had his twelve seconds in the waters of the Antarctic and returned exhilarated, with bright red toes, to our cabin, where champagne and caviar awaited.

 

Antarctica makes you feel small, heightens a sense of vulnerability to nature, and enlarges appreciation for adaptation. After several days in a visual palette of black, white, gray, and blue, the color green had a visceral impact.