When Mother Nature Changes the Itinerary

Our Antarctic expedition came to a slightly premature end as the weather took a turn for the worse. Throughout our journey, the expedition crew had repeatedly mentioned their multiple contingency plans—Plan A, B, C, D, and so on – and up until the final days, we had been fortunate enough to stick with Plan A. However, our luck eventually ran out.

The captain informed us that another cruise ship operating in the area was already heading back across the Drake Passage and experiencing exceptionally rough waters. With conditions deteriorating rapidly, the crew made the difficult decision to cancel the final day of our expedition, and head back to Ushuaia a day early.

Time for the Drake Shake

We were lucky enough to get the Drake Lake on the way there, but now it was time for the Drake Shake. We felt quite disappointed initially about missing our last day in Antarctica. However, as we began our journey back through the Drake Passage, we quickly understood the wisdom behind the crew’s decision.

Crossing the Drake Passage meant traversing approximately 700 nautical miles (~1,296 km) of open ocean. We encountered winds of 60 knots (approximately 111 km/h) and waves reaching heights of 9 metres according to windy.com. These conditions were so severe that the ship’s pool and hot tubs were closed.

The waves grew so intense that during lunch, we heard crashing sounds from the kitchen, followed by an announcement that they needed to remake all our meals. The staff didn’t even bother taking drink orders, as there was no hope of keeping anything on the tables. Walking anywhere in a straight line became impossible – it felt like spending two straight days on a perpetual pirate ship ride. Even in our sleep we tumbled around.

The crew was having trouble with seasickness too, but unlike us, they had to work. The expedition crew were scared that the waves would get worse had we stayed the extra day. Fortunately, we had taken precautions by starting seasickness medication before entering the Drake Passage.

Significance of Nautical Miles

Despite the rough waters, the crew made sure we stayed entertained. They organized various games, with each department hosting different activities. The food and beverage team challenged us to guess the price of wines and identify spices by taste. One activity was a navigational challenge.

We had to predict our future position based on speed and heading. Our original location was marked on a paper map, and we were told our speed and heading, and had to predict where we would be 5 hours from now and that value would be compared with the crew’s estimate. After I asked some clarifying questions, he explained that our heading had already accounted for wind, since it was possible the desired heading might not be the same as the actual heading.

The thing is he told me our speed in knots. How fast is a knot? Apparently it’s one nautical mile an hour. Okay how far is one nautical mile? The answer: longitude and latitude lines divide Earth into 180 degrees between each hemisphere (with 360 degrees around the circumference), with each degree divided into 60 minutes. The length of each minute along the earth’s curvature is equal to one nautical mile – by extension each degree is 60 nautical miles long. The whole cruise (and any cruise for that matter), the crew would always cite distances in nautical miles and speeds in knots, and now it makes sense.

So to predict the future position, it was a matter of knowing how many nautical miles we’d have traveled after 5 hours, convert that to lat/long and mark it on the map. The crew member thought my guess was “pretty good”, but I could have done better I was more careful with the ruler.

Winning at Trivia (A Little Too Often)

Throughout the cruise, the ship hosted trivia games. We did better than expected in our first game, and apparently another team noticed, and they recruited us into their team (the cleverly named “Kriller Instincts”). And, by sheer luck, they were really strong too, and together we won about half the games we played. With each repeat win, the more we would hear other regular trivia goers tease, “oh them again?” – only because there were prizes involved! We won hats, luggage cubes, but best of all on the last day, we won penguin plushies! Later, we traded a penguin for a polar bear.

One of the questions they asked was what the garnish was in a Gibson Martini (hint not an olive) – the answer was pearl onions. I got curious so I ordered one at the bar as part of my daily cruise routine of trying a different drink each time.

When I ordered it, it took them a while to make it. To my amusement it was because they had to get pearl onions from the galley. The onions in the drink – not good – now we know why the bar didn’t have pearl onions.

Caviar Party

Eventually some time on the second day of crossing the Drake Passage as we got nearer to Argentina, the water calmed. The ship hosted a caviar party, serving the delicacy on crackers. This was really cool – I knew I was on a luxury cruise, but I didn’t think we’d get caviar! We did get to try some during our earlier meals, but they were garnishes on some meals, as opposed to the quantity being served on each cracker.

One of the earlier trivia questions asked what material a spoon must use for serving caviar, and the answer mother of pearl (makes up the inner layer of oyster shells). It’s used because it does not affect the flavour of caviar like a metal spoon would. I asked them about the spoon, and indeed it was made of mother of pearl.

Our cruise lasted almost two weeks, and I wondered how they were able to prepare fresh food the whole time. Other cruises are able to stop at ports and reload supplies, but our ship needed to bring all of its supplies from the beginning. I couldn’t find any decisive information on this, but I suspect they do a combination of using fridges that they only open infrequently, and use vegetables with longer shelf lives.

No Refueling at Sea

Not only do they have to bring all the food with them from the beginning, they have to bring the fuel too. Earlier on the trip, the captain had explained to me that the ship still runs on fossile fuels, despite our best efforts in trying to keep the Antarctic environment as pristine as possible. I figured it wouldn’t be anything electric or solar – that tech isn’t ready for cruise ships yet – so it had to be some sort of fossil fuel.

Not only was the fuel used to cross the sea, the ship also used fuel to maintain its position while we went out on our excursions. Traditional vessels can drop anchor to stay in one spot, but this ship used GPS to monitor its position and used its propellers to counter the water current to keep the ship in place. Not having to drop an anchor prevents damage to the reefs growing on the sea floor.

An Extra Day in Ushuaia

Finally, we arrived back in Ushuaia. We had the option of spending the day in Ushuaia, but we quickly discovered that Ushuaia offered limited activities. Though, there were a few tours to nearby islands for penguin watching, but we already experienced something far richer than that.

We took a brief walk around the town, which lasted about an hour before we returned to the ship. To us, Ushuaia’s primary purpose seemed to be serving as a transit point for Antarctic expeditions. But for the Argentinian government, they maintained a military presence in the area – perhaps a way to get ready to enforce their continued claims on the Falkland Islands.

The People Who Made Our Journey Special

One of the highlights of our expedition was the diverse group of people we met. Everyone seemed eager to chat, and the shared experience of such an extraordinary adventure created an atmosphere of camaraderie, especially with our trivia team with whom we won so much.

The staff also got to know us well, and although for them it was simply their job, they consistently went beyond basic service.

One staff member, who served us in our frequent visits to the sushi bar, created a latte with “sushi” written in the foam as a special touch. These small gestures made us feel that they genuinely cared about our experience.

A Different Kind of Travel

This journey showed us that travel doesn’t always need to centre around visiting cities. There’s an incredible world of natural wonders waiting to be explored in remote locations. Talking with fellow passengers, they introduced us to ideas for future trips, such as the Northwest Passage, the Amazon Rainforest, the Galápagos Islands, Polynesian island-hopping cruises, and Serengeti National Park, among others.

People sometimes refer to Antarctica as the “madhouse at the end of the world,” and after experiencing its brutal conditions both on the water and on the continent, I understand why. What we endured clearly is only a small fraction of what the early explorers faced – like Shackleton, whose expedition was stranded in the Antarctic for over a year.

The expedition drew a fascinating mix of travellers, including an elderly man with a cane who insisted on going ashore. Despite the rocky beaches, the expedition crew assisted him each time, ensuring he could step foot on Antarctica.

The next morning after our day in Ushuaia, we boarded flights back to Buenos Aires. As our cruise came to an end, we exchanged hugs, handshakes, and contact information with our new friends. The farewells were bittersweet.

Antarctica remains a place of pristine beauty and remarkable wildlife, and I’m grateful to be fortunate enough to visit it. Even with modern expedition ships, specialized clothing, and experienced guides, the White Continent remains fundamentally untamed – a place where humans are always guests, never masters.

Palaver Point: A Frigid Visit to a Chinstrap Penguin Colony

Palaver Point was our first destination, home to a colony of chinstrap penguins.

Unlike the gentoos and Adélies we had seen on previous days, these penguins seemed to stay close to their nesting areas, seemingly reluctant to venture far in the harsh conditions.

The harsh weather conditions may have contributed to this behaviour, as the penguins sought shelter from the intensifying Antarctic elements.

Despite their limited movement, the colony was surprisingly vocal. The penguins communicated with loud, persistent calls that echoed across the few colonies present. This vocalization might have been related to the weather conditions, or serving as a way for penguin families to maintain contact during limited visibility.

Our hike around Palaver Point proved more challenging than previous excursions. The combination of extremely dry air and intense cold caused my facial skin to dry out and crack. Without a balaclava for protection, my face remained numb throughout the entire expedition on land.

The Antarctic continent is technically classified as a desert due to its minimal precipitation, and the air contains almost no moisture, particularly in these coastal areas where temperatures can fluctuate dramatically. Riding the zodiac only intensified the cold, as the wind cut through every layer, making it hard to focus on anything other than staying warm.

Harry Island: A Zodiac Tour in Whiteout Conditions

In the afternoon, we joined the scheduled zodiac tour around Harry Island, despite the worsening weather conditions. The fear of missing out on a potential wildlife sighting or spectacular ice formation motivated our decision. As we set out, the visibility quickly deteriorated. Heavy snowfall and dense fog obscured the landscape, making it difficult to see much beyond the boat. The ride itself was far from smooth – the zodiac bounced over the rough waters rather than gliding through them, creating a jarring and prolonged exposure to the elements. The splashing got us all wet, making it us all even colder. We passed by a few seals lounging on ice floes, but it was difficult to even pay them any mind.

With the snow reducing visibility, the highlights of the tour were limited to a rock tower emerging from the water and a small grotto. While these geological formations were interesting, the extreme conditions made it difficult to appreciate them fully. It didn’t help either when our zodiac driver was an older fellow who droned on about Antarctic poetry – of all things – while the wind whipped across the open water. Poetry and subzero temperatures are not a great combination. In retrospect, skipping this tour might have been the better choice, and we later learned that many others had opted to stay on the ship instead of braving the cold.

Nature Always Has the Upper Hand

The sixth day of our Antarctic journey provided a valuable lesson in respecting the continent’s unpredictable and extreme environment. They remind us that we are visitors in one of Earth’s most extreme environments, where conditions can change rapidly and where nature always maintains the upper hand.

Gentoo Penguin Colony at Neko Harbour

Our visit to Neko Harbour brought us face-to-face with a colony of gentoo penguins. Due to the colder, windier conditions, many of the adult penguins were sitting tightly on their chicks, shielding them from the elements.

The penguins cope with Antarctic temperatures through a combination of dense feathers, thick subcutaneous fat layers, and specialized circulatory systems that minimize heat loss in their extremities.

Gentoo penguins are the fastest of all penguin species, capable of reaching speeds up to 36 km/h underwater. Watching them swim was almost like seeing a laser beam darting through the icy waters.

They still look goofy when they walk on land, and this awkward movement on land contrasts sharply with their remarkable swimming abilities.

We also observed their well-worn “penguin highways” – small, carved-out paths in the snow they use to travel between their colony and the beach. These highways are formed by the repeated passage of penguins, gradually compressing the snow into defined trails.

When crossing these highways during our hike, we followed strict instructions to give the penguins right of way and to avoid stopping at any intersections that crossed their paths. We observed the gentoo penguins’ distinctive waddling gait as they travelled along these highways.

Reaching the colony required a challenging uphill walk. The increasing wind made it even more difficult, and by the time we reached the top, my face had gone numb. However, the effort was worth it, as the higher vantage point provided a sweeping view of the harbour, with icebergs floating in the bay below.

Across the water, a massive glacier towered in the distance with massive crevasses. Every glacier, ice shelf, iceberg, etc. was like a natural sculpture.

Wildlife Spotting in Paradise Bay

In the afternoon, we embarked on a zodiac cruise around Paradise Bay. The purpose of this excursion was to get closer to the inactive research bases in the area and to observe wildlife from the water.

During our cruise, we spotted a small vessel in the distance. Our guide informed us that it was likely a private expedition and noted that such a small boat would have faced a much more challenging journey across the Drake Passage than our ship. While our crossing of the Drake Passage took approximately two days, a vessel of that size might require 8 to 10 days to navigate the same waters, not to mention being thrown around a lot harder in the waves.

The wildlife sightings began with more gentoo penguins resting on ice floes. It’s remarkable to see these penguins in these places, so far from their colonies. They have adapted to life in Antarctica through specialized features including dense waterproof feathers and the ability to drink salt water. Their bodies contain special glands that filter excess salt, which they expel through their nasal passages.

Our cruise transformed into an impromptu whale-watching expedition when we encountered several humpback whales swimming nearby.

We paused to observe them, and soon discovered that we were surrounded. As we focused on one pod of whales, another would surface elsewhere, reminiscent of a game of whac-a-mole. The whales appeared curious about our presence, with one even swimming directly underneath our zodiac, briefly making me worry it might tip us over. Fortunately, these gentle giants seemed aware of our presence and moved carefully around us.

While we saw many whales, none of them breached as dramatically as the whalewatching tour brochures often depict. Our guide explained that breaching is not as common as people expect, making it a rare sight even on dedicated whale-watching excursions (very misleading in those whalewatching brochures). In 20 to 30 minutes, we saw more whales than in the entire expedition combined.

Seals were also scattered across the icebergs, resting and occasionally glancing at our boat.

Each iceberg presented a different shape, texture, and blue hue, appearing as naturally sculpted art installations drifting across the bay. The distinctive blue colour results from the ice’s unique crystalline structure which absorbs red light while reflecting blue wavelengths. Some icebergs contain ice that fell as snow thousands of years ago, preserving ancient atmospheric conditions within their frozen layers.

We spent so much time watching the whales, and the other wildlife that we ran out of time and didn’t even make it to go see the abandoned research bases. This was totally okay, seeing the whales was better than doing a drive-by of the abandoned research base.

Zodiac Tour Through Ice and Water

Our excursion took place entirely by zodiac, allowing us to navigate the icy waters and get a closer look at the Antarctic terrain. The weather was exceptionally clear, offering remarkable visibility.

As we floated through the frigid waters, the landscape around us displayed a fascinating variety – flat, smooth snowbanks, jagged cliffs, towering icebergs, and sprawling glaciers.

One of the more intriguing phenomena we observed was “scalloping” on icebergs. This process forms small, golf ball-like divots on the surface of the ice, created by the uneven melting. I tried looking into the science, but it’s actually quite technical, requiring an understanding of fluid mechanics.

Some icebergs even featured long icicles, a testament to the dynamic and ever-changing nature of Antarctica’s frozen landscape.

In some places, the water was remarkably still and reflective, creating mirror-like surfaces that doubled the visual impact of the surrounding landscape.

Humpback Whale Encounter

As we ventured further, we spotted several humpback whales surfacing in the distance. Each whale’s fin pattern is as unique as a human fingerprint. A website, HappyWhale, allows citizen scientists to upload images of whale fins, contributing to global tracking efforts and expanding our understanding of whale migration patterns.

We watched as they gracefully moved through the water, occasionally expelling misty bursts from their blowholes.

Lounging Crabeater Seals

Seals were another common sight throughout the day. We encountered a few crabeater seals resting on ice floes. Despite their misleading name, crabeater seals primarily feed on krill, using their specialized teeth to filter these small crustaceans from the water.

Up close, these seals are surprisingly cute with their expressive faces that appear to be smiling when relaxed. Their primarily white coats with scattered dark speckles help them blend into the snowy environment. When resting on ice, they often adopt a contented pose with eyes half-closed and flippers positioned as if waving to passing boats.

One of the seals rolled over lazily, seemingly indifferent to our presence. The narrator pointed out that it was a female, identifying it by its ventral slit.

It was a simple but fascinating moment – one of those times when I’m reminded how cool it is to watch animals just doing their thing in the wild.

Gentoo Penguin Spotted

We also saw our first gentoo penguin, perched alone on an iceberg.

The moment was made slightly awkward when one of the guests on our zodiac made an odd catcalling noise toward the penguin only to be swiftly shut down by our zodiac driver.

Sailing Onward

After returning to the ship and setting sail for our next destination, we continued to spot small icebergs with seals lounging on them. One particularly interesting sight was a seal resting on an ice floe marked with what appeared to be either guano or blood stains – perhaps evidence of a recent penguin meal.

The crew has yet again planned another successful excursion allowing us to again see another dimension of Antarctica we did not see before.

Hanusse Bay: Navigating Through Ice Fields

The morning began with the ship navigating through expansive ice fields in Hanusse Bay. Our vessel, a Polar Class 6 ship, is specifically designed for these conditions. They can operate year-round in medium first-year ice (sea ice from one winter 70 – 120 cm thick) during summer/autumn, allowing us to safely travel through areas that would be inaccessible to standard vessels.

From a distance, the ice field appeared solid, almost like land, but our ship glided through effortlessly. The crew explained that during the colder months, the ice is more solid, requiring the ship to plow through it. On other voyages, guests sometimes even got the chance to disembark from the ship and walk on the ice.

For us, the ice simply bounced off the hull as we moved forward. There was something deeply calming about watching the pieces of ice gently deflect from the ship’s reinforced exterior. We were also lucky enough to see a whale in the distance with our binoculars.

One of the crew members, who serves as the expedition photographer, captured the scene with a drone and shared the spectacular aerial views with us, offering a perspective of our ship sailing through the vast white expanse.

One of the ship’s photographers captured the journey with a drone, offering us a new perspective on the icy expanse. The images highlighted the contrast between the deep blue sea and the scattered ice formations, a view only possible in such a remote part of the world.

Polar Plunge and Minke Whale Sighting

After navigating the ice field, we were invited to take part in a long-standing tradition – the polar plunge. This involves jumping into the near-freezing Antarctic waters, which are even colder than typical freshwater due to the lower freezing point of salt water. The crew encouraged participation, and assured everyone that while the initial shock is substantial, the aftermath leaves you feeling “like a million bucks” due to the rush of endorphins and increased circulation. Watching people do the plunge, we could see all sorts of different reactions as they came out of the water, ranging from shivering to excitement – and they were all proud of having completed this Antarctic rite of passage. There were even instances where when a couple jumped into the water, they’d fight for who’d be first to get out of the freezing water, hinting at the brain’s mechanisms in the struggle for survival. Later that evening there was a lecture on the benefits of cold, like positive changes in blood pressure, heart rate, heart function or mood, but these claims are shaky at best. They even mentioned an extreme athlete Wim Hof, who tried swimming from one ice hole to another – he didn’t succeed, but when he got out of the water, his eyes were frozen.

At some point, a whale appeared, and the people not doing the plunge all shifted their gaze to observe the whale. It decided to come greet us – I suppose it was curious at all the commotion and wanted to see what was going on.

The curious whale swam around our vessel, seeming fully aware of our presence. It almost appeared to be performing for us, surfacing in different places, and waving to us with its flipper and tail.

Detaille Island: Base W

Upon landing at Detaille Island, we were greeted by several Weddell seals lounging along the shore. It’s so cool that everywhere we go, we can encounter wildlife in their natural habitats.

On the island, we encountered a single chinstrap penguin, named for the distinctive black stripe under their chins, and they’re also a species we hadn’t yet seen on our expedition.

Detaille Island is home to a former British Antarctic Survey station, known as Base W. Established in 1956, this research station was in operation until 1959, when difficult ice conditions forced its rapid abandonment. Today, the base serves as a time capsule of Antarctic exploration in the 1950s, with items including scientific equipment, food tins, and personal effects still visible inside.

As we walked around the island, we encountered a penguin blocking our path. We couldn’t walk past it because of the 5 metre rule, and the snow around it was too deep. So all we could do was wait for it to leave, and it exhibited a cat-like behaviour where it knew we were trying to pass and stayed there to block us on purpose.

A few Adélie penguins were also present, leading to an interesting interaction. I wondered how these they would interact with each other. Eventually, the lone chinstrap penguin found itself approached by several Adélies. Rather than hostility, they seemed to acknowledge each other, even appearing to socialize.

The more I watched the penguins, the more I found them entertaining. They had such a carefree attitude – hopping across the ice, waddling around in their messy orange-stained colony, and occasionally flopping onto their bellies to slide across the snow. Some stood curiously observing us, while others squabbled over pebbles or leapt between the small icebergs near the shore. There was something amusing about how they went about their day, completely unbothered by the world around them.

Overall, I’ve been amazed at how the expedition crew have been able to plan out itineraries that keep one-upping the experiences of the day before. But it makes sense – they come out to Antarctica week after week, so I’m sure they know many other spots that wouldn’t fit in our itinerary either.

Bongrain Point

The morning began with a slightly challenging landing at Bongrain Point. Our skilled zodiac drivers carefully navigated through numerous small icebergs scattered across the water. At one particularly difficult passage, one of the crew members actually had to enter the frigid water to push an iceberg out of our path – they were there to make sure their guests were safe and could enjoy the adventure.

Once ashore, we were greeted by a colony of Adélie penguins spread across the rocky beach. The colony had a distinct orange hue – a result of their filthy guano staining the landscape.

We even got to see the adult penguins feeding their young.

We watched as penguins hopped onto the small icebergs near the shore, skillfully balancing on the shifting ice.

Nearby, we spotted skeletal remains of birds, though their cause of death was uncertain. Given recent concerns about avian flu, we briefly speculated about the possibility, though it was more likely a natural occurrence, but we’ll never know.  

Similar to our previous visit to Red Rock Ridge, we remained along the shoreline during our exploration. Looming inland were massive mountains that would present a significant challenge to traverse on foot. Beyond these natural barriers likely lies little more than additional rock and ice formations, as Antarctica lacks terrestrial life forms that cannot swim or fly, with the exception of some extraordinarily hardy plant species and microscopic fauna.

One fascinating geological feature we noticed was the abundance of rocks with remarkably clean splits along the beach. The most likely explanation was probably due to water seeping into tiny cracks in the rocks, then as the ice freezes, it expands, gradually forcing the stone apart.

Lagoon Island

Our afternoon activity shifted from a landing to a zodiac tour around Lagoon Island, allowing us to experience the Antarctic environment from a different perspective.

We cruised past groups of elephant seals sprawled on the shore, their massive bodies lounging contentedly after feeding (I interpret this to be a food coma). We learned that these seals will eventually engage in territorial battles to establish dominance, with the victorious male earning mating privileges with the females – nature’s ancient selection process at work. They are the deepest diving air-breathing non-cetaceans and have been recorded at a maximum of 2,388 m. They eat a wide variety of sea life such as squid, fish, and krill.

Further along our journey, we spotted what initially appeared to be another penguin colony from a distance. However, our knowledgeable guides identified them as Antarctic cormorants. While penguins and cormorants are both black and white, the key distinction is that cormorants can fly, unlike penguins, and their colonies aren’t orange with guano. Our guide shared a helpful identification tip: “if it looks like a penguin but flies, it’s probably a cormorant.”

The zodiac tour also provided a close-up view of icebergs in various stages of melting. Their shapes and sizes were ever-changing, shaped by differences in ice density and shifting weight distribution. Occasionally, when a section of an iceberg melted unevenly, it could rotate about, exposing a fresh surface to the elements.

In the distance, we could see enormous ice mountains stretching across the horizon. The clear Antarctic air created an interesting optical illusion—these massive formations appeared much closer than their actual distance. This phenomenon made it challenging to accurately gauge the scale of the landscape, adding to the otherworldly quality of the Antarctic environment.

Just like the day before, as we experience the continent in different ways, we continue to gain a new appreciation for the immensity and raw beauty of Antarctica – a continent largely untouched by human influence, where nature still reigns supreme.