The Stork Highway of Ancient Rome

Walking through Selçuk’s streets during the ongoing heat wave, we couldn’t help but notice the most unusual sight: massive white storks perched confidently atop Roman aqueduct ruins and modern utility poles alike. These aren’t just random visitors – they’re part of an annual migration pattern that has turned this historic town into Turkey’s unofficial stork capital.

Every March, storks return to Selçuk from their winter homes in sub-Saharan Africa. The storks choose the highest points available for their nests, including the remnants of Byzantine aqueducts that once supplied water to ancient Ephesus. Local authorities have even installed special platforms on utility poles to prevent the birds from electrocution while preserving their traditional nesting sites.

Mysteries of the Multi-Breasted Goddess

Our visit to the Ephesus Museum revealed one of archaeology’s most debated artifacts: a towering statue covered in what appears to be dozens of breasts. This is the famous Artemis of Ephesus, but those protuberances might not be what they seem.

The 292-centimetre-tall statue actually represents a fascinating scholarly controversy. While traditionally interpreted as multiple breasts symbolizing fertility, many experts now believe these oval objects are bull testicles, hung as offerings during sacrificial ceremonies. Some scholars even suggest they could be bee larvae, as bees were sacred to Artemis. What makes this debate particularly intriguing is that none of the “breasts” have nipples – a detail that ancient sculptors, masters of human anatomy, would hardly have overlooked.

This statue likely stood in the Temple of Artemis, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, making it a tangible connection to one of antiquity’s most celebrated structures. The temple’s destruction by 401 CE means this museum piece represents our closest link to understanding how the ancient world venerated this powerful goddess.

Where Emperors Built Upon Apostles

The ruins of the Basilica of Saint John dominate Ayasoluk Hill, their weathered stones telling a story of imperial ambition, religious devotion, and inevitable decay. Emperor Justinian I commissioned this massive structure between 548 and 565 CE, designing it as both a pilgrimage destination and a worthy monument to house the tomb of John the Apostle.

The basilica measured 428 by 213 feet, making it potentially the seventh-largest church in the world if reconstructed today. Justinian modeled it after the Church of the Holy Apostles in Constantinople, creating a cruciform structure crowned with six domes. The builders incorporated materials from the nearby Temple of Artemis and other Ephesian ruins, recycling ancient marble and stones into Christian architecture.

The basilica’s decline began with Arab raids in the 7th and 8th centuries, which forced the construction of defensive walls around the structure. By 1304, invading Seljuk Turks converted part of the building into a mosque, and in 1402, Tamerlane’s Mongol army destroyed it during their invasion. Earthquakes in the 1360s completed the devastation, leaving the impressive ruins we see today.

A Castle Built on Sacred Ground

Crowning Ayasoluk Hill above the basilica ruins stands a fortress that represents the practical realities of medieval defense. The Ayasoluk Castle, built during the Byzantine era around the 6th century CE, incorporates stones from dismantled Roman buildings, including materials from Ephesian structures.

The castle’s strategic position made it valuable to successive rulers. Seljuk Turks expanded it after conquering the area in 1090, and Ottoman forces later added their own modifications. The fortress enclosed fifteen towers connected by 1.5 kilometres of walls, protecting a small community that included a mosque, cisterns, baths, and residential quarters.

What makes this castle particularly fascinating is its relationship with the basilica below. Rather than destroying the Christian site, medieval builders incorporated it into their defensive strategy, using the basilica’s walls as part of the lower fortress complex. This created unique architecture where Islamic military architecture literally rests upon Christian sacred space.

Divine Intervention at the Neighbourhood Mosque

Our exploration of Selçuk’s religious landscape led us to the İsa Bey Mosque, a remarkable example of 14th-century Anatolian architecture. Built between 1374-75 by Syrian architect Ali ibn el-Dimişki, this mosque demonstrates the transitional period between Seljuk and Ottoman architectural styles.

The mosque’s segregated prayer areas for women represent traditional Islamic practice, though such arrangements can appear restrictive to visitors from different cultural backgrounds. These architectural divisions reflect religious interpretations that prioritize modesty and separate worship spaces, practices that have shaped Islamic religious architecture for centuries.

During our visit, we discovered that the mosque offers free Quran copies to interested visitors – a practice that connects contemporary Islamic outreach with the site’s long history as a religious centre. While there, we met a local man who was especially eager to talk to us about Islam. He explained that he hadn’t actually planned to visit the mosque at that time; he was on his way to complete some errands, but on a whim decided to stop by and pick up a Quran for a friend. Instead, he ran into us and was convinced that our meeting was no coincidence, telling us he believed it was divine intervention.

Our conversation quickly turned philosophical. He earnestly shared his belief that the Quran contains the answers to every question in life, presenting it as the ultimate guide to truth. At one point, he shared a rather striking perspective: he said that people who believe in God are the highest tier of lifeforms, followed by animals, with people who don’t believe, especially those who “act like they are their own god”, ranking below animals. I couldn’t help but laugh internally, realizing that by his definition I must be beneath the neighborhood cats lounging in the sun! He meant no offense, his words were offered with sincerity and a desire to share his worldview. Still, I got the impression he didn’t realize we weren’t religious ourselves, or how his ranking might sound to an outsider.

Echoes of the Population Exchange

Our journey to Şirince village, perched on a hillside 8 kilometres from Selçuk, revealed one of Turkey’s most poignant historical legacies. This mountaintop settlement, originally called Çirkince (meaning “ugly” in Turkish), was supposedly named by its Greek founders to deter other settlers from discovering their mountain paradise.

The village prospered under its Greek Orthodox Christian population, who spoke primarily Turkish despite their religious identity. By 1908-09, over 1,000 houses sheltered Greek families who cultivated vines, tobacco, figs, and olives while maintaining their distinct cultural traditions.

The 1923 Population Exchange between Greece and Turkey devastated Şirince’s established community. This compulsory transfer, formalized in the Convention Concerning the Exchange of Greek and Turkish Populations, displaced approximately 1.6 million people based solely on religious affiliation. Greek Orthodox Christians from Turkish territories moved to Greece, while Muslims from Greece relocated to Turkey. The abandoned houses we encountered represent this traumatic displacement.

The Grandeur and Complexity of Ancient Ephesus

The archaeological site of Ephesus, directly connected to modern Selçuk, represents one of the Mediterranean’s most significant Roman cities. As we walked among its ruins during the intensifying heat wave, the scale and sophistication of this ancient metropolis became immediately apparent. A local restaurant owner’s joke about Efes beer – suggesting we walk a few kilometres toward ancient Ephesus since “Efes” is simply the Turkish name for the ancient city – highlighted how thoroughly this archaeological site integrates with the culture. The beer’s naming represents a modern commercial connection to ancient prestige.

The Temple of Artemis ruins, reduced now to a single reconstructed column, still commanded respect as the remains of one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. Though little survives of this massive structure, which once measured 137 metres long and featured 127 columns each standing 18 metres high, the site’s significance resonates across millennia.

Ephesus declined through a combination of geographical and political factors. The Küçük Menderes River gradually silted up the harbour, cutting the city’s vital connection to maritime trade routes. Natural disasters, including a devastating earthquake in 614 CE, damaged infrastructure repeatedly. The rise of Christianity displaced traditional pagan worship, while Gothic invasions in 262 CE destroyed much of the city, including the Temple of Artemis.

I was captivated by how Ephesus’s grandeur was engineered. The ancients combined brute force and technical innovation. Iron pins and lead clamps held massive marble slabs together, damping seismic shocks and locking the city’s great structures in place (though unlikely they knew how well that method would stand up to an actual earthquake).

Workers used wooden cranes, pulleys, and earth ramps to raise monolithic columns, guiding tonnes of stone into precise positions.

We realized that knowing Latin wouldn’t have helped us decipher most Ephesian inscriptions. The city’s later inscriptions switched entirely to Greek, the region’s lingua franca after Alexander the Great’s conquest. An odd feeling – usually we lament not knowing Latin, but this time, it wouldn’t have helped at all. Amid these weighty ruins, we saw samples of the ichthys fish symbol (colloquially known as the Jesus fish symbol), scratched into ancient stones, symbolizing early Christianity. In Greek, it’s written as ΙΧΘΥΣ, and is sometimes seen abbreviated using a symbol resembling a pizza cut into eight slices.

The Temple That Bridged Empires

Among Ephesus’s countless architectural treasures, the Temple of Hadrian stands as a masterpiece of cultural synthesis. This elegantly proportioned structure, built around 117 CE, demonstrates how Roman architects embraced and transformed Eastern design traditions through its distinctive Syrian arch.

The temple’s facade tells multiple stories through stone. Tyche, goddess of city fortune, crowns the keystone wearing walls as her crown, symbolizing her protection over Ephesian prosperity. Above the inner doorway, a relief of Medusa emerges from acanthus leaves, not the terrifying monster of myth, but a protective figure surrounded by the Mediterranean vegetation that inspired Corinthian column designs.

Roman Domestic Life Preserved in Paint

The Terrace Houses of Ephesus shattered our expectations of ancient Roman domestic architecture. These luxury residences, inhabited by wealthy families from the 1st to 7th centuries CE, revealed that Roman homes were far more colourful and sophisticated than typical stone ruins suggest.

The houses featured extensive frescoed walls with floral motifs, geometric patterns, and figurative scenes painted directly onto plaster surfaces. Archaeologists have carefully restored many of these paintings, revealing the artistic sophistication of domestic Roman decoration. The mosaic floors display intricate geometric and figural designs, demonstrating the high level of craftsmanship available to Ephesian elite. These restorations represent authentic ancient artwork, not modern interpretations.

The houses incorporated sophisticated engineering, including hypocaust heating systems that circulated warm air beneath floors and within walls, and plumbing that provided both hot and cold running water. These amenities matched those available in Roman public baths, demonstrating the luxury standards of Ephesian wealthy families.

The Library That Conquered Death

The Library of Celsus stands as Ephesus’s most iconic structure, and deservedly so. This magnificent building, constructed between 110-135 CE, served the dual purpose of housing scrolls and honouring the dead. Tiberius Julius Aquila commissioned the library as a memorial to his father, Tiberius Julius Celsus Polemaeanus, who had served as Roman consul and proconsul of Asia. The building functioned as both a repository of knowledge, holding approximately 12,000 scrolls, and as Celsus’s mausoleum – his marble sarcophagus rests in a crypt beneath the building.

Fire destroyed the library’s interior around 262 CE, though the façade survived until earthquakes brought it down in the 10th or 11th century. Austrian archaeologists reconstructed the façade between 1970 and 1978, creating the impressive sight that draws crowds today for both daytime visits and evening light shows.

As we left, we saw people lined up for hundreds of meters lining up to see the evening light show – many of them coming in from cruise ships.

See more images from Selçuk and Ancient Ephesus

First Impressions of a Continental Bridge

The journey to Istanbul had begun with a business class flight, featuring a surprisingly excellent grilled duck leg – tender, juicy, and far exceeding expectations for airline cuisine. The connection through Madrid provided time to relax in the lounge before boarding Turkish Airlines for the final leg.

Turkish Airlines, the country’s flag carrier, serves traditional Turkish mezze platters on international flights, featuring selections like ezme (spicy tomato paste), muhammara (red pepper and walnut dip), and various cheese preparations. The cold appetizer service, while authentically Turkish, presents flavours that challenged my unaccustomed palates with their intensity and unique spice combinations.

Our first night’s accommodation was a newly constructed hotel that showcased both the promise and pitfalls of Istanbul’s rapidly expanding tourism infrastructure. While the breakfast buffet displayed beautiful presentation, the protein selection was limited. One memorable detail was the availability of purple olives, which are actually black olives that have been treated with a natural fermentation process, giving them their distinctive colour and slightly different flavour profile. The newly opened hotel gleamed with modern finishes, yet a closer look revealed shortcuts beneath the polish: water from the sink’s U-trap had a slow drip, hinting at rushed plumbing work.

Walking Through Conquest

In the morning, we met a subset of our group tour that also signed up for this optional walking tour. It began at the Gate of Charisius of the Theodosian Walls, the massive fortification system that protected Constantinople for over 1,000 years until Ottoman Sultan Mehmed II finally breached them in 1453. These walls, built in the 5th century, stretched for 12 miles and featured double lines of defence with towers and gates. The conquest of Constantinople marked the end of the Byzantine Empire and the beginning of Ottoman rule over this strategic city.

Our guide also shared a local idiom about fig trees, explaining that calling a “fig tree” appears complimentary but actually suggests they ruin everything around them – much like how fig trees’ aggressive root systems can damage foundations and infrastructure.

Mihrimah Sultan Mosque

We visited the Mihrimah Sultan Mosque, designed by the master architect Mimar Sinan in the 16th century. This mosque, one of two built for Sultan Süleyman’s daughter, demonstrates the sophisticated engineering and spiritual symbolism of Ottoman architecture.

Mosque architecture reflects Islamic principles and practical needs. The mihrab (prayer niche) always faces Mecca, orienting worshippers toward the holy city. The minbar (pulpit) stands to the right of the mihrab, while the main prayer hall remains free of furniture to accommodate prostration. The qibla wall (facing Mecca) receives the most decorative attention, often featuring intricate calligraphy and geometric patterns.

The building process showcased the ritual of wudu (ablution), which Muslims perform before prayer. The wudu process follows specific steps: first, practitioners state their intention and say “Bismillah” (in the name of Allah). They then wash their hands three times, rinse their mouth three times, cleanse their nostrils three times, wash their face three times, wash their arms up to the elbows three times, wipe their head once, clean their ears, and finally wash their feet up to the ankles three times. This purification ritual prepares both body and mind for prayer.

Church of St. Mary of the Spring

The Church of St. Mary of the Spring, known as Zoödochos Pege, represents a significant Orthodox Christian site. Emperor Justinian I built the original church here in the 6th century. The current structure dates to 1835, rebuilt after Ottoman forces destroyed the Byzantine-era building.

The church’s Byzantine art reflects the Eastern Orthodox tradition that survived the Iconoclastic periods of the 8th and 9th centuries. These paintings, featuring saints and angels with golden halos, represent the triumph of iconophiles (image-lovers) over iconoclasts (image-breakers). The artwork employs traditional Byzantine techniques, using gold leaf backgrounds to suggest divine light and eternal glory.

The holy spring beneath the church has attracted pilgrims for 1,500 years. Orthodox Christians believe the water possesses healing properties, and the site remains active for religious ceremonies.

Culinary Discoveries

Our lunch featured a carefully curated selection of Turkish dishes, including pide, often called “Turkish pizza” but more accurately described as boat-shaped flatbread topped with various ingredients. Traditional pide dough contains flour, yeast, water, salt, and sometimes yogurt or olive oil. The boat shape is formed by folding the edges, creating a rim that holds ingredients like minced meat, cheese, or vegetables seasoned with Turkish spices such as cumin, paprika, and parsley.

The meal also included various mezze spreads, including hummus and spicier preparations, along with vegetables cooked in clay pots – a traditional method that infuses food with earthy flavours while retaining moisture and nutrients.

The Art of Turkish Coffee

Turkish coffee preparation represents a centuries-old tradition that UNESCO recognized as an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity. The process begins with finely ground coffee beans, ground to a powder-like consistency much finer than regular coffee. The coffee is brewed in a cezve (a small, long-handled pot traditionally made of copper) with cold water and sugar if desired.

The brewing process requires patience and attention. The cezve is heated slowly over medium heat, allowing the coffee to warm gradually. As it heats, dark foam begins to form. The key moment arrives when the coffee approaches a boil – the foam is carefully distributed among the cups before the coffee itself is poured. This foam is considered essential to proper Turkish coffee service.

The resulting coffee has an earthy, intense flavour that can surprise newcomers. The grounds settle at the bottom of the cup, and the coffee is never stirred once served. The texture is notably different from filtered coffee, with a slightly grainy consistency that reflects the traditional preparation method. This coffee culture extends beyond mere consumption – it plays a role in social rituals, including traditional marriage customs where the bride-to-be serves coffee to the groom’s family.

Living History in Modern Times

Our exploration revealed parts of town where residents have built apartments directly on top of the old city walls that once surrounded Constantinople. These informal settlements demonstrate how Istanbul’s residents have adapted historic structures for modern needs.

Cruising the Continental Divide

The Bosphorus cruise provided perspectives on Istanbul’s architectural evolution across different periods and empires. This narrow strait, connecting the Black Sea to the Mediterranean, serves as the boundary between Europe and Asia, making Istanbul the only city spanning two continents.

As the ferry glided along the strait, we caught sight of Hagia Sophia and the Topkapi Palace (which I will get into in a later post).

Historic yalı (waterfront mansions) line the shores, representing the Ottoman elite’s summer residences. These wooden structures, many dating to the 18th and 19th centuries. People still live in these houses today, and for a time, they could lounge on their patio overlooking the river, but not many more due to the tourist traffic.

We observed the Ortaköy Mosque, a 19th-century gem celebrated for its ornate baroque revival design, delicate stonework, and prominent twin minarets.

The cruise also revealed the Rumeli Fortress, constructed in just four months in 1452 by Sultan Mehmed II as part of his conquest preparations. This fortress, along with the Anadolu Fortress on the Asian side, allowed the Ottomans to control Bosphorus traffic and cut off Byzantine supply lines.

From the water, we observed the Dolmabahçe Palace, a 19th-century Ottoman palace that served as the empire’s administrative center during its final decades.

The Spice Route’s Istanbul Hub

The Spice Bazaar, built in 1664 as part of the New Mosque complex, served as a crucial link in the global spice trade. Historically called the Egyptian Bazaar because it was funded by revenues from Egypt, the market connected Asian spice producers with European consumers.

Turkey’s position along historic trade routes gave it access to spices from across Asia, but the country also produces distinctive spices that reflect its unique climate and culinary traditions. Turkish red pepper flakes (pul biber) vary in heat levels and include smoky varieties like isot biber from Şanlıurfa. Sumac, made from berries of the Rhus coriaria bush, provides a citrusy tartness that’s become essential to Turkish cuisine. Turkish spice culture developed over centuries of trade and cultural exchange. The Ottoman Empire’s vast territory allowed for the cultivation and trade of numerous spices, while the empire’s diverse population contributed different culinary traditions. This history explains why Istanbul’s spice markets offer such variety and why Turkish cuisine incorporates flavours from across the Mediterranean, Middle East, and Central Asia.

The spice market today caters heavily to tourists, a far cry from what it used to be, with vendors selling everything from traditional spices to novelty items like “Turkish Viagra tea” (likely a blend of herbs with no proven medicinal properties). However, authentic spice shops still operate here.

An Unexpected Group Dynamic

That evening, we met with the rest of the tour group. Our group gathered around a street-side table in Istanbul, waiting for our eighth and final member who had been delayed. Our group had clicked immediately, and someone joked that the missing traveller might be the odd one out. At that moment, a man walked past our table with a distinctly sour expression. We called out the missing member’s name as a joke, not expecting it to actually be him – but it was!

His taxi driver had taken him on an expensive detour around the city (taxi drivers across Istanbul are notorious for being scammers), explaining his mood. Once he joined our table and shared his story, his demeanour shifted completely. Later that evening, several of us continued to a rooftop bar, where conversations flowed as easily as the drinks. Istanbul’s Sultanahmet district, where we stayed, contains numerous hotels with rooftop terraces offering views of the city’s distinctive silhouette of domes and minarets.

Our group of eight travelled around the country in a van, staying in budget hotels and exploring destinations that attracted a younger backpacker crowd. The tour format allowed for spontaneous discoveries and shared experiences that individual travel might have missed, as more posts will soon show.

See here for more images of Istanbul

We strolled through the lush highlands while our naturalist guide shared intriguing insights. Birds, including finches, often peck at algae or parasites growing on tortoise shells. Interestingly, they appear to leave a marker – possibly guano -to indicate to themselves or other birds that the area has already been picked clean.

A particularly captivating story the guide shared was about how the tortoises may have arrived on the islands. Some have been spotted floating at sea, buoyed by their shells. While saltwater ingestion typically proves fatal, a few may have survived the journey by avoiding it and eventually colonized the islands. Once here, they nested and established themselves over millennia.

Around the ranch, the scenery surprised us with its variety of fruit trees – papaya, passionfruit, and banana trees all grew nearby. These tropical plants thrive in the fertile volcanic soil of Santa Cruz, but we don’t see anything like them where we live.

As we left, a tortoise blocked the road—unhurried and unmoved by the vehicle. We had no choice but to drive around it, but it was kind of comical that it happened.

We felt immense gratitude to have experienced this cruise. The landscapes and wildlife felt remarkably undisturbed. Throughout our time on the islands, we did not see a single piece of litter. Nature here, however, is far from static. Our guide explained how El Niño and La Niña events can devastate local ecosystems. One such event wiped out over 90% of the coral. In ten years, climate shifts may again alter the islands in unpredictable ways.

Weather and ocean conditions were on our side. Due to the Coriolis effect, trade winds and ocean currents in the Galápagos usually flow from the southeast, driving the cool, nutrient-rich Humboldt Current from South America. These currents support a dense food web, influencing where wildlife can thrive and which islands are most biologically productive.

Our itinerary allowed us to see 12 out of the 15 recognized Galápagos species. We missed only the Galápagos albatross, flightless cormorant, and Santa Fe land iguana, which inhabit islands not included in our route. The sites on the islands weren’t arbitrarily chosen. The Galápagos National Park authorities control which vessels can visit which sites on which days, aiming to limit environmental impact and spread tourism evenly.

Each day followed a brisk schedule. Mornings often began at 6 or 7am with breakfast, followed by a midday break and lunch around 12pm. Dinner was served at 8pm. The tempo kept us moving constantly. By the end, we joked that we needed a vacation after the vacation.

Before heading home, we spent one final night in Quito before heading back. At the airport the next morning, we got to try chocolate from República del Cacao. This Ecuadorian company is a certified B Corporation, which means it meets high standards for social and environmental performance, accountability, and transparency. The chocolate itself was excellent, and is a testament to the country’s cacao heritage.

See here for more photos of tortoise reserve here

Buccaneer Cove: Of Pirates, Gold, and Birds

One of our first stops was Buccaneer Cove, a site with a storied past. This cove on Santiago Island earned its name from the British pirates and privateers who are said to have used the area as a hideout in the 17th and 18th centuries. While records are murky, tales persist of pirates burying their treasures on the islands, with some modern locals claiming that sudden, unexplained wealth might be due to hidden gold discoveries. Some even say that treasure hunters still try their luck in the archipelago, but much of the island is off limits as part of the nature reserve.

We also learned an intriguing theory from one of our guides: a few pirates may have sketched the various finch species they encountered here. While the link to Darwin is speculative, it adds colour to the idea that knowledge of Galápagos finches existed before Darwin’s famous visit in 1835.

Reading the Rocks and Skies

The cliffs at Buccaneer Cove were a patchwork of rock layers, formed by successive volcanic events. The prominent soft rock here is called tuff – a light, porous stone made from compacted volcanic ash. Though it appears sturdy, it crumbles easily and is unsuitable for climbing – ironically not tough at all.

White splashes of dried seabird guano marked active nesting areas, and sure enough, we spotted swallow-tailed gulls resting nearby. These gulls have unusually large eyes adapted for night vision, allowing them to hunt squid and fish by moonlight. Their red eye-ring and soft, grey plumage made them easy to recognize as they perched calmly along the cliff edges.

Blue-footed boobies also dotted the cliffside. These birds are known for their vivid turquoise-blue feet. Despite being skilled divers and fliers, they move with an awkward, waddling gait on land that makes them oddly endearing. Their nesting behaviour, typically right on bare rock or sand, makes them easy to spot during the breeding season. Potential mates evaluate their “blueness” as it is an indicator of their health. A more intense blue coloration is a sign of better nutrition, health, and immune function.

A curious sea lion followed us part of the way, occasionally surfacing to watch. Like many animals in the Galápagos, it didn’t beg for food or flee at our approach. It simply seemed to want to know what we were doing.

As we continued along the coast, we passed two distinct natural formations. One was what our guide called a ‘prayer rock’—a rounded boulder that looked carefully placed, almost as if set down with intention. The smoothness of its surface and its balanced placement made it look like a deliberate monument, though entirely shaped by nature.

Nearby, the so-called ‘elephant rock’ resembled the head and trunk of an elephant carved naturally over time by wind and sea. Its resemblance was uncanny enough that even at a distance, the shape immediately stood out against the cliffside.

We also glimpsed rays moving below in loose formations, visible only as yellow blurs swimming across beneath the surface. At one point, we caught sight of a land iguana resting near a scrubby outcrop. Our guide noted how lucky we were to see it in that area, since land iguanas are not often spotted from this route and typically stay hidden in less accessible terrain.

Exploring the Cove by Kayak

Later, we had the chance to kayak around the cove. I had tandem kayaked before (I wasn’t good at it), but this time I figure out that successful tandem paddling isn’t about synchronization. Instead, the front paddler provides rhythm and power, while the rear paddler makes adjustments to keep the vessel on course through wind and wave. Synchronizing is actually the wrong thing to do because it doesn’t account for how waves push the boat.

The conditions were manageable, but we did witness somebody’s kayak flipping over.

Puerto Egas Snorkeling

Later, we snorkelled just offshore, where we saw schools of fish swimming around – almost like a National Geographic documentary.

I’m not a strong swimmer and felt pretty uncomfortable in the open water. Even with the flotation gear, it took some effort to push past the initial anxiety and focus on what was in front of me. Seeing the vibrant fish distracted me from the anxiety of being in the water.

I’ve been linking a few of the cruise photographer’s images here and there, but the above is a video of the snorkeling that really shows the vibrant sea life below.

Puerto Egas Nature Walk

In the afternoon, we arrived at Puerto Egas. The terrain here differs from other parts of the islands, combining coarse black lava formations with tide pools, beaches scattered with bleached coral fragments, and hardened ash deposits. Puerto Egas has its own unusual history. In the 1930s, businessman Hector Egas tried to establish a salt-mining operation and even constructed a few buildings here. The enterprise failed, and some locals believe the land itself resists commercial exploitation – a sort of “curse” for those trying to profit from nature rather than respect it.

These coral fragments, according to our guides, are remnants of ancient reefs pushed upward by tectonic forces and long since fossilized.

We were fortunate enough to spot a Galápagos hawk, one of the islands’ apex predators and part of the famed “Big 15” species to look out for. It was perched atop a tall, cylindrical structure that looked like an old salt silo – possibly a remnant of the failed salt-mining enterprise once attempted at Puerto Egas.

A pair of brown pelicans performed a coordinated dive nearby. It was the kind of behaviour that still feels dramatic when witnessed up close. Their timing was precise enough to make me wonder whether it was intentional coordination or just well-honed instinct.

We soon encountered lava lizards darting across our path. They blended so well with the ground that we nearly stepped on them more than once.

Eventually, we spotted a land iguana up close, grazing on nearby vegation. These large reptiles are also on the Big 15 list. The land iguana’s yellowish scales, thick limbs gave it a prehistoric presence.

On the trail, we notice trails in the sand that looked like they had been scratched with a stick. Our guide explained that these were land iguana tracks. By following one, we managed to actually spot another land iguana.

One of the more unusual features along the trail was a massive piece of fossilized coral, now hardened into stone. It had eroded into patterns that almost looked like brain tissue, a reminder that this part of the island was once under the sea. Unlike the scattered white fragments on the beach, this coral was intact.

Nearby, we also came across a striking rock formation full of jagged ridges and hollowed-out cavities. Our guide explained that this type of texture forms when lava cools rapidly and unevenly, sometimes trapping gas bubbles that burst and leave behind porous, twisted surfaces. The result looked almost sculptural—like the island was frozen mid-eruption

Later on we stumbled upon another uncommon sight: the skeleton of a marine iguana lying out in the open. It was a stark and silent example of how unforgiving natural selection can be – even here, in a place where animals appear fearless and abundant, survival is never guaranteed.

We also saw amusing sights like a sea lion snoozing on the rocks with a Sally lightfoot crab perched on its tail.

We also spotted a Galápagos mockingbird nearby. While less flashy than some of the other wildlife, they are still an important part of the evolutionary story Darwin would later popularize. Unlike some other mockingbird species, Galápagos mockingbirds are not brood parasites; they build and tend to their own nests.

While Darwin’s finches were less prominent than we anticipated, we did see several. It was a reminder that the islands offer so much more than a single narrative of evolution. Researchers today still visit the island to do research on evolution.

Our guide even made calls to drawing more attention from the surrounding birds, and mentioned that sometimes they may even land on people’s heads. When we asked if he was the only one who could make those calls, he smirked and confidently said yes.

Shipboard Dining

One thing worth mentioning is the food onboard. Meals were generally simple but thoughtfully prepared, with most ingredients sourced locally and sustainably from the islands. This makes sense too since tourism to the islands is a big part of their economy – if the animals here die out, it’s bad for the people too.

The food was also on the healthier side compared to other cruises – the fruit juice they had, while freshly squeezed lacked the flavour that we’re used to because they don’t add sugar. Due to strict biosecurity and transport regulations, only a limited selection of products are brought in from the mainland. For example, any steak has to be pre-cooked before shipping. Despite the constraints, the culinary team consistently managed to create a wide variety of dishes with what they had, adapting creatively.

See here for the photos for Buccaneer Cove and Puerto Egas

Arrival In Quito

Our journey began with a familiar hiccup – another delayed flight. A storm within our flight path forced our plane to fly around it, delaying us an hour. Fortunately, we made the connection and arrived in Quito by afternoon. And another hiccup, our cruise package included an airport transfer, but no one from the cruise company showed up. After learning that Uber was technically not legal in Ecuador but still commonly used, we summoned a ride. Our driver wasn’t concerned, and the ride went off without issue, and we arrived at the hotel.

Brazilian Steakhouse

Dinner that night was at the hotel’s Brazilian steakhouse, Fogo de Chão. It operated on a simple system: green side up on your card meant “more meat, please”, and red meant “stop”. Servers rotated through the tables offering cuts like filet mignon, sirloin, pork ribs, and leg of lamb. Though the selection was impressive, the sheer volume of meat was overwhelming. We left the table stuffed to the brim and almost regretted that extra slice of steak. Afterward, we walked it off by exploring the hotel. Near the pool, hotel staff gave us food for the koi pond. The koi swam up in anticipation, mouths already open, having clearly learned the drill.

Touring Quito’s Historic Centre

The next morning, after a buffet breakfast featuring fresh passion fruit, guava, and plantains – fruits native to Ecuador – we joined our tour group for a full-day city excursion. Our first stop was Plaza San Francisco, located in Quito’s historic centre. On the top of a nearby hill, we noticed a statue with wings – known as the Virgin of Quito, is unique to the region and symbolizes the Immaculate Conception through Andean artistic traditions.

The adjacent church and convent, officially known as the Iglesia y Convento de San Francisco, is among the oldest religious sites in South America, constructed in the 16th century atop an Inca temple. Much of the interior and cloisters were constructed using locally sourced volcanic stone and alabaster. Its central courtyard was tranquil, framed by arches and dotted with trees bearing what looked like lemons and olives – some people even picked and tasted them right off the branches.

The city sits at an altitude of roughly 2,850 metres (9,350 feet) in the Andes, and the effects of high elevation quickly became apparent. Climbing stairs at the convent’s bell tower left me short of breath, apparently a common experience for visitors not yet acclimatized.

Indemini Báez Chocolate

Unlike bulk cacao used in mass-market chocolate, fine-flavour cacao is prized for its complex taste notes—often described as floral, fruity, or nutty—and is grown under specific conditions with greater attention to fermentation and drying. Ecuador is known especially for its Arriba Nacional variety, which has earned a reputation among artisanal and high-end chocolate producers worldwide.

Plaza Grande

Plaza Grande, also known as Independence Square, is surrounded by some of the most important civic buildings in the country, including the Carondelet Palace, which serves as the presidential residence and the seat of government. We also learned about the Ecuadorian political system and the country’s recent presidential transition. Our guide mentioned that voting is mandatory in Ecuador, a measure intended to increase civic engagement.

The guide also mentioned that if we hadn’t already noticed, Ecuador’s official currency is the US Dollar. They adopted it as its official currency in 2000 after a severe economic crisis. We’d brought some U.S. dollars, assuming they’d come in handy for currency exchange, without knowing the official currency prior.

Church of Gold

We also visited La Compañía de Jesús, a Jesuit church famed for its Baroque architecture and lavish gold-covered interior. Built in the 1600s, the church’s ornate design reflects both Spanish influence and local craftsmanship. The interior is said to be covered with more than 50 kilograms of gold leaf, adorning everything from the altars to the intricate ceiling mouldings.

The sheer amount of gold gives the sanctuary a warm, glowing appearance, especially when lit by candlelight. Despite the obvious value, theft isn’t a concern – access is tightly controlled, security is present during opening hours, and the gold is bonded to surfaces in a way that makes removal extremely difficult without causing noticeable damage.

Crater of Life

For lunch, we dined at a restaurant overlooking the Pululahua crater – the lunch was simple, but the view was the real draw. The owner also kept a few llamas on the property – one of them even spat out its grass at me.

Unlike most volcanic craters, this one is inhabited. Pululahua’s fertile soil and sheltered microclimate allow a small community to farm and live within the crater’s walls, shrouded much of the time by drifting clouds.

The City at the Centre of the World

The final stop was Ciudad Mitad del Mundo. This monument was built in the 18th century based on French geodesic measurements to mark the equatorial line. However, later GPS data revealed the true equator lay about 240 metres north.

Still, the site remains symbolic of Ecuador’s connection to the equator – “Ecuador” literally means “equator” in Spanish. When the country gained independence in the 19th century, it chose the name Ecuador to reflect its location on the equatorial line.

That evening, we returned to the hotel for a final dinner in Quito before we left for the Galápagos. The meal was delicious, but it didn’t quite compare to the indulgent buffet from our first night. This brief stop in Quito, nestled high in the Andes and steeped in colonial and Indigenous history, offered a nice intro to Ecuador.

See more of Quito here

We approached this visit with some trepidation, having read about Argentina’s hyperinflation and concerns about safety. However, with careful research and by sticking to the recommended neighbourhoods. We remained cautious, keeping our belongings close and avoiding overly crowded areas.

Our first challenge was getting an Uber. The first driver refused to take us because he wanted cash under the table, a common issue in Argentina due to the preference for cash transactions. Our second driver was much more accommodating and even pointed out landmarks as we drove past.

Exploring Recoleta

Our exploration took us through several distinct neighbourhoods, beginning with Recoleta. We passed by the Basilica of Our Lady of Pilar, a church built in 1732 that stands as the second oldest in Buenos Aires.

Next to the church, La Recoleta Cemetery ranks among the most famous burial grounds in the world. This city of the dead contains over 4600 vaults, many decorated with elaborate statues and intricate marble carvings. Perhaps its most famous resident is Eva Perón, the former First Lady of Argentina who was a powerful political figure and advocate for women’s suffrage and labour rights. Known affectionately as “Evita,” she became a cultural icon whose life inspired books, films, and a famous musical. Despite her enormous popularity among working-class Argentinians, her tomb remains relatively modest compared to the grandiose mausoleums surrounding it.

In the nearby Recoleta Garden, we came across an interesting sight – a massive tree growing on a concrete platform.

Continuing our walk, we came upon the Floralis Genérica, a massive stainless steel flower sculpture. Created by Argentine architect Eduardo Catalano and installed in 2002, this mechanical flower actually opens its petals each morning and closes them at sunset, mimicking the behaviour of a real flower symbolizing hope and rebirth.

We passed through a series of public parks where we saw people weightlifting in open spaces. It was interesting to see that people felt safe enough to bring heavy equipment like barbells and weights to exercise outdoors. This outdoor fitness culture suggested we were indeed in a safer area of the city.

Nearer to our hotel, we visited El Ateneo Grand Splendid, a former theatre that has been converted into one of the most beautiful bookstores in the world. Originally opened in 1919 as a theatre, the venue still retains its ornate ceiling frescoes, balconies, and stage. The theatre boxes now serve as intimate reading nooks, while the former stage houses a café.

Our walk in Recoleta offered a nice introduction to Buenos Aires, showcasing the neighbourhood’s blend of historical significance, architectural beauty, and modern urban life. Despite our initial safety concerns, we found Recoleta to be not only secure but genuinely welcoming, allowing us to relax and fully appreciate its considerable charms.

A Steakhouse Experience at La Cabrera

For our first dinner in Buenos Aires, we visited the renowned La Cabrera steakhouse. With our reservation at 20:30 – considered “early” by local standards – we were introduced to the Argentine custom of late dining. The steak arrived with a charred exterior and a tender, juicy centre. It arrived with a selection of dipping sauces, which are a staple in Argentinian cuisine. These included chimichurri (a tangy mix of parsley, garlic, vinegar, and oil), and mustard-based sauces.

One downside of the dining experience was the unexpected charges. Servers would present items as complimentary, but they’d end up on the bill after. We could have made a fuss, but we decided to let it go – it’s always harder in a foreign country with a language we don’t speak and without knowing the local customs. Despite this, the meal was still reasonably priced, especially considering the exchange rate.

Roux from the Michelin Guide

For lunch, we ate at Roux, a Michelin Guide-recommended restaurant (different from Michelin Star – the star would have reflected an even greater quality). The meal began with a “complimentary” foie gras, gazpacho, and deep-fried cod croquettes. Remembering our experience at La Cabrera, we were wary of additional charges, but this time we actually wanted these.

The adventurous highlight of our meal was llama carpaccio from the Jujuy Province with a cherry tomato vinaigrette, capers and caperberries from “La Chacrita”. Llama meat has a mild, slightly gamey flavour.

We also tried Jugoso Bife Black Angus Azul Natural Beef, served with potato, roasted red peppers, truffle air, and its own juices. The beef was rich and tender, with the truffle adding depth to the dish. While Roux delivered a refined dining experience with well-executed dishes and thoughtful presentation, we found that the flavors, while excellent, didn’t quite surpass the bold, hearty appeal of La Cabrera.

Dessert was flan-like cake with vanilla ice cream and dulce de leche. Dulce de leche is a staple in Argentina, found in everything from pastries to ice cream. It is a caramel-like confection made by slowly heating sweetened milk, which we noticed featured prominently throughout Buenos Aires.

An interesting thing to mention here is that even for an upscale restaurant here, the staff still did not speak much English. I did my best with the handful of Spanish words that I knew to get by. I would have thought that these establishments would have decent English, but they didn’t.

Landmarks in El Centro

Later, we walked around El Centro, which felt noticeably less safe than Recoleta with larger crowds and “shady” individuals sleeping/walking about. Nevertheless, we visited Teatro Colón, Argentina’s premier opera house. Opened in 1908, it is regarded as one of the best concert venues in the world due to its exceptional acoustics and grand architecture.

We also saw the Obelisk of Buenos Aires, a 67-metre-tall monument commemorating the 400th anniversary of the city’s founding. Located in the middle of a major intersection, it serves as one of Buenos Aires’ most recognizable landmarks.

Our walk to Mall Pacifico was uncomfortable, as we were repeatedly approached by money changers shouting “cambio.” Our fatigue set in at a good time when we had to go to the airport, for our final journey home.

The Final End of a Long Journey

Our Buenos Aires visit concluded what had been a remarkable expedition to Antarctica. The journey there involved two days of flying to Buenos Aires, one day of flying to Ushuaia, and two days crossing the Drake Passage. We’ve already done the three days coming back to Buenos Aires, and now we’ll do another two days on the plane back home.

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.

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.

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.

Even in peak summer in the southern hemisphere, January in Antarctica still experiences freezing temperatures with wind chill, and we needed to dress accordingly. In addition to layering up, they provided each guest a pair of boots and a lifejacket to use for the cruise that would be used for the landings. The expedition staff would call us by group for us to board Zodiacs (a brand of rugged, inflatable boats), to take us from the ship to the shore. We were warned that landings could happen on rocky beaches with water up to the knees.

Red Rock Ridge: Adelie Penguin Colony

As we waited in anticipation of the first landing, I chatted with a friendly crew member who was visiting the shore with us about the ship like its power systems, tech stuff, and later it turned out that the fellow was actually the captain himself – I couldn’t tell since he was bundled up. He was with his wife, who took time off to join him on this particular voyage. We met them several times later on the cruise and they were both very nice people to talk to.

The expedition staff had chosen a rocky shore for us to make the wet landing. We stepped off the Zodiac into water that went about up to our shins, and they helped us out of the water. This was it, we finally made it.

The mountainous landscape challenged our preconceptions of Antarctica; instead of flat ice shelves, jagged peaks and volcanic rock rose before us, their exposed rock faces contrasting starkly against the white snow and ice. In some places, the ground was a mix of snow, rocks, and mossy patches of hardy lichen—the only vegetation capable of surviving in this extreme climate. Surprisingly, it wasn’t cold – the air temperature hovered around freezing, but without any wind chill.

The key highlight of this landing was the chance to observe an Adelie penguin colony. Adelie penguins are most southerly distributed penguin species, perfectly adapted to Antarctica’s extreme conditions. Their distinctive white eye-ring against black head feathers gives them a distinctive “tuxedo with goggles” appearance. The penguins showed curious interest in their human visitors, keeping a respectful distance while clearly observing us. We arrived during their breeding season, so we saw a mixture of adults and newly hatched chicks.

Contrary to popular animated depictions, penguins don’t simply slide everywhere. They use their feet to push themselves along when belly-flopping across the ice, and they genuinely waddle when walking.

Despite their adorable behaviour, the colony had a strong, unmistakable odour. The birds live amid their own waste, referred to as guano, which accumulates in their breeding areas. This guano is so pungent that one expedition staff member remarked, “if you get it on your clothes, you may as well just burn them.” Their guano stained the snow and the penguins themselves with orange patches. The term “guano” comes from the Quechua language of Peru and was originally used to describe the excrement of seabirds, bats, and seals that was collected for use as fertilizer due to its high nitrogen content.

Antarctic skuas patrolled the skies above the penguin colony, providing a glimpse into Antarctica’s harsh food chain. These large, gull-like birds are relentless predators, known for their aggressive tactics in hunting penguin eggs and chicks. With their powerful build and hooked bills, skuas can dive-bomb distracted penguin parents and snatch their vulnerable offspring in seconds. They also practice kleptoparasitism – stealing food from other birds – and will scavenge from carcasses when available. They’re are important components of the Antarctic ecosystem, though their predatory nature often earns them an unfair villainous reputation among visitors sympathetic to the penguins.

When we returned to the ship, we followed biosecurity measures to protect Antarctica’s fragile ecosystem, by washing our boots in a cleaning fluid to prevent the transfer of contaminants between landing sites.

Stonington Island: Traces of Human History

Our second landing brought us to Stonington Island, where the continent’s sparse human history became evident through abandoned research stations.

Despite Antarctica’s remote location and harsh conditions, humans have maintained a presence here for scientific purposes since the early 20th century.

Stonington Island houses two historic research bases: East Base (American, established 1939) and Base E (British, established 1946). These stations served as important outposts for early scientific exploration in Antarctica, supporting research in geology, meteorology, and biology.

Despite its remoteness, Stonington Island was not devoid of life. A few penguins slid across the ice while a solitary seal lounged in the distance. Penguins always seem to walk single file, and the ones in the back like to wait until their “leader” makes the first move.

Witnessing a piece of ice calve from the nearby ice shelf was another highlight. A massive chunk broke off, crashing into the water and creating a wave large enough to flip over before settling into its new position.

Reflections

Our expedition to Antarctica provided rare insights into one of Earth’s last truly wild places, especially having the opportunity to cross the Antartic Circle. After returning from the entire cruise, I had followed the cruise company’s ship tracker, and I haven’t seen it cross the Antarctic Circle on its other voyages so far, which made the experience more special, and that the crew was serious that they said how rare it was go sail this far south.

Each experience today deepened our appreciation for this extraordinary continent. As temporary visitors to this frozen realm, we left with only photographs and memories. We eagerly awaited the adventures to follow in the next few days.