Rábida: Brackish Lagoons and Flamingos

Our morning began before breakfast with a nature walk on Rábida Island, known for its deep red volcanic sands and its brackish lagoon. The lagoon is home to a small population of American flamingos, one of the Galápagos “Big 15” species. Our guides told us the odds of seeing them were low, so we considered ourselves fortunate to catch several wading gracefully in the shallows.

Among them was a juvenile with distinctive blue legs – a telltale sign of its age. We also got a good look at their black-tipped wings, which I never even knew existed. Flamingos, surprisingly strong fliers, most likely reached the Galápagos from mainland South America. One interesting fact the guides pointed out was how what looks like their knees are actually their ankles. They get their pink colour from their diet.

As we circled the lagoon, we passed a dead seal partially buried in the sand. It wasn’t clear what caused its death, but we didn’t speculate, but it was a stark reminder of the harsh realities of nature.

We returned to the ship for breakfast after our walk. One of the passengers had a health scare that morning; he collapsed on the ground as we were observing the flamingos due to low blood sugar. Thankfully, he recovered quickly. He was lucky that it didn’t happen when we were on more rugged terrain.

Glass-Bottom Boat Ride

After breakfast, we boarded a glass-bottom boat to observe marine life without getting wet. While it sounded ideal in theory, the reality proved less comfortable. The rocking of the boat while staring down made it easy to feel seasick.

Still, we managed to spot a vague silhouette of a shark, and a massive school of fish.

A sea turtle also came to say hi to us

Bartolomé: Snorkelling and Penguins

After lunch, we visited Bartolomé Island, a small but geologically striking islet famous for its towering volcanic spire, known as Pinnacle Rock. We began with a snorkelling session around the base of it.

After several days in the water, I started feeling more at ease, whereas before I never felt comfortable in the water, and this made the session much more enjoyable. We started to swim around the rock. The underwater scenery was rich with life: bright schools of fish, the occasional shark.

As I swam around the rock, I was busy looking around in the water, until I was suddenly startled by a sea lion sleeping near the surface. At first I panicked, but the sea lion paid us no mind. As it swam away, other snorkelers followed it.

Eventually we made it around the rock, and spotted some Galápagos penguins – another member of the “Big 15.” They stayed onshore this time, and we observed them resting on the rocks. It would have been school to swim in the water with them, but they didn’t jump in.

Later we found out that one snorkeller returned with rashes after being unknowingly stung by jellyfish (apparently from a few days ago, but didn’t the rashes didn’t appear immediately). None of us had realized jellyfish were in the water.

Volcanic Landscapes and Iconic Views

Later in the day, we hiked to the summit of Bartolomé to take in its famous view – the one often featured in postcards of the Galápagos. The trail was constructed with a special local hardwood known for its resistance to salt and corrosion. The path included many stairs, which made some hesitate, but was no problem for me. Funny thing is that the guide was panting harder than I was.

As we walked up, the black lava fields and stark, dry terrain stood in contrast to the more vegetated islands. Bartolomé is relatively barren, and is considered a geologically young island, having emerged from volcanic activity only a few hundred thousand years ago. Unlike older islands that have had time to accumulate soil and vegetation, Bartolomé’s surface is still largely exposed lava, ash, and tuff. Because it hasn’t developed significant plant cover or topsoil, its ecosystem remains in an early stage of ecological succession, providing a glimpse into what the earliest phases of island formation look like in the Galápagos.

Lava tubes scar the landscape – formed when the outer crust of a lava flow solidifies while the molten core continues to move. When the lava drains away, it leaves behind hollow tunnels. The ropey textures we saw on the ground were from lava flows, which cool into smooth, undulating surfaces.

The summit offers a sweeping view of Pinnacle Rock and the surrounding islets. From this vantage point, we could also see the contrast between the barren lava terrain of Bartolomé and the greener neighbouring islands like Santiago. The turquoise waters outlined the curves of the coastline, and we could spot sea birds gliding in the air currents.

After the hike, we took a short boat ride along the shoreline and spotted several more Galápagos penguins perched on the rocks. These curious birds seemed unfazed by our presence, occasionally flapping their wings or hopping between stones. We got to see a closer view compared to snorkeling.

Evening Science and Stargazing

Those who had opted out of the climb spent time with the ship’s naturalists collecting seawater samples. After dinner, they showed us the samples under a microscope. Even in just 3 mL of seawater, we saw fish eggs, miniscule shrimp-like creatures, and other microorganisms. Then I wondered how many of them I ingested from accidentally drinking the seawater while snorkeling.

Later that night, the skies cleared and we joined the guides on the top deck for a stargazing session. Thanks to our equatorial position, we could see both northern and southern constellations. The guide used a powerful laser pointer to trace the outlines of Scorpio, Libra, the Southern Cross, and even Ursa Major. They pointed out bright stars and planets like Antares, Alpha Centauri, and Beta Centauri. The clarity of the sky, with minimal light pollution, made the session feel so much richer than at a planetarium. This day was so much more than just wildlife. It combined also geology, and scientific curiosity.

See the photo albums to explore more of Rábida and Bartolomé.

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.

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.

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.

Life Aboard an Ultra-Luxury Expedition Cruise Ship

The moment we stepped into our cabin, we knew this wasn’t an ordinary cruise. A bottle of champagne chilled in an ice bucket, while a bottle of wine and whiskey stood ready on the counter, part of the open bar included with the cruise. The cruise even includes free wifi.

The cruise line had outfitted us with essential Antarctic gear – a winter parka, waterproof backpack, toque, and stainless steel water bottle. There was even a pair of Swarovski binoculars ($1500 retail) for us to borrow for the duration of the cruise for wildlife spotting during our journey.

With 233 crew members attending to 262 passengers, the ship offered an intimate expedition experience. This nearly one-to-one ratio ensured personalized attention throughout our journey.

Preparing for the Expedition

Before setting off, we attended a briefing about the voyage, and a mandatory IAATO briefing on the rules on what we were allowed to do in Antarctica, like how only 100 people are allowed on shore at a time, and rules on maintaining distance to wildlife to avoid potential disease transmission.

Unlike typical cruises, there was no fixed itinerary—our activities in Antarctica would depend entirely on weather conditions. The expedition team informed us that conditions looked good enough to cross the Antarctic Circle, a rare opportunity even for them. On the second day at sea, the crew informed us that we finally crossed the Antarctic Circle, and as a fun thing, everybody received a certificate for this “achievement”.

To protect Antarctica’s pristine environment, we underwent thorough biosecurity checks to ensure we wouldn’t introduce any foreign organic material. Organic material, such as seeds stuck in hiking pants, could disrupt the fragile Antarctic ecosystem.  

Drake Lake or Drake Shake?

The Drake Passage, the body of water between South America and Antarctica, presents a fascinating demonstration of Earth’s natural forces. This stretch of water, where the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans meet, features the Antarctic Circumpolar Current – the most powerful current system on Earth. The absence of any landmass allows winds to blow unimpeded around Antarctica, creating the infamous “Roaring Forties,” “Furious Fifties,” and “Screaming Sixties” – terms that reference the increasingly powerful winds found at these latitudes.

The real challenge lies in the Drake Passage’s notorious waves. We prepared for seasickness with medication the night before, though in hindsight, the dosage proved too strong, leaving us groggy throughout the following day. Fortunately, we experienced what’s known as the “Drake Lake” rather than the “Drake Shake” – encountering strong waves only overnight before conditions improved by noon the next day.

Sea Days

With two full days at sea, the crew organized plenty of activities. We explored the ship, which featured several lounges for us to hang out in decorated with Antarctica-themed artwork from various artists. The top deck housed the Zodiacs — small boats we would use to reach the continent.

We also ate a lot. Each day, the lunch buffet featured a different cuisine, and the dinner menus always had items that changed daily. The food was delicious, as is usual for a cruise, but at the end of the day it’s tough for the food to be truly exceptional since the food is made in such high volumes, and more difficult to keep food at their freshest given the time at sea. The open bar was nice too – I looked up a list of common cocktails and ended up trying a different drink every time. Even better was that the bartenders were so good that I’ve been having trouble getting the same cocktails at the same level of quality since I’ve been back.

We toured the bridge, where crew shared stories of recent celebrity visitors including Neil Degrasse Tyson, William Shatner, and Scott Kelly as part of the Space2Sea.io program. One crew member quipped that if he got a dollar every time a guest mentioned hitting an iceberg, he’d be rich.

We also got to tour the submersible garage. They have two subs on board, one named 71-1, and the other 71-2, with 71 representing the percentage of the earth covered in water. Just like how it’s hard to resist joking about hitting icebergs, it was also tough not to mention the OceanGate fiasco too. A sub excursion costs $1000 USD per person for an hour-long tour, so we opted to skip that particular adventure.

Learning About Antarctica

The cruise also offered lecture series, that provided valuable context for our upcoming Antarctic experience. We learned about the Antarctic food chain, where krill forms the foundation of the entire ecosystem. We studied the different penguin species we might encounter – Adelie, Gentoo, and Chinstrap – and learned about the hunting strategies of orcas, who work in teams to create waves that wash seals off ice floes. We didn’t go to all the lectures though since some felt like going back to school, after all I’m on vacation!

Experts explained various ways to define Antarctica’s boundaries – from the obvious land and ice borders to the more complex Antarctic Convergence, where warmer sub-Antarctic waters meet colder Antarctic waters. There are other geometric boundaries too such as simply using the Antarctic Circle, or just defining the borders as all land and ice shelves south of 60 degrees south latitude, which is what political treaties use.

Between lectures, we passed time with games of Scrabble, though our enjoyment was somewhat dampened by the grogginess of the seasick medicine, and the feeling we might be getting sick due to the past days of being in transit – a couple of people sounded sick too on the flight to Ushuaia. We focused on rest and hygiene, determined not to let illness prevent us from exploring once we reached the continent. We would have been very disappointed that if after everything we had been through so far, to be bedridden with a fever, would have totally ruined the trip. Cruises are known to quarantine people, and that is a policy that predates COVID.

First Glimpse of Antarctica

Finally, after two days and two nights at sea, we finally reached Antarctica. Icebergs drifted past our balcony, marking our arrival.

Looking through the binoculars, I spotted our first penguin in the distance, a moment that marked the true beginning of our Antarctic adventure.