PHOTOGRAPHIC ESSAY
White Wilderness Antarctica is one of the last frontiers for travellers in search of a rare and wonderful experience. It’s an encounter that often leaves them with no words to describe what they have seen and done. By Patrick Woodhead
IN A TINY TENT, we waited out the storm. The previous day, 10 hours of hauling our sleds had gained us a pathetic six miles. We had a thousand still to go and already a month had gone by. Dave looked across at me, a lopsided grin curling his lips. ‘Trying is the first step towards failure,’ he quipped, quoting Homer Simpson. I shook my head, trying not to focus on anything more than the next day and, instead, let my thoughts turn to why I was back in Antarctica on yet another polar expedition. But I already knew the answer. Antarctica is a place that is impossible to resist. It’s so surreal, so totally unlike anything else on the planet, that you can’t help wanting to come back. People usually associate Antarctica with two words – cold and white. It can be both, but there’s so much more. On this
expedition, we’d already seen ice crystals refract on the horizon, making it appear as though four separate suns shone in the sky. We had crossed titanic crevasses that were iridescent blue from compressed ice, while weaving in-between sheer walls of rock rising over a kilometre in height. The landscape was simply mesmeric. As we waited out the storm, we decided that we’d set up a company. The purpose – to take tourists into the real Antarctica, and by this we meant the interior of the continent. For years, it had been the exclusive preserve of scientists and the odd polar explorer, but we wanted to change all that. We knew that not many people would be up for eating chunks of raw butter and skiing a double marathon a day, but what if there was an easier way? One that was infinitely more relaxed; an experience rather than a challenge.
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