Antarctica

With visitor numbers rising on the White Continent, many people are now experiencing it for the first time. We sent our own Antarctic novice to see what they can expect

Words & photographs George Kipouros and, at last. A dense fog afforded only glimpses of an ethereal landscape of snow, ice and rock. An unmistakable sense of achievement flooded over me; one of those moments in travel when you feel more alive than ever. After all, this was the White Continent that lay ahead of us, the most remote and inaccessible landmass on the planet.

For most travellers attempting to reach West Antarctica, the quickest way is by sailing a narrow stretch of sea where the Atlantic entangles with the Pacific and the Southern Ocean. It is rarely smooth going, and only possible in the warmer months. But after two challenging days crossing the infamous Drake Passage, whose strong winds and rough seas are the stuff of legend, we were approaching Elephant Island, some 250km off the tip of the Antarctic Peninsula.

The continent’s inaccessibility, coupled with weather conditions so harsh that life really shouldn’t exist here, has always been part of its mystique. Against all odds, a unique endemic ecosystem has thrived for millennia. It’s no wonder that Antarctica has overtaken human imagination ever since Aristotle first theorised its existence in the 4th century BC. He saw that the north lay under the constellation Arktos (the Great Bear/Ursa Major), and surmised the existence of a mirror image of the world he knew, a giant southern landmass he called Antarktos (opposite of the north).

It was a long time between then and when Captain James Cook became the first recorded navigator to cross the Antarctic Circle in January 1773; and longer still before Roald Amundsen became the first to reach the South Pole in December 1911. Their stories, as well as many other heroic tales of human perseverance, endurance and disaster, have only furthered the myths that swirl the White Continent as freely as the wind.

This is more than just a bucket-list destination; even setting foot here is to join some of humanity’s greatest explorers in reaching one of the most inhospitable corners of our planet. So it was only fitting that we had arrived at Elephant Island on the day of the 101st anniversary of the death of Ernest Shackleton, one of the greatest explorers to chart the continent. It was here that he had left his crewmates to go in search of rescue after their ship, Endurance, had been crushed by the polar ice. Shackleton’s crew had used the island as their own personal larder, eating penguins and seals to survive. We had far more benign intentions, so had gathered in the amphitheatre of our ship, Silver Cloud, for a mandatory briefing on what we could and couldn’t do during our time here, based on guidelines set out by the International Association of Antarctica Tour Operators (IAATO; see p101).

“This is a fragile ecosystem under extreme threat from climate change and human activities, so we have to tread very carefully,” began Schalk Botha, our South Africa-born expedition leader, before outlining the numerous rules and regulations aimed at protecting the fauna and landscape. Prophetically, Schalk also went to great lengths to explain how unpredictable our time on the continent would be: “The weather changes every second, and that means our plans may too. You need to be prepared for changes, even when we are on the ground or in the middle of an activity.”

He also finished the opening session with a warning: “Antarctica is the highest, driest, windiest and coldest continent in the world, so dress and behave accordingly!”

I was buzzing with excitement. I was finally about to begin exploring this continent of superlatives.

Soon after the briefing ended, we got our first taste of what would become a frequent pattern over the next 12 days.

“Our Zodiac tour of Elephant Island has to be cancelled due to high winds causing waves over 3m high, which are expected to worsen,” boomed Schalk over the internal PA.

Antarctica’s unpredictable weather is why we didn’t have a set itinerary before boarding. Instead, in an approach reminiscent of the days of the early explorers, a printed journal (The Daily Chronicles) was delivered, featuring an outline of the following day’s ‘intended’ activities and plans.

The next morning, however, we arrived at Brown Bluff on the Tabarin Peninsula to even worse conditions. Schalk went on the intercom again to announce the cancellation of the landing – the first planned mainland excursion. Every part of my body was itching to get ashore; Antarctica’s frozen wonders were waiting just outside my veranda.

This was my first time ever on a cruise ship, not least an expedition ship, and I had chosen the Silver Cloud, the original vessel of luxury operator Silversea. In truth, I had been wary of becoming restless with all the time spent at sea, but to my surprise, there wasn’t a moment that I was bored, and my simple anti-nausea ginger pills worked wonders. Not only was the satellite-powered free wifi reliable, but the food in the four restaurants was exquisite, as was the gym and complimentary spa facilities. Yet it wasn’t any of these elements that made the all-suite Silver Cloud truly luxurious. That honour derived from the 35 scientists, historians and naturalists who joined us on the expedition.

During our sail across the Drake Passage, and upon every cancelled activity, we received insightful lectures introducing us to all aspects of the continent, ranging from early explorer history and underwater geology to marine biology and the impact of climate change. But I had not come all the way down to the Scotia Sea just to attend a series of talks, and the real prize remained stepping ashore in the company of our experienced lecturers.

In the afternoon of our fourth day spent onboard, Antarctica’s weather started to behave and we finally got our first taste of the continent’s true magnificence in Hope Bay. As my 12-strong Zodiac group departed the Silver Cloud, the actual clouds and haze suddenly cleared to reveal a panorama of peaks, glaciers and icebergs. This was a landscape unlike anything I’d seen before, and even more wondrous than my visits to the Arctic region.

Complementing the fantastical landscape was an unexpected highlight: a leopard seal enjoying the sunshine on top of a small iceberg. Just as we gently approached, it yawned, allowing us a fearful glimpse of its massive jaws. This elusive animal is among the most dangerous predators to be found in these waters, second only to the mighty orca.

This Zodiac tour was just the prelude though, as the following day we at last achieved our first landing, on an island in Curtiss Bay. It started with a bang and my first

Bringing Death Valley to life

The view from Zabriskie Point in Death Valley National Park gazes out beyond the badlands to the Panamint Mountains. If you arrive just before sunset, the colours in the rock can look spectacular