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ANTARCTICA
Clockwise from top left: the entrance to the Lemaire Channel; navigating the icy waters of the Peninsula; on the bridge of the Polar Pioneer
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ith steam billowing from my mouth and snow up to my knees, I summit the small hill on the largest of the Aitcho Islands, in the South Shetland chain, to a round of gurgling applause from the local Gentoo penguin colony. But approval from the residents on this desolately beautiful rock isn’t the only reward for the 30 hours flying and two days sailing it took to get here; the view across the English Strait, which is bathed in glorious golden sunlight despite the late hour, is truly magnificent. If I was an explorer of old, glaring out from thick, round goggles,
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my beard flecked with icicles, I’d be looking for a good spot to raise my flag. I settle for erecting a tripod instead, as black and white chinstraps and gentoos the size of housecats fuss around my feet, oblivious to the wonder of their home or the captivated imagination of its newest visitor. Tiny, unassuming Aitcho is our first dry land since our ship, Aurora Expeditions’ pint-sized Polar Pioneer, left Ushuaia, at the southern tip of Argentina, three days before. There, the port was busy with ships bound for the Falklands, South Georgia, and the Antarctic Peninsula as an ever-increasing number of
affluent and intrepid travellers make for the White Continent and its unique, awe-inspiring landscapes. It’s more reminiscent of a day cruise to some secluded picnic spot than the beginning of an expedition as we ply the calm waters of the Beagle Channel, enjoying glorious sunshine and views of the snow-dusted peaks which ring Ushuaia’s harbour. We mingle with fellow explorers from across the globe, pose for photos on the Pioneer’s bow, and trace the flight paths of sheathbills and sleek cormorants as they race across the glistening water in formation, their reflections never