When the expedition leader of Scenic’s luxury ship, Eclipse, announced, “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, we have our first iceberg sighting of the trip on our starboard side,” I rushed to my cabin’s sliding glass door and flung it open. The sight of open water and the rush of cold air took my breath away. I had never seen anything so naturally bright white, sculpted by wind and waves. The purity of the ice stood in stark contrast to the deep blue sea. This iceberg, having broken off from the ice shelf years, maybe even decades, ago, drifted alone and magnificent, ancient yet still adjusting to its life at sea. Though only 10% of the iceberg was visible above water, I took photos as if it were the only one left on Earth. This was just the beginning of the vast mountain range of glacial ice I would encounter over the next 12 days while cruising in Antarctica.
Sailing the Drake Passage between Argentina and the white continent was part of the adventure and my badge of honor. It bonded me to the entire experience. Truth be told, the eight-foot seas we encountered were surprisingly termed the "Drake Lake" for our crossing. Channeling my inner polar explorer, I began reading ‘Endurance: Ernest Shackleton’s Incredible Voyage’ about his 1914 fateful voyage. Mostly, I read from the comforts of the infrared sauna in the ship’s spa as we sailed along the not-so-bad seas. I couldn’t help but think how Shackleton would be shaking his head in disbelief at how far shipping has progressed in a century. The luxury of the Eclipse yacht versus the primitive nature of the wooden Endurance schooner shared only one thing in common -- they both could float.
Our first full day in Antarctica was cloudy, snowy, and really cold. I stared out my balcony at the dotted black spots (Zodiak rafts) with bundled-up expedition leaders steering the outboard motor and thought, am I really supposed to get on those boats in this weather? At that moment, I decided to shed all fear of weather and remember why I’m here—to leave my comfort zone and explore. I proved that the saying ‘there is no bad weather, just bad clothing’ was true, and I rode the Zodiac boats with barely a shiver. Our first outing was on a kayak, and from there, the adventure with wildlife struck me in a way that mesmerized every single sense. The leaders were always in control, educating, instructing, and keeping us safe as we slowly paddled through mush ice amongst feeding whales and sleeping seals. It all felt surreal. The marine wildlife seemed content to have us as their guests, gently going about their way, sleeping and eating. I was a guest in their environment, and the feeling of awe still lingers.
For the next week, our days were action-filled with more Zodiac rides, hikes on the ice, additional kayaking, and the highlight of paddle-boarding in a grove of small bergs the expedition leaders comically referred to as the ice graveyard. The option to embrace two daily excursions off the ship into the wild filled my day, but I never wanted to miss the on-board seminars from the well-educated staff. They provided the backstory on everything from exploration history and marine biology to ornithology and best practices for capturing wildlife photography. Daily, our itinerary seemed to be altered by the captain, who navigated the seas chasing the sun and finding the best spots for landings. We successfully crossed the Antarctic Circle and sailed as far east as the Weddell Sea. Despite the weather and other random happenings, the navigation of our path looked like a puzzle gone wrong, yet everything about the map had a purpose and a story meant to be told later. While in Antarctica, other ships were rarely seen, but communication was key. All the operators—from daring sailors on small sailboats to luxury yacht ice-breakers—were ready to help one another in case of emergency. We even went off course for a day to sail to St. George Island (not on our itinerary) because a crew member had become ill and needed more assistance than the ship’s doctor could lend. It was not a problem to reach the airport where many opt to Fly/Sail to Antarctica so the young man could be flown to a hospital. Not one passenger complained; it was all part of the adventure.
Next to daily wildlife sightings, the highlight of the Scenic Eclipse was the helicopter ride. Not many expedition vessels have the capacity to house helicopters, but the Scenic had not one but two that simultaneously flew 30-minute rides for passengers to encounter the vast expanse of ice from the sky. This was my 1st ride on a chopper and lifting vertically off the helipad of a ship puts any carnival ride to shame. Looking down upon 200-foot cliffs of ice and soaring above the clouds, traversing the tips of snow-covered mountain ranges was breathtaking. To know that the ice shelf extended for more miles than the helicopter could travel in a day was hard to fathom.
As if these activities weren’t thrilling enough, the opportunity arose for the notorious polar plunge. Truth be told, there is actually no good clothing for this experience, mainly because the only clothing is your swimsuit. When the announcement was made that the water is below freezing at 31-degrees Fahrenheit, nervous excitement filled the air as the audience of brave passengers cheered and clapped in support. My cruise had 162 passengers on board, and 70 of us jumped into the frigid Antarctic waters. It was one of the most exhilarating feelings ever, and I felt even more rejuvenated hours later. The latest trend in cold plunge therapy has healing benefits that I can now put my mind around. Every crew member I chatted with later said when given the time, after all passengers have jumped, they take the plunge on every voyage and it’s a spectacle to watch them tread water and count to see who can last the longest. As for me, the swim back to the ladder to get back on board couldn’t come fast enough. Hot chocolate, a warm blanket, and a sit in the hot tub capped off a beautiful day.
Full disclosure: I used to work on big cruise ships 30 years ago. With all my wanderlust in the Caribbean islands and access to excursions in warm weather, I never once witnessed the amount of wildlife that this type of expedition travel afforded. Nature, not ports, was the star of the show, and the expedition staff ensured that every passenger had an unforgettable experience. I left not thinking that every penguin looks alike, accepting that every swimming mammal is not out to eat me and that birds are quite fascinating to watch. I left Antarctica cultured. I thank those whose mission it is to introduce this kind of travel to the common vacationer from multigenerational families to solo travelers who have a passion for the outdoors and preserving its pristine environment. There is no way that one cannot leave wishing to protect the planet and its resources, embracing respect for the outdoors and its harsh elements that make humans feel small relative to the world around us. Humbling is a word that frequently comes to mind. Once in a lifetime, too. Oddly, on our passage back across the Drake, I felt sadness. Antarctica had captured my soul, and I had to leave a part of it there and bring back nothing but memories and photographs. Fast forward six months, and that sadness has transformed into immense gratitude. I now have the joy of sharing Antarctica with others, and satisfaction knowing that although the 7th continent was historically the last to be discovered, it was not my last venture in expedition cruise travel.
