The colour of white

A deep blue streak curves towards an ominous sky, bright red protrusions pointing in all directions, a purple haze blankets a distant land, patches of green breathe beneath an onslaught of feet. Who would have thought you could find such multitude of colour in the whitest place on Earth. Antarctica, one of the most awe inspiring vista’s on the planet. Breathtaking scapes, diverse wildlife, and history abound with tales of exploration.

Although my motives may not have been as noble as those who preceded me, I still encompassed a spirit of adventure, and a sense of discovery that can only be fathomed from being isolated so remotely from the rest of humanity. Truly untouched.

To get to Antarctica you need to fly to, what is considered the “end of the world”, or more precisely Ushuia, Argentina. Even as I flew from Buenos Aires to Ushuia I still had no idea of the impact this trip was going to have on me. Sure I was going to another unique destination, and sure I would see my fair share of icebergs and wildlife, but the journey itself, and what we would achieve, and how the people we were going to meet would influence our lives, was almost inconceivable.

I spent a few days in Ushuia, while waiting to board the Polar Pioneer, a Russian ice breaker class vessel that would be our home for the next 11 days. It was easy to see walking around this town that the existence of this settlement was purely as a gateway to Antarctica. When it was time to go it was easy to spot the people about to embark on this adventure, from the plethora of tags, all spouting the Aurora company logo. Not necessarily a bad thing, as it is always good to know who your travelling companions are going to be. It proved helpful when two Americans who were on my trip and unbeknownst to me, would be two people I spent most of my time with, offered me a lift from the airport to the place I was staying.

From the moment I boarded the vessel it was clear that this was going to be an experience that I needed to absorb whole heartedly. The ship started to move and we steadily cruised down the Beagle channel before entering the Drake Passage. The Drake Passage! Well, we had been warned by the tour group that were on the previous voyage, that we would never forget the crossing. And we wouldn’t but it wasn’t til the return voyage that we would understand the full impact of those words of warning.

After a day and a half of gently rocking back and forth through what we are told was one of the calmest voyages across the Drake, the excitement was heightened with our first sighting of an iceberg. This glorious monolith towered above the ocean ever so present in the distant haze of an overcast sky. These icebergs were the size of a multilevel shopping complex, their sheer magnitude made us feel insignificant.

This first encounter left us craving more, I wanted to see everything and I wanted it sooner rather than later. I soon got my wish. Two and half days after leaving Ushuia we made our first landing at Penguin Island in the South Shetlands, a group of islands north of the Antarctic Peninsula. But before we did any exploring, we had quite a stringent routine that we would undertake each and every day to preserve the integrity of this fragile eco-system. Entering an environment such as Antarctica we had to be careful not to contaminate the natural balance.

Every outing required us to wear our wet weather gear and squeeze into a pair of gumboots, which upon our return, would need to be scrubbed vigorously to lessen the transfer of contaminants from one penguin colony to the next. We got into our zodiacs to be transferred across to Penguin Island, appropriately named as there were an abundance of chin strap penguins one of the many species we would see along the way. Not to mention it was also our first encounter with several other creatures including fur seals, elephant seals and giant petrels. Now, the first thing you notice above all when visiting the rookery is the smell of the penguin guano, and it was a smell that no one will ever forget, because once you got it on your clothing, that smell was staying with you for the entire trip. The scary thing is I think I got use to it after a few days.

There are rules when approaching the inhabitants. You must stay 5 metres away from the wildlife, so not to alarm them. At first we were all so conscious of this 5 metre personal space that we assumed the wildlife demanded, but over the course of the week we realised that none of the wildlife were adhering to these rules, and on some islands it was virtually impossible to avoid stepping on a well camouflaged fur seal or scramble through a contingent of penguins. And to a certain extent you got the feeling that the wildlife was unperturbed about our presence. However we did take a soft approach to this interaction. You simply had to sit still for a few minutes before a penguin would come and investigate one of many multicoloured, Gortex covered humans.

One of the downsides to visiting the penguin colony was the likelihood of a slip and slide through a river of penguin shit. It was not “if you fell” it was a matter of “when and how bad”. You immediately became an outcast and the trip back to the ship in the zodiac became quite lonely as you were banished to the back of the boat where you could do the least amount of damage to your fellow shipmates with sensitive noses. Besides the stench, the penguin colonies are quite fascinating, and we were visiting at a time of year when all the young penguins were fledging. No doubt too much of anything can be a bad thing, and you do tend to become a little blasé about each encounter with penguins, day after day, yet you still cannot help but enjoy their behaviour and antics.

The most memorable highlight of the trip for me was when we stopped at Pleneau Island and went exploring with the zodiacs around a place nicknamed the “Iceberg Graveyard”. It was a playground for Leopard seals, Humpback and Minke whales, and Gentoo penguins. Everywhere I looked I could see whales frolicking in the distance, or penguin’s porposing through the water, Leopard seals were adrift on small ice flows. I was in a nature reserve and there were no fences between me and the wildlife. We even had the excitement of a large leopard seal buzzing our zodiac, playfully curious, but still potentially dangerous, so caution did prevail.

As we explored this area further I thought to myself that this was the most amazing labyrinth of icebergs I had ever seen. There were pieces of ice that resembled a fine crafted sculpture, icebergs that had formed large arch ways like the entrance of a cathedral, and the colour and texture were so vibrant and distinctive that it was hard to imagine comparing this to anything back in the real world.

As we stopped to admire a large iceberg arch, hidden within this eerie maze, it was astounding how silent and calm it was, then almost as that thought entered my head there was a crack of thunder as the middle section from the top of the arch fell to the icy ocean below. It was all happening, and I immediately thought that, only one day in this wonderland was not enough to satisfy my hunger. I wanted to stay here and explore everything it had to offer, but I knew it was only the beginning and there was a lot more of this splendour to come.

I’d almost forgotten, I had come to Antarctica to do some ice climbing as well, and after our day of excitement it almost slipped my mind that a group of us were going to bag our first iceberg. Now, you couldn’t ask to be in better hands than with our climb leader Tashi Tenzig, the grandson of Tenzig Norgay the first Sherpa to climb Everest with Sir Edmund Hillary. Despite this prestige bestowed upon him, Tashi had to be the most down to earth multi talented person I had ever met. If he wasn’t leading us up a climb you may find him showing us his photographic collection on his laptop, giving a lecture on his own Everest accomplishments, telling us stories about his adventures, playing his guitar to some well known tunes, or purely having fun dancing in the bar with a small group party going passengers, he was one of the guys, and this is how everyone treated him.

Climbing an iceberg is not as technically difficult as it sounds, but I guarantee most of us did it purely to say that they had ice climbed up an iceberg in Antarctica. Plus it was a good practice run for what was in store. There was a multitude of unclimbed peaks and enticing ice cliffs to conquer and no matter where we stopped there was always an option available to climb something or simply not climb something. I was there to climb but sometimes I just felt like taking the easy option.

I would spend my evenings after dinner up on the bridge hoping for a sighting of a whale, and I guarantee I was the most intense whale spotter, I considered it my area of expertise, or my duty to find those whales and point them out to everyone. It was a good way to waste time, and simply take in the scenery. The bridge was often filled with a few eager spotters like myself, so I didn’t feel completely isolated in my pursuit of these elusive giants. Even though most of the sightings were quite fleeting, and often when there was a good sighting I was typically elsewhere on the ship, it was still exciting to observe nature in all its glory. One afternoon we encountered a pod of 3 killer whales pursuing a lone humpback. The odds were stacked against the humpback. These creatures are amazing and I have always empathised with them. But I sometimes lose sight of nature and its processes for natural selection. And this was a part of their life cycle and something we would have to accept.

Although we had made several landings in the past few days we were still yet to set foot on the Antarctic continent, and our landings on all these other islands seemed almost inconsequential for some whose goal it was, to take that monumental step on the mainland of Antarctica. I really had no affinity with this philosophy and I was content to be in Antarctica enjoying everything that I had been privileged to see thus far. But in retrospect I am sure I would have been disappointed if I didn’t have that claim to fame, adding to my repertoire of continents visited. There was no way I was missing one second of what was on offer here and this was just something else to absorb.

The most comforting feeling after each day’s exploration was coming back to the ship for gourmet lunches and dinners prepared by a feisty New Zealander named Tina and an Australian named Bill. The meals were exquisite and the variety was unsurpassed by any restaurant I have been to. They accommodated everyone’s tastes, needs, and weaknesses. Not to mention there was always a birthday cake for that lucky person who could boast that they spent their birthday in Antarctica. Tina would assure me that whenever she cooked mushrooms we were guaranteed to see whales, and since I was a bit of a whale fanatic I hung on the hope of this superstitious incentive. And if worse came to worse, I did love mushrooms.

One of the most interesting facets of this expedition was the fact that there were four distinct groups of people, climbers, photographers, kayakers and scuba divers. And with all these different activities going on simultaneously you never felt like you were on a ship with 50 other people. We dropped the kayakers off at the beginning of the trip and would pick them up towards the final days of the trip. They were definitely the real adventurers, about to face the elements with little more than their kayaks, tents and portions of food intended for the duration of their paddling adventure. The photographers, climbers and scuba divers would have their daily agendas coordinated by their specified group leader. So, most days were never spent with more than 12 people. Except at dinner time when we were one cohesive group trading stories over perfectly prepared meals.

Every landing we made was unique, and often if you sat long enough in one place and absorbed your surroundings, the living presence of this place would soon emerge. I remember we were in Nekko harbour and we were sitting onshore taking photos of a glacial wall of ice, when suddenly a chunk of ice the size of a small house plummeted to the sea below, creating this tidal swell emanating towards the shore. Everything was in slow motion. The wave was about half a metre high and as it headed towards the shore a number of penguins and some seals lazing about on small ice flows soon had their midday slumber disrupted. One of the other passengers managed to capture the entire performance on video. It is always remarkable to see the unpredictable power of nature, and this was no exception.

Our trip was cut short by a day, because we were presented with a medical emergency. One of the older passengers, Ray, had taken a fall and was bleeding internally. He needed medical attention and the staff quickly implemented a strategy to get him to the nearest base so he could be airlifted to a hospital. Although many people were disappointed about leaving, they were very sympathetic to Ray’s plight. The ship started to move like never before, two of the engines kicked in and we were speeding to our destination at about 13 knots. We managed to get to a Chilean outpost where a plane was waiting. With plenty of time to spare we were invited to visit the base. Any delay was welcome at this stage, as many of us were not ready to leave Antarctica. An added bonus when we came ashore was the presence of an Emperor Penguin, which was quite rare as they are never usually this far north at this time of year. Surrounded by about 30 of the local Chilean inhabitants, the penguin seemed quite calm, almost like he was enjoying the limelight. I took in as much as I could, because I knew we would have to go soon.

The voyage home across the Drake Passage would prove to be a test of character. We had experienced the “Drake Lake” on the voyage to Antarctica, but we weren’t going to be so lucky on the way back. I had been on and off boats, ships, and yachts for ten years and never been seas sick a day in my life, and I quite happily bragged about this, but would realise that I would soon be relieved of my dignity once the gravity of the Drake passage was upon us. The waves were crashing over the bow and the ship was pitching on angles of about 50 degrees. I spent the next few days crawling from the toilet to my bunk, which I found no real comfort, as I was being tossed around like crazy. The only place I could feel moderately stable was on the bottom deck of the boat, coincidently it was also where the cinema was, so at least I was entertained while struggling with my seasickness. The one good thing was I lost about 6 kilo’s from throwing up after every meal. I was going to market this as the new Antarctic weight loss program.

I work in IT and I assumed that in such a remote place that I would almost be able to avoid any form of technology, ironically though, this would have to be the most tech savvy trip I have ever taken. Every second person had a digital camera with high end memory cards and laptops to download and edit their photographs. By the end of the trip there was a swapping frenzy. Photographers were choosing their top 100 pics, which was a task in itself as they were averaging around 500 shots a day, and then burning a copy to share with each other. The camaraderie between photographers was one of mutual admiration and respect as we all tried to achieve that perfect shot.

We were even privileged enough to get a personal slide show from Tashi, who had the opportunity to see parts of Antarctica that we could not imagine. We were a captive audience, but whenever Tashi was around we were always enthralled. Plus he was always up for a party, but no one as much as a small contingent of South Africans, who were always the first in the bar and the last to leave the bar. Slowly over the duration of the trip the bar became a makeshift nightclub, we danced and partied to the tunes of ABBA, a selection of eighties music, and a South American band called Mana, that would be played at least several times in any one night, and each and every one of us would learn to love. We had a group that knew how to have fun in any situation, and it is true when they say that the people make up a large part of the experience.

The last leg of our voyage saw us come around Cape Horn, as we made our way back to Ushuia. Apparently some of the roughest sea on the planet can be attributed to this stretch of water. There was a metal sculpture of an albatross representing seamen lost at sea, and when you passed by at a certain point you could see the outline of the albatross. It was also an indication that we were almost home. It was time to reflect on all the experiences we had had in the past 11 days, and it would be something that I would relive every time I looked at my slides, or watched some video footage from the trip or simply heard anything that related to Antarctica. I had fulfilled a dream.

Aurora Expeditions run trips to Antarctica between December and February. For further information contact Sue Werner on +61-2-9252-1033 or auroraex@auroraexpeditions.com.au. Their office is located at 182A Cumberland Street, The Rocks, NSW 2000, Australia.