Antarctica: The end of the Earth

As clichéd as it sounds, Antarctica is life changing. It’s one of those rare places you can’t quite describe until you’ve stood there yourself—surrounded by silence, ice, and raw, unfiltered nature.

Renowned as the most inhospitable place on Earth—the highest, driest, coldest, windiest continent on Earth, and yet also one of the most beautiful and breathtaking continents on Earth, too. Standing on Elephant Island (the spot where Shackleton and his crew endured five harrowing winter months), we watched as the fog crept in, which gave a very ghostly feel. And while we tried to imagine their ordeal, in truth we could never fully grasp it—safely aboard our warm, expertly crewed vessel.

People often ask about the infamous Drake Passage. And yes, it’s rough. It can be an unpredictable stretch of sea. This reminds you that you’re on an expedition, not a cruise. We were lucky. I skipped the seasickness pills and managed fine, even though we did have some rocky and rolly nights!

Our Captain Oleg—surely one of the most capable men ever to sail the Southern Ocean—and his seasoned expedition team were on constant watch, navigating storms, dodging tabular icebergs, and slipping into sheltered bays we hadn’t even known existed.

Through meticulous planning and years of experience, we managed to dodge the ever-threatening storms in the area.

Forget cabin fever—this is not a sit-still sort of journey. You’re constantly on the move: climbing stairwells to the viewing decks, heading to lectures, going on a Zodiac outing, or, in my case, dashing to grab another (irresistible) peanut butter cookie.

Each morning might bring a surprise: a glacier to explore, a hidden bay, or the sudden appearance of a pod of orca just metres from the ship. And the views… indescribably wild, spectacular, and unpredictable as the weather.

Certain encounters take your breath away.
In lashing wind and rain, a humpback circled our Zodiac repeatedly—so close its pectoral fin was within feet of capsizing the boat, but somehow taking care not to soak us. A very cool moment.

On another outing, under bright sun and glass-like water, we found ourselves surrounded by fifteen humpbacks feeding on krill. The smell was unmistakable, and the scene so rare our guide admitted he’d never seen anything like it. None of us had. We all found this encounter incredibly moving.

After two days at sea, the snow-draped peaks of South Georgia appeared on the horizon—Captain Cook may have named our landing point Cape Disappointment, but we felt anything but.
This island is teeming with life. In one bay alone, we spotted four penguin species, two types of seal, three blue whales, and South Georgia pipits flitting through the lush tussock grass.
South Georgia was known primarily for its whaling industry until the practice was finally banned in 1965. At Grytviken (once the heart of the whaling industry), rusting oil containers and ghostly ruins still stand there today. It was still a fascinating experience, and we tried to imagine what life was once like here.

Rolling moorlands and sweeping beaches—‘Miles and miles of bugger all,’ as Sir Denis Thatcher infamously described it. The Falklands could be mistaken for the Scottish Highlands, but there’s a big difference—penguins, surely the most lovable and captivating of all God’s creatures.

Port Stanley greeted us with all things British—Union Jacks, Land Rovers, and the unmistakable Britishness of a Waitrose! Our battlefield tour gave weight to recent history, although some 40 years ago now, the rawness and tension can still be felt; indeed, when one of our party tried to pay for something in pesos, she was told in no uncertain terms that “we only use peso as loo roll” by the local Falklander shopkeeper!

Avian flu meant we had to skip a couple of landings, but not all. In the unaffected bays, we were able to walk among the penguin colonies, and watching them shuffle and chatter was as joyful as ever. Biosecurity was tight, as it should be in such a special place. Every boot scrubbed, every seed removed; it became almost routine.

Antarctica’s fragility only serves to heighten the experience, and the memories I brought home with me will last a lifetime. Expect early starts. Expect plans to change. It’s all part of the experience. If you ever get the chance, then grasp it with both hands. It’s just too special to miss.