On a bright, blue day in Antarctica, our zodiac boat bobs across the Southern Ocean, the other boats in our party strung together behind us like uniform beads on a bracelet. It’s the first day in a few that the weather has been safe enough for kayaking, and I’m one of the lucky ones who gets to head out on the water.
Storms and strong winds have made our cruise ship, the Viking Polaris, cancel kayaking for the past few days, so the few of us on this zodiac, hopping across the water, feel the excitement in the air. All around, gentoo penguins are porpoising, and icebergs glow a neon blue that seems almost fake. There has to be a little seaman going around placing blue glow sticks in the ’bergs, I’m sure of it.
Once my friend Katie and I are loaded into our two-person kayak, we break away from the pack in search of our own little adventure between the icebergs towering over us. No two ’bergs are alike, cut by time and water to create curved, lava lamp-esque shapes. Some, we learn, are hundreds of years old, if not a thousand, while others are babies, just starting their journey at sea.
At one point, we head toward a monotonous squawking sound coming from a large rock. As we approach, we see hundreds of gentoos waddling about, chatting, ranting and raving at each other, depending on the colony drama. It’s a rule that you’re supposed to stay five meters away from these little tuxedo-clad cuties, but when your kayak is sitting right next to their rock, it’s hard to keep your distance as they come as close to the edge of the rock as they can and dive into the water around you, curious as to what we are and what we’re doing on their turf.
Katie and I paddle backward away from the penguin colony, watching them plop into the water around us as we head toward the rest of our group, which is off looking at various icebergs and “bergy bits” — medium to large ice fragments that are smaller than 16 feet above sea level, not quite icebergs. It’s been a gorgeous morning on the water, and while not every day in Antarctica is this seamless, we’re soaking it in as we explore the mystic.
I’m on Viking’s Antarctic Explorer cruise, which set off from Ushuaia, Argentina, a few days prior. From the southern tip of South America, we boarded our ship and headed across the Drake Passage, a convergence of the Atlantic and Pacific oceans known for its rough waves and gnarly storms. It’s often described as a terrifying ocean crossing, but it can be calm and peaceful when there are no storms. As we soon learned when we headed out from Ushuaia, you either get “Drake Lake,” a calm, easy Drake Passage crossing with no storms, or “Drake Shake,” which involves storms and a rocking ship. Thankfully, the sea gods were with me on this voyage, and Drake Lake gave us a relatively smooth crossing with just a bit of rocking. A fellow traveler gifted me with a coveted motion sickness patch that I placed behind my ear, making the two-day voyage to Antarctica manageable.
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The first sign that I have made it to Antarctica is an ice shelf far off in the distance, white, low and wide on the horizon, a bright streak in a sky that is otherwise gray, shedding a light layer of snow. It’s a welcoming sign after two days on the Drake Passage, which flew by fast with onboarding measures such as biosecurity gear checks to make sure any gear we brought from home was acceptable to take on land, safety demonstrations, programming breakdowns and optional lectures on various Antarctica-related topics like climate, geology and marine wildlife. Soon, the water around us turns slushy as we head farther south. By the afternoon, we’re ready for our first zodiac excursion in Fournier Bay.
We load onto our zodiac boats from the bottom level of the ship, decked out in our weatherproof pants and red Viking jackets. Our small engine-powered raft takes off across the frozen ocean, zipping across pancake ice and past icebergs in a flurry of snow. I hunker down into my jacket and pull up my neck gaiter so that only my eyes are exposed to the whipping wind and snow. We’ve been told we can’t land the zodiac boats today due to the weather, so we cruise around the bay, looking at birds, watching for whale tails and racing past fellow passengers on other zodiacs nearby. Here, at the bottom of the world, you’re at the mercy of the constantly changing weather; winds can pick up quickly and storms can happen fast. Since I can’t control the weather, and I’d like to stay safe, I’m fine with this version of exploring the White Continent today.
The next day, the weather hasn’t changed much. It’s still overcast, windy and snowing, but we’ve gotten the okay to land the zodiac boats, which we do on Petermann Island. As I make my way onto the island, the towering snowy domes blending into the clouds in the distance, I hear honking. Following the sound, I soon see my first penguin. They’re all around, sitting in the snow, waddling with their little tails and standing out on the rocky ledges, conversing with each other as they dive in and out of the water. Not far away, a leopard seal lounges in the snow, the penguins steering clear of it to avoid becoming a meal. It’s cold, and my hands are freezing from taking them out of my gloves too often to take pictures. The wind is whipping my face, and there’s not much visibility past the penguins on the rocks, but I wouldn’t have wanted my first penguin sighting to be any other way. This is Antarctica. Rugged, raw and real.
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As the days go on, we continue to trek further south, crossing into the Antarctic Circle at Detaille Island and then back north toward Tutton Point, Damoy Point and Cuverville Island. Every day, the landings are different, depending on the swells and weather, so we hop around from spot to spot, staying ahead of the weather conditions. “The Antarctic Peninsula is our playground, and I have the freedom to use this playground and decide where we go,” our captain tells me one day as we sail near Detaille Island. “I’m looking at weather and charts and planning, trying to be at the right place at the right time to give guests the opportunity to do programming.”
Aside from zodiac boats and kayaking, other excursion options include the special operations boats, which hold about 12 people and are meant for cruising rather than landing, and the highly sought-after yellow submarines, which hold six guests and a pilot and take you down into the deep (around 350 feet) for underwater views of Antarctica. I am able to go on every option except the submarine, as I was too late for reservations before the trip and all of the spots had been filled. I do, however, see the boats in the bottom of the ship, and outside my room’s window one day, one is launching with guests, its yellow top bobbing at the surface as it slowly goes under.
In between excursions (or when mine gets canceled due to the weather), I find myself attending interesting lectures from onboard scientists, naturalists and expedition leaders, or over in the Explorers’ Lounge or on the bow, chatting with naturalists about the types of birds and whales we’ve seen so far. I also spend plenty of time in the spa, where a heated pool set in front of large windows and a hot tub with its own open window have me in awe as I watch Antarctica roll by.
There are also events, like a barbecue on the top deck, complete with grilled steaks, lobster and fish to celebrate our crossing below the Antarctic Circle; this is the first time the Viking Polaris has traveled that far south.
I’m constantly reminded of just how unexplored this continent is, and how incredible it is that I’m even here. I never thought I would get this giant bucket list check or have the opportunity to get a glimpse of this otherworldly ice. On my last night here, before we head back to reality and noise and the hustle of real life, I stay up as long as I can, wrapped in a blanket with my room window open to let in the cold air. I watch the white landscape glow underneath an orange midnight sun. A certificate in honor of crossing below the Antarctic Circle is waiting for me in my room afterward, and I add it to a folder with my other certificate for crossing the Drake Passage, which I’ll frame when I get home.
How to Get There
From Dallas-Fort Worth International Airport, you can fly into various South American countries, and then from there, fly to Ushuaia, Argentina, where you’ll board your ship. For my trip, I flew from Dallas-Fort Worth to Buenos Aires, Argentina, and from there to Ushuaia, Argentina.
What to Pack
Although it’s winter here in Texas during the Antarctic tourism season, it’s summer there because it’s south of the equator. Yes, it’s cold, but not as cold as you think. On average, during my trip, the temperature during the day was anywhere from about 25 to 35 degrees Fahrenheit. Viking provided me with weatherproof pants, waterproof boots and a heavy-duty jacket, but check to see what your cruise will provide you with. In addition to these items, I brought a shin-length puffer jacket with a hood for use on the boat and decks, and mid-layer items like a light jacket and a few sweaters.
Base layers are important, too, and merino wool base layers are great for wearing underneath your waterproof pants for excursions. On the ship, I wore fleece-lined leggings for lounging and casual meals. I also brought lots of neck gaiters, which were easier for me to simply pull up when it was cold instead of worrying about a scarf. I also tended to wear fleece ear warmers to keep the wind out of my ears instead of beanies, but bring both, just in case. Waterproof gloves are the one thing I wish I’d brought more of, and I’d recommend bringing two to three pairs. If they get wet, you’ll have another pair to use and won’t have to wait with cold, wet hands for the other pair to dry.
Polarized sunglasses are also great to have, as the sun bouncing off the white snow can be quite harsh. On this note, bring sunscreen to protect yourself against that bounce-off. On excursions, you’ll have to carry everything with you, and you’re outfitted with not only your clothing but also a small life jacket that you keep on while walking (it’s not inflated but worn as a safety precaution). If you have a small waterproof backpack or dry bag, it might be wise to bring that as well for hats, ear warmers etc.
Whether you get seasick or not, it’s wise to secure a scopolamine patch prescription before your trip. I usually don’t get seasick, but I did while crossing the Drake, and thankfully, another passenger was kind enough to give me a patch. Otherwise, it would’ve been two horrific days for me. You can also bring Dramamine and ginger candies, just to be prepared.
Personally, I did not bring hand warmers and didn’t feel the need to have them while exploring. My gloves were great, and I had my hands out of gloves a lot anyway taking pictures. Hand warmers would have been one more thing for me to lug around.
Antarctica is very windy, so bring lotions and face masks to recover at night after a day of exploring. Also, bring lip balm.
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