Travel Stories

Dusk and clouds smothered the sun. Heavy, wet snow began falling, soaking windows on the ship's bridge so that it was difficult to discern the icebergs that clogged the channel.

Iceberg, Dead Ahead

Although storm shrouded our view, the floating obstructions showed clearly on radar. Images of ice painted the screen with splotches of orange. One tangerine glob loomed dead ahead. The scale registered a distance of roughly two miles. Then, one-and-a-half miles. I stared outward, trying not to think about the Titanic.

At half a mile, Captain Nikolay Apekhtin whispered an order, and the helmsman flicked the wheel. The ship began angling. Through fog and snow, I watched a ghostly apparition reveal itself as a tabular iceberg, a form unique to the Southern Ocean. Its sheer sides rose 100 feet to a top that stretched flat and wide as a Kansas homestead. More than ever, I felt the humbling magnitude of Antarctica.

This mighty continent was not sighted until 1820, and another 79 years passed before anyone wintered on its surface. Ice-crazed explorers arrived in a quest for the southern pole. Scientists followed. Until recently, its only tourists were those who could afford five-figure fares. Now, prices have dropped, and for about the cost of a Caribbean escapade, I cruised to Antarctica with Toronto-based Marine Expeditions.

Our ship was the Akademik Ioffe, a 117-passenger Russian research vessel. After boarding in Ushuaia, Argentina, we sailed into the Drake Passage, the 600-mile gap between South America and the Antarctic Peninsula. Sections of this crossing are known to have some of the roughest waters on earth.

Rock and Roll in the Drake

For two days we rocked to the Drake Shake, rolling through latitudes where no land tempers nautical might. Gale force winds howled. Waves exploded over the bow. Swells rose between 15 and 40 feet, size estimates varying with the amount of sea sickness the observer was suffering. No wonder the crossing has been dubbed the "Slobbering Jaws of Hell."

"This isn't too bad for the Drake," cruise historian Jim Garlinghouse assured me. "I'd say it's fairly typical."

Through the rough seas, Marine Expeditions' staff offered twice-daily educational programs. Besides Garling-house's talks on history, bird expert Simon Cook covered wildlife and Brian Shoemaker, Secretary of the American Polar Society and former commander of naval support for Antarctica, discussed science in the frozen south.

Our second day out, we passed the Antarctic Convergence and entered the cooler waters of the Southern Ocean. The following morning, I awoke to views of a coastal archipelago. Sedated by land, the seas had calmed to a gentle chop. Wisps of cloud floated around glacier-clad island summits projecting a mile or more above sea level. It looked as though a range of Everests jutted straight from ocean blue.

"This is like childbirth," observed one motherly passenger. "The Drake Passage is labor. Now we cradle the joy of parenthood."

Around Antarctica, sailing routes depend on weather, and shore landings are at the whim of wind and waves. Although expedition leader Brad Rhees advised us to be flexible, our first landfall came right on schedule.

Riding an inflatable Zodiac ashore, I joined the exclusive fraternity of people who had touched Antarctica. The landing was hosted by a delegation of gentoo penguins. Garbed in feathery tuxedos, they strutted around like aristocrats at a midget fundraiser.

We glided past Antarctic shag birds, which nested high on a plunging cliff. Flocks of terns fluttered to the air with our approach. Crabeater seals lounged on an ice floe. We approached, snapping photos like a boatload of paparazzi. The slumbering natives seemed unfazed by our intrusion.

Bundling Up

With outdoor temperatures along the peninsula hovering around freezing, ski clothing provided comfortable warmth. One evening, we even enjoyed an outdoor, deck-top barbecue. The cooks grilled dinner while the bartender mixed drinks with ice chipped from the remnants of a small berg.

The ship's southerly route took us through the Lemaire Channel, a fjord-like corridor nicknamed "Kodak Gap." With ranges of mountains rising directly from the ocean, it looked as though we were sailing through the Alps after the Great Flood. The view we enjoyed was nearly identical to that seen by the mariners who first plied these waters. Apart from a handful of exploration bases, Antarctica remains virtually untrammeled by humankind.

On Petermann Island we found an integrated neighborhood where the peninsula's three penguin species share space. The gentoos have white earmuff flashes that cross their heads from eye to eye. Chin straps sport black skullcaps seemingly held in place by a thin line below their beaks. Adelies feature black noggins with eyes ringed in white.

When not on land, wildlife was best viewed from the ship's bridge. Through its windows, I glimpsed whales shooting plumes of white vapor from blowholes. Albatrosses soared on white glider wings. Skuas and kelp gulls added to the aerial display. By trip's end, we had sighted five species of cetaceans, four types of seals and enough flying birds to refilm the Alfred Hitchcock thriller.

Research stations dot the Antarctic Peninsula, and we visited the restored British facility at Port Lockroy. Built during World War II, it provided reconnaissance and weather data. Scientists and explorers staffed the base until 1962. Now preserved as a historical site, Port Lockroy offers a glimpse of Antarctic life from a half-century past.

The unpretentious building is made of wood. In the old days, heat came from coal-burning stoves, and vacuum-tube radios carried communications with the outside world. A crew of nine once lived in its spartan quarters. Now a pair of Antarctic veterans spends the austral summer restoring the facility and vending clothing, patches, stamps and postcards to visiting tourists.

"We get over 40 tour boats each season," says Rod Downie. "The money we collect goes toward the restoration."

Another popular Antarctic visitation site is Deception Island, a doughnut-shaped volcanic atoll. A bite in the crater rim allows sea water to flood a 10-mile-wide caldera. After entering through the red-tinged opening, the Ioffe stopped for a landing at Whalers Bay.

Remnants of the Past

From 1906 to 1931, Norwegians operated a whaling facility here. The British later used it as a research station. Now, rusty oil tanks lean on the black-sand beach near a group of dilapidated buildings. The wingless fuselage of a British Antarctic Survey plane sits beside an old hangar. It serves as a reminder of the strides explorers have made since the days when the Antarctic was probed with dogsleds and sledges.

We made our final landing on a tiny isle in the South Shetland group. Here, the gentoo penguins were outright extroverts. When anyone sat still on the beach, the birds would waddle onto the waiting lap. For them, it may have been the warmest and softest place they will ever experience. For us, it provided a feathery good-bye.

With the last Zodiac hoisted aboard, we headed toward home. This time the normally angry Drake Passage showed mercy. Instead of a shake, we sailed across an ocean smooth as the Great Lakes.

I went out on deck to find the stars of the Southern Cross, flying like a kite in the moonless sky. A vivid Milky Way swept in a gleaming arc overhead. Beside it, the Magellanic clouds, sister galaxies to our own, appeared as ghostly smudges on the speckled, black velvet void. I reveled beneath the starlit magic until the chill air finally drove me indoors.

Wandering back to ship's lounge, I ordered a nightcap. It would be my last cocktail made with ice from the final continent.

Marine Expeditions' 15-day "Extended Antarctica" voyages include 10 shipboard nights sailing to and from Ushuaia, Argentina. Cost, including airfare from Miami, New York, Toronto or Montreal, starts at $2,645 per person, quad occupancy, or $4,195 for double occupancy. A longer, 18-day "Antarctica Circle Crossing" starts at $5,295. Port duties and taxes of $495 are extra. Contact Marine Expeditions; 800-263-9147; Website: www.marineex.com for reservations and information.

For information about additional programs and operators, see the Geographical Index under "Antarctica."