Polar plunge: Close encounters with wildlife on the Seventh Continent

Settling in

After boarding, I join the 156 other passengers in the auditorium to meet the 17-strong expedition team. Expedition leader Jonathan Zaccaria quotes an Inuit proverb – “Weather and ice are the masters” – and it’s clear each itinerary depends entirely on conditions. Flexibility is crucial in the driest, windiest and coldest continent.

We sail for Drake Passage – notorious for some of the world’s roughest seas – but luckily experience only the ‘Drake Lake’ instead of the ‘Drake Shake’. Our first full sea day features Zodiac briefings and an introduction to the mudroom, where we’re kitted out in waterproof coats, boots and life jackets. It turns out ‘mudroom’ is a misnomer, because we clean our boots before and after landings to prevent the spread of infections such as bird flu. The International Association of Antarctica Tour Operators’ rules aim to ensure we leave the region exactly as we find it.

In the auditorium, guide Fernando Tarapow explains how the Antarctic Treaty System aims to foster peace, cooperation and scientific research, before sharing tales of the ‘heroic age’ of exploration by the likes of Scott and Shackleton and the vital ecological role of krill – the tiny crustaceans he describes as “superheroes”. Overfishing of krill is one of the region’s main threats, we learn, alongside microplastic pollution and climate change.

Later, we reach the South Shetland Islands, where there’s much excitement as we spot our first penguins, ‘porpoising’ like flying fish across the waves – the first of thousands we’ll see in the coming days.

Nature calls

And so begin six thrilling days of Zodiac safaris and landings, to islands with mysterious names such as Aitcho, Astrolabe, Hydrurga Rocks and Sprightly.

Penguins are all around: aptly named chinstraps; gentoos, with their bright orange beaks; and Adélies, with a permanent look of surprise, thanks to a ring of white around their eyes. It’s March, so most chicks have already fledged, but I glimpse one with a mohican of fluffy feathers that have not yet moulted, making it resemble a punk penguin of sorts.

Fur seals lounge languidly on rocky beaches or lumber into the sea. Occasionally, we encounter huge elephant seals, unperturbed by humans passing nearby in luminous green jackets. A rarer sight is the leopard seal, thrashing a dead penguin about to break it into edible portions. More chilled is the crabeater seal, dozing on an ice floe.

Whales are spotted both from the ship and Zodiacs, their black, arched backs and tailfins eliciting admiring gasps. At one point we see minke whales, with humpbacks swimming so close we can sense their warm breath.

Above us, we observe skuas, cormorants, kelp gulls, two types of petrel and snowy sheathbills, which we’re told like to pilfer undigested morsels from penguin poo (guano). Some passengers even spot an albatross.

Farther south, I glimpse my first iceberg – an enormous tabular berg with steep sides and a flat top. We learn that small icebergs are called bergy bits, while even smaller ones are nicknamed growlers.

On safari through the mirror-like waters of ‘iceberg alley’ – a graveyard of big bergs – we glide past white-blue ice sculptures, seemingly carved by an avant garde artist intent on chiselling the most outlandish creations.

Landscapes are ever-changing, from craggy coves to colossal cliffs with evocative names such as Dragon’s Teeth and Seven Sisters. We’re lucky to have the bluest skies, fiery sunsets and moonlit nighttime vistas. In the Lemaire Channel, morning mists swirl around the Dali-esque bergs and looming cliffs, creating a mysterious, ghostly scene.

Throughout, our expedition guides share their in-depth expertise on what we’ve seen. Who knew that elephant seals have parasitic lice that co-evolved with them? Or that Antarctic fish have antifreeze in their blood?

Daily recaps help us to identify different penguin species and ecotypes of orcas, and to distinguish between pinnipeds (fin-footed seals). Some of our sightings, such as our leopard seal encounter, are even uploaded to a citizen science website called happywhale.com.

One afternoon, expedition guide Holly Selman tells us about the whale conservation movement of the 1970s, which led to a moratorium on hunting in 1986. Humpbacks have since recovered to 90% of pre-whaling numbers, but blue whale and fin whale populations remain a fraction of their former totals.

Another day, fellow guide Shao-Wei Peng, a former electronics engineer, regales us with the dynamics of penguin poo, complete with scientific formulae.

Land exploration

While wildlife takes centre stage, it isn’t the sole focus. At Damoy Point, we visit an old British hut, with food, equipment and beds left by scientists who used it until 1993. We view Port Lockroy – location of the UK’s most southerly public post office – amid breathtaking mountain scenery, with pink algae tinting the snow shades of coral. 

The following day, we find ourselves in Paradise Bay – so named for its stunning scenery – where Fernando photographs me with a flag of Antarctica, to mark the fact we’re standing on the mainland.

Next up is an active volcano, Deception Island, which last erupted in 1970. The crew assure us it’s safe as we sail through Neptune’s Bellows into a caldera fringed by black sand beaches. The slopes are surprisingly colourful, with streaks of green moss, while reddish stains – caused by iron in the rocks – resemble the surface of Mars.

There’s even time for a polar plunge. I arrive promptly to ensure I don’t chicken out. Encouraged by the crew, I leap into the water, which is just above freezing – and swim back immediately, buzzing from the thrill. Fortified by a tequila slammer, I join fellow euphoric plungers in the top-deck hot tub to discuss our icy immersion.

Our final two days are spent returning across Drake Passage, with more lectures to attend; these can also be viewed on cabin TVs, for those feeling queasy amid choppy seas. There’s a focus on climate change and conservation – as guide Fiona Johnson says: “We really have to stop pumping out CO2.” Another guide, Susy Ellison, urges us to use renewables and to become unofficial Antarctic ambassadors – sharing our experiences and making changes back home.

The guides highlight their #StopKrillFishing campaign and other initiatives aiming to tackle pollution and the climate crisis. It is something of a dilemma to be one of Antarctica’s 130,000 tourists a year, but with just 5,000 staff in research stations, holidaymakers can play their part by becoming staunch advocates for the continent.

I feel quite emotional as our final recap features highlights from our cruise, showing how fortunate we’ve been. Guide Martin Jimenez encapsulates the wrap-up poignantly: “Antarctica seems eternal, fragile and ephemeral. It’s changing fast; other generations might not see this.” What a privilege to say that I have.

Book it: Atlas Ocean Voyages’ 10-day Ushuaia Roundtrip itinerary, departing November 8, starts from £10,264 per person. The price includes onboard and shore experiences, dining, beverages and gratuities.
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