After cruising the foggy Penola Strait and Lemaire Channel overnight, we awoke to find ourselves at Petermann Island, the most southerly position of our trip.  Gone was the drama of yesterday – the ocean swells and the snow, the blizzards and the whiteout.  The sea was calmer and the snowman’s days were numbered as it was forecast to be a little warmer today, up to 34 degrees Fahrenheit or 1 degree centigrade. That’s without the windchill of course.  Juan the expedition leader informed us that the landings were a Go.  And omnipresent of course were the penguins.

Over the past few days, we’d witnessed plenty of penguin monkey business going on.  We’d watched waddles turn into full on sprints in order to outdo the competition and secure a mate.  We’d seen stone envy shenanigans as each penguin sought to build the best rock nest – not easy in these snowdrifts.  We’d looked on or averted our eyes deferentially while they progressed to third base and beyond.  And we were starting to see the fruits of their labors.

Whilst some penguins were still very much in the early flirtatious stages of their courtship, others remained stationary, upright and proud.  I swear you could see it on their faces.  For they were perched on a nest of stones, and nestled securely under them were their two eggs.  At this point they have one – and only one – job.  And that’s to protect their eggs.  You may have a hunch where this is going.

Lurking all around are predators.  Not leopard seals and killer whales, they’re only a danger to the penguins once they get into the water.  On land it’s the giant petrels and skuas you’ve got to watch.  Or more importantly – they, the penguins have to watch.

Inevitably, it only takes a moment’s lapse in concentration to reveal an egg to the onlookers.  And the opportunistic birds wasted no time in swooping in to swiftly scoop up an egg in their beaks.  The poor penguins barely knew what hit them.  

I know it’s just the circle of life playing out.  But it’s impossible not to side with Steve and his dedicated hard-won partner against those demonic evil birds of prey.  As they realized the futility of their early parenting efforts, the confused, forlorn looks on those penguins’ faces will stay with me for a long time.

And without further ado, here’s the rest of the pics from Petermann Island.

Back onboard, we relaxed over a leisurely lunch.  As our zodiac ride was a little later in the afternoon, we had plenty of time to curl up with a good book and enjoy a steaming mug of earl grey tea and cookies in the Seabourn Square cafe.  Not all penguins and icebergs you know.

Our call to arms – or to the zodiac, did come.  We dutifully togged up and like orange penguins, waddled down to the mud room and lined up to join the boats.  And what a treat was in store – for we were cruising around Iceberg Alley.  Wedged between Pleneau Island to the south and Booth Island to the north, this section of water is where all the cool kid icebergs come to hang out.

The intensity of iceberg blue was enough to rival the piercing eyes of the Game of Thrones Night King.  The icebergs themselves were surely the work of art of some master sculptor.  We cruised around and amongst the greatness set against a backdrop of bright white snowfields illuminated in the occasional patch of sun, while moody skies looked on.

Our eagle eyed skipper spotted a whale blow o’er yonder worth checking out.  Sure enough, a mother and calf humpback whale were in the ‘hood, eager to join our iceberg party.  They gatecrashed in style, determined to make an entrance by surfacing right by our zodiac.  We felt a blast of fishy salty whale breath wash over us.  And then just as quickly, with a flash of their tails as if to wave goodbye, they moved on.

So yes, just another day on the Antarctic Peninsula.

Snow.  Snow on the balcony.  Snow on deck.  Snow all around.  Well, we are in Antarctica.  

Luckily a bit of snow wasn’t going to stop us landing on Cuverville Island, and we were the first group off the ship at 7am.  Well, not quite the first as the expedition team were one step ahead of us.  An advance party had been dispatched to carve a steep staircase into the snow and ice to get us up and away from the landing site.

Which brings us back to penguins.  Because quite honestly that’s a lot of what Antarctica is all about.  It wasn’t just the orange jacketed flock of people that were grateful of these steps – the gentoos were loving them too.  They hopped and waddled their way up and down the steps with indecisive comedy timing.  And if you can watch penguins in their natural habitat without imagining a Benny Hill soundtrack in the background, then kudos to you.

Of all the landings we did in Antarctica, Cuverville Island came out on top for me.  Oodles of penguins surrounded by fresh-fallen pristine snow and a backdrop of icebergs, this was quintessential Antarctica bucket list.

And just when you think there can be no more penguins, here’s Daniel the pro photographer…

Right on cue, as if to complete the classic landscape, it started to snow.  Perfection, actually.

Not quite perfection, because for any of the punters yet to make it out, the change in the weather didn’t just bring snow but also increased sea swells, canceling any further landings.  All that remained was to get us safely back to the ship.  Which with a wing and a prayer, we did.

Who’d have thought while repositioning from our morning anchorage at Cuverville to our afternoon location of Paradise Bay that the sun would come out and we’d be treated to some sunny weather. Out on deck we go…

As we sailed towards Paradise Bay, the scenery only got better, and the icebergs more impressive.

The burst of sun brought out an excited snow day vibe among passengers and crew alike, with lots of photo opportunities and the urge to build a snowman.

But lo and behold, the polar weather genie was up to his tricks again.  For right when it was time for our afternoon zodiac ride, back came the ocean swells.  And these were not insubstantial swells.  In fact, only about 40% of passengers elected for the afternoon ride. I question the intellect of the 40%. That would include us then, the FOMO Fear of Missing Out greater than the Fear of Putting Yourself in Grave Danger.

Here’s how it goes when the going gets tough.  The first trick is getting your timing right to step onto the zodiac when it’s about level with the ship deck, whilst ship and boat are careering up and down with opposite trajectories.  The second is transferring weight from feet to seat voluntarily vs the movement of the boat doing it for you (way more exuberantly).  Thirdly comes the shuffle.  The art of sliding on your backside around the rim of the zodiac to your allotted spot (I would say seat but this seems a rather grand word for the place to perch your buttocks).  And all this with a pillar box view of the world, head encased in beanie, buff and Seabourn hood of orange.

Initial cruising round the iceberg garden was impressive, even with the threatening grey clouds and chilly temperatures.  But the afternoon finished as the day started – with snow.  Difference being we were out on a small boat in a blizzard vs being cozy in bed watching snowflakes drift effortlessly onto the balcony.  Paradise Bay became far from my idea of Paradise.  And stepping back off the rodeo rafts to the ship, well let’s just say we needed a stiff hot toddy after that.

To round off our almost perfect (best and worst, highlights and near death experiences) day, our post-dinner entertainment came in the form of Steve the Adélie penguin and his quest for the happy ever after.  DisneyNature totally outdid themselves with this coming of age penguin movie, innovatively titled Penguins. In my exhausted state, I don’t think I made it quite to the end. But I’m pretty sure I dreamed about penguins.

We were awoken each morning around 6am by the mellow tones of Juan the expedition leader’s announcement about the morning’s activities.  When I first heard of this I was horrified at the thought of a ship announcement blaring intrusively into the cabin in the early hours.  But it turned out to be a welcome harbinger for the day, made acceptable nay desirable by our eagerness to hear whether we were on Plan A, B or Z.  Juan’s calm smooth voice, devoid of drama regardless of the news, made for a gradual awakening with the dreamy ‘coming-to’ awareness of being on holiday.  I’ll take that over my iPhone Marimba alarm rudely announcing another working day, thank you very much.

Overnight, we’d sailed south down the west coast of the Antarctic peninsula to the Palmer Archipelago.  The location of our day’s activities was Mikkelsen Harbor, a small bay offering somewhat sheltered anchorage between Borge Point and Skottsberg Point.  

The zodiac ride to nearby D’Hainault island was a mere five minutes.  Maneuvering the boat around the rocks and ice to get close enough to shallow water to exit the boat was the taxing piece. This was what is known as a wet landing – stepping out of the boat into the icy water, which looked at least knee deep, although it didn’t spill over and down my wellies so I guess not quite that.

So there we were.  On land.  In Antarctica.  Our very first time stepping foot on the seventh continent.  A momentous occasion indeed.  Meanwhile, the Weddell seals assigned as hosts to greet us lounged lazily as only seals do.  Less of a greeting, more an indifferent, relaxed, yawning “don’t step on my flipper as you walk past, thanks”.

I’d reduced layers slightly after yesterday’s shenanigans and step two of being able to access my iPhone more easily for photos involved putting it in a clear waterproof case in a lanyard around my neck.  Level up!

Having negotiated the snowy path up and around the hill, we became more accustomed to our surroundings and realized we’d been whisked away to the World of Penguins.  Gentoos to be more precise.  Hundreds of them in separate clusters doing their gentoo thing.  Whilst we were ignored by the seals, we were practically welcomed by the penguins.  With no natural land predators, they really didn’t seem to mind us being there, and merrily went about their daily social interactions.

With more days and more penguins to come, I’ll leave the penguins there for now.  After a leisurely lunch onboard, our afternoon’s activity was a zodiac boat ride around Mikkelsen Harbor.  

During the ride, our skipper Brent, leaned way over the side of the boat (“someone grab my feet and make sure I don’t fall in”) and scooped out a hefty block of highly compressed glacial ice.  

With all the bravado of a tribal warrior jubilantly tearing into a hunk of freshly killed meat, Brent bit into the ice, his first of the season.  He obligingly passed around his bounty for anyone else to have a go, or merely to marvel at its thousand year old clarity and beauty.

The sauna on Seabourn Venture has floor to ceiling windows.  I don’t think I can imagine a better view out of those windows than the pristine snow covered slopes of the Antarctic peninsula.   Apparently they’ve had way more snow than average in the region this year, which is no doubt indicative of climate change.  For us, it meant the mountains were draped in a velvet cloak of white, the odd patch of blue belying more recent calving activity.  Looking out at the great white continent while my body came back to life through the penetrating dry heat of the sauna: priceless.

The chef’s special tasting menu in the dining room completed our day.  Possibly rounded off with an espresso martini in the Constellation Lounge, but I don’t have any photos of that.