When I was discussing this upcoming trip with my mum way before we even set foot on the continent, she asked what we’d do in Antarctica, questioning what was at the ports.   T-shirt and tat shops, restaurants and bars?  I scoffed at the idea of any built up retail establishments and patiently explained we wouldn’t be going to any “ports” as such.  And then we rocked up at Port Lockroy.

Port Lockroy is home to the world’s most southerly post office.  It’s also the most remote.  Hardly the Harrods of Antarctica but nevertheless, real people live here – staffing the post office, adjacent shop and museum.  A group of four British ladies had arrived a week or so earlier than us, having beaten thousands of other hopeful candidates to run the place over the Antarctic summer.  (I can’t help but wonder what that job interview entailed.  Presumably took place in the frozen aisle of the local supermarket.)  

Within a few days of their arrival, the faintest whiff of the promised Antarctic summer was whisked away in a snowstorm.  The 500 breeding pairs of gentoo penguins that share the UK base were probably used to this.  The British girls, not so much.  That’s ok… Royal Navy to the rescue!  A team of marines from HMS Protector, a nearby ice patrol ship, stopped by for a cup of tea and spent two days helping them dig out the buildings.  It even made the BBC news.

It really was quite a novelty to us to be able to buy things.  Of course tacky Antarctica t-shirts had to be done.  I don’t think I’ve sent a postcard in ten years and yet I had an overwhelming urge to do so.  Under extreme time pressure, I scribbled a few lines to my mum and dad – what on earth are you supposed to say on a postcard?  I was going to offer a sweepstake on here to guess how long it would take for a postcard to wing its way half way round the world from Port Lockroy, Antarctic Peninsula to Scarborough, England.  But it’s taken me so long to get round to the blog that the postcard beat me to it.

The steps to/from the landing site – still a bit of snow around for us
Penguins doing a great job guarding the post office
No mistaking this is a British base
Darren geeking out in the old Radio Officer room
From the inside of the post office looking out
They go around in twos a lot the penguins. Let’s have a little look see over here.
Sunny up here boys and girls, up you come!

Snow continued to shape our day, with another snowy zodiac boat ride.

Always reassuring to know the ship’s just there waiting for us

I have a distinct aversion to cold water.  Both drinking it and being in it.  And so the mere thought of voluntarily entering a body of water so cold it has ice floating in it is not just unthinkable, it’s insane.  And yet… for some reason unbeknown to mere mortals like myself, it’s rude to not allow the insane to indulge themselves in such an act.  They’ve even got a name for it.  The Polar Plunge.

This was our last day on the Antarctic Peninsula and conditions were apparently ripe for a Polar Plunge (well it had stopped snowing and the sea wasn’t as crazy turbulent as previous days).  

Flat as a millpond

There was a long line of passengers willing to subject themselves to this insanity.  It won’t surprise you that I wasn’t one of them.  It probably also won’t surprise you that Darren was.

The mentalists stood shivering in their bathrobes as they waited their turn for the plunge, tension building, teeth chattering.  Meanwhile I stationed myself on deck ready to capture the moment on film (or iPhone), happily encased in Seabourn orange.

I watched and waited, waited and watched the lunatics go about their polar plunge business.  Most of them were minimally dressed in swimwear.  They took off their bathrobes exposing their goosebumps to the windchill and stared into the abyss of dark swirling water.  They said a silent prayer as they stepped up onto the side of the zodiac.  And then they Jumped. Into. The. Freezing. Water.  Yes I’m still trying to get my head around this.

Finally it was Darren’s turn.  Off came the bathrobe.  And out came the Hawaiian shirt. He looked like he’d set out on a Caribbean cruise, took a wrong turn and somehow ended up here, bemused and confused yet still ready to launch himself into the tropical turquoise water.  Rather him than me.

All happy smiles and bravado… let’s do this!
That white stuff like a slurry on the water – that’s ice. They had to constantly move it out of the way of the jumpers.
Here goes, not so sure now, deep breath! Meanwhile the crew member behind is loving this, sniggering away to himself 🙂
My view. Darren poised mid-air milliseconds before hitting the icy water.
The very moment the soles of the feet are the first to feel the pain
Job done!

Apparently there’s an exhilaration that comes from subjecting yourself to such an extreme temperature rush.  I doubt I’ll ever find out.  Still, once in, Darren couldn’t get out fast enough.  This being Seabourn, he was welcomed back onboard with warm towels and a shot of vodka.  Or a hot chocolate but the vodka seemed more in keeping.  And the top deck hot tub was the perfect way to complete the experience.

After the icy ocean, the swimming pool was a breeze
I’ll stick to the hot tub thanks, even in the snow. Shortly after the photo, the nicest bartender appeared with a glass of champagne for me. Bubbles in the bubbles.