After five of the most memorable days of our lives, all that remained of our Antarctic adventure was the return journey through the Drake Passage.  The swaying and the side to side shuffling along corridors was back.   The nausea was kept at bay by the sea-sickness patches, replaced with a resigned sleepiness.  In fact it was a welcome guilty pleasure to catch up on some rest after such a hectic week.

Meanwhile, my teddy bear was having the time of his life.  During the cruise while we were off galavanting, he’d been happily amusing himself with iridescent sea shells, just for the fun of it.  On another evening, we’d returned to our suite after dinner only to hear from outside the door that a movie was playing in our cabin.  Curiouser and curiouser.  We stepped in tentatively… Turns out my bear was in his element, sprawled out on the bed like a furry Homer Simpson with popcorn and beer, watching a Disney movie.  Having the time of his life.  And finally as we forged northward leaving Antarctica far behind, here he was – the center of attention, loving it up on our crisp white duvet.

And then in true Seabourn style, the team totally pulled it out of the bag on the last evening at the Officer’s Epicurean event out on deck.  The waters had calmed throughout the afternoon and as the Venture breezed northward through the Beagle channel, we were happy to lay our eyes on land again.  We ensconced ourselves at the open patio bar to take it all in.  One of those “the holiday’s not quite over, gonna make the most of it” moments.  Chatting with bar tenders and passengers alike.  There seemed to be some untold affinity between those who’ve visited Antarctica: a shared dream, a mutual respect.

We got caught up in the set up of the evenings proceedings, as the staff busied themselves with the set up of cocktails and hors d’ouvres.  Out came the caviar, smoked salmon, and leg of jamon ready to carve.  And out came the whisky and bitters for the Old Fashioneds.  Along with the centerpiece of a perfect 1,000 year old mini Antarctic iceberg.  Just in case you have any doubt precisely which continent you just visited.  This is one time I absolutely want ice in my drink, thank you very much.

It is not lost on me that Antarctica is something lifelong dreams are made of.  I feel intensely privileged that we were able to do this trip and I’m humbled by the experience.  Wildlife does that to me.  Yes, even penguins.  Absolutely penguins.  Penguins with their comedy antics, where waddling inevitably ends up with a face plant. (There’s a life lesson there somewhere I’m sure).  It’s not about ‘seeing’ something and ticking it off.  It’s the watching and waiting, it’s experiencing, and it’s just being there and enjoying the moment.  Or moments.

And the final word – or photo(s) – goes to Daniel Fox the professional photographer.  I’ve featured a few of his pics from our cruise in the blogs already.  There’s a few that didn’t quite make it, but it would be a shame not to share.  So the last little round up – Photos by Daniel; Collages by moi!

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.

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

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).  

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.

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 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.

After sailing out of the Beagle channel from Ushuaia (so called after Charles Darwin’s ship The Beagle), we were soon faced with the challenge of crossing the Drake Passage.  This body of water stretches from Cape Horn at the southernmost tip of Chile to the South Shetland Islands in Antarctica.  Quite simply put, it is the most treacherous body of water in the world.

By all accounts, the Drake Passage is somewhat unpredictable and there’s no ‘perfect time’ to cross it.  For some lucky travelers, it is most blissfully experienced as Drake Lake.  For others not so lucky, it is the Drake Shake (or even the Drake Quake).  Apparently, we were somewhere between The Shake and The Quake, with swells of six to eight meters and wind up to 50 knots.  Enough to simulate a maritime ouija board experience – wine glasses sliding effortlessly across tables with Swan Lake-like grace.

Never a dull moment on the ship as we waxed and waned and rocked and rolled.  After five years at sea, Darren’s sea legs still stood him in good stead.  Knowing that mine wouldn’t get me any further than the bathroom, I at least had the forethought to get some seasickness patches prescribed from the doctor in advance.  The penny sized disc tucked in right behind my ear and was enough to keep the worst of the nausea away.  Didn’t stop us weaving side to side across the corridors like drunken sailors though.

As we continued our southbound voyage, there were jacket swaps for those that didn’t quite fit.  And boot fittings for all.  Some of the landings we’d be doing would be direct from the zodiac into the icy water.  So you want to make sure you’ve got well fitting wellies for every eventuality.

They allow two days to cross The Drake.  So imagine my surprise when Darren threw open the curtains on day two and hollered “ICE!!!”  Bleary eyed and half asleep still, I said “What’s nice?”  To which he responded with more excited yelling “ICE, ICE!!!”  I immediately leapt up out of bed and without a second thought about the windy cold conditions, I headed straight out onto the balcony in my PJs and bare feet to get a shot.  I came back in just as quickly!

After that, we spent much of the day on the open decks (togged up properly this time, I’d learned my lesson!), checking out the scenery as we made our way into the Weddell Sea.  Especially exciting was forging our way through pack ice, as only an icebreaker ship can do.

When we fancied a change of scenery or a coffee and pastry, we relocated to the cosy Seabourn Square lounge.  It was also here where we joined Daniel Fox, the professional photographer, for his iPhone School.  I was expecting hints and tips for photographing penguins and tweaking your white balance when photographing ice with your phone, but it was really just how to use your iPhone camera.  What was even more surprising was the number of people who genuinely didn’t know the most basic basics of using their iPhone.

After lunch, there was an exciting announcement that we had orca swimming alongside us.  Sure enough, not one not two but three pods of killer whales in our vicinity.  A rare sighting indeed, eked out as ship and whales kept pace with each other.

As we made our way into the Weddell Sea, on a large isolated section of free-floating sea ice, was a group of Adelie penguins and their two Emperor penguin friends.  Seeing our first penguins of the trip was another high.  We didn’t even expect to see Emperors at all as they are generally found in the heart of the continent, way further south than our trip would be taking us.

After all the unexpected Antarctic wildlife sightings, we enjoyed our evening in style, befitting our luxury cruise experience.  Starting with Dido-like crooning in The Club, a delightful chef’s dinner and a mix of opera and west end classics, courtesy of the Cruise Director, Lupi.

Our alarm went off at the unholy hour of 4:30am.  A time that shouldn’t even exist during your holidays, although pure and simple, we had a flight to catch.  Seabourn had chartered two JetSmart planes to shuttle all 260 passengers from Buenos Aires to Ushuaia.  One of those ‘cosy’ planes where the seats didn’t even recline, although our flight wasn’t full so virtually everyone had a three seat row between two people.

I would describe the weather in Ushuaia as fickle.  If you don’t like the icy blasts of cold wind and rain, just wait 10 minutes – you may well get blue skies.  We took advantage of one of those breaks in the weather for a little walkabout in Ushuaia.

Ushuaia is the southernmost city in the world and often referred to as “The end of the world”.  It is truly the last stop in Argentina and yet for us, it’s the first stop in terms of meeting up with our ship, Seabourn Venture.  

As a brand new ship, much of Venture was completed during the Covid days, and she did her inaugural voyage in August this year.  During the remaining summer days, the ship was positioned around Greenland and Iceland for Arctic circle expedition cruising.  And then more recently, she crossed the northwest passage and continued cruising down the west coast of South America and beyond.

Our cruise would be only the second time that Venture has ventured to the Great White Continent.  From the outside with her dark emerald green livery and polar class ice-breaking hull, she certainly looks like she means business.  From the inside, she is the epitome of tasteful luxury with warm wood tones and furry fluffy cushions (I’m a big fan of furry fluffy cushions).  All passenger cabins have a balcony and in contrast with other cruise lines, there is a ton of cabinet and closet space, and even a bath.

Brief photo tour of the ship for anyone as excited as me:

Oh and not forgetting the submarines.  Technically they are submersibles but let’s not split hairs.  This ship has two such toys to play with, which can reach depths of 300 feet or 1000 meters.  Spoiler alert, we unfortunately didn’t manage to bag a ride in one on this trip as their outings were very limited due to the sea conditions.

Seabourn strives to deliver ‘Seabourn moments’, and they certainly got off to a good start.  Ready and waiting for us in our stateroom was a polar class jacket.  It consists of an inner warm winter jacket, stylish in black and an outer windproof and waterproof layer (not so stylish) in bright orange.  Indeed there will be no missing us against a snowy white background!  

There was also a dry bag style backpack and warm fleecy beanie (very happy with that, you can never have too many woolly hats).  And of course, no sailaway is complete without a bottle of champagne on ice. Cheers!