Andvord Bay is completely still, sheltered from the elements and ignorant of time. All around us the summits of submerged mountains poke up from a gunmetal grey sea. Glaciers ooze from every valley, rippling like meringue down steep cliffs to the water’s edge, where tomorrow’s icebergs hang patiently, waiting for an opportunity to break free. It’s New Year’s Day in Antarctica, a place where dates and calendars are as insignificant as the few people lucky enough to have been here.

Antarctica Lone Penguin (Photo by Marc Rogers)

Antarctica – known as the white continent or the last great wilderness – is the only uninhabited continent left on the planet. It’s also the coldest, windiest, driest, highest, and understandably, the most remote. Apart from a few brave scientists, the vast continent, roughly twice the size of Australia, is devoid of human activity for most of the year. It is only in the southern summer, from December to February, that tourists are able to set eyes and feet on its frozen landscapes.

Arriving at the Antarctic peninsula, the mountainous finger of land that points towards southern Argentina, is a triumph in itself. It may be the most accessible part of the continent (only two days from the inhabited world, by boat), and part of the 2% that isn’t blanketed in thick ice, but getting there requires crossing the Drake passage, known as one of the roughest stretches of water in the world.

As we leave picturesque Ushuaia in the ‘Antarctic Dream’, a former Chilean navy expedition ship now spruced up for tourism, our team of guides begin a programme of safety and education that will span the entire 11-day round trip. It starts with a warning from Pablo, expedition team leader: “In Antarctica, the weather and the ice are in charge.”

In the coming days, lectures will reinforce this message, detailing a history of human endeavour in some of the worst conditions our planet can conjure. We hear about Captain Robert Falcon Scott’s doomed expedition to the South Pole in 1912 and Ernest Shackleton’s miraculous tale of survival in 1916 (see box out). As we tuck into a fine salmon fillet for dinner, it’s clear our expedition will be more comfortable than for those great explorers, though a fully-stocked buffet and wine service is of little comfort during 48 hours of seasickness.

The reward, in any case, is suitably spectacular. Not long after crossing the Antarctic convergence, the point at which the cold waters that circle the icy continent hit the relatively warmer currents coming from the north, we begin to see our first icebergs, drifting silently to extinction.

As landfall approaches, the seas calm and everything seems to come to a respectful standstill. We’ve made good time over a mercifully quiet Drake and our expedition team, clearly as excited as we are, decide to take us out on the inflatable zodiac cruisers in the late afternoon. It’s an impressive introduction to the white world: Discovery Bay is full of giant icebergs that look especially threatening against a backdrop of angry storm clouds.

We spend the next six days exploring the magnificent bays and islands of the peninsula’s western coastline, stopping once or twice a day to venture out in the zodiacs or head ashore for guided walks. It is on day three that we enter the other-worldly Andvord Bay, hiking a snowy low-level peak and gazing out over a scene so pure and perfect that it seems almost manufactured, like the set of an expensive car advertisement.

Antarctica icebergs(Photo by Marc Rogers)

Back on the ship at dinner time, we quickly run out of superlatives for the sights of the day. To face such exquisite beauty – to see the world as it was intended to be – stirs such deep emotions that silence is the only appropriate response. American writer Kim Stanley Robinson described such moments in Antarctica best as “impossible to imagine beforehand, impossible to remember afterwards”.

Into the Wild

The marvels continue. On one unusually bright afternoon, we cruise among giant icebergs in our zodiac, a tiny black speck in a fleet of frozen sculptures. Iridescent white façades tower above us, scratched with folds of pure electric blue, the complex artistry of wind and water. Something, at last, disturbs the silence: the sea begins to froth nearby as dozens of curious gentoo penguins approach, skimming the surface like black and white pebbles. Then, a deep sigh and jet of water spray; a crescent of black gently breaks the surface and disappears again – Minke whales port-side.

The interaction with marine wildlife is a constant thrill – many a meal in the window-paned dining room is interrupted by excited shouts of “whales!” and a rush to take photos. Antarctica may be too hostile for land mammals, but the icy waters are home to penguins, seals, and whales, all unaccustomed to, and therefore largely unafraid of, human interference.

Through the expert teachings of Ignacio, a chirpy biologist and expedition guide, we can correctly name the Weddell seals we find snoozing on icy rafts and identify that various species of birds that follow our boat, looking for food in the trail of churning water. Curious humpback whales frequently emerge beside the ship, jumping and splashing for the cameras.

Antarctica Penguin (Photo by Marc Rogers)

And then there are the penguins; thousands of them, everywhere, baying like donkeys and spreading a foul odour of old fish. Colonies of gentoos, adélies, and chinstrap varieties populate the Antarctic Peninsula in summer – the better-known emperor penguins are typically found on other parts of the continent – as they come ashore to breed. Lightning fast in the water, penguins are a constant source of amusement on land, where they have no natural predators and are as ungainly as humans when walking on snow and ice.

Their social habits are fascinating: nests are constructed with small pebbles so as to be just beyond pecking reach of the neighbours. Those in the middle of the colony have to run the gauntlet to get in and out, dodging bites and angry abuse. Every colony also seems to have a few sneaky thieves, who prefer to steal the pebbles from unguarded nests rather than go and find their own.

In the middle of one large colony of gentoos we spot a solitary macaroni penguin, its unmistakable yellow crest arched in what looks like a frown as it faces into a howling wind and contemplates a summer spent with the wrong species. In Antarctica, it seems, even the locals sometimes get lost.

Back to the Real World

The news from the bridge that we have reached the southernmost point of our journey – a few degrees of latitude above the Antarctic circle – and are turning back is disappointing.

There is still time, however, for a visit to the world’s most southerly post office at the British station on Port Lockerby, where we get our passports stamped, browse an unlikely gift shop, and take photos of penguins nesting under the Union Jack flag. Our final stopping point is Deception Island, a horseshoe of land formed by the flooded caldera of a still-active volcano. Here we are given a reminder of Pablo’s first-day warning, as a sudden blizzard cuts our walk short and prevents us from taking a dip in the bay that is, supposedly, heated from below.

Antarctica sunset (Photo by Marc Rogers)

Finally, we leave the frozen world behind us and head back towards civilisation. The two-day return provides plenty of time for reflection, though this time the Drake lives up to its infamous reputation, tossing us about on 8-metre waves and confining half of the passengers to their cabins.

I’m drowsy from anti-sickness drugs, but one question rolls and dips in my mind to the rhythm of the waves: “how does anyone go back to the ‘normal’ world after this?”. It’s a question I put to Pablo as the port of Ushuaia looms into view. “I don’t know,” he replies, after a moment’s thought. “That’s why I’m still here.”

Antarctica iceberg (Photo by Marc Rogers)

Antarctica Facts

- The lowest temperature ever on Earth (-89.2ºC) was recorded at the Russian Vostok research station on the East Antarctica ice sheet in 1983.

- The ice sheet that covers 98% of Antarctica – on average nearly 2km thick – contains 90% of the world’s ice and around 70% of its fresh water.

- The continent doubles in size in the winter as surrounding sea ice freezes.

- Fossils of animals and plants show that Antarctica once had a temperate climate, and was covered in forest.

- The Antarctic Treaty that governs the continent was signed in 1959 and is now adhered to by over 50 countries – its first article prohibits any military activity in Antarctica, stating that it shall be used “for peaceful purposes only”.

- Seven states have internationally unrecognised territorial claims over parts of Antarctica, some of them overlapping. All are signatories of the Antarctic treaty, which explicitly grants no sovereign rights to any parties.

Tourism

26,500 tourists visited Antarctica in the 2011-2012 season, most on boats leaving from southern Argentina or Chile. Tours vary in length from 10-20 days and can include some specialist activities such as kayaking or spending a night camped on mainland Antarctica.

Prices vary dramatically depending on the class of ship, cabin choice, and length of tour – finding a tour priced at under US$5,000 is rare. However, most operators offer deep last-minute discounts, sometimes cutting 70% from the list price to fill empty cabins. In Ushuaia, it is usually possible to find discounted tours leaving within 48 hours advertised in hostels, hotels, and travel agencies.

Before buying, check that the ship is part of the International Association of Antarctica Tour Operators (IAATO). It outlines strict rules designed to minimise the impact of human travel on the continent, such as capping the number of people ashore at any one time at 100. Decontamination procedures are required before and after every landing to prevent foreign species or organic material being introduced into the local ecosystem.

An area of British territory in Antarctica that is twice the size of the UK will be named ‘Land of Queen Elizabeth’ in tribute to the throne of Elizabeth II. Argentina claims sovereignty over the same piece of land.

British Foreign Secretary, William Hague, announced this name during a visit by the Queen to the Foreign Office after a meeting of the British Government.

The area of Antarctica, which had no official name before, is located on the west side of the continent and has an area of about 437,000 square kilometres, a third of all British territory in Antarctica.

“It is a tribute to the queen, which highlights the country’s gratitude for her service,” said Hague.

The sovereignty of the territory is disputed by Argentina’s claim to the Falkland/Malvinas Islands, South Georgia Islands, South Sandwich Islands, and the surrounding maritime areas.

“The Biritsh Antarctic Territory is a unique and important member of the network of 14 overseas territories of the UK,” Hague said.

In the press release announcing the new name, the Foreign Office did not mention that the territory is also claimed by Argentina. The new name will be formalised on British maps and “the rest of the countries will decide whether or not to recognise the name,” according to the Foreign Office.

The new name was put in place for scientific and logistical reasons, according to the statement.

Argentine web host Dattatec became the first company to obtain Antarctic domain registration rights this week.

Until now only government websites of countries having signed the Antarctic Treaty were allowed to register domains under the .aq extension.

“Having obtained the right to use this denomination is very special for us, we sincerely feel very attached to what we have already done and will continue doing in Antarctica,” Dattatec founder Guillermo Tornatore told El Cronista.

Dattatec specialises in domain registering and web hosting and has close ties with local organisations in Antarctica.

“Eight years ago we started a relationship with Fundación Marambio, as they needed visibility for their science projects in the Antarctic, that relationship is still very much alive today,” explained Tornatore.

“We are now the only domain registering company in the world to have successfully applied for this type of domain name,” he added.

Fundación Marambio is part of one of the oldest research bases in Antarctica. It was founded in 1969 and prides itself in having built the first airstrip on the “sixth continent”.

Dattatec has participated in a number of projects in the region including virtual tours and activities, informing on scientific projects and even offering trips to the South Pole.

The company was founded in Rosario in 2002 and now boasts 79% of the web hosting market in Argentina and is ranked among the 25 fastest growing domain registration companies in the world.

There are over 240 country code top-level domains (ccTLD) such as .aq that are distributed by the Internet Assigned Numbers Authority under control of the US government. Local governments and authorities are given the freedom to decide who can use the domain associated to their territory and under what conditions. Many small states have decided to adopt loose commercial restrictions and are used by companies worldwide such as the Tuvalu Island’s .tv.

On Saturday, a fire broke out at Brazil’s Comandante Ferraz research base in Antarctica. The Brazilian navy have recovered two bodies in the debris. A third person was injured, and is now recovering.

Around 40 other people were evacuated by helicopter, and taken to Chile’s research base on the continent, from where they have been flown back to Brazil.

Brazilian president Dilma Rousseff has released a statement, extending her condolences to families of the victims, as well as giving her praise to efforts to control the fire, and has also called Chile to thank the country for their assistance.

The fire broke out in a building containing power generators, the Navy said in a statement. Causes of the fire were initially unknown, and an investigation was launched yesterday.

The Brazilian base housed around 30 scientists, investigating the impact of climate on Antarctica. The centre included dormitories, a library, laboratories and a large kitchen. Experts have said “The information we have received indicates total loss.” They also noted that the centre, being made of plastic and wood, was “highly flammable.”

Many Latin American countries have scientific research bases in the Antarctic, despite environmentalists’ concerns about the effects this may have on the world’s least populated continent. The Brazilian base was built in 1984.

The fire has been named “an incalculable loss to science” by researchers.

Erebus and Terror Gulf, Antarctica (Photo: Kate McKenna)

While Russia drills for 20million-year-old water on Lake Vostok, Captain Osvaldo Mauro and the crew of the Antarktikos are also making a trip seemingly back in time, and not just in space: A time when human relations were simpler and camaraderie—the simple pleasure in seeing another human being, no matter his/her nationality or race—was the norm. A time when nature still held us spellbound by its ineffable beauty, flexibility, and diversity, where certain values held in common were thought to be more important than any personal or national interests. But where is this place, this Utopia, where peaceful human relations are preserved as perfectly as the fossils?

Meet Antarctica

Sometime during the Mezozoic era, an isthmus connecting the last two parts of Gondwanaland broke apart, and two new continents, South America and Antarctica, began to slowly drift apart. The northern end of the isthmus is now an archipelago called Tierra de Fuego, including Cape Horn, the southernmost tip of South America. Antarctica, completely isolated from the rest of the world by the Southern Ocean and exposed to the strongest wind speeds and most extreme temperatures on the planet, became a barren ice sheet, a remote frozen desert. It was, literally, out of sight and out of mind until the 19th century, when commercial interests brought it back from oblivion.

On 3rd June 1769, while wintering in Tahiti, Captain James Cook broke the seal on the secret orders from the British crown and read the following: “Proceed southward to 40th parallel and search for Terra Australis Incognita.”

Terra Australis Incognita was the name given to the land mass theoreticized since the ancient Greeks to exist at the southern end of the world. Later geographers confirmed that there should be something there, in order to explain the missing parts in their reconstructions of Gondwanaland. Captain Cook, as well-versed in the travels of other seamen as any, was aware of previous mariners’ claims to have landed on a ‘mist-shrouded continent’ somewhere around 60th parallel, and wished to confirm or rebut them.

Unfortunately, his crew’s encounter with malaria brought an end to the ambitions of his first journey south. A second journey, under the auspices of the Royal Society, was made to find the elusive continent, but to Cook’s chagrin, and having sailed “…as far south as any man has ever sailed and is ever likely to sail (beyond the 70th parallel)…” he landed on one of the South Georgia islands. He did, however, find an incentive to continue travel to the far south: the Antarctic fur seal.

The Antarctic fur seal was superior to whale blubber for the purposes of the late 18th and early 19th century mainly in that it was safer to hunt seals than whales. “…When they were first visited, they had no apprehension of danger; in fact, they would lie still while their neighbors were killed and skinned.” The relative abundance and ease of hunting seals encouraged many nations to send ships to the southern seas to seek out this interesting fuel source with the result that within 50 years, the fur seal population was annihilated. US and British sealers, seeking seal breeding grounds further south, happened upon the Antarctic peninsula, and disputed its discovery for decades, but in reality it was an Estonian captain, von Bellingshausen, sailing for the Russian czar, that discovered the continent. Subsequent voyages to the South Georgia islands, with whaling in mind, ignored mainland Antarctica as being bereft of lucrative commercial interests, too dangerous for safe mooring and having too hostile a climate.

Spacecraft View of Aurora Australis from Space (Photo: NASA)

The Search for the Magnetic South Pole

In 1836, pundit Jeremiah Reynolds burned the ears of the US Congress with the following declarations: “[It is in the] interests of the United States to establish propriety in the hemisphere…A British vessel touched at a single spot in 1832 taking from it an American and giving it a British name…American discoveries and commercial interests must be protected…” The irritating habit the British had of renaming their ‘discoveries’ did not go unnoticed by the French who, free of the political fanfare, and for the glory of France and science, secretly sent one of their top naturalists, Jules Dumont d’Urville, to explore (and claim) Antarctica.

But the British, not to be outdone, rallied support for an expedition to Antarctica with the following anonymous propaganda: “How could England just stand by and watch a foreign and in some points rival nation…step in and bear away the palm of glory…[England] must not allow a nation in her infamy to snatch laurels planted and watered by the toils of our seamen…”

The race was on, culminating in Anglo-Irish explorer Ernest Shackleton’s Nimrod expedition, which reached the magnetic south pole in 1907, and then the Roald Amundsen (Norweigan) expedition which arrived at the geographic south pole in 1911. The famous competition between Amundsen and Robert Falcon Scott (British), which eventually claimed Scott’s life, was in effect to claim ‘the last important geographical conquest’.

Who’s Who in Antarctica

Attempts to survey the continent were fraught with difficulties. William Speirs Bruce, who led the Scottish National Antarctic Expedition (1902-1904) set up a meteorological station on Laurie island while wintering there in 1903. Quick to understand the importance meteorological data could have in the future, Bruce offered the station to Britain, who rejected the offer on financial grounds. He then offered it to Argentina, who has manned the station (now called Base Orcadas) since then, making Argentine presence the longest-standing in the Antarctic circle in world history.

Early morning splendor in Antarctica Port Lockroy, British Research Station, Antarctica (Photo: Kate McKenna)

In 1908, Great Britain claimed sovereignty over more than 2/3 of Antarctic lands and islands discovered since 1775 ostensibly to secure whaling rights in the area. In a move that would have made Sigmund Freud proud, the maps submitted for this claim included huge parcels of what is now called the Southern Cone, i.e. Argentina, Chile, Uruguay, and parts of Brazil and Paraguay. Despite their proclaimed ‘embarrassment’, the error was not corrected until 1917.

Other nations swiftly followed with their own claims: France claimed the lands discovered by d’Urville in 1840, Australia and New Zealand hastened to include their claims alongside the UK’s. Norway was not far behind. But it was the US that set the stage for the legitimacy of the claims with its foreign policy: “…the discovery of lands unknown to civilisation does not support a valid claim of sovereignty unless the discovery is followed by actual settlement of the discovered country.” (emphasis my own)

In 1928, Richard Byrd began his trip to Antarctica with an intention to occupy and claim sovereignty. His base, used for a period of two years to collect scientific data, was called Little America. On November 28, 1929, he flew over the south pole and dropped a weighted U.S. flag on the spot. When he returned home in 1930, he was hailed a hero. He manned four more long-term expeditions to Antarctica, effectively establishing US presence on the continent, the first attempts at living in Antarctica.

Over the next decades, other nations hurried to drop claim markers, usually bronze plaques with the flag embossed on it. Nazi Germany for example, would drop swastika-emblazoned plaques throughout the continent.

While WWII raged in the rest of the world, Chile and Argentina made their own move. Both claimed part of the peninsula, overlapping the UK’s claim. Argentina sent out expeditions during the years 1942-1943, dropping their own brass plaques. The UK, having blasted the moorings on Deception Island, supposedly to block the Nazi’s from using their harbours (although German presence in the southern seas was at all times during the war negligible) retaliated. With nothing better to do, the British battalion focused on Argentina, collected all Argentine plaques and returned them to their ambassador in Buenos Aires who in turn, presented them to President Juan Domingo Peron.

The insult couldn’t be ignored and the Argentine ship 1o de Mayo soon sailed for Antarctica for ‘survey’ work. The crew effectively ‘surveyed’ as many British claim markers, removing them or painting the Argentine flag over the Union Jack whenever possible. After that, things got sillier: “Huts were built, torn down, rebuilt, emblems and slogans from both countries were painted, covered, and repainted on rocks, whale oil storage tanks and buildings…” The competition between Chile, Argentina, and the UK was often solved by “football, rugby matches, or dart games…the winning country reigned over an island, base or hut until the next rematch…”

The Antarctic Treaty System

After WWII, eight nations–UK, Chile, US, Argentina, Norway, France, Australia, New Zealand—met to discuss land rights in Antarctica. Russia, although credited with discovering the continent was excluded from these talks and declared: “[the USSR] cannot recognize any decision affecting territorial claims because it had not participated in the discussions.” Eventually, world scientists led the way.

In preparation for the International Geographical year, members from twelve nations including Belgium, Japan, the USSR and South Africa declared their intentions of carrying out an 18-month study in Antarctica where ‘territorial disputes would not be tolerated.’ The amicable results of this international cooperation led to the Antarctic Treaty where among other things, Antarctica is set aside as a scientific preserve where no mining, no military activity, and no nuclear explosions or waste dumping may take place.

As the Treaty Preamble asserts: “it is in the interest of all mankind that Antarctica shall continue forever to be used exclusively for peaceful purposes and shall not become the scene or object of international discord.” Critics of the Treaty say that it is only observed while the cost-efficiency of fuel exploration and transport exceed market prices. In other words, given the ever-growing scarcety of non-renewable fuel sources, there might be a day where the co-signers of the Treaty walk away from it and renew their claims on Antarctic territory. For example, the recent drilling of Lake Vostok increased tensions between Treaty subscribers who questioned Russia’s motives for the exploration.

If and when such a day arrives, Argentina has shown a clear and constant public policy towards their territorial claims in Antarctica. When a crewmember of the Antarktikos asked why the Argentine army was occupying such a remote location as Puerto Parry on the Isla de los Estados (Staten Island), the response was: “Presence and Sovereignty.”

To date, 49 countries have signed the Treaty, making Antarctica (defined as all the lands and waters beneath the 60th parallel) as the only continent on earth where no battle has been met. The only documented military maneuver, albeit without engagement of arms, was in 1965, by the Argentine army, who marched on the South Pole to reaffirm their territorial claims. When received by the US radio operator occupying the base, they were given “the best meal they’d had in weeks.”

Sailing to Antarctica

A map of Antarctica today, depending on where it was published, could have up to five or six different names for the same territory. For example, a British map of the Antarctic peninsula would call it “Palmer’s land”, and Argentine map would call the same land “Saint Martin’s land” and a Chilean map would label it: “O’Higgin’s land.” The most recent treaties have left Chile in control of the Straits of Magellan, the Beagle Canal, and the islands in the archipelago including Cape Horn. For this reason, a vessel wishing to find safe harbor before facing the Drake Passage, would have to do so on Chilean territory, and thus, the last port of call (and the place where one’s course must be registered) before sailing to Antarctica is in Port Williams, Chile–a tacit, bureaucratic confirmation of Chile’s claim on the continent.

Since the realisation of the importance of Antarctica as planetary heritage and the celebration of the Treaty, tourism has increased to the continent of the frozen desert. Nonetheless, despite professional tourist operators who carry tourists in any range of vessels, from revamped navy ships to 40-foot sloops, few make the attempt unsupervised by professionals, and all must comply with the International Association of Antarctic Tour Operators (IAATO) requirements in order to ensure that no ecological footprint is left.

Only 40 years ago, in 1972, the first person sailed solo to the frozen continent: New Zealander, David Henry Lewis, in his 10 meter steel hulled Ice Bird. Ten years later, the first Argentine yacht, the Pequod, alighted on the peninsula captained by local sailing legend, Hernan Alvarez Fort. Although Fort admits his primary aims in sailing were “get there and return safe and sound,” he rejoices in the secondary results of sailing to Antarctica in that “two or three thousand Argentines found out that the Antarctica claimed by [Argentina] isn’t just a little triangle drawn out of scale on the bottom of most maps, but a bit of a promising and rich continent that deserves all the efforts we can produce to ensure it forms a definitive part of our national territory.”

Antarktikos team successfully in Antarctica

On 13th February 2012, the Antarktikos (christened for Fort’s book recounting his travels) the third Argentine yacht to sail to Antarctica, started on its return trip through the perilous Drake Passage, en route to its new home berth in Ushuaia. Now, back at Cape Horn after more than six weeks sailing in the Southern Sea, the risks and fears that loomed so much in their imaginations before sailing, have become fait accompli, including capsizing in the outbound Drake crossing, icebergs, 100 mph winds, and summer temperatures far below freezing.

No captain—and Osvaldo Mauro of the Antarktikos is no exception—has sailed to Antarctica and returned unmarked nor unmoved by the silent continent’s impervious challenge to peace for the rest of the world, despite the grumblings and grousings that come from afar. Antarctica is the only place on earth where “all living organisms are to be treated as a single ecosystem,” according to CCAMLR (Commission for the Conservation of Antarctic Marine Living Resources) conventions, an ecological experiment without precedent at this scale in the history of mankind. Perhaps for this reason, howsoever the rest of the planet is broiled in dissension, the mere remoteness and extreme conditions on Antarctica, tempers and cools the hottest of conflicts. In Captain Fort’s words: “Antarctica defends itself.”

Antarctica is the only uninhabited continent left on the planet. It’s also the coldest, windiest, driest, highest, and understandably, the most remote.

Yet every year at the height of the southern hemisphere summer, thousands visit this frozen land on cruise ships, expedition boats and ice breakers. They navigate through fleets of sculpted icebergs, visit giant penguin colonies, and learn about the awesome power and beauty of unchecked nature. None return the same.

In this week’s Indy Eye we bring you photos from two people, Marc Rogers and Chanda Keefe, who have recently made the life-changing trip to the end of the Earth.

A zodiac cruiser moves in between two giant icebergs. (Photo: Marc Rogers)

The ship glides through the waters of Antarctica. (Photo: Chanda Keefe)

Intrepid treckers discover the majesty of 'Blue Hole'. (Photos: Chanda Keefe)

Antarctica inspires photographers of all stripes. (Photo: Chanda Keefe)

Gentoo penguins waddle on ice. (Photo: Chanda Keefe)

A leopard seal rests of a piece of floating ice. (Photo: Marc Rogers)

Gentoo penguins with expedition ship in the background. (Photo: Marc Rogers)

Braving the 'Polar Plunge'. (Photo: Chanda Keefe)

The cold, thick water reflects the frozen landscape. (Photo: Marc Rogers)

The route mapped out. The 'Drake Shake' with 100 plus knot winds and ten-metre swells wreck a bit of havoc onboard. (Photo: Chanda Keefe)

Pairs on ice. (Photo: Chanda Keefe)

In the stillness, the water reflects a mountain at sunset. (Photo: Marc Rogers)

A solitary gentoo penguin soaks up the view. (Photo: Marc Rogers)

Fire in the sky at the end of the world. (Photo: Chanda Keefe)

Ushuaia Port (Photo: Geert Schneider)

On 3rd December, after 25 days of sailing and 1942 nautical miles, the sailboat Antarktikos entered the port of Ushuaia, the southernmost city in the world. The 36-foot (11m) vessel had completed the first part of its mission, to sail from Buenos Aires to Antarctica. Preparations for the second leg, to Antarctica and back, are now in full flow. On 7th January 2012, the Antarktikos and its crew will embark for the south, a voyage that is only for the stout hearted. Navigators consider sailing to Antarctica to be equivalent to scaling Everest for mountain climbers.

Tourism to Antarctica during the 2010-11 season capped at 19,445 visitors, down from the previous year’s tally at 33,824 with the overwhelming majority arriving from the US (6,148), Australia (2,400) then Germany (1,800) and the UK (1,200). That might seem like a lot until you compare it to the amount of tourists in Buenos Aires, which for the same three-month period exceeded 650,000 visitors. Out of the 19,000 or so that visited Antarctica last season, only a few hundred sailed there, and only a fraction of those were private vessels. If and when the Antarktikos returns, it will be only the third Argentine vessel to have made the trip.

It’s not hard to see why so few make the attempt. Antarctica is the coldest, highest, windiest, driest, and iciest continent on earth. But the real trouble is getting there.

Magellan et al.

In 1519, a Spanish expedition counting five ships headed by Ferdinand Magellan and seeking to find a route to the Pacific, sailed from Spain and then down the east coast of South America. On 21st October 1520, Magellan found a promising opening and sent his two best ships to explore. Five days later they had returned reporting that although they had not reached the end of the passage, the water was brine and would rise and fall with the tides. It was enough.

Drake Passage (Photo: Chanda Keefe)

Finally, on 28th November, 1520, after navigating the 373 mile canal through Patagonia, three of Magellan’s ships reached the Pacific. At parallel 52, the Straits of Magellan are well past the ‘Roaring Forties’, (the trade winds between the 40th to 50th parallels) and into the ‘Furious Fifties’. Magellan judged (wisely) that his ships might not survive the harsh climatic conditions that afflict the planet at the higher latitudes.

In 1525, Francisco de Hoces was blown south to the 56th parallel and claimed to have seen what he called, ‘Land’s End,’ but which later received the name Cape Horn from a later Dutch expedition. In 1578, Francis Drake was blown south on the Pacific side of the Straits of Magellan and found open water, in reality part of the Southern Ocean, but named the Drake Passage in the area between Cape Horn and Antarctica. The fact that Antarctica wasn’t discovered until 1820 despite the relatively short length of the Drake Passage (400 miles) demonstrates how difficult it was to cross. In fact, a sailor was deemed ‘able-bodied’ only after he had made the Cape Horn crossing in the typical eastbound direction, at which time he was given the right to wear an earring (in the left ear which passed closest to the Horn).

Today, the International Association of Antarctica Tour Operators (IAATO) offers these special recommendations for private yachts:

• Be prepared for extreme weather conditions. You, and your vessel must be prepared for extreme weather conditions: a knockdown, storm-force winds, cold, drifting ice and bad anchorages. Bad weather and strong winds can hit hard and fast, with little warning.
• Be completely self-sufficient. Do not expect rescue, outside assistance, fuel, or other supplies. Make sure you are capable of sustaining full-speed groundings, loss of engine, propeller, steering, rigging/mast, anchor, etc. without outside assistance. Remember to carry sufficient tools and knowledge to make your own repairs
• Stay Safe. Remember the weather can change in just a few minutes in Antarctica and ice can drift in. Use anchor watches while onboard and, when going ashore, take shelter and emergency supplies in case you cannot return to the yacht. Please do not take anything from bases or emergency huts, except in a life-threatening emergency. Many of the ice fields and glaciers are crevassed and dangerous to cross without the correct skills and equipment. Icebergs and ice cliffs can collapse with no warning, swamping vessels. Keep a respectful distance.

Clearly, not much has changed since Magellan and Drake sailed these waters.

Blood and Swash

This lighthouse on Isla de los Estados no longer exists, only a replica at Ushuaia

Some facts are easily ascertained: commerce and corsairs go together, and the southern seas were afflicted equally despite the rough climatic conditions. While one authority approved and condoned those actions from which it benefited, the same actions would be judged illegal by others. Sir Francis Drake is just one example of a pirate that plagued this area. According to Norman Davies, Oxford don, Francis Drake plundered the Spanish Main (which included the Americas) “under licence from the English queen, and was knighted for his services. But when others behaved likewise, they were denounced in England as savages…in the eyes of his compatriots, Drake was ‘admiral’, but in Spanish eyes, he was an international criminal.”

Although renowned French author, Jules Verne, himself never travelled to Isla de los Estados, it is clear that tales of piracy and plunder reached even his cosmopolitan ears. In 1901 Verne finished writing ‘The Lighthouse at the End of the World’ (published posthumously in 1905) the plot of which is based on imaginary events occurring on the Argentine island Isla de los Estados (discovered in 1615) off the southeastern coast of Tierra de Fuego. At the time of his writing, the lucrative trade routes around the southern coasts of South America were still functional, and the fictional plot, involving pirates, was entirely believable. The lighthouse still stands; its official name is San Juan de Salvamento, although the original one commissioned in 1884 is out of order. Nowadays few people could attest to the feasibility of the plot. With the inauguration of the Panama Canal in 1914, commercial sailing round Cape Horn was made obsolete as maritime traffic opted for the quicker and safer route through the Canal, thus cutting navigational times and costs.

Today the light is automatic and the island, commonly called ‘Ghost Island’ due to the prevailing mists that hide its coasts, is host to a very small naval base only. But thanks to Jules Verne, and a 1971 film starring Kirk Douglas (definitely NOT a children’s film), the lighthouse and the island retains its mystique. The crew of the Antarktikos packed a rifle for purposes of defense.

Navegare necesse est

The challenge. The romance. Loyalty. Patriotism. A new career as sailboat tour operators. Captains Luis Campi and Osvaldo Mauro give a variety of reasons when they try to express why they they want to achieve the “Everest of sailing”. The reality is that over a period of nine years, they have sunk their personal and professional lives, as well as their emotional and financial investments into this project. And now they are reaping the results of their efforts, incomprehensible as it may seem.

Captains Osvaldo Mauro and Luis Campi on board the Antarktikos

Anyone can understand the attraction of achieving a long sought-for goal. The glamour of following in Magellan’s and Drake’s wake is also obvious. But what might be more difficult to follow is the emotional and civic importance that Argentines of a certain generation give to their country and its territorial rights/claims. Sailing north, towards Brazil, the equator, and the Caribbean, never needs to be explained; everybody wants to go there. But to the south? To bad weather and troubled seas, to sparsely populated areas and even more unpredictable, extreme conditions? There are not many takers for that trip. For most people — including many Argentines – Argentina can be summed up in the city of Buenos Aires, but for some, their territory and its history is a part of who they are. Therefore this sort of voyage is in reality a trip of self-discovery, of not just territorial assimilation but of psychological recognition. Argentines are not just the urbane charmers of the capital; they are also the remote beauties of Patagonia and inconsolable isolation of Tierra de Fuego.

To Sail or Not to Sail

Out of the original crew that set sail from Buenos Aires on 7th November, only one, Captain Osvaldo Mauro, will continue to Antarctica in January. The reasons for the crew’s departure are as diverse as are his reasons for continuing, some crewmembers citing professional or personal commitments, others mentioning simply that their place is elsewhere. In Mauro’s own words: “I feel sad for myself and for this dream that will no longer be the same, but nonetheless I will continue with the same objectives and fulfilling the pre-established dates.” To do so, he must reform his crew, not an easy task at this stage of the game. It would seem that the extreme desolation which is Antarctica reaches beyond its mere geographical boundaries.

To be continued…

Passengers of the ‘Ocean Nova’ were transferred to the ‘Clipper Adventurer’ after their cruise ship became stranded in the Antarctic. 

All 74 passengers, including two Argentines, 17 Britons, and 21 US nationals, were then transported to the southern port of Ushuaia. Crew members remained on board and will attempt to manoeuvre the boat back into position tomorrow.  

The captain emphasised that there was no danger on board, and the ship itself suffered no damage or fuel loss. High winds had pushed the vessel towards dangerous rocks, with low tides leaving it unable to get back on route. 

The ship is just 500 metres from an Argentine navy base, who were in constant communication. The Chilean navy had also prepared for a rescue operation if the situation had become an emergency.  

The 240ft Danish built ship left Ushuaia on 10th February, and the cruise was due to finish on the 23rd of this month. 

In December 2007, the Norwegian cruiser ‘Fram’, with 256 passengers on board, was two hours from sinking after becoming stranded in the Antarctic, close to where the ‘Ocean Nova’ was trapped today.

Photo by Christian Thiele

“If someone goes over board, throw something after them. Preferably a lifebelt.” Boarding a German cruise ship for the very first time, we were reassured to hear the pale northern accents of the blonde officers, thinking: “These people were raised by the sea-side. They know what they’re talking about.”

Before we knew it, the security exercise was over, the last line had been let go and already, Ushuaia, the little town at the southern tip of Tierra del Fuego, had become just a tiny bright spot behind the stern. The MS Hanseatic was heading south, towards Antarctica, towards the cold. In the coming three weeks, she would steer us through the icy waters that surround the Antarctic Peninsula, on to South Georgia, and finally the Falkland Islands.

Apart from a wandering albatross gliding around the ship, seemingly without any effort at all, there is nothing – only water. The first day is spent at sea, the Hanseatic steadily pressing its path through the Drake Passage. Although one of the world’s most violent seas, thankfully today Neptune appears to be having a slow day, bar the occasional tender swing that reminds us of who is really in charge. Owing to its southerly latitude, they call this part of the ocean the ‘roaring fifties’. Today though, you would hardly notice why.

At last, and just in time to accompany the evening’s main course, the captain serves up a decent-sized tabular iceberg. Portside, almost close enough to touch, and high, towering high as… well, a Buenos Aires skyscraper, its rough cliffs, shimmering somehow surreptitiously, eerily remind us of images from ‘Titanic’. Like smaller escorts, broken pieces of ice float around it, jagged parts of a crumbling, giant three-dimensional puzzle that will never be put together again. The whales too have provided a welcome committee of their own: two fin-whales lie ahead in the water, breathing through little water fountains in the air.

‘Paradise Bay’ and the anchor chain rattles as it plunges into the milky green water. Red, thick parkas so as not to freeze, black rubberboots so we don’t get wet and life-saving vests to keep us from drowning. Clambering aboard the zodiacs – our rubber-rib boats – we are fully geared-up as if to conquer the hostile territory that awaits us. The ice breathes coolly on our faces.

Faithful to its name, the bay is a magnificent display of greyish rock and blue-white ice, home to several majestically gleaming glaciers. Every cloud alters the sea’s colour, one minute it’s a Caribbean green, and the next it’s black as a blind mirror. Fresh snow falls like feathers on to the ice. A billion transparent fragments float around us in the water. The zodiac’s motor swirls through the ice like soup in a blender.

Photo by Christian Thiele

We’re surrounded by mountains of frozen water that have all exploded off from much bigger glaciers and that now shimmer in blue as if possessing some kind of magic power. But actually it’s just physics: the pressure of the years and ice have sucked oxygen molecules out of the ice so that now only hydrogen blue is the colour reflected. A huge gate of icy arches is about to carve – here’s a crack, there’s a rip. Finally, surrendering to the weak but steady polar sun’s rays, everything collapses. White thunder, a small tsunami rolls through the bay.

So empty of men; so hostile to man. Our toes start to freeze, we long for the cups of hot tea that await us back on the ship. Late into the night, all wrapped up in our cosy beds but with chills in our spines, we read about tragic adventures, about Shackleton, about Scott, about Amundsen. Back then the ships were made of wood and the men, steel. For us, this is Antarctica ‘light’, safely as we are aboard our temporary home, the Hanseatic. She keeps us warm, serves us food five times a day and even shines our shoes… if we put them out by the cabin door at night. Stories of hunger and need, of scurvy and frostbite? Stories, it seems, from a different planet.

Photo by Christian Thiele

This season, some 30,000 tourists have gone to Antarctica. On ex-Soviet icebreakers; on US monster-cruisers crammed with 2,500 passengers, slot machines and night time Broadway shows; or on smaller ‘expedition’ vessels such as the Hanseatic. Dietrich Fritzsche, a glaciologist at the German polar institute has spent several winters on the South Pole and occasionally lectures aboard the Hanseatic, says: “I used to have this arrogant scientists’ attitude against tourism. But over the years, I’ve realised that it creates a lot of awareness and interest for the continent.”

The Hanseatic, chartered on a long-term contract by Hapag-Lloyd, has been rated five-stars by the renowned Berlitz Cruise Guide. The ship is said to be the best of its kind. Carrying at most 184 passengers and 14 zodiacs, it is able to land in relatively small bays and reinforced outside walls allow the captain to manoeuvre through up to one metre of packed ice. At night, you eat seven-course dinners, dressed in suit and tie, from silver cutlery. Afterwards, you can prop-up the bar and listen to the on-board pianist, or go one deck further down and dance. You can even go to the cabin and watch ‘Casablanca’ from the on-board video system.

The average age is over 60 and despite passengers this time from 13 countries and a bilingual English-German crew, the Hanseatic is unmistakably a German ship, as you can read from the vessel’s passenger manual: “Since we provide a sufficient quantity of deck chairs, we kindly ask you to abstain from reserving them – in the interest of everyone…”

Photo by Christian Thiele

Usually, life at the pole is rather more spartan than ours, we learn when visiting a former British research station on Peterman Island on the west coast of the Antarctic Peninsula. A wooden shack, the ceiling just above our eyebrows and a couple of crooked chairs. Here, scientists used to record the wind, the temperature, the daily hours and minutes of sunshine, in groups of two, for two and a half years, or at least until someone came to take their turn. So this is how polar research was done!

The Hanseatic passes the LeMaire and Neumayer channels. Scenes of panoramic porn in the simply stunning evening light. The glaciers appear in sharp focus, as if cut out of the blue sky; iceflows vast enough to build a ballpark on; a Mozart symphony in major…

The next morning the ship rolls and pitches, passing pale icebergs as it zigzags through the mist. Going on a cruise for the first time, we thought that the pharmaceutical industry had passed seasickness to the medical history books – how wrong we were. Despite anti-vomiting plasters stuck behind our ears, the food just won’t stay where it’s supposed to.

The course is now set for Elephant Island, whose ice once placed Ernest Shackleton’s ‘Endurance’ into a headlock. We have to skip the planned landing on the southern shore – too much swell. Instead we get a little zodiac ride to Point Wild, where ‘Shack’s’ deputy and his men had to wait until being saved. 182 days they spent here, sheltered beneath boats turned upside down, alone except for the company of seals, rocks and ice. We, however, after barely an hour of dinghy cruising, long for our hot showers and dry clothes.

Photo by Christian Thiele

A regular cruise liner would normally try to avoid icebergs. Captain Ulf Wolter, however, seems eager to pass as many of these bizarre monoliths as possible on our way to South Georgia. To pass them, to go round them – or even, as we suppose, to pack them in, have them wrapped and take them home. At least that’s what it seems when Wolter, his voice pitching high like a boy unwrapping his Christmas presents, announces the icebergs through the ship’s communication system. Now, to the right, it’s a pure white tabular iceberg, with a smooth top, polished by the wind, like a giant gemstone. Then, to the left, there’s one with a dark top, black as a bruise. As if frost, sea and sun were competing for the most bizarre twists and turns. This is just all too big, too beautiful, for the human brain.

We land in Grytviken Bay. Steep, black rocks rise from the waters and are either green with moss or sugar-coated by snow. Here, there’s an old Norwegian whaling and sealing station, they even brought an entire little church from home. The graveyard is fenced by white bars. Some Scandinavian names, some British, some Argentine. Few passed their forties before dying. All the tombs lie east-west, only one is looking south, towards the pole: Sir Ernest Shackleton. This is where he died in 1922, trying – this time aboard the ’Quest’ – to reach the pole for the fourth time.

The captain has come along with us, wearing his wetsuit, with a bottle of rum. He gives a toast through the snow, a toast to the old hero. “Here’s to the boss,” Wolter says, pouring a good slug on to the grave, an old sailors’ custom. The next one is for the captain. We get the one after that; and the one after that; and the one after that.

Photo by Christian Thiele

Elephant seals groan on the beach while fur seals play with old whale teeth. “Savage and horrible,” James Cook once wrote about the island. “Not a tree or shrub was to be seen, no, not one even big enough to make a tooth pick.”

Thousands of croaking king penguins inhabit the island. Even though they sound rather like Italian mofas, they’re incredibly beautiful. With their distinguished, grey bodies and golden-orange marked chests, they are well within their rights to look as arrogant as they do, heads stuck up high into the air. Fur seals play about with bits of old whale teeth while the young ones whimper around, waiting to take swimming classes from the older ones. A pile of grey-brown bodies, burping, belching and groaning: elephant seals. We’re in Gold Harbour next, still on South Georgia. A feast for the fauna fan.

Finally, the passage to the Falklands. Three times a day we rush down to ‘Darwin Hall’ to get a seat for the lectures – the Hanseatic also acts as some kind of floating classroom. We learn about the breeding season of the Phalacrocorax Atriceps (for the ignorant: the blue-eyed cormorant) and about the way Chionis Alba (the snowy sheathbill) builds its nest. We try to figure out the difference between shelf-ice, packed-ice and pancake-ice. (After all, Antarctica is not around the corner, you just don’t get here that often.)

We land on a new island. Albatrosses are spiralling up and down in the winds, rockhopper penguins are quarrelling about, it seems over the best stands with the most decent cliff views from which to spend the next few weeks moulting.

Whereas South Georgia was wild and ferocious, the Falklands seem a lot milder, much more gentle. Green, yellow and brown; these are the colours of the season. Little islands covered with tussock grass look as if they had put on green-fur hats. Usually, you find a handful of people living here, and thousands of sheep.

Photo by Christian Thiele

In the afternoon, the anchor chain rattles down for the last time. Our stylish rubber boots get their last outing for what is our last landing on Carcass Island. The McGills have prepared tea with cookies – very British all this, even if we have missed teatime by a bit.

Then, it’s three days more at sea. The Hanseatic is steering a course northwards, towards the warmth. The sun is heating up the deck chairs and now iced drinks are being served. At night, the crew gives us, swinging and swaying, a few ‘shanties’ – old sailors’ songs telling tales of homesickness and wanderlust. After everything, after three weeks in the wilderness, we see land ahead. Buenos Aires, it appears, has turned on all its lights for us. We walk down the gangway and are welcomed back into civilisation – blue icebergs and cawing penguins now replaced by bright-red traffic lights and honking taxis.

Hapag-Lloyd offers Antarctica bilingual (German-English) cruises on two expedition vessels, the ‘MS Hanseatic’ and the ‘MS Bremen’. The season usually lasts from December through to March, with 21 days on the ‘MS Hanseatic’ starting from Ushuaia costs 9,740 EUR, including meals, excursions etc. Hapag-Lloyd Cruises, www.hl-cruises.com, Ballindamm 25, D-20095 Hamburg, telephone +49(0)40 / 3001-4600, Fax +49(0)40 / 3001-4601.