Cruise to Antarctica | I was not getting any younger and the opportunity to visit Antarctica was getting slimmer as the years went by as. Anita refused to come with me saying it would be too cold. So, I decided to travel there by myself. I found a deal, and within two weeks I was on a plane to Buenos Aires (BA).
I chose a French line I had never heard of. Ponant was rated well, ran small ships, had no solo traveller surcharge, and had the itinerary I was looking for. It had one crossing of the Drake Passage and included South Georgia Island. The voyage was from Ushuaia to the Antarctica Peninsula, and to South Georgia via the South Shetland Islands, and eventually ended in Buenos Aires.
I flew into Buenos Aires from Houston and spent a few days there. Having been here before, it was more of a relaxed stay without anything crazy. I did get across to a quaint little town in Uruguay called Colonia del Sacramento. I caught a ferry from BA across the Rio del Plato, and spent an afternoon in this charming town with cobble stone streets, an old light house, and sycamore lined roads. I enjoyed a great lunch, explored the town, took photos and boarded the evening ferry back to Buenos Aires in the pouring rain.
Ponant organised a chartered flight for us Ponant cruisers from Buenos Aires to Ushuaia. Many of us met the previous evening for dinner at the hotel. Ushuaia, supposedly the southernmost city in the world, is located on the Beagle Channel in Tierra del Fuego. It was 3.5 hours away, and diffrent from warm and muggy Buenos Aires. Remote, cool, hilly and ringed with mountains and glaciers, it was once an Argentinian penal colony.
Soon after landing, we were on Ponant ‘s busses for a trip on the Pan American Highway up the mountains for lunch in a pretty restaurant, Las Cotorras. The menu was simple—salad, grilled lamb, Argentinian reds, ice cream, and alcohol-infused coffee. We returned to town after, and Le Lyrial, our ship, was waiting in port. This vessel was much smaller than the other ships I had taken, and had only 122 staterooms.
We set sail that evening at 5:00 PM on March 4, heading southeast to the White Continent with the Drake Passage looming ahead. I was nervous about the passage, especially in a small ship. Some of the world’s strongest ocean currents flow through this passage and huge rogue waves (some over 65 ft/16.7m) have even caused the deaths of passengers, as recently as 2022.
Being in the Southern Ocean, unbroken by land, the openness can lead to unimpeded, mighty winds that can cause serious damage. We had 600 mi/960 km of this deep waterway to cross over the next three days. I was going to take this “rite of passage” in my stride. The journey was rocky but bearable. We missed the Drake “shake," settling for something more than an accentuated Drake “lake." On March 6, we were in the calmer Gerlache Strait region.
During the crossing, we got our safety briefings and were given our bright red parkas and loaner waterproof Wellington boots. The captain, Frenchman Quentin Du Sel—referred to as Le Commandant—and his senior officers hosted an introductory ceremony followed by a gala dinner in Le Céleste, the Lyrial’s gastronomic restaurant. Most people were dressed to the nines. I was in a shirt and tie carefully hiding my sneakered feet out of sight.
We did our first zodiac run at the Melchior Islands in Dallmann Bay the following afternoon. We boarded rubber dinghies called zodiacs, from the ship’s rear “marina” for a 90-minute outing between floating ice and rocks. We were eight to a zodiac with an expedition guide. With icebergs in the distance, we crisscrossed numerous small, ice-covered, rocky islands with sea birds, penguins and seals. This was my first exposure to the continent, and I was thrilled. Though we did not land, just the idea of being out in the open admiring the blue ice and wildlife was exhilarating.
The next morning at 7.30 AM, about 20 of us bolder ones got onto tandem kayaks waiting for us in cold Antarctic waters. We had an expedition guide leading us and another following. Our dry suit kept us warm and dry. I went out with an Australian lady. It was nice being low in the water bumping into floating pieces of ice and getting a down-low perspective of everything around us. We got to within 100 yards/92 m of a humpback whale feeding on krill snorting and blowing as it gorged and moved along. We circled our ship and got back tired after 90 minutes of serious paddling. We had time soon after to join the other group at Neko Harbor where we got on land. A good-sized colony of Gentoo Penguins breed here, surrounded by spectacular glaciers and mountains.
Gentoos are characterised by a band of white feathers extending across the top of the head just above each eye, a black throat, a large brush tail, and mostly orange or red bill. They grow to about 30 in/76 cm and 12 lb./5.4 kg, and are the fastest underwater birds reaching speeds of 22 mph/35 kmph. The colony gave out a strong odour but after visiting several colonies during our trip, I got used to the smell. I was amazed to see these little guys hop out of the water and strenuously work their way through snow and ice climbing a hill to get to the upper reaches. They had laid out paths called Penguin Highways, and we were careful not to encroach on them.
In the afternoon, we sailed to Danco Island, a small 1.5 mi/2.4 km long island where there used to be a British Antarctic Survey base that shut down in 1959. We landed on a rocky shore and hiked up a steep snow-covered hill observing the Gentoos go about their business. These birds mate for life. The male offers a female a small rock or pebble and if she accepts, they form a pair. They build a rocky nest, sometimes lined with grass where both parents take turns incubating the eggs over 35 days. After the eggs hatch, both forage and feed the young chicks, who remain in the nest for roughly a month. The chicks form a crèche with others for protection while their parents are away gathering food.
On March 8, we were at Wilhelmina Bay—a spectacular sight, seeing the peninsula surrounded by towering mountains and glaciers. We took a zodiac ride without disembarking, enjoying the wildlife and the immense glaciers. Fur seals were in plenty. At this time of year, the parents were out feeding, leaving their young pups behind on land.
Antarctic fur seals are believed to be the most abundant species of fur seals. The southern Atlantic Ocean holds approximately 95 per cent of the global population. This seal is the only eared seal found in Antarctica, and is in a different family from true seals. They can raise their upper bodies on their fore limbs, giving them far more agility and speed. They have a well-deserved reputation for being aggressive (after being decimated during the whaling and sealing period), and can generally run much faster than humans. We observed them with Weddell seals lounging on floating floes of ice, while penguins lined the rocky shore and bobbed in and out of the water. We got our only sighting of yellow tufted Macaroni penguins on a rocky outcrop.
We did not get onto land till that afternoon when we moved to Portal Point, a small fjord surrounded by majestic mountains. There were Gentoo and Chinstrap penguins, with a variety of seabirds here. The Chinstrap species has a white face, and a fine, continuous band of black feathers under the chin. Hence the name. They are slightly smaller than their Gentoo cousins.
Portal Point had two raised sections with flat rocky shores and floating ice in a lagoon. Both sections had a steep icy climb with 360-degree views of the waters, ice and animals. I enjoyed the quiet climb, taking care not to slide and fall. The floating ice had the landscape painted in shades of blue and white with myriad shapes and sizes.
We left the peninsula that evening and cruised north. The next morning, we were in Admiralty Bay in King George Island on the northern edge of the South Shetland Islands. This vast glacial bay is designated as an Antarctica Specialty Protected Area. It was discovered in the 19th century by seal hunters, but now is a key site for the preservation of Antarctica. Its deep waters have a plethora of wildlife, and it is a natural refuge for polar expedition ships. In winter, the bay is frozen over, making access difficult, increasing its isolation.
We took a zodiac ride for a couple of hours admiring the wildlife and surrounding mountains and glaciers. That afternoon, we sailed to nearby Penguin Island, a small oval shaped natural gem with a striking landscape. This approximate 1 mile/1.6 km island is fringed by low cliffs, a haven for Chinstrap penguins. I walked along the beach littered with large bones of whales and other mammals shooing away curious seal pups. I stopped at various points to watch the Chinstraps diving in and out of the rocks into the water. It was comical to see them come back to land with a deft hop onto a slippery rock, without missing a step. The surroundings were barren and beautiful, like the surface of Mars with a prominent red volcanic caldera. The walk up the red gravel and around the caldera was challenging. I enjoyed these hikes immersed in other worldly experiences and unspoiled views of earth, water and ice.
After these short hops over the past few days, in and around the Antarctic peninsula, we now had a longer voyage ahead of us to Elephant Island. We sailed through the night reaching Cape Lookout in the late afternoon—a headland located at the southern tip of Elephant Island. This rugged, rocky cape surrounded by steep cliffs and glaciers offers a wild and inhospitable landscape.
Often battered by strong winds and extreme weather conditions, Cape Lookout is an important navigational landmark due to its strategic position at the entrance to the Southern Ocean. It also serves as a refuge for various Antarctic wildlife species. Historically, Elephant Island is known for its role in Sir Ernest Shackleton's Endurance expedition in 1916, when his crew took shelter at Point Wild after their ship was wrecked in the Weddell Sea. We anchored a few hundred yards away, looking out from the bow in awe of how 28 of Shackleton’s sailors could spend four and a half months on that desolate strip of land surviving on meager rations, seals, penguins and seabirds! There was a bust of Piloto Pardo on the beach honouring the Chilean Navy Captain of the tug Yelcho who brought Shackleton here (on his fourth attempt) braving all odds to rescue all 28 of his men.
We now had a long journey to South Georgia Island across the Weddell Sea and the Antarctica confluence, and a spate of heavy seas. The Captain had to vary his entry to the island from the northwest instead of the typical southeastern approach as the swells were too high and strong.
The Weddell Sea, in the South Atlantic Ocean, is renowned for its icy landscapes dominated by tabular icebergs. These ice formations, flat and wide, break off from continental glaciers or ice shelves, creating gigantic structures. Here major ice shelves produce icebergs that can reach impressive sizes, up to 150 ft/45 m in height and several hundred miles in length. Among the most notable is iceberg A23a, a colossal tabular iceberg that detached from the Filchner-Ronne Ice Shelf in 1986. After years of relative stability, in 2020, A23a began moving in the Weddell Sea. In 2023, it was observed near the Antarctic Peninsula before moving further north. Just before our arrival, it ran aground about 50 mi/90 km off the coast of South Georgia Island, marking the end of its drift of 2,000 mi/3,200 km. Once 1,500 sq mi/3,900 sq km in size, it has been steadily shrinking, shedding huge amounts of water as it moved into warmer seas. It is now an estimated 1,300 sq mi/3,400 sq km. We were hoping to get an opportunity to see A23a, but it was too far off our path for the Captain to entertain our request. And it would be nighttime when we were in that region.
We sailed for two nights after leaving Elephant Island with the Captain continuously monitoring marine forecasts. Being a small ship, he did well in avoiding high winds and swells. That meant estimating future conditions and planning a longer route if needed.
On the afternoon of March 13, we reached Grytviken in South Georgia. Founded in 1904, this was a major whaling center until its closure in 1966. It is now an important historical site. The South Georgia Museum traces the history of whaling and polar expeditions. Grytviken is also the burial site of Sir Ernest Shackleton, whose grave has become a place of pilgrimage for exploration enthusiasts. The remains of old facilities, rusted ship hulls and buildings, reflect its industrial past and once-thriving whaling era. Conservation teams also work here to protect local wildlife and restore the island's fragile ecosystem. South Georgia government officers came on board to carry out a biosecurity inspection before we could go ashore. In addition to the ship, they also checked all our outerwear including the soles of our boots, Velcro on our parkas, backpacks etc. to make sure that we carried no foreign objects such as seeds or biological matter to the island. I asked to carry some whiskey ashore (more on that later).
We took zodiacs to a pier observing hulks of equipment abandoned here 60 years ago. There were a few maintained buildings including an old Norwegian Anglican Church (the only building that retains its original purpose), a post office, and a museum/gift shop.
I wasted 90 minutes climbing a gravel trail to a viewpoint of Gull Lake. The expedition team screwed up in suggesting, despite the very limited time we had ashore. So, I rushed back to spend some time in the village but was already woefully short of time. I hurried to the post office and mailed some postcards.
The post office is run by British ladies who volunteer their time here, spending four months sharing quarters lacking internet. Apparently, thousands apply for the four openings. (South Georgia and the Falklands are British Overseas Territories).
I had to scramble to the Cemetery a few hundred yards away to visit the famous grave. Sir Ernest Shackleton. In keeping with tradition, I toasted "The Boss" with the whiskey and sprinkled a few drops on his grave. It was touching honouring this adventurer with whom I shared a common love for whiskey and adventure (though on a much smaller scale).
Shackleton died in Grytviken in 1922, on board the Quest, while on yet another great southern expedition. His body was on a ship on its way north to England, when his wife wished that he should be buried in the far South, where his dreams and thoughts had been his whole life. And thus, Sir Shackleton was buried here in Grytviken; to be joined in 2013 with the ashes of his right-hand man Frank Wild.
I trudged back to the zodiac and was one of the last few to leave. The summer glow of the setting sun made the surroundings look even more desolate as I said bye to Shackleton, the seal pups, and lone king penguin.
We remained in South Georgia, moving the next morning to St Andrews, on the north coast of South Georgia. The Bay is home to the busiest beach on the planet, where 4,00,000 King Penguins have converged to raise the next generation. The peaceful snow-capped mountain backdrop is misleading—life in this city is far from simple with ample penguin and seal activity.
This was my favourite landing with a horde of king penguins eagerly awaiting us on the shore like a welcoming committee. I got to interact with many of them, enjoying their presence on this land surrounded by steep mountains, streams and glaciers. King Penguins are inquisitive and curious birds and enjoyed studying us. They would approach, look closely, crane their necks, and walk around us to continue their observation. In their orange, grey, black and white outfits with plastic-like black webbed feet, these birds are enchanting. I spent a lot of time looking at them and watching them inspect me.
Beside penguins, there were a group of large elephant seals lazing, snorting and snoring on the beach, hordes of fur seal pups and sea birds including a lone albatross. I hiked along the beach, crossed a small creek to a hilly viewpoint. Down below were thousands of penguins in a colony with young furry brown chicks. We could only observe from far and take in the smells, sights, screeches, and squawks.
Fully grown king penguins may reach 3 ft/ 95 cm in length and weigh about 37 lbs./17 kg. It is the second largest penguin and got name from the belief that it was the largest of all penguin species—a belief that was overturned in 1884 when its close relative the Emperor Penguin, (which can measure nearly a foot taller), was recognised as a separate species. King penguins, like Emperor penguins, do not build nests. Instead, the male and female take turns cradling their eggs on top of their feet and keeping their young warm with a special flap of naked skin known as the brood pouch.
After close to two hours, it was sadly time to leave. The birds gathered at the beach to say goodbye, and I know that we were as special to them as they were to us. After sailing southeast to Gold Harbor, we spent the afternoon on a zodiac cruise observing more penguins, seals, glaciers and mountains. But it did not compare to the adventure that morning.
The next day, March 15, we were at Fortuna Bay after having sailed that night past Grytviken. This bay sits at the end of a 3.8mi/6km fjord on South Georgia's northeast coast. Its human history is intimately tied to the exploitation of the island's wildlife.
Surrounded by alpine peaks and glaciers, with a plain of tussac grass, it is home to another King Penguin colony. The tussac grass served as a comfortable bed for many seal pups. We hiked along with King Penguins and fur seal pups, including a rare white Leucistic pup.
These seals have white or blonde fur, which is caused by a genetic mutation that prevents melanin and other pigments from colouring the fur. This is not albinism as the skin and eyes are not affected.
A distant waterfall fed a creek that we crossed to another penguin colony. (The western side of Fortuna Bay is marked by the crags of Breakout Ridge. It was from here, on May 20, 1916, that Ernest Shackleton, Tom Crean and Frank Worsley heard the steam whistle of Stromness whaling station and knew that their dramatic rescue journey to save the stranded crew of the Endurance at Elephant Island was almost at an end. "Never had any one of us heard sweeter music," Shackleton wrote of its sound).
We departed from South Georgia that evening of March 16, in heavy seas making course in a northwesterly direction for Buenos Aires. The sea was very rough, and a few passengers got sick and retreated to their cabins. We had a long journey ahead—1,700 mi/2,770 km and four full days to go. We passed marine and bird life including whales, seals and dolphins and skuas, terns, and petrels. I spent my time eating and drinking, and catching up on journalling and emails (the ship had free internet).
We arrived at Buenos Aires port on the 19th morning, and were towed in by a tugboat. We had most of that day free to explore the town. I spent some time with my Australian friends at a beautiful bookstore that was once an opera house, then headed out alone and returned for dinner and bed. My bags got packed and put out in the hallway before retiring for the night. The journey was over.
I disembarked the next morning, March 21, said my goodbyes and toured Teatro Colon and La Boca and spent the rest of the day on a Hop-On-Hop-Off bus before heading to the airport for my 9 pm flight to Houston.
Le Lyrial was a great ship and took us on a 3,640 nautical mile journey over a period of 17 days. She is only 466 ft/142 m long, with a 59 ft/18 m beam, and 15.3 ft/4.7 m draft and travelled at about 15 knots even with wind speeds of 40 knots. It could pretty much get close to land unlike the other larger cruise ships.
Everything about the voyage was top class, matching the service found in five-star hotels. There were only 122 rooms distributed over four decks. All rooms came with balconies. 145 staff looked after all our needs. Room service was at no extra charge and available 24 hours. All the drinks and alcohol were included. And for a solo traveller like me, very importantly, there was no solo supplement.
There were two restaurants. Dinner was on deck 2 at the Le Céleste gastronomic restaurant, with sit down service, cloth napkins, and silverware. The menu included the entire array from soup, starters, mains and dessert with multiple choices for each. French wines and champagne were served with meals. Breakfast and lunch were served on level 4, at La Comète grill restaurant, which included an outdoor area and was self-serve with a wide array of dishes and desserts. Special orders were brought to the table, like my favourite Eggs Benedict. The wait staff was mainly from Indonesia. The working crew, Filipino.
Being a small ship, I missed the opportunity to walk outside on a deck. I made a few visits to the Bridge staffed by a navigation officer and a spotter (looking for floating ice or sea animals). The Bridge was high-tech with multiple consoles, gauges and dials.
There were 60 French speaking passengers and the remaining 16, mostly from Australia. There was a clear demarcation between the French and English speakers. I hung out with the English speakers, but practiced my French on the French speakers who then started opening up and becoming friendly. I met some interesting people. An older French lady heiress to the Heidsieck champagne company who enjoyed conversing with me in Spanish; a retired French diplomat who spoke perfect English and competed with me on the trivia competitions; an older French lady (travelling with her quiet partner) chatting away about the home she was building in Tahiti and her loved annual rejuvenation trips to Rishikesh and Kerala; an Italian fund manager who did her finance studies at San Diego State University in the 1980s, travelling with her daughter studying international politics in Germany; two young guys from Germany who kept to themselves and their cameras; a father from Belgium who had enjoyed the recent Maha Kumbh, travelling with his son (his wife, like mine, deemed Antarctica too cold). The Aussies were a great friendly bunch and included a recently retired new Recreational Vehicle owner with her husband celebrating his birthday; and a few well employed, talented ladies, all adventurous and happy travellers. Then there was an lady from Ireland, happy to talk about her country, and an admirable great grandmother from Australia who, at 78 years of age, did not shirk from trying anything adventurous.
We had two outings each day—mid-morning and mid-afternoon—with the 16 talented and accomplished expedition guides (mostly French, with a Bolivian, Chilean, Japanese, Czech and two Americans). After every expedition, we would be greeted in the lounge with a warm beverage or soup, and some snacks. The food was always plentiful. There would be dancing after dinner in the lounge with live talented musicians. We had musical shows at the theatre at night, too.
On sailing days, there would be a lecture from one of the expedition guides. The topics varied from local wildlife, to planktons, to political governance, to icebergs, to explorers’ dogs, and of course everything Shackleton, Scott and Amundsen. Every evening, the expedition leader John Frick would give a recap of the day and the plan for the following day. Before dinner, we would meet in the lounge for drinks and snacks and then return to the dining room for more food and wine. The cuisine was mostly French—everything baked or cooked fresh on board. The weather during the voyage was just above freezing and, with the strong winds. it could get quite cold. It was overcast most of the time and there were occasional snow flurries.
Before winding down, I must throw in some information on Antarctica. The name "Antarctica" was first used by British explorer James Clark Ross during his 1840 expedition. It comes from the Greek word Antarktikos, meaning "opposite to the Arctic," referencing its location in the southern hemisphere. The Arctic region is a frozen sea surrounded by land, while the Antarctic is a frozen continent surrounded by sea.
There is no time zone here despite its large size. Since it is largely uninhabited and under international governance, the continent is not officially divided into time zones. Research stations follow the time of their choice; either that of the countries funding them or that of the geographically closest country to their base (such as Chile).
The Antarctic ice sheet is the largest single mass of ice on Earth. Antarctica holds about 60 per cent of the Earth's fresh water, but in the form of ice. If all the ice were to melt, sea levels would rise by approximately 230 ft/70 m, submerging many coastal cities.
Antarctica is the largest desert in the world. It receives less than two in/50 mm precipitation, and some parts have not received snow or rain in over two million years!
There are 300 unfrozen lakes here. The lakes are subterranean and are at a temperature above freezing with the heat coming from the earth’s core. A slow climate feedback loop may be bubbling beneath Antarctica’s vast ice sheet.
The continent includes active volcanoes such as Mount Erebus and its iconic lava lake. But at least 100 less conspicuous volcanoes dot the continent, with many clustered along its western coast. Some of those volcanoes peak above the surface, but others sit several kilometers beneath the Antarctic Ice Sheet.
Having turned 72 years of age, with visits to over 72 countries, Antarctica was my seventh continent: making this journey a very special way of enjoying the White Continent.
