My Journey to the Ends of the Earth – Part 2: The Drake Passage to Antarctica

The Drake Passage is known for having some of the roughest seas on earth. Our crossing began on Saturday evening. The announcement from the bridge let us know to expect 40mph winds with 20-25ft waves.  It got off to a rough start.  I’m not prone to motion sickness but my stomach felt slightly unsettled during those first 8 hours and I found it difficult to stay steady on my feet. Trying to walk through the ship was unnerving as I constantly felt as though I could tip over any minute.  Like many, I went to be early simply hoping to get some sleep.

Sleep was uneasy.  The gentle swaying from the previous days had morphed into an intense, uneven rocking.  I couldn’t settle or get comfortable and tossed an turned until the early morning hours.  Finally, around 3:00 a.m. we reached calmer seas and I was finally able to fall into a deep sleep. 

The next day was largely uneventful.  Though the waters seemed somewhat calmer, the overcast skies and biting wind kept the majority of passengers indoors for most of the day.  It was a lazy day spent feeling tired and unmotivated. 

 By mid afternoon the sun slowly began to peak through the heavy clouds and the sea was almost totally smooth.  I had a nice dinner with some other solo travelers followed by a couple of hours in the lounge listing to music. No more stumbling through the hallways or rumblings in the pit of my stomach. I was feeling normal again as I made my way to bed.

The next day I woke up early, like 5:00 a.m. early.  I made my way to the café for some coffee and was delighted to see that the sun was up, the sky was blue and the wind was non-existent.  And the scenery, the scenery was spectacular!

We had reached the contentment of Antarctica and the views in every direction were nothing short of astounding.  More talented photographers and writers would do a better job in describing the day as we sailed along the peninsula and into Paradise Bay. Alas, my camera is not good enough to capture what my eyes could see.  Likewise, I don’t have the vocabulary to accurately describe the wonderland surrounding the ship. 

Imagine living inside of a large, uncut diamond.  Jagged edges, shimmering lights, reflections, and shadows.  A thousand shades of white, and blue with accents of rose quartz and inky black.  Unbreakable and fragile at the same time.  And it goes on and on and on.  Each vista more stunning than the last. 

Around 7:00 a.m. the Antarctic team began broadcasting from the bridge with steady announcements of wildlife sightings.  Throughout the morning I saw groups of penguins diving through the waters like dolphins.  A pod of orca whales swam next to the ship for a full five minutes.  There was seal perched on top of a small iceberg and an albatross flying above the ship.  We even managed to spot some humpback whales.  I tried several times to get pictures of these amazing animals, but they didn’t really turn out.  One of the downsides of sailing through Antarctica on a cruise ship is that you are so high above the waterline that without a high-end telephoto lens, you’re too far away to capture a decent photo.   

The temperature was holding steady right at 32 degrees. It was cold, but there was no wind and when standing in the sun it actually felt quite pleasant outside. I think the passengers were kept warm by their inner enthusiasm paired with the steaming cups of hot chocolate carried on trays through the decks by smiling crew members.

While sailing under the bluest sky that I have ever seen, it occurred to me that time had lost all meaning.  When you have over 20 hours of daylight, no schedule, nowhere that you have to rush off to, what you have is pure peace.  It is so rare that we are able to live precisely in the present and appreciate the bliss that comes with the perfect moment that stretches on past the horizon.  I have no idea how many hours we sailed through Paradise Bay, but it wasn’t long enough.  I suppose there are things so beautiful that you never get tired of looking them. 

Eventually, we left the bay and headed east toward the open water on our way to Elephant Island for another day of scenic sailing.

There are several stories surrounding how Elephant Island got it's name. Some say it was named after the elephant seals that made their home there. Others say it's because the island is shaped like an elephant's head and still others claim that it was because earlier sailors refer to it as "A hell-of-a-island" which when said a certain way sound like "elephant island".

In the morning before we reached the island, I attended a lecture on Ernest Shackleton, an Irish Explore who lead three expeditions to the region. Best known as the captain of the Endurance, a ship that got stuck in the ice and a crew that spent over a year stranded in Antarctica, much of that time on Elephant Island. It's an amazing story of survival and defiantly added context to our experience that afternoon.

Elephant Island stands largely alone off of the Peninsula. It looks like the frozen version of Skull Island from the King Kong movie. A black peak covered in ice, towers over a black sea. While the majority of the coastline is a vertical cliff, there are a few areas where it would be possible to come ashore via ship. The sparse shore line is home to penguins and elephant seals. We couldn't really get close enough to see those Antarctic animals we instead, we got to see whales.

For the entire afternoon we sailed through pods of whales. Bluefin, Humpbacks and even the massive Blue Whales. From all sides of the ship we were able to spend hours watching them surface and dive as water streamed upward from the blowholes. It was astounding to watch these large creatures. It was as though they had all come out to welcome us to their home. A home where they thrived and none of us could ever survive.

On the first day of the cruise, I attended the welcome lecture and one of the speakers told us that Antarctica changes you. On that evening as we sailed away from the island I was bundled up, sitting outside with some of my new friends and under the midnight sun we all found ourselves in a philosophical mood. One person explained how the experience made them feel humble. I expressed that it filled me with a deep sense of gratitude and another woman stated that being in this place was like being alone with God. I'm not a particularly religious person, but that sentiment feels profoundly true. All you really have at the end of the world, yourself and God.