The Last Continent

Looking back at the exploits of some of the great Antarctic explorers, if you had had a burning desire to be part of an expedition to that remote region, what would be the attraction for you?

If you were intrigued by scientific exploration, you would probably have gone with Scott. If speed in reaching your goal was the primary criteria, then Amundsen would have been your man. But if during the expedition things went wrong and your very survival was at stake, you would have prayed for Shackleton.

It was the Ernest Shackleton story of survival that allured us to the most remote continent in the world – and the remaining continent we had yet to visit.

After Amundsen won the race to the South Pole in 1912, Shackleton turned his attention to crossing the continent from sea to sea, via the pole. He left on his Imperial Trans-Antarctic Expedition in 1914 from Buenos Aires on board The Endeavour but part way through the expedition, the ship became trapped in the ice and he and his crew were marooned. The story of survival is inspiring - everyone came home safely, but not before enduring incredible hardships and suffering many disappointments.

Our own trip to Antarctica in January 2004 followed the ill-fated voyage of The Endeavour from South America to the Antarctic continent and its islands, South Georgia and its capital, the old whaling town of Grytviken. It was in Grytviken where Shackleton, in total exhaustion at the end of his isolation, staggered to the door of the house of the Norwegian whaling master and announced who he was.

As for our adventure, we began it in Ushuaia on the tip of Tierra del Fuego in Southern Patagonia - the most southerly city in the world. Fin del mundo - the end of the world. We boarded our ship, the Marco Polo, and set sail from Ushuaia with a sense of great expectation.

The first thing one notices about this part of the world is the smell. Then the colour - and then the silence.

The smell is clean and fresh, with a hint of krill - small creatures that provide a major food source for penguins. The colour palette changes constantly in tune with the ever changing weather. But the silence and the vastness of everything around one is overwhelming and it made us feel insignificant.

Not forgetting the residents of the region - seals and penguins are present in prolific numbers, as well birds of every size and description. What a cruel environment in which to live - survival of the fittest and the bravest.

For us it was summer - 14 January 2004 to be exact - and that first night we were asleep long before darkness came. Darkness stays but a few short hours and by the time we awoke the next morning the sun was rising high in the sky. Daybreak was at 3 a.m.

What does one do at that time in the morning? Birding on Board of course! Chris Wilson, the resident ornithologist had the philosophy that birds are the thermometer of our environment and their behavior is the precursor of what is to come. Every morning, and I mean any time after 4 a.m. Chris led the aft bird watch as sea birds of all descriptions swooped and soared above us. Chris was not above harbouring an injured bird in his cabin until it was ready to return to the wild. Such was his passion, I stupidly told him at the end of the trip that until I had participated in his birding sessions, they had all been seagulls to me. He smiled and said that rich in my new found knowledge he had obviously done his job.

Our adventure involved zodiac expeditions from the ship, the first of which took us to a King Penguin rookery in the Bay of Isles. 20,000 pairs of penguin went about their day. Seals sunned themselves. Cormorants and petrols skimmed the water as we skirted the shoreline.

Arriving in South Georgia, we awoke to brilliant sunshine and a vista framed in snow-capped peaks. Icebergs and several longliner fishing boat wrecks were visible in the bay. The zodiacs took us in for a beach landing in Gritviken and its resident population of two souls. The white picket fence which surrounds the Whalers Cemetery was temporary home to dozens of penguins and seals who were totally unimpressed by our presence.

The next day good weather permitted us an unscheduled cruise into Drygalski Fjord on southern South Georgia. The scenery was breathtaking - there were numerous snow-capped glaciers and oddly shaped icebergs floating silently against a backdrop of sea-green ocean.

On 26 January at 7:30 p.m. Marco Polo crossed Latitude 50 degrees south, officially taking us into Antarctica. Arriving at Coronation Island, enormous glaciers swept down to the sea.

Today's zodiac landing was a visit to Shingle Cove and a large Adelie penguin rookery. Skuas, an aggressive bird, patrolled the shoreline looking for undefended young penguin. Youngsters cried frantically for their mothers as a skua approached - carcasses were plentiful.

Foggy weather and poor visibility resulted in many dodging the iceberg manoeuvres the next day. Confirming the fact that most of an iceberg is underwater, one rather large berg brushed the port side of Marco Polo, taking out the railings on Decks 9 and 10 and causing much consternation all round. The Captain was not smiling that day.

Underway again and repairs well in hand, the next day was spent threading the eye of the needle through an extensive field of icebergs - iceberg alley. Small growlers - low lying icebergs - occasionally made contact with the hull or were cut in two by the bow as the ship thrust forward. Our speed dropped to a crawl as we passed through a large concentration of sea ice - penguins and seals lounging on the ice flows.

At 10:30 a.m. on 29 January we entered Antarctic Sound, setting foot on the Antarctic peninsular at Hope Bay. We were greeted by a Snowy Sheathbill feasting on the remains of a penguin that had been turned inside out by the exploits of a Leopard Seal. The Leopard Seal had thrashed the penguin on the surface of the water to break its skin - a gruesome sight.

Kelp Gulls stood at the waters edge as Adelie penguins marched down to the sea, some sliding face first on their bellies. The mountainside was covered in what at first glance looked like black dots – an estimated 124,000 pair of Adelie penguins. Skuas circled above searching for defenceless chicks.

The trip had been full of drama and excitement, but there was also a sense of tranquility in the knowledge we had had an opportunity to explore this untamed place.

We returned to Ushuaia across a calm Drake Passage and past Cape Horn.The next morning we would begin the marathon flight home. The first leg was a chartered 747 - the same plane that had brought us down from Buenos Aires. As we began take-off we just didn't seem to be going fast enough. With the ocean approaching, the captain aborted the take-off, turned the aircraft around, and got it right the second time. A final drama in an eventful journey!