Would you brave the high seas, zero-and-below

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1 THE CALL OF ANTARCTICA Antarctica is the true last frontier an ethereal, icy realm, a wondrous reminder of our responsibility to preserve this planet by KITTY CORTES photographs by JOSE CORTES photos of ship interior courtesy of Polar Latitudes Above: The largest king penguin colony in the subantarctic island of South Georgia, over 200,000 breeding pairs. Possibly the largest bird colony by mass on earth. Opposite page, right: Iceberg art at Cierva Cove Would you brave the high seas, zero-and-below temperatures, and venture to extreme landscapes to behold a destination so wondrous that it will leave you thinking, nature might have outdone itself? I hope you say yes, and worry about the logic later because there are very few journeys worth the plunge. Antarctica and South Georgia in the sub-antarctic are two frontiers that promise to open up your view of the world the very second you commit to set sail. Our vessel was the Sea Explorer (since refurbished and renamed Hebridean Sky ), intimately elegant and formidable. It is operated by Polar Latitudes, partners of A2A Journeys, who organizes travel to this remarkable part of the world. The expedition team on board is composed of seasoned naturalists, adventure guides, and crew members with expertise in polar exploration; some of whom have done sailings to Antarctica for over 20 years. We were in the best hands as we embarked on our 20-day journey due south. As if taking us under their wing, seabirds including albatrosses and petrels swooped acrobatically above us. They glided along with the ship s slipstream for kilometers as we watched the port of Puerto Madryn in Argentina disappear from sight. A few southern right whales also breached, seemingly bidding us a great journey. We were very soon out in open water with no land mass in sight and quickly finding our sea legs. We sailed past the Patagonian Shelf over the next few days. The fascination for our newfound environment was fueled by marine life any one of us might fortunately spot, from out on deck or from the privacy of our rooms. We constantly kept one eye over the horizon even during the most engaging talks and discussions offered on board by specialists on the expedition team. Among them were a marine biologist, a geologist, an ornithologist, a historian, a wildlife artist, intrepid kayakers, and adventure photographers. Topics ranged from glaciology and geology to photography in challenging environments. There were several spaces of interest on board to delight the explorer, writer, photographer, poet, foodie, scientist, artist, and dreamer. At times, it was enough just to gaze out and marvel at the light and reflection of sea and sky in this increasingly intriguing environment. We first set foot on solid ground in the Falkland Islands. We trekked to Devil s Cove where dramatic cliffs overlooking the sea were home grounds to thousands of majestic black-browed albatrosses and hundreds of rockhopper penguins. It was a windy encounter that perfectly showed off the rockhoppers coif and introduced us to one of many species we had yet to encounter. Quantifying this imminent amount is astounding, as we would soon discover. We traversed the temperamental swells of the Scotia Sea over the next few days. Finally, one morning we awakened to calm, a clear vision of glaciers, on a glorious sun-drenched day in ironic contrast. As we sailed closer, the specks dotting the glacial islands became more visible, animated and very, very audible. The steady hum turned into a staccato mix of sounds peeps, gakkers, growls overpowering even our own heaves of excitement. It was a cacophony of hundreds of thousands of king penguins calling out, interspersed with the vocal assertions of tens of thousands of elephant and fur seals. We had arrived at our penultimate destination, South Georgia. Here, a staggering estimated 70 million animals are known to populate its islands and waters. It has no permanent human resident, no trees, and the closest inhabited land was our last pit stop, the Falkands, 1,400 kilometers away. We were now very much left to our own devices. We had reached this daunting landscape that proved 100\Metro Society August \Metro Society August 2016

2 Ernest Shackleton s leadership and tested his men s endurance in their failed polar exploration in Our expedition leader deftly calculated logistics to ensure we could safely anchor, maneuver zodiacs, and blaze our trail on rocks and glaciers. We learned the need to watch out for the downslope of intimidating katabatic winds in strategizing our approach. We landed at Salisbury Plains, South Georgia s largest area of level land with 60,000 breeding pairs of king penguins; also a breeding area for Antarctic fur seals. We found our feet on Prion Island, an important nesting site for petrels, prions, and wandering albatross (the largest seabird in the sky with a wingspan of 3.5 meters). Both wind and snow flurry picked up, casting a dreamy veil as we explored Fortuna Bay among more penguin colonies and territorial seals occupying the beaches. We went ashore on Stromness, where an abandoned whaling station still leaves an unpalatable eerie spell in the air remnants of misguided human Above: Chinstrap penguin courtship ritual at Half Moon Bay, South Shetland Islands. Below: The tabular iceberg known to scientists as B15Y remnant of an iceberg once larger than Jamaica that had broken off the Antarctic shelf in Opposite page from top: Though gargantuan in plain sight, only percent of an iceberg s full mass is visible above water; the red-orange beaks of gentoo penguins add contrast to the monotone of black, white, and ice. sovereignty in history. But hope sprung gloriously as we landed at St. Andrews Bay, home to the largest king penguin colony in South Georgia and possibly the largest bird colony by mass on earth, estimated at over 200,000 breeding pairs. Words evaded us, replaced by repeated gasps of disbelief at the magnificent and overwhelming sense of it all. Conditions could not have been more favorable as the sun shone brightly and winds all but disappeared. We were starting to peel off layers of clothing as if we were molting along with the penguins. We d like to believe that our determined collective will to explore respectfully and gratefully was rewarded with ideal weather. That Mother Nature heeded our wishes and acknowledged graciously. We took every opportunity to chart our progress from the ship s bridge, which was open to passengers. We were now well on our way through the Southern Ocean to our final frontier, the Antarctic Peninsula. A pod of orcas surprised us with a generous appearance heightening our sense of the realm we were soon approaching. The second engineer on the ship was Filipino (as were most of the ship s crew) and articulated the finer points of navigating through what was increasingly filling our view and path: icebergs. As bergs and sea ice increased in both density and proximity, our excited chatter inversely decreased to give way to focused concentration by the crew. The recognition of how powerful these natural ice sculptures are, and how our ship was but a speck against their dominance, left all of us in awestruck silence. We finally found anchor in the stillness of the Antarctic Sound that lies between the very tip of the peninsula and the gateway to the Weddell Sea. The silvery sky with lenticular clouds, mirrored by glistening turquoise water, joined seamlessly to form a magical cinematic dome around us. Even more breathtaking was being surrounded by gargantuan icebergs and the knowledge that only 10 to 20 percent of each berg is visible above water. Our ship reverently sailed by the 22 kilometer long by 3.7 kilometer wide tabular iceberg known to scientists as B15Y. It is a remnant of the iceberg (once larger than Jamaica) that broke off from the Antarctic shelf in We spent the next days navigating the peninsula through Mikkelsen Harbor, Cierva Cove, Neko Harbor, and Cuverville Island. The bays were splendidly scenic and filled with towering and castellated icebergs, ethereally blue in hue. We hopped on to zodiacs for 10 and kayaks for two to more ably negotiate our surrounds. Hand on heart, it remains to be the best museum I 102\Metro Society August \Metro Society August 2016

3 have ever experienced one of ice sculptures, soundscapes, watercolor impressions, and wildlife. The best because every bit of it was naturally created, sculpted and put in place by divinity. We waddled and went tobogganing along with adelie, chinstrap, and gentoo penguins. A lost macaroni penguin was spotted communing with the chinstraps finding safety in their numbers. We beamed back at smiling weddell seals. A curious seven to nine-ton minke whale swam inches below our zodiac (which suddenly felt extra small). A leopard seal momentarily surfaced, making its presence felt. We ceremoniously set foot on a tenuous outcrop of rock on the peninsula itself, and celebrated touching ground in this otherworldly place on earth. We had come to appreciate that in the right season, we could explore further and march alongside emperor penguins one day. We vowed to this and raised our glass of whisky filled with 50,000-year-old black ice (pure water so tightly compressed over time that all air and impurities have been removed. It refracts light and looks pitch black in water yet crystal clear in our hands). We had reached a most geographically distant part of the world that fights to stay resilient despite its underlying fragility. A place that increasingly struggles to survive and find balance as a result of our human actions from across the oceans. I often say that nature travel makes one an accidental and most willing custodian for the natural world. Here that statement is exemplary and necessary. We began the journey back north through the South Shetland Islands. A few of us took the plunge into this expedition further, well deeper. A stop at Deception Cove saw some of the brave or foolish strip down to their swimwear and take an actual polar plunge in the icy waters. With a final wave goodbye and a humbled nod of thanks Clockwise from right: Our zodiac sails close to an ethereally blue iceberg; the purposeful steps of king penguins on their way to reunite with their chicks; our ship anchored between brash ice and sections of the iceberg known as B15Y. towards our adoptive refuge the last few days, we sailed back home. The prevalent mood of sadness at leaving was lightly eased by spirited hourglass and Peale s dolphins that accompanied our return, surfing the ship s bow waves. Once again, our collective will must have worked its way into Poseidon s heart. We crossed the Drake Passage, infamous for high winds and rough seas, hence its nemesis nickname: the Drake Shake. It is the shortest route from the Antarctic Peninsula to Cape Horn and our return to solid ground in Ushuaia, Argentina. The passage was calm, representing what to some is its more desirable alter ego: the Drake Lake. In either case, we would have been grateful, as the Drake is a true rite of passage that commands respect, humility, and a deeper appreciation for our world s might. A fitting final swell of wave punctuated our disembarkation to nudge us back into our reality. But nothing is the same after this polar voyage. Our view of the world has grown much bigger, and we feel more connected to it now than ever. We are cradled in its care daily, and it selflessly rocks us into peaceful slumber every night. It does assert its powerful authority on us whenever we callously assume we are more superior. But it remains fragile and trusting of our human choices. We returned from the journey heeding its call; not only to share the experience, but also to educate ourselves on its preservation and protection. The yearning to return one day is deep, far beyond that initial idea of taking just a plunge. It s now a constant current of longing that we will gratefully circumnavigate until that soulful reunion comes. Clockwise from above: Base Esperanza, the Argentinian research station; ship passengers outnumbered by the island s permanent inhabitants of elephant seals and penguins; our favorite iceberg of the trip, all air and impurities eliminated from thousands of years of compression; a gentoo penguin transports a precious pebble in its beak to build its nest; gentoo penguins shield themselves from wind beside a small Argentinian refuge hut on Mikkelsen Harbour. 104\Metro Society August \Metro Society August 2016

4 Clockwise from right: The Hebridean Sky after a US$6 million refit in spring of 2016; the library offers a full rear view of the ocean; a suite on the promenade deck; bar and coffee lounge where many stories are shared and songs sung; an always wellstocked bar on offer. Clockwise from top: Remains of a failed ancient vessel in pole exploration history; triple suite on deck 3; owner s suite on the penthouse deck; a cinematic and everchanging view as you dine out on deck. Getting to Antarctica from Asia: Flights from Asia to Buenos Aires are offered by airlines such as Emirates and Qatar Airways. Or you can opt to travel via Australia, Europe, or the US. From Buenos Aires, fly to the ports of ship embarkation at Puerto Madryn or Ushuaia with airlines such as Aerolinas Argentinas or LATAM Airlines. Kitty Cortes traveled as a guest of A2A Journeys. For tailor-made itineraries, contact A2A Journeys at www. a2ajourneys.com. A2A Safaris has an office in WH Unit 10-B Lapanday Center, 2263 Pasong Tamo Extension, Makati City, with telephone number (02) and website, 106\Metro Society August \Metro Society August 2016

5 Clockwise from top, right: Azure blue sky and turquoise water seamlessly meet at Neko Harbour; outdoor dining like no other at sundown in Antarctica; private balcony of a penthouse deck suite; (all remaining photos) world-class cuisine on board with nothing less than the warm and caring service from one of many Filipino staff throughout the expedition. 108\Metro Society August \Metro Society August 2016