The 7th Continent
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Antarctica
I reached that feeling of profound alignment at the edge of the world. I swam in the Southern Ocean, stood among more than half a million King penguins at St. Andrews Bay, and walked the shores of Antarctica—my seventh continent—and it was absolutely brilliant.
I was most excited to arrive in Antarctica, a location I had all but given up hope of ever visiting. Gitty was not previously interested in this frozen continent because it was way to remote and way too cold, but then we found ourselves heading towards Ushuaia, the most southern town of Argentina, and we needed to find our way to Europe. Flying was an option, but then Gitty stumbled on an expedition cruise ship going from Cape-to-Cape (Cape Horn, Argentina to Cape Town, South Africa) and this opportunity opened up for us.
I had wondered where all the huge icebergs were—the ones the size of small islets. I had observed some pretty massive ones close to the glaciers in the Chilean and Argentinian Andes, but nothing like the ones we navigated around in Antarctica.
Finally, we saw endless walls of glaciers, enormously high and looking like anytime some icebergs would calve off.
Massive frozen islands of ice floating in the ocean, the towering peaks dwarfing our ship.
Icebergs of all sizes floating around us in their of crazy looking shapes and blue and white ice cores. We never got dangerously close, knowing that beneath the ocean they were possibly six times larger and could flip at a moment’s notice.
Colonies of gentoo penguins dotted their slopes like little black specks, playfully slipping into the water for a swim and, for us, appearing to simply mill about without a care in the world.
We often spotted groups of 5-20 penguins gracefully gliding through the water, diving and popping up again with bodies designed for these frigid waters – it was an amazing view we could not get enough of.
Our first experience walking among the wildlife was at Half Moon Island in the South Shetland Islands, a crescent-shaped rocky landmass filled with fur seals and Chinstrap penguins—truly amazing! Watching these cute, tiny penguins waddling up steep slopes trying to reach the highest ridges was spectacular. They are hardwired to climb to the peaks because that’s where they reach the snow, which is safer and more optimal for hatching their eggs.
A Chinstrap penguin going through the annual three week molting before leaving the island until the next breeding season a year later
Chinstrap penguins making their way ever higher on Half Moon Island
Mom and chick
To get there, we first needed to cross the dreaded Drake Passage—a very wobbly experience, to say the least. We got a taste of it on our way to Cape Horn, a rough patch of ocean where the Atlantic and Pacific collide. There’s a band of uninterrupted sea between Antarctica and the tips of South America and South Africa, where no landmass inhibits the winds from roiling the ocean. Rough journeys through the Drake Passage have unsettled many a seasick soul. Fortunately, we survived the rocking with stoic fortitude—and some liquid fortitude.
In fact, the churning seas could have been much worse; however, we were extremely lucky with the weather. If the trip could be described as anything, it was fortunate in that regard. Other than a few annoyingly foggy days cruising past whale-density hot spots, unusually rich in krill due to updrafts on the edges of tectonic plates bringing the tiny food up to the surface in a vertical water column, we had amazing weather throughout the three-week voyage. Our visibility was limited to just around the ship’s perimeter, so we could frustratingly hear the blow spouts in the fog.
We did see our fair share of whales including this Humpback showing off
We spotted this rather impressive Sei Whale in the Darwin Strait leaving Ushuaia. The curved fin identifies this species
On expedition ships, excursions are included, unlike on destination cruises where every activity incurs an additional stateroom charge. Unlike traditional cruises, expeditions are not guaranteed due to choppy seas, foul weather, or dangerous landing conditions. So when I say we were extremely lucky, I mean we were able to make every landing and visit every location possible during our time aboard.
What made visiting Antarctica special for me—beyond the obvious—were some extraordinary experiences. I kayaked among humpback whales.
Successfully kayaked through the icebergs to make it onto slippery Antarctica
Randy kayaking with humpback whales was truly incredible
I took this photo from the kayak
I back flipped into the freezing ocean (the polar plunge) and then rushed to the hot tub.
It is one of those moments in life where one needs to detach the brain from common sense
And being constantly surrounded by such amazing wildlife defies description.
The panoramas were jaw-dropping beautiful. Pictures can’t do justice to standing on deck and gazing at massive ice shelves, tremendous icebergs floating in the Gerlache Strait, and the various scientific research stations set up by countries around the world. I’m used to snow-capped mountains, but seeing mountains completely draped in snow is beyond beautiful.
Oblivious penguins stood in the shallow waters of Cierva Cove, unaware of an agile yet massive leopard seal sneaking silently in just below the waterline and grabbing one in its jaws. The seal dragged the struggling penguin away from the coast and behind an iceberg, where it proceeded to smash it violently against the water—a truly National Geographic moment.
Swarms of penguins swam in undulating waves, bobbing gracefully in and out of the water in large groups. A pod of over a hundred southern right whale dolphins, a rare sight indeed, swam playfully in front of the ship while, at the same time on the port side, a hunting group of pilot whales searched the ocean for fish. Everywhere, at any moment, something exciting could happen as nature is wildly unpredictable.
Southern Right Whale Dolphins
Gitty was especially looking forward to South Georgia Island, a birding paradise often visited by documentarians including Sir David Attenborough. Penguin colonies ranging from the thousands to the hundreds of thousands lined the icebergs, islands, and coastlines throughout South Georgia Island. Vivid green grasslands and blue skies added incredible color to our sensational adventure, contrasting with the muted browns, grays, and whites of Antarctica. So beautiful!
Over half a million penguins smell like it too
The landscape of St. Andrews Bay was made for documentaries
In many ways, visiting South Georgia was even more exciting than stepping foot on Antarctica—it was colorful, diverse, and teeming with wildlife. At Gold Harbour, we saw numerous birds and seals, including our first encounter with massive elephant seals. The males exposed black teeth beneath their drooping proboscises, engaging in shouting matches before collapsing unceremoniously to rest.
Randy at St. Andrews Bay, South Georgia, at a rookery of more than half million King penguins
Gitty at Gold Harbour observing King penguins in close proximity
We spent several hours walking along the shore as the sun sank below the mountains, casting long shadows between bird nests, king penguin rookeries, and aggressive fur seal pups that occasionally charged at us, baring sharp teeth until we waved them off. We didn’t want to leave—it was so exhilarating—but the approaching evening forced us back to the ship.
St. Andrews Bay was home to fur seals, elephant seals, skuas, petrels, and shearwaters, but unlike Gold Harbour, the sheer scale was unimaginable. After trekking along the coast, wading a river of glacial runoff, and cresting a hill to the main king penguin rookery, we were met with the deafening calls of half a million King penguins—the largest gathering anywhere in the world. It was a stunning sight. We all shared a sense of being somewhere truly extraordinary, and although we were not the first visitors to witness this sight, it felt like a privilege to be among the few who have had the opportunity.
As the sun began to set over Gourdin Island—where we identified three species of penguins: chinstrap, gentoo, and our first Adélie penguins—we observed fascinating behavior. As we stood in their way, this line of penguins eventually took an alternate route leading to this humorous video.
Grytviken, once an important whaling station that shut down in the 1960s as the industry declined, was our next destination on South Georgia Island. It took another 20 years before a ban on whaling was implemented, and some species—like blue whales and fin whales, which reproduce slowly—have yet to fully recover. Humpbacks, however, seem to have rebounded, which is encouraging.
Humpback whale spouts are straight up (we learned that different whales have different spout signatures. For example, the Sperm Whale has an angled blow, the Southern Right Whale as a V-shaped blow and the Blue Whale has a very tall blow)
Shackleton was buried at Grytviken
We learned a great deal about Ernest Shackleton during our journey, which made visiting Point Wild on Elephant Island—where he left his crew stranded while he sought rescue—all the more poignant. I also trekked from Fortuna Bay over a mountain pass to Stromness Harbour, following in Shackleton’s footsteps. The four-hour early morning hike took me through tussock grass and rugged terrain, with a few aggressive fur seal encounters along the way. It was nothing short of miraculous that Shackleton navigated a small lifeboat across violent seas from Elephant Island to South Georgia, then crossed the island’s mountainous interior in harsh, near-winter conditions to reach help.
Part of our Shackleton trek involved hiking through low-hanging clouds
Only about 10 ships visit this island annually, so they are very excited when an expedition cruise like ours visits the island
Our last stop on this remarkable journey before arriving in Cape Town, South Africa, was the remotest populated island in the world: Tristan da Cunha. A British Overseas Territory, the island is a steep volcanic cone with a single settlement—Edinburgh of the Seven Seas. About 230 people live there all year round by farming cows, sheep, and chicken, which are marked and who can all roam the island as they want. The markings identify to whom the animal belongs. A volcanic eruption in the early 1960s forced the population to evacuate to Britain temporarily, but the stubborn inhabitants were back home to their remote island as soon as possible.
The small community on Tristan takes up only a small corner of the island
Their main export is the Tristan rock lobster, and we were lucky enough to enjoy it that evening on the pool deck, accompanied by live music and a spectacular sunset.
The best sunset of the trip, dinner under the stars, and Tristan rock lobster!
Most of the expedition team had PhDs and gave fascinating lectures on relevant topics to our trip
There were countless activities, scientific lectures, and wildlife sightings to keep us engaged while at sea. I barely had time to read a book or work on my laptop without something drawing my attention away. We also met many like-minded adventurers: a Canadian backpacking around the world, a German couple cycling with their own regular bikes across continents, and a younger couple on an ambitious five-year world trip among the passengers.
All told, we explored 17 different locations—on the South Shetland Islands, in Antarctica, South Georgia, Tristan de Cunha, and finally Cape Town, South Africa. We spotted seven species of penguins, including macaroni and rockhopper penguins, as well as 37 other bird species, and leopard seals, fur seals, elephant seals, sea lions, and seven species of whales and dolphins in their natural environments. It was an amazing opportunity for nature lovers like ourselves.
Wilson’s Petrel
Rare sighting of the South Georgia Pipit
South Georgia Gyrfalcon
Antarctica, frigid, brutally challenging for all of natures creatures surviving there, still pulls at us. As we progressed north towards South Africa and happily shed layers of clothing with the rising temperature, we still longed for the icebergs and penguins and extraordinary sea birds of the south polar region.
I felt both sadness in saying farewell to our newfound friends aboard the ship and relief at being back on solid ground when we finally arrived in Cape Town. Nothing lasts forever, but this three-week journey through a majestic wonderland of wilderness and wildlife seemed to end far too quickly.
