It was about 10 hours into our journey through the swirling Drake Passage when I realized I was suffering from a strange kind of cabin fever. Sailing aboard Viking Cruises’ Viking Octantis ship, we were already a quarter of the way through the notoriously temperamental canal that connects the southernmost tip of Argentina to the vast expanse of Antarctica. Cruise ship passengers on this route typically encounter ‘Drake Lake’ or ‘Drake Shake’ conditions; we suffered the latter.
As winds of 45 knots (50 mph) bypassed us, 15-foot waves crashed into the ship like gigantic waves. As I sat pinned to my bed as the horizon shook outward, my brain had hit on a helpful dissociative tactic. I had become philosophical. I decided I wanted and needed this experience. Antarctica is a place that few will encounter. I would have felt like I didn’t deserve it if it was easy to get there; this was the penalty due for the coming rewards.
I would have felt like I didn’t deserve it if it was easy to get there; this was the penalty due for the coming rewards.
My Catholic upbringing may have had something to do with that masochistic approach, but there’s no denying how demanding it is to gain access to Antarctica. The kind of travelers who can afford to visit may be more accustomed to being pampered at a Four Seasons, but you’ll have to allow for some inconvenience if you want to visit the frozen continent.
During Viking Cruises’ 13-day Antarctic Explorer voyage, we had flown from Heathrow to Buenos Aires (refueling in Rio de Janeiro). After a night in Argentina’s capital, it was a four-hour flight to Ushuaia, the southernmost city in the world, and then up to 48 hours of sailing through the Drake Passage.
That’s not to say that Norwegian Octantis itself is lacking in any way. The 189-cabin ship can accommodate 378 passengers and 256 crew members. Although built to navigate extreme environments, it is essentially a seaside resort, with a chic Scandinavian-style spa and two swimming pools; a gym and exercise studio; a hi-tech lecture hall; and several bars and restaurants. The belly of the ship contains Zodiac inflatable boats, kayaks and two submarines, among other things. Viking Octantis is also considerably more stylish than several American cruise ships I had previously sailed.
There are plenty of pale forests, a sprawling library on the upper deck but no ostentatious casino, and a truly attention-worthy art collection with a selection of stunning photography from the earliest Antarctic exhibitions.
I was just able to explore the ship when an announcement indicated that our first notable iceberg was floating past. I looked outside and there it was. As tall as the Houses of Parliament, a slate-gray block of ice glittered beneath the stormy sky. It was cleaved into such a neat rectangular shape that I immediately imagined it as a hulking Five Guys chip. That comparison may have been prompted by famine-induced delirium, but whatever the case, the momentary landmark signaled that we were about to cross the planet’s most extreme frontier.
Reaching such an important milestone also reminded us that we were entering territory where nothing is guaranteed. We were informed that our itinerary would be constantly adjusted in response to the weather and that passenger safety would take priority over everything else. Things can change in the blink of an eye – as we would later discover. Our tentative plan was to sail southwest along the outer expanse of the Antarctic Peninsula, and at first all went well. We dropped anchor to view thriving penguin colonies and were amazed on a flawless morning as we sailed past the towering basalt mountains that framed the Lemaire Channel. The dark, still water around us had the sheen and solidity of a black sand beach – an illusion that was magically shattered when a pod of killer whales breached the surface, shooting water into the air like confetti.
On another blindingly clear day we sailed to Chiriguano Bay, where the mountains were covered in ancient ice as shiny and smooth as whipped cream. In a cove where brash ice had unfolded over the surface of the water like a net curtain, we explored the area with Zodiacs and kayaks. I have never seen the blues as radiant and remarkable as it was then. In the distance, the light had refracted in a way I didn’t know was possible, covering distant snow-capped peaks of the Antarctic Peninsula in heavenly gossamer gold. It was a perfect day. Then the situation changed with the news that a passenger had a serious health problem. We had to return.
Before joining Viking’s Antarctic cruises, everyone must undergo a health screening. But since the average passenger is in their mid-60s, an accident is always possible. If someone dies, he or she is placed in an onboard morgue and the cruise drifts on. But in the event of sudden, serious conditions, the person concerned may require specialist care that goes beyond what is available on the ship. We needed to reach King George Island, at the tip of the peninsula, where the local investigators are served by a small airstrip, so that this individual could be airlifted to extended support in Chile. We were disappointed that our schedule had been compromised, but we had been relatively lucky. If the weather had been too bad to land a plane, we would have sailed back to Ushuaia.
King George Island is a strange place, home to about 150 resilient specialists in the summer and about forty hardcore residents in the winter. While we waited here for the plane, we heard stories about how the intensity of the weather can affect the mental health of residents. These vicissitudes came to light in 2018, when a Russian was charged with attempted murder after stabbing a colleague. It was alleged that his victim repeatedly told him the ending of the books he was reading.
I wasn’t too impressed with King George Island, but our detour brought luck. Our captain decided that we would head to the Weddell Sea along a little-visited route rather than repeating our original route. Seasoned crew members who had been to Antarctica twenty or more times had never seen this environment; we truly reached new horizons. We ventured on, navigating a map full of names signifying danger and disaster: Exasperation Inlet, Cape Disappointment, Deception Island, Erebus and Terror Gulf. But it was smooth sailing for us as we floated between colossal icebergs as wide as city blocks. I was reminded of how I used to ‘read’ clouds as a child. Looking to my left, I saw a crystal clear cathedral, complete with arches and spires; on the right, where my friend compared a vertical shape to the Statue of Liberty, I saw a raised middle finger. I worried that our observations would be as revealing as a Rorschach test.
For days the beauty was endless and almost overwhelming. I kept my curtains open at night so I wouldn’t miss a second of it. When I wasn’t visiting their abundant colonies on land, I became accustomed to seeing penguins toddling, sunbathing, and sledding on the ice floes that floated past my window.
Although it was rarely dark, I admired long, dewy sunsets as the sky turned pink and amber and the water swirled with iridescence.
And now that I’m back in familiar London, I still remember a silent, strange night as the end of our adventure drew near and we prepared to tackle the North Passage again. I had awoken with a start to find the ship shrouded in a mist so milky and dense that I could not make out what was the horizon, the sea, or the sky. Everything was smoky white everywhere and in this strange liminal state, half asleep and still dizzy from all the mystery and majesty that had already enveloped me, I had the strange feeling that I had left the world I knew behind and somewhere was caught in between. dream and reality.
Viking Cruises’ Antarctic Explorer voyage costs from £10,095 per person. Prices include return flights from UK airports, one night in Buenos Aires, 11 nights on board, all meals on board (with complimentary wine and beer at lunch and dinner), WiFi, gratuities, expedition equipment and excursions. To make a reservation, call 0800 319 66 60 or drop by www.viking.com