"Looking for volunteers for dangerous journey. Low pay, bitter cold, long hours in complete darkness guaranteed. Return uncertain. Honor and recognition only in case of success." (Sir Ernest Henry Shackleton in a 1907 advertisement for his expedition to the South Pole.) About 100 years later, the start of a journey to the Antarctic polar region can look very different:
The familiar Windows startup melody plays in your ears, the freshly brewed coffee steams and the e-mail program calls up the first messages of the day: "Your contribution to the GEO travel community has been selected by our editorial team as one of the 100 best. You have been chosen as the main winner in the subsequent prize draw. Look forward to a 14-day expedition to Antarctica and follow in the footsteps of the legendary explorer Sir Ernest Shackleton. Millions of fur seals, over 300,000 elephant seals and leopard seals and millions of golden-crested, gentoo, chinstrap and king penguins live here in the Southern Ocean..." (Excerpt from the e-mail from Dörte Brilling, community editor at GEO.de)
Since the return is rather certain these days, our journey starts in mid-October in the spring there and therefore no long hours of complete darkness are to be expected, it is immediately clear: this is a welcome opportunity for Steffi and me to get to know one of the last almost pristine regions on earth.
The ropes with which the MV Ushuaia is moored in the small harbor of Mar del Plata in South America are as thick as an arm. I had imagined our ship to be a little bigger, allowing us to travel safely between icebergs and over waves as high as houses. A member of the crew immediately reassures me and says: "No, it's great that it's not so big. The ship rolls off the waves better and doesn't break apart. It's also designed like a buoy. It rights itself again from any position." Oh well, cast off then!
Seasick mountain people
As I'm more at home in the mountains, I hold on to the handrail next to the toilet as if it were a via ferrata over a yawning abyss as soon as we set sail. Of course, the sailors and some of the more sea-tested members of our motley group of 78 don't mind the slight lurching of the boat in the glorious sunshine and barely noticeable swell. Thanks to a few chemical pills, I get the seasickness under control for the time being, at least during the several-day crossing to South Georgia and the time near the coast. The following days bring us a lot of sunshine and hardly any swell, which is atypical for this region. A variety of seabirds and a few fin whales accompany our steel home. Numerous lectures by several guest lecturers on penguin research, geology and climatic changes in recent years provide a welcome change of pace. There is also plenty of time to get to know your fellow travelers. Professional photographers, travelers, nature enthusiasts and a few well-heeled ladies and gentlemen populate the MV Ushuaia, as our ship is called to match the destination port of our trip. This is a former US spy ship that has been refitted with reinforcements on the hull for tough use in the Southern Ocean. It is one of the smallest passenger ships in these waters and, thanks to the trained Antarctic experts on board and various special permits, we will be able to enter bays and regions in South Georgia that are off-limits to the large cruise liners.
After four days at sea, it's "land in sight" and WHAT land! Alpine-looking mountains, eaten away by large glaciers, rise up on the horizon. As the icing on the cake, this panorama is lined with numerous icebergs and pieces of ice shelf that are not so common in these latitudes. One of these floating blocks of fresh water has an edge length of 4 x 8 km and is the size of an island. It would make for a really good hike. In Fortuna Bay, the heavy anchor chains rattle for the first time and we climb into small motorized inflatable boats, known as Zodiacs. This is not so easy, because first you have to climb down a rickety staircase on the side of the boat and then you have to wait for the right time to get into the rubber boat, which dances up and down on the several-metre-high waves.
