Viking Cruises

in e Living Room or the Explorers' Lounge to survey the scenery. ose are the passive options. But there is also a range of craft to bring you closer. is is one of the differences between other journeys and an Antarctic "expedition". e whole point of this ship is to get you as near to the landscape as possible. And so there are Zodiac cruises and landings, submarine ventures, a dozen kayaks and a speedy military-style Special Operations Boat with shock-absorbing seats to take on the waves. Zodiacs are the workhorses, shuttling groups of about 10 passengers each to shore, driven by a guide likely to be a marine mammal specialist or an ornithologist able to provide a running commentary on the wildlife. Did you know whales keep half their brain active while they sleep? Our first onshore stop is on day three of the journey, visiting a penguin rookery on Half Moon Island, part of the South Shetland group. I arrive dressed in the ship-provided uniform of black waterproof pants, black gumboots (on loan), and a red parka on top of a blue puffer jacket (to keep). Scrambling on to land as a group, we look like an invasive species, easily identifiable by our awkward gait, brightly coloured upper bodies and almost useless hands encased in thick black gloves. We are totally unsuited to the environment, unlike the chinstrap penguins that rule this roost. In the middle distance is a lone Weddell seal, basking in the snow. Up at the rocky peak, the penguin colony is in full swing. We can hear the squawking conversation as they reach their long necks to the sky, shake their beaks and deliver an ecstatic cry. Our guide says it's their way of recognising their mate or delineating their territory. We lumber around in thick boots, clinging to ski poles to stop us slipping. Early in the season, the snow is slowly melting. We pose for pictures, our cameras encased in thick plastic in a bid to prevent them "freezing" in the cold. Marching back down our "people highway", set out with orange poles, we return to the Zodiacs and the safety and warmth of the mother ship. Surely there is no more apt term for the vessel that acts as our sanctuary here. Back on board, classical music plays over the sound system, a backing track for the seabirds that skim across the water and past our windows. e divide between them and us feels vast. We require so much protection against the elements when we venture out beyond the insulated barrier. ey, on the other hand, are perfectly adapted to their environment. As it begins to snow in earnest, I can still see rugged cliffs of ice in the distance. Is that Antarctica proper? e far-off dream beyond the nearby Half Moon Island? A storm is coming in. Soon we will slip away. e penguins won't miss us at all. By day five of the journey many passengers are anxious about their chances of landing on the mainland. Can we say we've been to Antarctica if we haven't set foot on the peninsula? is was supposed to be the day for that landing, but the ice has foiled us. Disappointment is a theme of Antarctic expeditions. ink of Mawson watching the Aurora sail away from his base, condemning him to another winter of darkness. Unrelenting weather is almost always to blame when plans go awry. On this day it's ice that sets us back, but also ice that's responsible for one of the most awe-inspiring sights of the journey. Late in the day our ship becomes surrounded by brash ice, a thick layer of ice fragments that creates a spectacular setting with the sun's weak rays filtering through grey clouds. It is by far the most amazing scenery of the voyage. Even at 11pm, the light is strong enough to offer a soft white glow across the snow-covered land outside the window. It is soft and peaceful. Pristine. Profound. Perfect. And yet … there is more to do. On day six, we are still not able to go ashore. Instead, we make a discovery. Searching for the elusive landing site, we instead come across an outcrop that appears to have had no previous visitors. Breakwater Island has a population of gentoo penguins but, according to the International Association of Antarctic Tour Operators, has never been visited by humans. e crew members who cut chunky steps into the ice cliff to allow us to land are the first to walk on this tiny island. It's yet another reminder that we are but short-term interlopers in this place. By day eight, it's looking increasingly unlikely we will make it to the peninsula. Our daily briefings in the ship's Aula lecture theatre (modelled on the great hall at the University of Oslo, where Nobel prizes were once awarded) include weather maps coloured in harsh tones of purple and orange that indicate strong winds and low visibility. Captain Margrith Ettlin has 20 years of experience in this region and isn't about to take risks. Pressure is building on expedition leader Marc Jansen but he shrugs it Clockwise, left to right: Sighting an underwater seal, exploring Antarctica, penguins in the wild. 58 VIKING

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