Antarctica: The White Continent
In 2019, I had the tremendous opportunity to travel to the Great White Continent for the Marathon Tours & Travel (MTT) Antarctica Marathon. My job was to provide customer support to over 100 clients on their journey to Antarctica and back, as well as lend my event management expertise to the marathon itself. Even in a working capacity, this was the trip of a lifetime for me. I’d seen countless National Geographic and Discovery Channel shows on Antarctica, but nothing could have prepared me for the experience of being there and seeing it myself. Antarctica’s grandeur, its starkness, and its surprising abundance of wildlife blew me away. I’ve been lucky enough to visit some pretty amazing places in my life, but Antarctica stole my heart and shot to the top of the heap.
The 2020 Antarctica Marathon was scheduled for March that year and I was invited to return as part of the MTT team. However, as the event grew closer, we heard rumblings about this strange virus in China, and I think we all know what happened next. With the trip canceled in 2020 and 2021, I began losing hope that I’d ever get back. Towards the end of 2021, though, polar cruises started sailing again and the marathon was booked, albeit tentatively, for February 2022.
As the date of the trip grew closer, Omicron cases spiked worldwide and my anxiety level concurrently increased. I was so nervous that after two years without contracting COVID I’d test positive at the worst possible time and be denied permission to travel. Fortunately, I remained COVID free and secured a negative test result the day before my scheduled flight. After weeks of stress, it was a massive relief to clear that hurdle and begin my long journey to Antarctica. All cleared to go, on January 29th I flew from Okinawa to Tokyo, then onto Buenos Aires via Frankfurt - over 30 hours from start to finish. I was on my way.
I arrived in Buenos Aires suffering from a mighty case of jetlag, but hit the ground running as I joined the rest of the team. We spent the next few days collecting runners arriving at the airport, taking them for shake-out runs in the park, and helping to shepherd them on guided tours to some of BAs most famous landmarks. On our last full day in the city, I woke up early to catch the sunrise and take some photos of the beautiful Puerto Madero neighborhood where we were staying. In the afternoon, I walked to the nearby San Telmo market to check out the selection of small restaurant stalls and gift shops. My stomach was growling, so I made a beeline to the corner parilla (or grill). I opted for a choripan, a simple sandwich of a split sausage on a bun with chimichurri. Simple but delicious - and cheap! I was only half full and after doing a few laps around the market the pizza stall kept calling my name, so I saddled up to the counter. After a few minutes of trying my broken Spanish with the dough-slinging pizziolas I ordered a fugazetta, an Argentine specialty. The white pie was smothered with plenty of cheese, a mound of thinly sliced onion, and a few briny olives for good measure. It was phenomenal - rich, salty, and a little sweet from the onion with a perfectly chewy crust. Contentedly, I strolled back to the hotel, stuffed to the gills and with leftovers to spare.
It was still dark when my alarm woke me. Munching on my last few slices of pizza from the day before, I gathered my bags and proceeded to the lobby to help organize luggage and board guests onto buses. We were headed to the airport to start our next leg of the journey - flying south to Ushuaia. Everything went smoothly as we navigated through the airport and then onto our chartered flight. Just three hours later, we were in the southernmost city in the world in Tierra del Fuego. Staff from the expedition team herded us onto coach buses and whisked us to a nearby school gymnasium as soon as we arrived. There, we underwent the first in a succession of daily COVID tests. Any positive cases at this point would stay behind, quarantined in a hotel in Ushuaia while the rest of us sailed to Antarctica. With so much on the line, tensions were justifiably high. Most guests had waited three or more years and spent thousands of dollars to get here, never mind the training involved for the race! It would have been crushing to be left behind after making it this far. Fortunately, our entire group tested negative and we were quickly on our way to board the ship.
We arrived at the dock to find our home for the next nine days, the Ocean Victory, waiting for us. The vessel was the newest in the Albatros Expeditions fleet, only having launched a few months prior. We embarked and were immediately directed to our cabins, which were downright luxurious, especially compared to the ship that I’d been on in 2019. Because of new COVID protocols, the next two days would see us quarantined to our rooms as we crossed the Drake Passage. To help ease the pain of isolation, each cabin came stocked with a complimentary bottle of champagne. I had the room to myself and nothing to do, so I popped the cork and poured a glass. I took a sip and watched out my porthole window as we set sail and made our way through the Beagle Channel towards the open ocean as dusk settled in.
It wasn’t fun being stuck in isolation for two days, only opening the door to receive meals and get a daily nasal swab taken. However, having done a few 14-day quarantines in Japan already, this was a cakewalk. I spent the time catching up on sleep, reading, watching lectures that were streamed on the ship’s CCTV system, and looking forward to my next room service meal. We had an easy cruise across the notoriously rough Drake Passage, navigating through the Furious Fifties and into the Screaming Sixties without incident.
Around lunch time on the second day we dropped anchor in Maxwell Bay at King George Island, off the coast of the Antarctic Peninsula. By early afternoon, our race team loaded into a few Zodiac boats and shuttled to the rocky shoreline. We landed at the Russian-owned Bellingshausen Station, a cluster of squat, colorful, utilitarian buildings. It’s not exactly a pretty place, though it has its charms, including a small Russian Orthodox Church perched atop a nearby hill. During the Antarctic summer, much of the island is rocky and muddy instead of snow-covered, and several countries have research stations there, so the human footprint is very noticeable. It’s not the barren white landscape most people conjure in their minds when they think of Antarctica.
We spent a few hours covering the 2.18 mile stretch of dirt road that connects Bellingshausen with the Uruguayan-owned Artigas Station. This rough bit of track would serve as our marathon course - six out and back loops. With steep hills and uneven footing much of the way, it’s an absolute bear of a course. As soon as we had the mile markers and directionals set, we zipped back to the Ocean Victory by 5:00pm for dinner and a final pre-race briefing.
Just twelve hours later, we were back ashore to finish our course setup and prepare for runners to arrive. Some overnight precipitation left the road wet, which would pose a muddy challenge later in the day as runners trod over the same tracks loop after loop. The first wave of the race started at 7:00am and comprised both marathoners and half-marathoners. In accordance with rules set by IAATO, we could only have 100 guests on land at a time, so we had to split the athletes into two groups. The second wave of competitors doing the full marathon started at 12:30pm. Throughout the day, the weather cooperated with temperatures hovering around freezing and mostly cloudy skies. In the afternoon though, a biting headwind fought runners as they made their return trip to Bellingshausen. From the first to the last, runners crossed the finish line smiling, despite the challenging course. Nearly everyone said it was the hardest event they’d ever completed, which made the accomplishment that much sweeter. With daylight fading, we quickly cleaned up and were back aboard ship by 7:30pm. Spirits were high and the drinks flowed that night as everyone had achieved their goals - runners and staff alike. The collective relief aboard the ship was palpable as the trip shifted into its next phase - seeing the “real” Antarctica.
The following day broke with us anchored in Mikkelsen Harbor. Sadly, high winds and stormy seas made it unsafe for Zodiac operations, so our original plan for a morning landing was scrapped. Instead, we sailed on to nearby Cierva Cove where we were more protected from the weather, allowing for a Zodiac cruise around the harbor. Low-hanging clouds spritzed us with a light drizzle, but the scenery was spectacular. We puttered through dense brash ice, keeping a keen eye out for any signs of wildlife in the distance. The slate skies made a beautiful contrast with the titanium whites and electric blues of the large icebergs scattered about the bay. We were treated to an up-close Leopard seal sighting as it basked on a flat shelf of ice. Its snakelike head raising up to give us a curious (or maybe cautious) glance as we drifted by. We made our way over to Primavera Station, a research base owned by the Argentinians, where a Gentoo Penguin colony resides. It was amazing to watch their awkward bodies struggle along the rocky coastline, only to transform into sleek, graceful torpedos the instant they hit the water.
Overnight, we sailed further down the Antarctic Peninsula to Neko Harbor. I woke at dawn, roused by sunlight seeping through my cabin window. From my bed, I watched as golden rays beamed down through a crack in the clouds onto a snow-capped ridge in the distance. It was a spectacular sight, especially after days of overcast. I hastily dressed and went above deck to get some photos and bask in the splendor of the quiet morning. After breakfast, the expedition staff began shuttling us onto land to check out a penguin colony up close. Our guides had marked out a short trail to follow, taking us by nesting and molting penguins. Beyond the nesting site we trudged up a short hill to soak up a panoramic view of our surroundings. Groans, cracks, and rumbles emanate from the glaciated mountains to our right, ringing out like a shotgun in an otherwise muted world. We all stood by waiting for a major calving event, but only saw a few small chunks of ice deposited into the endless punchbowl of the Antarctic Ocean. Our hike was followed by another Zodiac cruise through the harbor before heading back to the Ocean Victory. Rafts of penguins darted through the waters and we saw a Leopard seal again. The real thrill, however, was a Humpback whale sighting. The whale was shy that morning, not giving us the spy hop or tail slap we all craved, but it was still exciting. Only minutes after returning to the ship our good weather window slammed shut. Out of nowhere, 60 knot katabatic winds ripped down the mountain ridge to pummel the port side of our vessel. We’d made it back to safety just in time! With continuous gusts hampering our afternoon plans, the ship sailed northward to prepare for our next day’s destination - Deception Island.
Our last morning in Antarctica saw us approaching the massive caldera of an active volcano. Deception Island looks like any other island from nearly all angles. However, a narrow break in the outer wall leads to a bay within the volcano’s cone - hence the deception. Our ship deftly slipped between the gap and dropped anchor in the middle of the bowl. From there, Zodiacs brought us to the shore’s black sand beaches, steaming from geothermal heat below. In the early 1900s, this place was a bustling whaling station, due to its relative lack of ice and protection from the wind. Since then, it’s carried the name of Whaler’s Bay. Along the shore, traces of that history remain, as the decrepit remnants of boilers and tanks used for whale processing still dot the area. This beach was also the site of a British research station, which was abandoned in 1969 after an eruption destroyed it. After another short hike, it was time for the real highlight of the morning - the Polar Plunge. In ones and twos, brave souls stripped down to their bathing suits and waded into the frigid waters for a dunk. Despite their marathon-sore legs, most ran back out a hell of a lot faster than I’d seen them move a few days prior during the race!
In the afternoon, we did a final landing at Half Moon Bay, aptly named for its crescent-shaped gravel beach. Trekking along the shoreline, we encountered about a dozen Fur seals, a Weddell seal and a colony of Chinstrap penguins. When everyone was back aboard, the ship pulled up anchor one last time and we began to cruise out of the harbor. I couldn't believe that the trip was ending already. A few of us enjoyed our final moments there by taking in the parting views from one of the hot tubs on the ship's aft deck. As I sipped a beer and soaked in the warm water, the snow-capped peaks faded in the distance. Before long, all traces of Antarctica were in our rear view mirror and the finality of it set in.
A few boring days of travel later, I was in Massachusetts with ample time to review my photos and reflect. For some people, Antarctica is the trip of a lifetime. For most, it’s as unattainable as walking on the moon. I don’t take it for granted that I’ve visited somewhere that so many never will - not once, but twice now. People often ask me, “How was it?,” and I’ve yet to find the right words to describe the place. It’s just so uniquely amazing there’s nothing I can say that will do it justice. Even my photos only scratch the surface. One needs to feel the biting, salt tinged wind on your face, hear the cracks and groans of ancient glaciers, or smell a Gentoo penguin colony to truly understand what Antarctica is. I hope you can all get there some day to experience it yourselves. In the meantime, I can only give these words and photos to at least make you feel some connection to the most special place on Earth.
Photo credit: Jeff Adams
