Lessons from Antarctica

There are things that go together – a nap in a hammock, mountain goats on rocky inclines and peanut butter and jelly. Or Fluff. Or Nutella.

There are also things that definitely do not go together – snow angels in summertime, knee replacements and stilettos, ice cream sundaes with fish sauce.

Two things which should never be paired are red clogs and a frozen tundra encircled by a furious sea.  And yet they were.

To ring in 2024, the Red Clogger made her way down, down, down to the world’s southernmost city- Puerto Williams, Chile – and onward to the Falkland, South Georgia, and Elephant Islands and the Antarctic Peninsula. For a variety of reasons, this should not have happened. But it did and lessons were learned.

You CAN enter an alternate universe without the aid of mind-altering substances.

Not speaking from experience here with regard to the mind-altering substances, but I can confirm that visiting Antarctica and South Georgia Island made me feel like Alice in Wonderland. One minute I’m having a routine day on board a ship and then I wake up and I’ve passed through some portal into an alternate realm- no doubt, how Alice felt after plummeting into the rabbit hole. My brain and eyes couldn’t quite keep up with each other. Penguin highways? Leopard seals? Nesting Albatross? Glacial ice scooped up from the sea and placed in a whisky? Thieving Adélie penguins who steal rocks to attract females? “Beachmaster” Elephant Seals who get all the gals – interspersed with furry brown molting adolescent penguins who are stressed and annoyed because they aren’t waterproof until that molt disappears?

Blessed as I am to have seen so much of our fascinating world, nothing prepared me for the landscape, the air, the creatures, the sounds (or eerie lack thereof) and the constantly shifting, extreme weather patterns.

The best souvenirs are in your head.

Antarctica isn’t a place for shoppers. There is nothing to buy. Matter of fact, given that we were at sea for 18 days without the ability to replenish supplies, the fresh fruit and vegetable options went from slim to nonexistent at the end. (Witness my “Asian Vegetable and Tofu Stir Fry” – a plate of lonely fried tofu chunks)  But the Mind Candy that accompanied me home was far better than any of my standard go-to souvenirs (jewelry, local foodstuffs, scarves.) At the tippy top of my Best Of Antarctica Expedition list is a memory from South Georgia Island. (it’s worth finding it on your map to understand the remoteness.) I awoke in the early dawn. Our ship had negotiated rough waters overnight and we were now anchored off Cooper Bay.  Upon opening my balcony door, I was greeted with a cacophony of shrieks, cries, laments, howls, and baying coming from a beach several hundred meters away. I had no idea what awaited me there, only that this was nature in its most real and raw form. No human intervention, just fearless beasts going about their daily habits while fulfilling their needs.

After an extraordinary day getting up close and personal with these creatures, and before retiring for the night, I opened the balcony door one last time.  Now the colonies of fur and elephant seals and king penguins were perfectly still, as if hushed into silence by the moonlight.  I was rewarded with this magical vista.

Always expect the unexpected.

In 11^th grade, I’m not sure I originally understood the broader implications of this sage advice proffered by my Driver’s Ed teacher, Mr. Jackson. But My Antarctic adventure proved him right – as well as the Buddhist philosophy that nothing remains without change. This turned out to be a profound revelation – unpacked here at sea, at the end of the earth. One minute I’m gliding serenely in pristine blue waters, penguins are gaily porpoising and all is calm. I feel secure in my onboard cocoon as I cozy up with an excellent ginger tea. Next thing I know, there is a raging snowstorm, visibility is nonexistent. Where are those pristine waters now? Our ship furiously bobs up and down and side to side. But then my teacup is empty save for some lingering chunks of fresh ginger. I raise my head to look outside and there is A23A – the world’s largest glacial chunk! Having calved in 1986, A23A now weighs a trillion tons, measures a staggering 37 miles long and like most glaciers, 90% of it resides under water! I feel a bit like I’m Speed Dating with Mother Nature. And it’s awe-some.

Fear can be an effective teacher.

Time for me to be brutally honest and tell you that this adventure was not all champagne and roses (or penguins and the bluest ice you’ve ever seen). I suffer miserably from motion sickness and the threat of having to traverse the Drake Passage, the world’s roughest crossing, weighed heavily on me before our departure. So much so that I wound up in the ER a few weeks before sailing with symptoms of extreme seasickness. (ever heard of the Mind Body connection? I’m here to tell you it’s a real thing.)

What was great about our itinerary is that we got to see unique islands like the Falklands, South Georgia (my favorite) and Elephant.

This circular route meant we only had to cross the dreaded Drake Passage once as opposed to twice, the typical path. What wasn’t ideal about our itinerary is that crossing the Drake was the last thing we did before returning to our Chilean port for disembarkation. So it hung over me like the countdown to a major surgical procedure. And when we finally entered the passage, I abandoned my usual “no drugs please” policy and welcomed the Scopolamine patch. Marie Kondo would have beamed at how I “thanked it for its service.” I leaned in and dealt with it. 15 foot waves are not fun, especially not for 1.5 days/nights. But good friends had previously experienced 30 foot waves in this passage. It could have been worse. And I survived the experience. In the words of Nelson Mandela, “I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it.” A lifelong lesson that I will not forget the next time I’m confronted with an unsettling situation. I don’t need to take on the Drake Passage again but it was completely worth the parade of mind-blowing sights and sounds I witnessed on the journey.

I am small.

You know the feeling you get when you’re flying way up in the skies and below you are diminutive green fields and serpentine roads and shoebox houses? It all looks so small. Your perspective is completely altered. Antarctica triggers that feeling in the most powerful way. This firsthand encounter with the vastness of our world (as evidenced by such rare creatures and unfathomable landscapes) forced me to acknowledge and confront the relative narrowness of my daily scope.

The movie reel that is our life seems so important and our tasks so time-sensitive. But now I can choose to recall the bleating of the fur seal cubs, the hilarious performances of the penguins, the sight of those iceberg sculptures and the arctic mountains cascading into frigid blue waters, and I am reminded of my relatively diminutive stature.

I am also reminded how grateful I am for having had the chance to be Alysa in Wonderland for this whirlwind adventure.