Sunday, March 6: Ushuaia to Buenos Aires

Up at 6:30 and look out the window. There is an absolutely glorious sunrise coming up over the Beagle Channel, with a still-darkened town of Ushuaia down below. We go downstairs to see the runners off as they board the bus for the start of the marathon. We say our “goodbyes” and “good lucks” to them, since we’ll be gone by the time they are done.

Sunrise in Ushuaia.

Then in talking to a few of the folks who are also skipping the Ushuaia marathon and are heading back on our flight today, we make a last minute decision. There is a small 4.5 K local run in downtown Ushuaia at 9:30 this morning. We decide to run that. We negotiate a 1-hour extension of our hotel checkout time to 11 am, and then catch the shuttle bus downtown. We get to the start of the race, and find we cannot officially register anymore…. Cutoff was yesterday. But who cares, we will just run it for fun anyway. About 4 or 5 of our Antarctica crowd have decided to do this, and we enjoy the experience together. At the line, waiting for the start, we see that this is a very local race indeed. We are among the very few non-natives here. I guess anyone from any distance away who is here today is running the real marathon. A couple of women stand up with microphones, and lead the crowd of runners in pre-race aerobics. They do not seem to care that the 9:30 start time has come and gone, or that we will have to beat it back to the hotel for a fast shower before catching our plane…. They just seem to enjoy their aerobics, and so does the crowd. Finally, the race starts. It is a pleasant run through the streets of the town, and down to the waterfront. We feel amazingly good in this run. It was probably a good thing to do, prior to a long day of traveling, sitting and waiting. After the race, we grab some water, take a few pictures, and then look for a cab. We have a little trouble finding one, but finally do, and are back to the hotel at 10:30. We madly shower, dress, do our final packing, and are downstairs checking out at 10:55. No sweat, a full 5 minutes to spare!

The time had been critical because the hotel was really picky about us being checked out on time. However, now we have time to kill, the perhaps 15 or 20 of us waiting in the hotel lobby. We sit, talk, play some ping pong, and pass the time. Finally, the bus picks us up at 12:30 at the hotel, and takes us to the airport. We all are traveling on the same itinerary through Buenos Aires and Miami. It will be nice to have the companionship of these fellow adventurers on this part of the trip.

And so, we begin our long journey home., chatting amongst ourselves about the adventures we have shared. Joan and I are also looking forward to a few days relaxing with Mom and Irv in Florida, but are struggling with how to describe to them and to our friends back home the experiences we’ve just had. The pictures, videos and books will help, but ultimately, even these won’t convey the full experience. And actually, the people we will talk to will know that too. The best we can hope for is to come up with, as Joe Hale put it, an effective 30 second “elevator speech”, the quick summary for all those who will ask how the trip was, but not have the 7 hours to spend to hear the full answer!

As for us, I know we will never forget this trip, but just hope that the intensity of it does not fade too quickly. Because this trip deserves to be one of those memories that will stay with us, at a feeling level, always. I hope it does.

Certificates of Completion of the Antarctica Voyage.

Here's to holding on to the intensity of the memories!

Saturday, March 5, 2005: Ushuaia

We are up at 6 am, and the ship is still moving up the Beagle Channel, but is nearly at Ushuaia. We watch the land roll by, and then see us approach the pier and dock. This is the same pier we left 10 days, or an eon, ago. Our bags are still in the hall, part of a wall of duffle bags and suitcases that runs the length of the hallway. Breakfast is at 7. I look out the porthole of the dining room, and see 2 cars on the dock. How strange the automobile looks! I realize we haven’t seen one of those in 10 days.

We go back to the room, and see that all the bags are now gone. We grab the rest of our stuff, and make our way down the stairways one last time to Reception, then outside, down the gangway, and off the ship for the last time. We all feel a bit of separation anxiety – it is really a bit sad to leave the ship that has been home to us through such an incredible adventure.

The Peregrine staff are outside and we say goodbye and thanks. We board the bus waiting for us, our large bags already loaded, and it is off to the hotel here in Ushuaia. The Hotel Del Glacier. It is a really neat hotel, high on the mountain side below several glaciers and with an incredible view of the town, the docks, and the bay far below.

We choose not to go on a Marathon Tours-organized bus tour of the National Parque, which is supposed to be a nice spot near the Chilean border, and do our own thing instead. We go into town to find an internet café so we can let the world know that we have returned alive. Then we go back to the hotel.

We wake up in time to watch our ship sailing up the final stretch of the Beagle Channel and into the harbor of pre-dawn Ushuaia.

Back at the dock in Ushuaia.

Sunrise in the harbor.

Our captain, surveying the harbor view. Another successful voyage completed.


Hotel Del Glacier, our accomodations for tonight.

Our room in Hotel Del Glacier, with a stunning, panoramic view of the town and the harbor below.

View from our hotel window.

Using the camera's maximum zoom, we can see the Ioffe far below, still at the dock.

For our big event of the afternoon, we decide to hike up to the glacier behind the hotel. It is a VERY rigorous and strenuous hike! It is a 1-mile walk up the road behind the hotel to the start of a cable car. We ride the cable car for perhaps another two miles or so further up the mountain, and then get off and start climbing from there. It is a hard 1-hour climb up a rock-strewn canyon that has been carved out by glaciers over the millennia. As we climb higher, it gets colder and steeper. We finally stop at the underside of a ledge that marks the start of the glacier. We are perhaps 20-30 meters from the ice itself, but the climb up over the ledge to get to it, with runoff streams pouring off of it, looks too difficult and dangerous to try, and just a bit unnecessary at this point in the trip! We meet a young lady up there who is from Wales and who is traveling around South America for 6 months or so. She takes our picture. Then we head back down, and get back to the hotel at around 4:30 pm.

We spend the afternoon hiking up to one of the glaciers on the mountain behind the hotel. We took a cable tram up as high as it went, and then had a significant climb from there. Here, Joan looks tiny against the backdrop as we make our way higher up the mountain.

The trail we followed worked its way up through a "V" carved over the ages by the glacier and its streams of runoff melt-water. Here we look backward at the distance that we had already come.

This is as far as we would go. On the ledge above us was the start of the glacier's ice field. It would take a precarious climb up the rock and through the rushing water to make it up there, and we decided we did not need to do that on this day.

From the hotel, we look down to the bay, and still see the Ioffe at dock there. It is hard to reconcile that another whole load of passengers are boarding it today, and are about to set sail on THEIR adventure. Their adventure on OUR ship. We cannot help but feel just a little possessive about it. In addition, we develop an appreciation for the tasks of the crew and staff. During the summertime, there are no rest or down days. Upon completion of one trip in the morning, they take on new passengers and are back out at sea that same afternoon. We think of the waitresses and the maids…. Whereas we might have thought initially that they had a neat job in that at least they could see wonderful scenery from their workplace, we realize now that there is no time for them to enjoy it. It is a lot harder life, being attached to the crew of a ship like this, than we would have ever imagined. (Joan had asked the woman who cleaned our room one day if she ever gets seasick… she said “oh yes!”. Can you imagine spending 4 days out of every 10, all summer long, in the Drake Passage???!) Eventually, around 7 pm, we see the Ioffe pull away from the dock, and head east down the channel. There was a bit of a lump in our throats as we watched it move away.

After a short nap, we head down to the hotel dining room for the final marathon dinner. The focus here is on all the participants who plan to run another marathon tomorrow… the Fin Del Mundo Marathon, and get in a South American continent run ….. sold by Marathon Tours at the beginning of the trip as two continent marathons for the price of one! We never considered running this one, but there is a bit of peer pressure/envy now as we look at all of our new friends who are already moving on to their next marathon. But that is ok. We’re happy with what we have done. We have dinner, and it is incredibly lousy!! We miss our Ioffe cooks and servers.

Back at the hotel in the late afternoon, we look out the window to see the Ioffe, steaming out of port and toward the Beagle Channel again. With its new load of passengers, it was heading back to Antarctica, for a new set of amazing adventures.

Friday, March 4, 2005: Drake Passage & Cape Horn

Day #2 of the Drake Passage. Waves became rougher again. I went up to the Bridge and caught some photos of waves crashing against and spraying up over the bow.

The choppy seas of the Drake Passage. You don't appreciate the wave action from a broad photo of the ocean. But you do standing up on the bridge, watching time, after time, after time, as the boat rocks over a swell and then dives down into the next wave, which then comes crashing over the bow. At times, the spray flies high enough to hit the windshield of the bridge. This is when in this journal you should remember, or look back at, the picture of the Ioffe at dock in Ushuaia (February 23), and note how high the deck, and the bridge, sit above the water level when at rest.

There was then the formal account settlement time. We charged the remaining expenses, and gratuities, to the credit card. Gratuities are all combined into a single pool, and divided up evenly among all 60 of the crew and staff. So the person who cleans our rooms, the person in the engine room, Tanya the waitress, all get as much of the gratuity as the captain or the expedition leader. I like that…. They all deserve it.

Attended David McGonigal’s review of the trip. It was interesting to hear the recap. He used some of our pictures in his presentation. Then Phil showed the photo CD that he had put together from our collected contributions. Excellent – everyone wants a copy!

The one major planned event of the day was our approach to Cape Horn. It is a symbolic sight to witness, a location that has proven so noteworthy, and treacherous, to ships down throughout history. The Cape is owned by Chile, and they have become increasingly protective of it in recent years. They have a couple of families living there whose job it is to keep watch. They are discouraging landing on Cape Horn (actually, a difficult and sometimes dangerous thing to do) by charging $1000 per person in landing rights! And they are enforcing their 12 mile territorial limits around the Horn, or at least are trying to. More to this story in a moment.

At about 3 pm, we are approaching Cape Horn, and most of the ship’s population is up in the Bridge to witness it. I think that this was the most crowded on the Bridge of any time during the entire trip… perhaps 100 people are in there. Unfortunately, the viewing is very poor, with fog cutting the visibility significantly. We reach the 12 mile limit, and can see nothing. At this point, David and the Captain discuss the situation, and decide to cross the 12-mile boundary and approach closer, to see if we can get a view. If we are detected, we will be challenged and turned away, but their sense on their last several passes of the Cape was that the radars were not working well, because the level of detection had seemed to be dramatically reduced. So, the decision is to proceed, and if we are contacted by radio, to not answer immediately. The level of drama suddenly rose on what had otherwise been just a long uneventful day crossing the Drake! We all half wonder whether we were asking for some shots across the bow! We proceed slowly but steadily in toward the Cape, still invisible. When we get to about 9 miles out, we start to make out some islands, but they are not the Cape. We continue. At 7 miles out, we can finally make out the island that is Cape Horn through the fog. It might have been around then that the radio came to life with the equivalent of a “Who goes there?” We continue on until about 5 miles, at which time we answer, say “Sorry”, and agree to turn around. At this point we get a pretty good view of the Cape, although to be honest, it looks like just an ordinary island. We snap pictures knowing that it is significant, but realizing that the pictures will never look like anything special. At this point we turn east, and officially cross from the South Pacific to the South Atlantic, that making 3 oceans (including the Southern Ocean) that we have been in today.

A big crowd gathers on the bridge, to witness our next adventure -- a stealthy approach into Chilean territorial waters for a view of Cape Horn.

This was the best we could do -- a grey, foggy view of the Cape. This spot marks a particularly notorious section of sea, storms often making these waters treacherous, and giving it the name of the "Sailors Graveyard". Until the completion of the Panama Canal, this was the required route for ships traveling between the east and west coasts of the Americas. The view we got of this famous island this day was pretty average. But its significance was interesting, and the experience of getting to it was fun and exciting!

At 4 pm, we have tea time, followed by a formal ship tour…. The bridge (which we were quite familiar with by now), the Mud Room (again quite familiar with this, but learn some interesting things here), and the Engine Room below deck. We learn that the Ioffe and Vavilov were built as a pair for testing sonar and hi/low frequency sound waves in the ocean. (As mentioned before, cold-war spying on submarines was probably a key motivation for this scientific work.) They were designed in Leningrad, built in Finland. The ships today are commissioned for tours 4 months of the year in Antarctica, and 4 months of the year in the Arctic during their summer. The 4 months in between are used for transit from one to the other, with a stop in Leningrad for annual preventative maintenance. While in transit, the ships are filled with scientists who do pure science experiments in the oceans along the way. A very interesting point: The ship was built around the Mud Room, of all things! That is where the antennae and receivers are lowered into the water under the ship. There is a large well-like structure in the middle of the room (we’d always just ignored it as we concentrated on boots and lifejackets!) through which these are lowered. The ship has 2 engines, although it generally operates on just one. It can get 14 knots on 18000 gallons of fuel per day. By kicking in the 2nd engine, could get up to 15 knots, and consume twice the fuel. (Not sure why that is, but it is clear it is not worth using the second engine under normal conditions.)

On the ship's tour, we are given the background of the "Mud Room". Very familiar with it by now as the spot where we get dressed for our excursions, we are fascinated to learn that this was constructed as the heart of the original sonar-based functions of the ship.

Joan, in the mud room, in front of one of many rows of life jackets that are kept here.

One of the ship's two engines.

Engine Control Room.

As the afternoon wears on, the weather begins to get worse, and so do the seas. We are still moving easterly, working our way toward the mouth of the Beagle Channel, but apparently it is still a long ways away. It starts to rain, and we pick up 40 mph winds which whip up the seas into whitecaps, blowing spray from the top of waves, and creating 10-15 foot swells. This is probably more the norm for the Drake, and we are just lucky that we’ve avoided it until almost the end.

Dinner time comes, the time when we were to have the special “Captain’s Dinner” – a time when we were to show our appreciation to him for all of his efforts on this trip. But the weather has worsened still, and he can do no more than put in a short appearance for a bit of recognition, and then must go back where he is needed on the Bridge. After dinner, we go up to the Bridge to see what is going on. There we witness the heaviest weather conditions of the entire trip. We seem to have hit a storm cell, and things have gotten really violent. We are getting winds of 70 mph, just under hurricane force. We are still working our way toward the Beagle Channel, and are quite exposed, although the proximity to land here is probably keeping the wave size down from what would have been more out in the center of the Drake under these conditions. Still, this is awesome. On the Beaufort scale of wind strength, a scale that runs from 0 to 12, we are experiencing force 11 winds. Swells are now 15-20 feet. When the waves hit the bow just right, they break into a white spray that covers the fore deck. On a few occasions, the spray blows high enough to hit the windows of the bridge, temporarily obliterating our view up here 90 feet above the water level. The one positive factor is that we are heading straight into the wind and the waves, so there is little side to side motion, and no seasickness, even for Joan. She’s actually enjoying the experience. At one point I decide to go outside of the enclosed bridge to feel the full force of the winds, and it is quite incredible. The wind whips at my clothing, the rain stings as it hits my face. I must keep firm grasp of the railing to stay stable. I can handle that only for a few moments, and then retreat to the protected bridge again. The conditions continue this way for about an hour, and then begin to subside, and soon we find our way into the Beagle Channel, and calm waters. But that bit of adrenaline rush at the end is something that we will remember.

(This storm on the open seas has indeed proven to be one of the strongest lasting memories of this trip, certainly of our time on the Drake. A couple of other points not captured in the original journal. First was the time of day. By the time the storm was at its greatest fury, it was late in the evening, well after dark. Witnessing such rough seas in the true blackness of night really added to the overall emotional experience of the event. On the other hand, it may have prevented us from seeing the full violence of the ocean, and perhaps keeping us from being completely terrified! The second point to note: After we arrived back in Ushuaia the next day, we learned that during the storm, ships were ordered to stay in port or in the channel, and were not allowed to leave for open waters. That was some additional calibration on how severe that storm was.)

We go down to the computer and burn a final CD with the remainder of the pictures we’ve taken on the trip, and then head back to the cabin to pack. We get our two big duffel bags packed, and leave them outside our door as instructed, as they will be coming by around 6 am to pick them up. We go to bed.

Thursday, March 3, 2005: The Drake Passage

The waves are still rough when we awake in the morning, but not nearly as rough as last night. I go up to the Bridge, and find that in the middle of the night, the captain changed the course from North, to more of a Northwest. This enabled the ship to move more headlong into the winds and waves, reducing the side to side rocking, and making it more comfortable for sleeping. Nice Touch! Now, he has changed back to more of a due northerly course, and fortunately, the conditions don’t seem to be quite so bad.

We slept a lot during the morning. Joan is doing better with her patch in place, but still cannot do meals in the dining room. I bring back some food for her after each meal.

In the afternoon, there is an interesting panel discussion on the future of Antarctica… how the increased tourism can be handled without destroying the pristine nature of the continent. Then Jacques did a review of some newsworthy stories out of the South Ocean News. We also had a chance to review and order the video made by the Russian crew member on the Ioffe. It looks pretty good and we decide to buy it.

Mostly, this day was a day of travel, with limited activity and a fair amount of downtime, as we made our way north through the Drake Passage.

One of the things I enjoyed watching during this relatively uneventful day at sea was the birds that continued to follow the ship, comfortably flying along even though we were a hundred miles from any land. Sometimes the air would be filled with them, swooping and darting just above the waves, then up overhead. I tried to capture this in photos but ended up with a lot of pictures of ocean, sometimes with an occasional blur of a possible bird. The photos below were the best ones I got. Click on them to expand them -- you really cannot see any details on the birds, but it gives you an idea of their swooping behavior.

Wednesday, March 2, 2005: The Winds, Port Lockroy, & Dorian Bay

This morning, we awake to very heavy winds. Late yesterday or this morning, we had moved north out of the Lemaire Channel and up toward Wiencke Island. The objective of the morning is to visit the former British research base, Port Lockroy. It is supposed to be an interesting place. Although no longer used for research, it is open during summer months as a museum, and also has a colony of Gentoo penguins there that are as tame as any around.

The history of Port Lockroy is interesting. It was built in 1944, during World War II, primarily as a defensive position to watch potential Nazi activities in the Antarctic Peninsula. As improbable as it sounds, the Peninsula did factor into some strategic thinking back then. Argentina was allied with Germany, and the concern was that if the Nazi’s controlled the Antarctic Peninsula, they would control both sides of the Drake Passage, and therefore potentially all east-west shipping through the Drake. So Port Lockroy was built, supposedly for science, but served as a major listening post. After the war, attention turned to real science, and it was in operation until the 1960’s, I think.

We’re interested in seeing this, but the winds and the seas are casting doubt on whether the zodiacs will be able to operate today. The start of the excursion is delayed while they watch the weather. Meanwhile, I am not feeling well again, and have all but decided to forego this excursion if they do it. After a while, they announce that the trip is on, but that they will only operate 5 zodiacs, so they will have to do the excursion in 2 shifts. Joan goes down to the Mud Room, and I go back to bed. A short while later though, Joan is back in the room. She did not make the first half, and will need to go in the 2nd wave. By the time they announce the 2nd grouping, I have had some sleep, and decide to go after all. We talk to some of the people coming back, and they look like drowned rats! The winds totally sprayed them on their trip back to the ship. We figure we will just grit our teeth and bear it.

We head out, and find that the seas are definitely choppier than anything we’ve seen up until now, but not so bad as to really cause concern. And on this leg of the trip, the wind is at our back, so, we don’t get sprayed either. We make landing, and see some small buildings, a British flag flying, and penguins everywhere. And penguin crap too, I might add. This was a rocky crag of land, overwhelmed by the penguin population, and very, very dirty. We felt sorry for the penguins, and for the people who would have to be stationed here. We take a few pictures however, and come away with some pretty nice ones, particularly of penguins with water and ice backgrounds. Inside the buildings, we wander thru the little shop and the various rooms that have been left as they existed 40-50 years ago. They lived a very rough existence here, and seeing this helps you appreciate the pioneering spirit that these early station residents must have had…. Especially when you realize that they did not have the warm clothing technology that we take for granted today. We buy post cards for the kids, and British Antarctic Territory stamps, and mail them from the Port Lockroy post office. (We will see later that Dave’s arrives in about 4 weeks, Debbie’s in 6 weeks.)

We go back outside, and decide that we don’t need to spend too much more time here. We get into the waiting zodiac, and head back to the ship. Fortunately, by this time the winds from this morning have really subsided, so we have none of the problems with spray heading in this direction that the first group had. That is appreciated greatly! We are back on the Ioffe by 12:45, and have lunch.

Port Lockroy, the former British research station which now serves as a museum. It depicts the nature, and the artifacts, of Antarctic life in the 1940s and 1950s. It was a tough existence back then. I'm sorry that I did not get any good pictures of the exhibits inside, or of the gift shop / post office which was staffed by a couple of friendly people. Outside, though, there was a very large and very tame colony of gentoo penguins waiting to be photographed.

The grounds and the shoreline around the research station were anything but beautiful! There was mud and penguin excrement everywhere. A whale bone is on the shoreline in this picture.

Everywhere we looked, we saw penguin cuteness mixed with absolute filth. It was an odd combination, and a bit sad.

But I guess the penguins don't mind, and don't form the value judgments of the beauty or ugliness of a place that we humans do. Scientists have actually done extensive studies on this particular population here at Port Lockroy, to see if living near humans negatively affects them. The conclusion: They are doing just fine.

View from the front steps of the Port Lockroy station. The sled seemed to be there for its museum interest, as opposed to serving any current practical function.

Port Lockroy is now staffed only during the summer months, but is apparently available for touring anytime. The sign on the inside of the door reminds the last one out what he or she is supposed to do.

This is one of our favorite penguin photos. Joan spotted this guy on the shoreline, with the perfect backdrop, and he just seemed to be posing and asking for his picture to be taken. We were happy to oblige.

Excursion #2 after lunch is to Dorian Bay, a point that offers a climb up a hillside, we are told. We get out at a point at which there is a small shed. Looking inside we see boxes of provisions and a snowmobile. It looks like a shed that is maintained for emergencies in case someone was to get stuck here in the middle of winter. Then we start our climb up the hill…. Working our way up to a ridge top perhaps 200 feet high. At the top, we look down the other side, and are surprised to find ourselves looking down on Port Lockroy! We have simply come one bay over from where we had been this morning. It is interesting to look down on that place.

We head back down, and climb into the zodiac. Since this will be our last excursion, it is also the last time we will set foot on Antarctic ground, and we say “goodbye”. Two minutes out from the shore, though, we see on a jut of land to our left a seal and penguins, and we talk our driver, Mo, into taking us there and dropping us off for a closer look. Our first thought was that a leopard seal was coming up for dinner, but we now see that it is just a fur seal… actually 2 of them, and they seem to coexist nicely with the Gentoos all around them. We take some pictures and then start walking back to our original spot, along the perimeter of the bay. We get back in time to see the Antarctic Polar Bear Swim Club in action. Yes, about 20 brave (or other adjectives may apply too?) souls have decided to strip down to bathing suits, or underwear, or in some cases, birthday suits, and take a plunge in the waters to join a select club of Antarctic swimmers. They apparently get an official certificate to note this. For the third time (first two were kayaking and overnight camping), Joan and I pass on an optional activity. This one was a no-brainer.

A good view of what is meant by a "wet landing". All landings from the zodiacs were wet landings. This was the start of our afternoon excursion on this day.

A storage shed for supplies. It is located on a hill. Its raised foundation is not to protect it from high waters, but rather to provide access during heavy snows. The equipment needed to clear away snow and ice is kept handy on the outside wall.

After a brief look around, we find ourselves climbing another hill. Seems like a lot of our outings here involve climbing hills!

Midway up the hill, looking back at the bay.

At the crest of the hill, we are surprised to find ourselves looking down on Port Lockroy. We did not realize that we had simply gone "one bay over" from where we were this morning. Looking closely, we see a zillion little dots that are penguins.

A fellow traveler snapped this photo of us with Port Lockroy in the background.

Back down the hill, we explore another storage shed. The flag painted on the side tells us this is an Argentine facility.

Peeking in the windows, we see that there are many crates of emergency materials staged here. The tarp covers a snowmobile.

On the shoreline nearby, gentoo penguins and a fur seal appear to be comfortably coexisting. The fur seals, unlike their leopard seal cousins, pose no danger to the penguins, and the penguins seem to recognize that.

After a while, the fur seal is joined by a friend, and we enjoy watching them interact. They remind us of a couple of dogs playing.

We are back on board and before dinner, there is an auction, in which a variety of paraphernalia is auctioned off by the crew, all proceeds to benefit the “Save the Albatross” effort. Some of the items generate some serious money. All told, over $6000 was collected.

During the auction, we pulled anchor and started our journey north, toward the Drake and the start of the trip home. By dinner time, we have hit the open waters, and the going gets quite rough. A couple of times we lurch so violently that things fall around on the tables. At one point as I am trying to move in the dining room, I am thrown against one table and a few things tip. It looks like the Drake will be in a more ornery mood than it was when we came down. I have already put a patch on for seasickness, and it seems to be working well, but Joan has retired to the room, and has gotten sick a couple of times already.

At around 9 pm, the waves increase further. There is a huge amount of motion on the ship, side to side. We must secure everything around the cabin to keep it from flying about. I look out the window, and see a wonderful sunset to the west, illuminating clouds over the last viewable sloping hillsides of an Antarctic island, and reflecting orange and red in the water. I take about 20 pictures…. Our last view of Antarctica, and a very picturesque one at that.

I continue to look out the window, and I watch the waves. They are still increasing in size. I watch in amazement at the peaks and valleys of the swells, and get a clear sense of the constantly changing height of my eye above the water. When the boat is in a trough between waves, I see the water level as I am used to seeing it. Then, as we rise to the top of a swell, I see the water level appear to drop away from me by as much as 20 or 30 feet.

After a while I try to go to sleep. Joan already is. It is hard to sleep when the ship is pitching as it is, but I finally drift off.

Final views of Antarctica and an impressive sunset, as our ship makes its way out toward the open seas of the Drake Passage.