I was awed by intimate encounters with humpback whales, watched gentoo penguins toboggan across the snow, and witnessed a petrel feeding its chick. I kayaked next to leopard seals and lost count of the bird species.
Photo: Marck Guttman | @don.viajes
IT’S ALL RELATIVE. After more than a decade of spinning tales about wildlife viewing and environmental conservation for titles such as Esquire, National Geographic and Travel + Leisure, I finally made it to Antarctica this past February. That same year, recreational visits to the White Continent surpassed 120,000 in a single season. I ventured to a remote place yet never felt alone, sweated where I anticipated the deepest freeze, and saw greenery where I expected nothing but snow.
On board the Ponant Le Lyrial, an Antarctic expedition ship that accommodates up to 244 passengers, we were well-fed (freshly baked eclairs, artisan cheese boards, reserve wines) and well-cared for (spa treatments, uninterrupted WiFi) while crossing The Drake Passage, one of the world’s most treacherous waterways. It’s all served up smoothly even while navigating a three-metre swell, but the true luxury is the powerful silence that allows you to hear the blow of a humpback whale in the distance.
On my trip to the Antarctic Peninsula and the Falklands, I was awed by intimate encounters with humpback whales, watched gentoo penguins toboggan across the snow, and witnessed a petrel feeding its chick. I kayaked next to leopard seals and lost count of the bird species. As I sifted through photos for this issue, I found this image of a zodiac dwarfed by a towering glacier in Neko Harbour, Antarctica. A glacier so colossal, it makes the human element look like nothing. This humbling perspective is what it’s all about. Ultimately, it’s all relative. ponant.com
