The end of the world as we know it

 The photos are from the top of Deception Island

Yesterday was our last full day of activities, and we ended with a new entry into my list of possible ways to die in Antarctica.  Deception Island is a crescent shaped island surrounding the caldera of a still active volcano.  The last eruption was over 10 years ago, and average is every 50 years, so I guess we were pretty safe.  There are several monitoring stations as well so  we would have some warning of potential explosions.  We entered by way of a narrow passage known as Neptune’s Bellows and anchored in the middle of the caldera.  I’m sure that there is a proper name for a sea filled volcano, but I’m not sure what that is.  Lunacy, perhaps?  Regardless, this is one time I really didn’t want to be in the position of shouting “Thar She Blows!”. We took zodiacs to a shore which was vastly different from previous landing sites.  The island is comprised entirely of volcanic rock and pumice, and if it wasn’t for the risk of frostbite (number 4 on the list of ways to die), walking barefoot on the pumice would have been great for a mini pedicure.  Walking boots firmly in place, we walked up to the summit, across the high plateau and back down again to the landing point.  It was an interesting walk, challenging only because of the volcanic sand on which it was tricky to gain a foothold.  I was very grateful for my walking poles. 

Upon completion of the hike, most people took the opportunity to do the “polar plunge”.  This involves stripping down to your swimming costume, running into the freezing sea, dunking your head and running out again.  Sadie, along with many others, embraced this activity with gusto and enthusiasm.  This was the one activity I decided to give a miss.  My fear of a cold induced heart attack (number 6 on the list) outweighed my otherwise strong FOMO.  I enjoyed watching the others though from the warmth and safety of my layers, parka and boots. As a middle class woman of a certain age, I know that I should embrace cold water swimming, but my Texan blood wins out and I refuse to willingly enter water colder than a warm bath. 

It feels sad to know that this will be our last activity on the Antarctic leg of my journey, and I am hard pressed to imagine anything beating the joy of the past 10 days.   Part of what has made this trip so enjoyable is the people - both the passengers and the crew.   I’ve done a fair amount of travelling in my day, and this has often involved travelling with groups of strangers.  Inevitably, in any group of strangers there will be at least one, often more, asshole.  Amongst the 100 or so Plancius passengers, I have encountered not a single asshole.  I guess this kind of trip is somewhat self selecting, and you wouldn’t choose to do this particular adventure if you are particularly inflexible or precious.   I did have a moment when I realised that if I hadn’t identified any assholes, that maybe I am the asshole, and this thought continues to plague me. Having said that, I’m pretty sure Sadie would have no issue pointing out to me if I was that person. 

The demographics of the passengers are very different from what I was expecting. I’m guessing the mean age to be about 40 with only a very few people overly 60. In fact, I think I am one of only three over 60, and I find it both sweet and super annoying that I am treated with deference by the youngsters who always offer to help me get  on and off zodiacs and other not particularly challenging manoeuvres. I still think of myself as a young person, and this trip has been a real wake-up call to my own geriatrics.  It is, however, helpful to remind myself that I am 20+ years older than the people passing me on the climb up a mountain. There is only one family (American) with young children, I’m guessing aged about 8 and 11 or 12.  Neither child appeared to be enjoying the trip very much, and the older boy rarely appeared outside his cabin. It sends a shiver down my spine when I think of how much this family paid for this trip only for their kids to be miserable.  There was also a Romanian family with a youngish girl (maybe 13 or 14), but she seemed more engaged than the other kids.  There were also a few parent/adult child combos, us included, but the majority of passengers were either couples or groups of friends. There is a group of about 10 people from the same yoga club in California (where else?), and they could be found “posing” in the lounge early in the morning when most of the others were still in bed. Apparently there are 19 different nationalities represented, 24 if you include the crew.  Americans make up the largest group, and I also met people from Australia, New Zealand, Germany, Brazil, Canada, Romania (who expressed genuine shock when I greeted them the first morning with a cheery Buna Diminatsa!),Netherlands, China, Japan, India,  Sri Lanka, Ukraine and Bangladesh. There is also a handful of Brits. It’s an astonishing fact that I’m still seeing people that I haven’t yet properly met.  The one thing we all seem to have in common is curiosity, not just about  where we are going/have been but also about our fellow passengers.  It has been delightful getting to know new people and learning about their lives.  I’m sure that there are some amongst us to whom I would never be drawn “in real life” but on the ship we are comrades.  We all, of course, insist we will stay in touch, but history tells me that this is unlikely to be the case. I’m fine with that, keeping the trip as an extraordinary moment in time. 

The design of the ship has been perfect, and I can’t think of a single thing I would change.  There are passenger cabins on levels 3, 4 and 5.  Level 4 has a large lounge/bar area that has enough seating for all the passengers. There are large windows that line the lounge for those that can’t be bothered to go out on deck.  There is coffee and a wide assortment of teas, and biscuits or cake are always available.  There are also doors that allow entry to the forward deck where one can scan the horizon for whales and shiver in the bracing wind and spray.   Level 3 also has doors to the deck where you can head to the bow and re-create THAT scene from Titanic, but given how that film ends most people are reluctant to do anything that summons that particular blockbuster.  Level 3 is also home to the dining room, and the quality of food has been nothing short of amazing. Breakfast and lunch are always buffets, and it remains a complete mystery to me how, this far into the trip, there is always fresh fruit available.  There is always a different soup at lunch as well as a salad bar and a selection of hot food - meat, fish and vegetarian.  Dinner is sometimes a buffet and sometimes table service, but there is again always a choice of meat, fish or veg.  The quality of cooking excellent and sometimes outstanding.  Clearly at least one of the chefs knows how to make top notch curries, all of which have had a decent kick to them.  I have eaten more on this trip than I have in quite some time, but I’m hoping that the regular exercise will offset the extra calories.  Gratefully my clothes still fit. 

The crew have all been superb - professional, convivial, knowledgeable and generous with that knowledge. Again, different from other group trips I’ve done, there is no cliquishness/friends with the ski instructor kind of vibe. Each of the crew has particular areas of expertise, be it mountaineering, kayaking, photography, sea mammals, sea birds, ice geology, geography, etc and their passion for their subject is palpable. We also get to know the cleaning, cooking and serving crew by name and I was pleased to find that they are also offered excursions and activities.  

I’m sad to be leaving the end of the world as we know it, but I feel fine.