A wildlife expedition to the Antarctic peninsula provides some unforgettable moments, from cruising through the ice floes to ice-climbing among comical penguinsJudging by the wild goose chase detailed on the Antarctic Circle website, the $100 reward won't be an easy bounty. The money is yours if you can find evidence to prove that Ernest Shackleton, on the verge of a trip to Antarctica in 1912, really did take out a newspaper advert as follows: "Men wanted for hazardous journey. Low wages, bitter cold, long hours of complete darkness. Safe return doubtful. Honour and recognition in event of success."Whether it appeared in print or not, you can't fault it for accuracy. The carnage of Antarctic discovery is all over the maps: Cape Disappointment, Exasperation Inlet, Deception Island, Terror Gulf. Then there are the stories, more or less known: Scott's expedition disaster after being beaten to the south pole, Captain Oates walking out of the tent to his certain death, claiming he "may be some time", and Apsley Cherry-Garrard's conclusion that "an Antarctic expedition is the worst way to have the best time of your life".All that historical wreckage makes friends raise a nervous eyebrow when you announce a trip to the Antarctic ? but since the 1950s, tourism to this great wilderness has been growing steadily. It's now more a case of, "I may be a fortnight, depending on flights." That said, it doesn't do to get complacent. As recently as 2007 the Gap Adventure-owned Explorer, a tourist vessel carrying 154 passengers, went down in the Antarctic ? a story told in gleeful detail by Damien, a marine archaeologist and historian on the trip I am taking. It turns out he was on the Explorer, and has been in various other scrapes, including getting stranded in South Georgia during the Falklands war. "You either want to stick by me," he says, "or run away. I'm not sure which."Damien is part of the Quark Expeditions team welcoming the 90 or so passengers on board our ship, docked in Ushuaia, capital of Tierra del Fuego, Argentina. Pointing out the lack of disco ball in the dining area, expedition leader Lynn explains with no apology that this boat was designed for science, not luxury.The Akademik Ioffe, built by Scandinavians for the Russian Academy of Science in 1988, is an oceanographic acoustic research vessel. It has reassuring sounding specifications such as an ice-strengthened hull and side thrusters. There is a small bar, a tiny sauna and a presentation room for lectures, but it's still a converted science vessel with relatively basic ? and mostly shared ? facilities. The Quark fleet has a range of boat styles, and the Ioffe and its sister ship the Sergey Vavilov are the most ascetic. What the company aims for in all expeditions, though, is stable and quiet vessels ? sound being an important consideration when tracking wildlife. Keeping numbers to around 100 is also a priority: it adds to the flexibility and customisation in the face of a very unpredictable Antarctic. Ours is a historic trip, in a way, as this is the Ioffe's last season for Quark. (Damien, keen to sprinkle some conspiratorial spice, points out that the Ioffe was probably used as a spy ship.)All this science, combined with the strident barking of Captain Poskonny and his Russian crew, does something to lessen our panic. Again, the nicknames say it all. At sea, between the latitudes of 65 and 40 degrees are the Roaring Forties, Furious Fifties and Screaming Sixties. This is what we will be passing through, via the Drake Passage, on our journey to the Antarctic peninsula and South Shetland Islands. "Below 40, there is no law," says a 19th-century sailing proverb. "Below 60 there is no God." This seems a good point to hear a talk from Timur, the ship's doctor, on "wellbeing" at sea.It takes about two and a half days to sail to the Antarctic peninsula from South America. Add on the 16 hours' flying to get to Ushuaia from the UK, and it's clear that a fortnight is more or less the minimum. Quark runs trips to more extreme places, such as the south pole, and longer expeditions. As a quick burst, though, the peninsula offers good accessibility and a rich display of wildlife. Within that, the variables depend on when you travel: early in the Antarctic summer (November) is great for ice and snow, and penguins. High summer (December/January) is good for chicks, and the end (February/March) is good for marine mammals.There's plenty to do during the voyage: lifeboat drill, "Drake proofing" your cabin ? making everything secure for the infamously rough Drake Passage ? and attending lectures by the Antarctic specialists. We're a diverse bunch: a group of IT workers who have been planning this for years, including one who has changed her name to Pinguino; two honeymooning couples; a man travelling the world after spending a near-death five weeks in a diabetic coma; a "girls on tour" family trip of grandmother, mother and granddaughter. Anyone who wants to do this, says an American pastry chef on her second expedition, has to have a screw loose. "But, you know, in a good way."The magic gateway to our destination is the Convergence, where the cold waters of the Antarctic meet the warmer waters of the subantarctic. This mix provides a rich nutrient soup for sea creatures, and a dramatic layer of mist. Beyond this, the world changes. Albatrosses and petrels have been flying with us for some time now, but they are joined by their cousins: blue and Antarctic petrel, and wandering albatross. The wildlife list is duly started on the ship's noticeboard ? a tally that will eventually hit 39 and include whales and dolphins. Signs of the frozen world arrive ? little blocks of sea ice at first, rather than the other forms we learn about, such as bergy bits (small icebergs), pancake (circular pieces of ice) or pack (a larger area of ice). Then the unbelievable truths you hear so much about: the exquisitely sculpted ice, so compacted it glows blue. "It's just not a human place," says Lynn, as if it is her first sighting. She's been more than 140 times.In the bar that evening, a great bear of a man is uneasy at the prospect of not being allowed to take a pee while ashore. Not even in a bottle. "Reaching the age I have," he says to Lynn, "I am fortunate enough to have developed certain issues in the realm of the prostate." Lynn acknowledges the plumbing issues, but rules absolutely not. You will be returned to the ship to pee. Snaking in to the lounge area is a queue of passengers waiting their turn with a vacuum cleaner. We must meticulously clean out every fold, pocket and Velcro attachment of any bag, hat or object we intend to take off the ship. No tiny seeds or alien food or vegetation must come across with us. There will be no eating, no leaving anything behind but footprints. And even those must be sensitive: a penguin can get stuck in a deep boot hole. The sun doesn't set that night; we have definitely arrived.The great explorers were well entertained by penguins ? but at times rather rude about them. "Remarkably stupid," said Victorian explorer Sir James Clark Ross, while in Scott's Last Expedition Vol 1 it is noted: "From the moment of landing on their feet their whole attitude expressed devouring curiosity and a pig-headed disregard for their own safety. They waddle forward, poking their heads to and fro in their usually absurd way, in spite of a string of howling dogs straining to get at them. 'Hulloa!' they seem to say. 'Here's a game ? what do all you ridiculous things want?'."The penguins are right: we are the ridiculous ones, with our big, yellow Quark parkas and long lenses. Climbing ashore at Cuverville Island, we stand transfixed by gentoo penguins. The males are making an arduous journey ? each with a stone in his beak ? from the rocky edges of the water, up a steep hill and back to the chattering colony at the top. They potter around, duetting like cautious dancers as they pass one another on their single-lane pathways in the deep snow. If one falls, he'll just belly-ski for a while. The cuteness is cut with wafts of fishiness from the large red patch of guano (droppings) that delineates their rookery.It can be difficult, surrounded by three-course meals and the snap of cameras, to savour a sense of the wilderness. A chance comes when a group of us camp out on the ice at Danco Island (an optional paid extra). It's an opportunity for me to indulge a passion for recording sounds. I point the microphones up the hill from our camp towards a busy rookery and drift off wearing the headphones ? only to be startled awake by a penguin announcing his arrival six inches from my bivvy bag. Looking around the camp, I see that almost every sleeper has a curious penguin standing guard. With a view for miles across the island and the water, it is as close as I get to what Herbert Ponting, Scott's official cinematographer, called the "great white silence".In four days of shore excursions, each cove, bay or island offers a unique recipe of weather, wildlife and terrain ? punctuated by the bony remains of old sealing and whaling industries, and even a working post office at Port Lockroy. We approach by walking, ice-climbing, kayaking or just cruising around the ice floes in inflatable Zodiacs. You have to be prepared for last-minute alterations, though: getting ashore depends on the shifting patterns of ice and bergs, which thwart many of our climbing and skiing opportunities. But the excursions make for a really memorable physical experience. Wielding crampons and an ice axe, sinking up to your waist in snow as you take turns to lead and "plug" stepping holes, while the penguins slide by ? It beats peering through binoculars from the deck. Quark calls this an expedition, but that's really to encourage a mindset, says Lynn. "It's not that people need to be in any way physically fit; it's about attitude and approach ? being interested in doing more than just cruising and looking."All too soon we have to leave the peninsula. The lectures continue, with a wave of facts: the Antarctic harnesses 33,100,000 billion tonnes of ice. That ice has an average depth of 2km, and true glacial ice takes 1,000 years to form. Temperatures can fall as low as ?89C. It's the driest, windiest place on earth, with yearly precipitation only slightly higher than in the Sahara. Krill, an invertebrate food source that swarms in the seas of the Antarctic, is the most abundant species on the planet.As we round Cape Horn, Damien stands on the bridge and reads Sara Vial's memorial poem:I, the albatross that awaits you at the end of the world. I, the forgotten soul of the sailors lost that crossed Cape Horn from all the seas of the world. But die they did not in the fierce waves, for today towards eternity in my wings they soar in the last crevice of the Antarctic winds.And Milton, the climbing and skiing guide, is heard ? perhaps for the 100th time ? to say: "You'll never, never know if you never, never go."? The 12-night Antarctica Explorer itinerary from Exodus (0845 863 9601, exodus.co.uk) costs from �5,400pp, including international flights. The next trip is on 13 NovemberAntarcticaCruisesWildlife holidaysPascal Wyseguardian.co.uk © 2011 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved. | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds
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