The Time to Go to Antarctica Is Now (And Here's How for Half the Price)
In Depth
Hanging out with penguins is a lot like hanging out with strippers. They can touch you, but you can’t touch them.
As our Zodiac pulled up to a rocky, snow-covered outcrop on Cuverville Island in Antarctica, our guide reminded us of this rule. “You must stay at least five meters away from all wildlife. However, this is a huge colony with lots of curious chicks. If you sit down, some of them might come check you out.”
Staying five meters away from thousands of penguins proved difficult. After climbing out of the boat, we weren’t quite sure what to do with our life jackets—two penguins hopped aboard the Zodiac and climbed into the large storage container before we had a chance to put our gear in it. I made my way to an empty plot of snow and sat down. Immediately, four curious chicks—each sporting a different fluffy hairstyle—began waddling my way. Within thirty seconds of sitting down, I was surrounded by penguins who were bobbing their heads to get a better look at me, and pecking at my waterproof pants and boots. I started laughing, and I couldn’t stop. I was in Antarctica, being nibbled by baby penguins. It doesn’t get better than this, I thought.
I decided go to Antarctica for the same reason most visitors want to go: to visit that elusive seventh continent, to put my feet on land that comparatively few travelers get to see. Getting to this faraway land is very expensive; you need an abundance of time and money to make such a journey. The average price for a bed in a shared cabin for a 10-day cruise to Antarctica is $10,000. Factor in flights from your local airport the embarkation port of Ushuaia, Argentina — the southernmost city on the globe and thus nicknamed “The End of the World” — and even the hardiest of travelers might consider skipping the White Continent.
Not me. I had the time (my hospital job was part-time and flexible) and the money (no kids, no mortgage, no student loans, no debt of any kind, and decent savings). My situation was fortunate and I was at the right stage in my life for such a journey. I felt that if I didn’t go now, I might miss my window.
So I went. I traveled for thirty-eight hours to get to Ushuaia, explored the tip of South America by myself for three days, boarded a small cruise ship, and endured two days on the treacherous Drake Passage to get to a different kind of promised land.
There was an abundance of caution about corrupting the landscape: We had our belongings vacuumed for seeds. If you had to go to the bathroom, you got back on the boat. Each day we would step in a decontamination solution both when leaving the boat and when coming back on. This was just a thing we did, I thought, until it hit me why we were doing these things: Antarctica is the final frontier, the closest we have to an untouched land, and our presence could spoil it.
Antarctica’s visitors may be vigilant, but humans have nonetheless affected this otherwise pristine landscape. Climate change has altered the environment: the glaciers are thinning and sea levels are rising. Warming waters are bringing in invasive species. Two weeks after I left, the area of Antarctica I visited hit a record temperature of 63 degrees Fahrenheit.
There’s controversy about whether we should even allow tourists in Antarctica. Recent estimates say that about 35,000 people visit the region each year; that number is on a slow but steady uptick. I do hope people can see the land I saw, where animals are completely unafraid of people because they have no reason to be. I just don’t know what will come first: the tourist demand that will weaken Antarctica’s strict environmental protocols, or invasive king crabs that wipe out Antarctica’s fragile ecosystem. But a sinking feeling in my gut tells me we’ll be facing one or both.
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
