“We’ll eat the vegans first.” That’s the contingency plan my dad, a 67-year-old cattle rancher from Montana, comes up with in case we get stuck in Antarctica.
We’re bundled up like Michelin men sitting in an inflatable Zodiac certain for one of the inhospitable places on the planet. There are two vegans in our Zodiac. But I’d quite starve to death than eat them. They appear nice. Plus, they haven’t any meat on their bones.
100 and eight years ago, Sir Ernest Shackleton’s wood ship, the Endurance, got stuck not removed from where we’re.
Miraculously, his entire crew survived for greater than a 12 months on a weight loss program that included their dogs. Last spring, the location of the infamous shipwreck was finally positioned.
But that’s not the rationale I’m taking my dad as my plus-one on a 12-day Hurtigruten Expeditions cruise titled “Highlights of Antarctica” (from $8,500 per person; Hurtigruten.com). I’m taking him to “thank him” for all of the times he used to spank me after I was a child.
“When timeouts don’t work, it’s time for a paddling,” was my old man’s motto. While it’s been greater than 25 years for the reason that last time I got a tear-inducing tough-love tap, I definitely got my fair proportion. And I earned every considered one of them, fair and square. In consequence, I learned to respect authority, which has come in useful throughout my life. For instance, down here in no man’s land, there are numerous rules.
For starters, we will’t wear our own shoes ashore because we don’t wish to introduce an invasive species to Antarctica. We wear big black muck boots provided by Hurtigruten. We also can’t complain in regards to the weather, despite the incontrovertible fact that Antarctica is at the highest of God’s s–t list.
“To any extent further, there’s no such thing as ‘bad’ weather,’ ” explained our expedition guide who has as much enthusiasm as a cheerleader on speed. “The dimensions goes like this: Good is a hurricane, higher is rain and best is sun.”
Fortunately, January is summer here within the southern hemisphere, so we luck out with decent weather a lot of the trip. The captain even gives our first crossing of the infamous Drake Passage — where the Atlantic Ocean meets the Pacific Ocean and all hell breaks loose — a 4 out of 10. “You must have seen last week’s waves,” he tells us.
Because now we have such a tame crossing, most of us don’t benefit from the vomit bag stations spread throughout the ship. I say “most of us” because I exploit them as doggy bags so I can take food from the buffet back to my room, just not ashore.
Food isn’t allowed in Antarctica. A minimum of, cruisers like us can’t bring it ashore. Still, my diabetic dad finds a loophole along with his sugar pills. And it’s a superb thing, too, because halfway through our hike up a steep volcano (along with icebergs the dimensions of Costcos, Antarctica has massive volcanoes) on Deception Island, his blood sugar dips so low he nearly faints and falls into the caldera. It wasn’t his only brush with death that day. Half an hour later, he strips all the way down to his skivvies and nearly gives himself a heart attack when he dives into the icy waters our ship is anchored in.
I ask what he’s going to do with the certificate he receives for surviving Hurtigruten’s sanctioned polar plunge. “I’ll probably frame it and put it up in my workshop,” he said proudly.
As for me, I don’t subscribe to YOLO and even FOMO, so I pass on the chance to freeze my lady bits off for a chunk of paper.
I don’t, nevertheless, sit out any pursuit that involves penguins. Day-after-day we visit no less than one penguin rookery. While the tuxedoed seabirds stand out against the neverending expanse of ice and snow, we all the time smell them long before we see them.
Based on Jason Orfanon, a science producer at NPR, penguin guano smells like a mix of rotten shrimp and old cigarettes marinated within the sun for several days. To make matters worse, penguins don’t delicately dump. As an alternative, they shoot out putrid projectiles that usually land on one another. “Penguins can’t fly, but their poop can fly as much as 4 feet away,” said considered one of our tour guides who’s a walking, talking encyclopedia on all things Antarctica.
On the ice, and within the water, penguins in Antarctica all the time have the best of way. On day No. 1 of the cruise, we’re instructed to remain no less than 15 feet away from them. Apparently, the penguins don’t get that memo, nevertheless, as they often waddle and slide dangerously near us. One even jumps right into a Zodiac.
I reckon the unsuccessful stowaways are keen on the all-you-can-eat buffet we’re treated to on board. Besides fish, fresh food doesn’t really exist down here within the wilds of Antarctica. In reality, halfway through the cruise our ship’s kitchen donates several boxes filled to the brim with cabbage, tomatoes and eggs to Vernadsky Station, Ukraine’s Antarctic research base.
Personally, I feel they need to have donated all of the stale bread they’re serving, too. I’m considered one of several conspiracy theorists on board who’s convinced we’re eating crusts left over from the previous voyage. Let’s just say it’s so hard it doesn’t have to be toasted.
“Don’t eat anything you don’t wish to see again,” warns my dad on our last day in Antarctica. We’re about to cross the Drake Passage again, headed back to Argentina where we’ll catch our flight home.
Unfortunately for us, the ocean is more like a 7 out of 10 this time. The 18-foot-tall waves have us all doped up on a lot Dramamine we stumble across the ship like wasted zombies.
Not only can we make it back alive, we even come back with the identical variety of vegans we left with. I be certain to count. But the perfect part is my dad — a rancher who believes in corporal punishment and wouldn’t hesitate to harm a fly — actually becomes friends with them.
Whether it’s father-daughter, or carnivore-vegan, there’s something special in regards to the bonding that only takes place in Antarctica.
