Glaciers floating on the ocean gyre. Penguins marching in a row ... December is the best month to visit Antarctica, writes Thomas Bywater. White Christmas, guaranteed.
The phrase “white Christmas” has appeared in this magazine many times (many ways!), but Antarctica is not the first place that crops up on wish-lists. Until recently it wasn’t possible to visit at all. Though it’s still a once-in-a-lifetime destination and could in no way be described as a budget stocking-filler, the number of options for getting to the ice is growing fast. And if you’ve been dreaming of a trip to Antarctica, December is the perfect time to go.
A white Christmas is guaranteed. For a few lucky visitors, there is the chance to spend a silent night sleeping on continental Antarctica.
What does it cost to visit Antarctica?
I arrived with the Austral summer into the port of Ushuaia, Argentina. So, too, did the sleet, hail, and slushy Patagonian peat bogs. At 54 degrees below the equator and the most southerly city in the world, snow and ice are common all year round. That’s what people come for.
The brief, four-month Antarctic tourism season has about 100,000 visitors head south from this point. Most sail through the Beagle Channel, from Chile and Argentina, via the Drake Passage. Ushuaia itself has undergone an unexpected transformation — from “gulag” penal colony to tourism boom town. Once the Alcatraz of South America, its high street is now populated with designer outdoor retailers and King Crab restaurants. Nowhere else but in Patagonia does a store selling $250 fleeces seem such an odd fit. Stranger still, across the street are travel agencies promising “Antarctica Last Minute!” next to images of emperor penguins. Though last-minute discounts do not make the place any more affordable. The cheapest deal I could find was 11 days at $12,000. The top end was closer to $75,000 per person. For most tourists, Antarctica is not a spur-of-the-moment destination but a trip they have saved for during a lifetime.
On the harbourfront is a rotating conveyor belt of expedition ships in all shapes and sizes.
At the clunkier end is a collection of Russian icebreakers and Scandinavian car ferries, such as G Adventures’ ship the MS Expedition and Intrepid Travel’s clunky cruiser ship — formerly a Baltic passenger ship named for Soviet war hero Konstantin Simonov. The port is also graced by next-generation ships such as the puffin-beaked profile of the Australian-owned MS Sylvia Earle, and the Commandant Charcot — the world’s first purpose-built Polar Class 2 tourist vessel, belonging to French luxury line Ponant. All these ships have one mission: to deliver passengers to south of the 60th parallel and Antarctica, with various considerations for comfort and adventure.
I was one of 335 guests and 160 crew sailing aboard the Hurtigruten ship Frijdthof Nansen. The Norwegians have had a reputation for polar exploration since well before Roald Amundsen, and this cutting-edge ship from Longyearbyen charted a fine course between home luxuries and ice-dodging mobility. Powered by hybrid electric and diesel engines, it was also among the more environmentally sound vessels heading south. Joined by an 11-person science team, including researchers from the University of Tasmania, Nansen keeps the spirit of polar exploration alive by offering a platform for discovery. It also has the benefit of providing a captive team of experts to answer burning questions about the mysterious white continent.
Ever wondered why penguins are black and white? Or perhaps, what is the only species of land animal native to Antarctica? Science co-ordinator Tim has you covered.*[footnote]
Before sunset we were heading towards continent No. 7 We departed following the gold polar star, painted on the prow of the Nansen, like We Three Kings of Orient Are. I was giddy as a babe on Christmas Eve. Partially because much of the route was still a secret.
Even on the latest generation of expedition ship, there is a degree of mystery when sailing across the Drake Passage. At this point, my itinerary was printed with the enigmatic heading “5 days: Antarctica”. No details followed. It seemed madness that travellers would spend tens of thousands of dollars on a mystery cruise, but there was reason for it. As one of the most extreme and unpredictable parts of the planet, forecasts and plans change daily, sometimes hourly. Any expedition that tries to give you an advance schedule is setting you up for disappointment. Instead, guests take part in nightly briefings for activities on the day ahead. Though there were several occasions where pack ice and navigation meant the day bore little resemblance to the briefing — it only added to the aura of the place.
“There is no bad weather in Antarctica,” beamed cruise director Torsten. “Even if there is a blizzard and windspeeds of 75 knots [140km/h], this is good weather because you are in Antarctica.”
By this point we had passed the first icebergs. Eerie columns of blue marble grew larger and more elaborate the further south we pressed. The first blocks were sighted at 8.45pm. By 11.15 a thin band of land could be seen on the horizon, in the twilight that passes for night in Antarctica.
The two days’ sailing across the Drake Passage had been used to sign up for activities, ranging from kayaking among icebergs to camping in the snow, and provide further instruction. Guests were also given an expedition uniform of a handsome, red polar parka and gumboots — sterilised for use in the pristine polar landscape. There was an inspection, called by landing party groups and mandatory IAATO waivers on safety and biosecurity. Guests were warned not even seasickness was an excuse for missing these meetings. Failure to register would result in not being allowed on the shore excursions. Some nauseous passengers turned a whiter shade of pale after learning they would no longer be allowed to join their planned paddling trip. Pack your Sea-Legs tablets.
What is December like in Antarctica?
On the second morning I woke at 4am with the energy of a 6-year-old hunting for Christmas stockings.
The thick blackout curtains used to stop bird strikes during the ocean passage were drawn back. In swooped the glare of direct sun on snow, ice and mirror-like waters. If we were hoping for “good” conditions, by Torsten’s standards these were perfect.
Rounding Anvers Island into the Gerlache Strait, there before us appeared continental Antarctica. In Paradise Bay, the Nansen slowed and small zodiac motorboats began appearing to sound out the harbour. We had arrived.
The effect was of a disorienting landscape, in dazzling white. Far from a sterile ice-scape, the whole eyeline was alive. Chunks of glacier walls were constantly calving. Blocks of blue ice as big as tower blocks soundlessly broke off into the sea. Their delayed report rolled through the fiords like waves seconds later. If you heard it, you had missed it.
More alarming still were the ice projectiles that broke off from below the water, surfacing like a submarine. New icebergs churned through the bay. The party of sea kayakers were reminded to give the plenty of space. Despite dry suits and thick fleece underlayers to protect them from the cold, it was best not to be rammed by blocks of sea ice.
For all the ocean gyre and distant snowfields, it was impossible not to notice: there was life in the freezer.
As unobservant as I was, even my untrained eye could not help but notice the killer whale that surfaced at eye level. It was a white, toothy grin on dark blubber. A “type B1 Orca” as Chris, one of three cetacean experts on board, told me. He was on the Nansen running a citizen science project called Happy Whales. Using photos taken of whales, their flukes, tails and patches could be cross-referenced against a database of known animals. It was like a fingerprint identity kit for orca, humpback and minke whales. Arduous work for one researcher, but a great project on a cruise ship crowdsourcing images. Having 300 extra pairs of eyeballs behind long lenses was invaluable. There were 132 sightings made on the voyage.
Then there were the penguins.
They exist almost as a comic counterbalance to their majestic surroundings.
From the graceless gentoos to the dark-faced Adelies, they have to be the world’s most unelegant birds. Waddling and sliding along narrow grooves of snow — dubbed “penguin highways” — they hop out the water onto land where they sort into their black-and-white tribes. The only thing more mawkish were the flocks of visitors in bright-red Hurtigruten snowjackets. Finally, it was our turn to go to the landing boats. Due to the fragile nature of the site, only 100 passengers at a time were allowed off the boat. We had been divided into groups (Petrals, Whales, Seals and Penguins). By the time we were called to the zodiacs, I had been waiting in four layers, gumboots and a lifejacket for some time. I was not going to miss the chance to set foot on the seventh continent.
A tiny section of the Danco coast by the empty Argentine research base had been cordoned off using red flags to stop guests following penguin tracks into the glaciers. As a walk, it was probably shorter than the distance from my parking space to the office. At the time it felt momentous. Reactions from those stepping off zodiacs onto terra nova ranged from beaming grins to shedding a few icy tears. There was plenty of time for Santa hats and selfies. A couple from Illinois whooped with delight. “Number 7, baby! Cross it off the list.”
A night on the ice and Christmas cards from Antarctica
As well as planned landings and cruises around the icy sounds in small boats, guests of the Hurtigruten sailing have the opportunity to take part in special paid-for expeditions. From snowshoe treks into the interior to an afternoon on a science boat collecting samples, each is assigned by lottery. The most sought after was among one of 30 places in tents, spending a night on continental Antarctica.
Despite the (relative) hardship, this did not stop more than three times as many people entering the draw for a night on the ice.
Calling in at Leith Island, the lucky few were given a thick down sleeping bag, snow anchors and two-person Hilleberg tents. As a pristine wilderness, no food was allowed on the ice. Not even mince pies. Latrines were buckets in a snow trench that had to be brought back to the ship. In Antarctica, there is no waste left behind.
By morning the campers returned elated but exhausted, from the short Antarctic night. There was an important last port of call before heading back north — a trip to the post office.
At the historic 1944 Port Lockroy base, the UK Antarctic Heritage Trust stations a five-person conservation and science team over summer. Among their many jobs, including sharing restoration projects with the NZ AHT, they man the most southerly post office in the world. Under a Union Jack and jolly-looking LGBT rainbow flag (possibly the brightest object in Antarctica) is the Penguin Post Office. Processing up to 93,000 letters from tourists a year — cancelling each by hand. They gladly added our postcards to the backlog for £3 ($6) a stamp.
We might have missed the cut-off but we were told they had a good chance of getting there by Christmas next year.
Famous Christmases in Antarctica
To be in the privileged position of spending Christmas dinner in a Hurtigruten ship is a luxury unimaginable to most of the 19th-century whalers who were probably the first to spend December 25 on the ice. The MV Nansen’s speciality restaurant, Lindstrom, is named for the chef who baked Christmas cake and pastries for the 1911 Norwegian polar expedition. Even the toughest of adventurers had time to observe the season of goodwill. Though few have.
Here’s how some famous Christmases were celebrated on the ice:
Christmas 1898-1899 — An unintended Christmas in Antarctica
The Belgica expedition spent two years trapped in sea ice. They celebrated Christmas three times, with an extra yule thrown in at midwinter to keep spirits up.
The ship’s doctor, Frank Cook, said the festive dinner of penguin meat and seal liver left a lot to be desired.
The taste of chinstrap penguin is described as “a piece of beef, odiferous codfish and a canvas-backed duck roasted together in a pot, with blood and cod-liver oil for sauce”.
Christmas 1900 — The first Noel
English-Norwegian Carsten Borchgrevink recorded the first Christmas on continental Antarctica: “Christmas Eve was celebrated by speeches, toddy, extra rations of biscuits, and a longing for home. On Christmas Day we had tinned plum pudding, and Mr Evans, in honour of the occasion, baked cakes.”
Christmas 1902 — Shackleton’s stocking fillers
Anglo-Irish explorer Ernest Shackleton endeared himself to the Discovery Expedition, smuggling treats to the expedition. As third officer, he recalled hiding Christmas pudding, “in my socks (clean ones) in my sleeping bag, with a little piece of holly”. These were produced on Christmas Eve with brandy rations.
Christmas 1904 — Champagne and penguins
French gentleman explorer and bon viveur Jean-Baptiste Charcot recalled the day “on Petermann Island the men celebrated Christmas”. They took the gramophone ashore to play music among the penguins. Presents, brought with them from home, were found and opened. Sponsored by Mumm Champagne, Charcot was well stocked for the occasion.
Christmas 1911 — Race for the pole
The two competing teams vying to be first to the pole cut little slack for themselves — that changed on Christmas day.
The Norwegian team led by Roald Amundsen marked the day by playing Gad Jul on the portable gramophone and eating kransekake, coffee, and baking from chef Adolf Lindstrom. “We took our seats round the table, which groaned beneath Lindstrom’s masterpieces in the culinary art.”
The British polar team led by Robert Falcon Scott also saved some festive luxuries including chocolate and cigarettes:
“Dinner consisted of pemmican, biscuits, chocolate eclair, pony meat, plum pudding and crystallised ginger and four caramels each. We could hardly move.”
Christmas 2011 — Home alone in Antarctica
British adventurer Felicity Aston took 59 days to ski across Antarctica alone. The first person to ski haul solo across the continent.
Travelling light, for her Christmas treat she had “some cheese and salami and an extra sachet of salami”. She was also saving some spare batteries and a BBC history podcast for the day, as a Christmas treat.
CHECKLIST: ANTARCTICA
Getting there:
Latam operates daily flights from Auckland to Buenos Aires via Santiago de Chile. Airlink to Ushuaia is by charter, included in the cruise rate. Talk to your travel agent for the best route for you.
Details:
Hurtigruten Expeditions’ Highlights of Antarctica is a 12-day cruise that travels from Argentina to the Antarctic Peninsula. The cruise has 40 departures planned between January 2024 and March 2026. global.hurtigruten.com
Footnote*: Almost all birds are black and white in Antarctica to provide camouflage at sea. The only land animal is a wingless insect, Belgica antarctic. Thanks, Tim!