I've managed to travel all the way around the world in one trip, summit the Roof of Africa, and plant my feet in 43 countries. But the Holy Grail has eluded me, until now. The goal this trip: bag the 7th continent and spend some time with penguins. Read more
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  • Top ten from number seven

    November 30, 2014 in the United States ⋅ ☁️ 25 °F

    I always have mixed feelings about the end of a trip. I'm sad to be leaving but happy to be returning to home, and this trip is no different. Looking back, here are the top ten moments from Antarctica '14:

    10. Voluntarily, and quite exuberantly, jumping into 32 degree water
    9. Experiencing such exhaustion on the last flight home, I cried three times during a Spiderman movie
    8. Not crying when I saw Evita's inauguration dress
    7. Realizing that anyone will help you, if you just look pitiful enough
    6. Learning that Argentine Spanish is not Mexican Spanish; and I can't speak it
    5. Making a snow angel in Antarctica is even more fun than in Colorado
    4. Trying to understand that the potential of dying by boiling lava trumps the winds of an Antarctic hurricane
    3. Feeling amazed that Kim wanted to do the polar plunge...and then she was the first on the ship to take the leap
    2. Sharing Thanksgiving with my family via Skype
    1. Flinging my body down an Antarctic mountain face, as a human luge
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  • Spoke too soon

    November 29, 2014 in Argentina ⋅ ☁️ 82 °F

    We thought we would repeat our bus ride to the city, since it went so well yesterday. We got to the stop and when the bus arrived at the designated time, I twice confirmed with the driver, "Obelisco?" He said yes twice, so I didn't think much about it, until we turned off the familiar highway. We wound through the city, dropped everyone off, and then he came to a stop. It was the end of the line. I made every effort to figure out what went wrong, but the driver and I were getting nowhere. He went and got his friend, who didn't speak any English but was more patient. He told us to get on the train, and that's about all I understood. Imagine being dropped in the middle of a city, with no map, no cell phone, and no way of communicating. All we could do was trust what I understood. Unfortunately, the train terminal had no map, and the pay machines weren't working. I tried to get information from an attendant, who got so frustrated, he just let us in for free and kept saying bus 98. It's great that I understood what bus to take, but I didn't understand where to get off the train. I figured the worst that could happen is that we get to the terminus and have to take a cab. So we rode to the end of the line, where we finally found a police officer that understood my Spanish and spoke very slowly for me. Thankfully, we caught the subway and rode it into town. Our 30 minute bus ride ended up taking over two hours, with a whole lot of frustration.

    We spent the day touring the city by foot. The majority of our afternoon included the Japanese Gardens. Set in the middle of a bustling city, the Gardens are a serene, green hideaway, with miniature pagodas, lots of koi, and immaculately manicured landscaping. It served as the perfect rejuvenating stop, following such a chaotic morning.

    Although we walked to the zoo, we declined to enter, as rain was headed our way. Instead, we opted to stroll up the avenue, next to the zoo, where a number of protesters had left their mark: "zoo=jail"; "animals aren't merchandise"; "free the animals"; and the like. Suddenly, I was glad we hadn't gone in.

    We beat the rain but not by much. It is a welcome relief to the 85 degree day. We'll be heading to the airport tomorrow and are ready to get back home.
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  • Don't cry for me

    November 28, 2014 in Argentina ⋅ ☀️ 81 °F

    I think the reason I like to travel so much is the challenge. Even the most mundane things test your skill and resolve. We had to take a bus into to town today, which would be a simple task back home; however, it is never that easy in a foreign country. We made it onto the bus, but I'm still not convinced it was the one we were supposed to use. Regardless, it got us to our destination. It was a 30 minute trip into Buenos Aires that was not short on entertainment. As we enjoyed Olivia Newton John's Xanadu on the radio, we took in the scenery and the passengers. Kim was infatuated with the guy sitting next to her. It wasn't that he was a dead ringer for the lead singer of AC/DC, but it was the chest length comb-over that had her hooked. I elbowed her several times, trying to interrupt her stare, but it was something to behold.

    I thought the woman at the hotel said there would be a tourist information center at the bus station but maybe I misunderstood. Kim seemed a little agitated when we exited the bus station, and I had no idea where to go. "Didn't you bring the map?" she asked. Of course I hadn't, I thought I'd get one there. Her sense of adventure isn't quite as developed as mine, so she found no humor in our predicament. Not to mention that we were standing in the middle of the widest boulevard in the world, Avenida 9 de Julio. That's a lot of traffic. Thankfully, I can read the Spanish here (because whatever they speak is not Español) and found a building that housed a tourist bookstore. They happily gave us a map, and we were on our way.

    We visited the Plaza de Mayo, where Evita made her speech. The area is smaller, but reminds me of the mall in DC. Crowds have gathered here in good times and bad; it is rich with a history of protest, celebration, and violence. We ducked into the Metropolitan Cathedral, which is a beautiful structure built in 1822. It is an opulent church, which houses the remains of the "Liberator of Argentina," San Martin. Oddly, soldiers stand at his tomb, which seems out of place for a structure so full of grace.

    We visited the Bicentennial Museum to the east of the Plaza. It is underground in the uncovered ruins of an old structure. The original bricks mark off different sections of Argentina's history from 1810 to 2010, their bicentennial year. They have many trinkets and relics from each period, accompanied by a short video piece on each era.

    From the museum, we headed to Florida Street, a pedestrian shopping area. It was getting hot and we had been on or feet for most of the day, so we stepped into a department store to cool down. There is something weird about finding a display of Christmas items, as you are seeking solace from the heat outside. I forget that not everyone has a white Christmas.

    Our successful bus ride back was the result of the kindness of strangers. My bumbling Spanish must have alerted the guy selling me the bus ticket that I probably wasn't going to get in the right line. He happily left his station to walk Kim and I to the exact spot where we would board the bus. Once we got on, we confirmed a couple times, "Barrio Uno, correcto?" Yes, the driver assured us that he was going to Barrio Uno, our stop. What we didn't realize is that the stop to get off the bus was not very close to where we had gotten on to the bus. Lucky for us, a very handsome young man nudged Kim and let her know that Barrio Uno was coming up. He and his girlfriend were getting off there, as well. When we stepped off the bus, neither of us recognized our surroundings. Our eyes must have been large, as we realized we had no idea what direction to go. Mr. Handsome asked if we needed help, and he and his girlfriend walked us all the way back to the B&B. And that's the other reason I love to travel; the spontaneous acts of kindness and the tender connection of humanity that is not divided by government or religion or status.
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  • The end doesn't mean it's over

    November 27, 2014 in Argentina ⋅ ⛅ 50 °F

    At breakfast we got to meet Joanne, who is climbing Kilimanjaro in February. Kim and I delighted in reliving that adventure for her. It was our pleasure to answer questions about the climb and safari. She was a bit surprised when we told her that we still keep in contact and vacation with our fellow climbers; we were strangers at the start of the climb but descended as friends. I regretted that we hadn't met her sooner on the voyage. We wished her the best of luck and a very safe climb.

    We got into port after breakfast this morning. The disembarkation process was painless, following our heartfelt goodbyes with our new friends. We killed a couple of hours at the penitentiary museum in Ushuaia. The prison was the last destination for some of the worst felons, imported to the area in the late 1800's and early 1900's. They literally built the town, some while wearing shackles. The location was perfect because there was no escaping a place that is encircled with frozen mountains and the icy sea. Poor devils didn't enjoy much of a life, which, of course, was the point.

    Although our flight was an hour late, we made it safely to Buenos Aires for the next chapter of our holiday.
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  • Out with a bang

    November 26, 2014, South Atlantic Ocean

    The Drake picked up a bit this morning, so Kim skipped lunch and the activities immediately before and after. While she was bedridden, I attended a lecture on the beginning of tourism in Antarctica. The inaugural cruise was out of Ushuaia in 1959. The passengers' first landing site was Deception Island, where they must have enjoyed much better weather than did we. Apparently, they paid pleasing favor to the weather gods.

    Later in the day, Kim was feeling better, so we decided to have a cup of tea and relax in the lounge. We weren't there long, when Jimmy, the wildlife biologist, announced dolphins at our port and bow. We grabbed our coats and headed up the decks. There were a couple of Peale's dolphins riding the waves just off our bow. They were like teenage boys playing chicken with the ship. They would sprint along at the bow and then dive right in front of the vessel. They didn't stick around long, but one popped up at ten o'clock, just off Kim's shoulder. These dolphins are a dark gray with wide white stripes that glow under the dark ocean surface. The animal bobbed up and down a few times before diving into the abyss, beyond our sight.

    Shortly after Flipper's visit, Captain Alexy made a special effort to bring us up close to Cape Horn. Typically our route would have swung us farther east of the Cape, but we were making good time and it's a historical spot. A lot of sailors have perished in these waters, which is hard to believe on a day like this. The waves aren't overbearing, and the weather is moderate. The Cape looked harmless with its green, brush-covered slopes; but even from a distance, you could make out the white spray of the sea crashing against the cliffs. Alex came over the speakers and provided a bit of history about the Cape. He told us of a steel sculpture that was erected, as a memorial to the lost lives. The artist welded a couple of pieces of steel together, creating the shape of an albatross. Alex then recited the poem, which is engraved at the site:

    I, the albatross that awaits for 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
    -Sara Vial, Dec. 1992

    The rest of our evening was jam packed with fun. We started in the lounge with a sweeping recap of the trip. Alex talked about the highlights, some of which included: witnessing 65 polar plunges, being first this season to Vernadsky, spotting four different whale species, and consuming over 3,000 eggs. Alex then welcomed Captain Alexy to kick off "Cocktails with the Captain." This was our opportunity to hear from the captain, as well as thank him for his amazing navigation. The celebration continued through dinner, where the dining room/kitchen staff were recognized for the delicious meals and impressive service. As the staff was introduced, our favorite, Mirela, got the loudest applause. A Romanian, she speaks a variety of languages effortlessly. She would be speaking to our Brasilian friends in Portuguese, answer my question in English, and then check-in with the Russians in their native tongue. And I'm not talking about taking orders, she was engaging in deep and meaningful conversations fluently. Her warmth then lead to me and my new Brasilian travel mate, Katia, inviting ourselves to the Black Sea for a visit. Mirela insisted that we not miss Dracula's castle, so we happily agreed. But I digress. Our final meal was five star, as usual, but was cut short for the farewell slideshow. Sam, the ship's onboard photography expert, had made a laptop available throughout the trip for passengers to share their photos. She culled through 1,200 pictures to create the 15 minute slideshow. It was a parade of spectacular images of drastic landscapes, curious wildlife, and snow interrupting the blue hues of sky and sea. Near the end, I was surprised to see my face cross the screen. Someone had snapped a photo, as I came in for a landing after my luge run at Paradise Harbor. The look of pure, unadulterated delight was priceless. My cup runneth over.
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  • Smooth Sailing

    November 25, 2014, South Atlantic Ocean

    I am happy to report that the dire weather forecast for this early morning never materialized in reality. We are having a mostly smooth crossing of the Drake Passage, and Kim is very grateful.

    For a full day at sea, we kept ourselves busy with activities. We had a historical lecture on Douglas Mawson's exploration of Antarctica. He is an Australian, who spent a great deal of time on the continent in the early 1910's. We also enjoyed a lecture on seals and another on art. Our lunch was cut short by a whale sighting, which ended well. Because the Drake has been so smooth, we have been making good time, and the captain was game for whale watching. He maneuvered the boat perfectly to intercept the whales. We watched them for quite a while, as they seemed to be on every side of the ship. It was a large pod of about a dozen humpbacks, with several other individuals in the distance. The ones near us were kind enough to come right up to the boat for photos. Although none breached, I'm sure I saw the largest one give a wink and smile.

    Before dinner, we had a repeat of knot tying club. Becs, the kayak guide, came prepared with several more knots for us to try. The number of participants was a bit larger today, as word is getting out about how much fun we have! At our request, Becs will be arranging one last knot tying class tomorrow, during our last full day aboard ship. It's knot to be missed.
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  • Hurricane Antarctica style

    November 24, 2014 in Antarctica

    We had a postcard day yesterday and mild weather during our time in Antarctica, so the odds were good that we'd eventually run into a storm. I awoke early because of the pronounced rocking of the ship. I laid in bed, rolling back and forth, until the morning announcement. We were headed to Deception Island for the morning activity, but the weather had changed drastically from last night. Deception Island is an active volcano, and only one of three in the world into which you can sail. About 700,000 years ago, in a terrific explosion, the volcano blew its top, leaving the caldera that sits as a horseshoe shaped island today. There is just a small opening through which the ship passed to bring us into the harbor. We waited most of the day for the weather to clear, as it was too windy to take the zodiacs to shore. To pass the time, there was a movie about the last non-motorized cargo ship (1929) that made regular runs around Cape Horn; there were lectures on the history and geology of Deception Island, a major whaling station for decades; and there was a knot tying class, which was my favorite. I'm trying to get proficient with my knots, as part of my sailing lessons back home, so this was a great opportunity to practice under the discriminating eye of a sailor.

    Unfortunately, the weather only worsened. By the afternoon, we were experiencing hurricane conditions, with winds gusting over 110 mph. The driving snow was painful on my face, as I ventured out to get a firsthand experience. I stood on the top deck, squinted my eyes, and put my face directly into the wind. A gust blew into my coat's hood and about swept me away like a kite. I'm not the brightest bulb but in this case, I quickly realized I should step away from the railing. In the caldera, we had protection from the worst of the storm. The volcanic rim provided shelter from the large waves and higher winds outside of the harbor. The captain was trying to keep us there as long as possible, hoping the storm would blow through before we would have to sail into the Drake Passage again. It's kind of ironic that we were seeking shelter in an active volcano.

    It was shortly before dinner, when we had to leave our sheltered cove. The time was getting late, and we needed to start sailing north to keep our schedule. We passed out of Neptune's Bellows, the narrow gateway in the caldera, and out into the choppier water. At first, we had some shelter from the Shetland Islands but even they were a poor windbreak from the storm. While we shared our evening meal, the ship's rocking became more accentuated. Several people left the dining room for their cabins to strap down for the evening. The captain indicates that we will be entering the Drake around 10pm, and the waters will be difficult until the morning. The crew has asked that we secure everything in the cabin, and barf bags have been strategically placed around the ship. Where there was a basket of fruit the past few days, I saw a bunch of bags displayed in a fan and at the ready.

    Although I'm disappointed that we missed out on a day of activities, it was fascinating to watch the power of Mother Nature. We are no longer allowed to go on the outside decks, due to the weather. The wind is whipping large snowflakes past our porthole, and the waves are thrashing against the steel of the hull, but we are safe in our cabin. Hopefully the dire weather prediction for tonight will not manifest in reality, and we will have a sunny and smooth passage to Argentina. Stay tuned...
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  • To jump or not to jump

    November 23, 2014 in Antarctica ⋅ 36 °F

    We started the morning at Port Lockroy. It is the site of an old British Antarctic Survey (BAS) hut, which has been restored to its original condition and serves as a museum. The kitchen is stocked with era-specific dry goods, the lab with old equipment, and the bunks with woolen underwear. The re-creation is tasteful and informative. It quickly gives you an appreciation for the tenacity of the individuals who wintered here. The whole hut was probably about 1000 sf, so there couldn't have been much alone time. I like my co-workers, but I think I would be homicidal in about six months under those conditions.

    It was a special day all around. First we had the Polar Plunge after Lockroy. A rite of passage for anyone visiting the Polar Regions (or Boulder Reservoir in the spring). I was shocked that Kim didn't even hesitate to join in. As a matter of fact, she was the first one on the ship to leap. I went immediately after and when we hopped back on the boat, the awaiting crowd cheered. There was a line of 63 other passengers, who congratulated us, as we hustled down the hall to a hot shower. Once we thawed, we went to the deck to watch other passengers plunge. Apparently, bathing suits became option, at some point. I can say that I have had my fill of twenty-something, naked boys with their GoPros. Regardless, it was a great time, and all the passengers either participated or watched. One of the crew said we broke the old record and had the most people plunge (63 of 122 passengers). There were so many participants, we finished about a half an hour behind schedule.

    Following our morning activities, the kitchen staff pulled out the grill again. This is the first day without snow, and the sun has been shining brightly. Now that we can see our surroundings, the views are even more stunning than when they were shrouded by clouds. We passed through a channel after lunch, where the mountains rocketed upward from the sea. The peaks have dramatic windswept glaciers with deep drifts of snow clinging to the cliffs. We saw a couple of avalanches roaring down valleys all the way to the ocean. They looked impressive from a distance, so I can't imagine how powerful they must have been. While transiting the channel, we saw a pod of Antarctic killer whales (Type B). These orcas are a gray color, with a smaller dorsal fin, and larger eye patch. They surfaced several times before heading down the waterway and out of sight.

    We arrived at Orne Harbor around 4:30 pm. It is a quiet area surrounded by high glaciated peaks. We climbed the eastern face of one of the slopes via a multitude of switchbacks. It appeared to be about a 30-35 degree incline for about 1000 feet. It reminded me of the final push up Kilimanjaro, from the crater to the rim; you don't look down, and you pray you don't slip. But there was a good reason to risk our lives: chinstrap penguins. These crazy little beasts nest at the top of the craggy cliffs. We took our time with the penguins, who are more vocal than the other two types we've seen. We watched a few march straight up the mountain face, foregoing any switchbacks. They are amazing mountaineers. We stood in the saddleback and could see both coast on the peninsula. Each side accentuated with frozen peaks standing sentry over their waters.

    The day finished with "Western Night" in the lounge. I've lived in Colorado for 45 years, so the West isn't a novel idea; although, I did realize I know a heck of a lot more about the cattle industry than I'd like to admit. It think it's the unfortunate combination of attending an ag university and working in Greeley all those years. And they thought the penguin rookeries smelled bad...
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  • They were some wild and crazy guys

    November 22, 2014 in Antarctica

    We started our day with a landing at Petermann Island. Once again it was snowing, but it's mostly just annoying for photos; otherwise, it is plenty warm, no wind, and the penguins really don't care. There were a lot of gentoo penguins, who were busy courting and building nests. I pointed out to Kim one couple, who were doing some weird flapping, gyrating thing. I made some comments about this "strange" behavior. Kim glanced at the pair and said, "It must be breeding season." I blushed and stopped looking.

    We saw a penguin go after another one, who was trying to steal nesting material. The penguins build a stone nest with hundreds of tiny pebbles. Some of the birds try to take rocks from the nests of others but when they get caught, the feathers fly. There is much squawking, fin flapping, and beak chomping. Then there are the honest, clean living birds, who don't steal. We watched one fellow haul a golf ball size rock, in his mouth, from shore all the up a hill to his awaiting partner. It's quite a process to watch.

    On the island, we saw adelie penguins for the first time. They are smaller than the gentoo. The ornithologist on the ship said their numbers are declining in this area. But don't fret, the last census saw their numbers grow significantly worldwide. By this time of the spring, they are already sitting on their eggs, much farther ahead of the gentoos. The adelie had some elaborate, cliff-side stone nests, where they roosted and watched the more frenzied gentoo.

    We took a hike to the other side of the island and were shocked at the view; the ocean was completely covered with sea ice, pocked with enormous icebergs. It is strange to see the ocean frozen over. Near the bay, it was free from sea ice, and the visibility was stunning. I could see straight down to the rocky bottom, as if looking through glass.

    We left Petermann Island for Vernadsky Station. The Station was originally built by the British in 1947 and was occupied continuously until 1996, as Faraday Base. At that time, it was sold to Ukraine for one pound because it was cheaper to give it away than to pay for the dismantling and cleaning. Whilst under British operation, the scientists at Faraday were the first to discover the hole in the ozone layer. The Ukrainian scientists have continued these studies and welcome visitors to their base. We were lucky to be their first visitors since last March. Our ship's crew took several boxes of fresh fruit and vegetables to the scientists, prior to us coming to land. When we arrived, they welcomed us with big smiles. It was an awesome stop! We got to look through the station, then they invited us upstairs, where they have their bar and homemade vodka. We didn't need drinks to enjoy the atmosphere. Lights were flashing and some Ukrainian pop music was pumping out a dance beat. It was surreal-that's the best description I can muster. To the side of the bar was "The Southern Most Souvenir Shop," where we picked up a couple of magnets. We also got to mail some cards with an Antarctica postmark, albeit with Ukrainian stamps.
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  • Stunning

    November 21, 2014 in Antarctica

    We were awakened at 0515 and were on the zodiac by 0600. We started our day early, in order to accommodate three landings. Our first, and snowy, stop was Danco Island. As we approached the landing point, a group of penguins porpoised by, gaining momentum to jump ashore. We watched them squirt from the water right to their feet. Unfortunately, some of the individuals didn't get enough propulsion to make it onto land, and they sadly slipped back into the water for another try. I could have watched this mayhem for hours, but we had to alight and move onto shore.

    We used switchbacks to ascend the mountain, stopping frequently to watch the penguins. From shore, they moved upward. Some would get tired and flop to their belly for a well-deserved rest. Others, arms straight out, waddled in lines, creating "highways" of penguin transit. We had to give way several times, as the birds have the right of way here.

    Kim and I spent time at the top, taking in the views and the penguin activity. We enjoyed a penguin "tiff," where the offended beat the other penguin with his flipper, then chased him off. It was comical for us, but a very serious matter for the birds.

    We returned to the ship for breakfast and a pair of warm, dry socks. Our next stop was Neko Harbor. We opted for the zodiac cruise, rather than the landing. Ali was our zodiac pilot, and she provided a great deal of information about the area. She also made sure we enjoyed some limited whale watching. Another zodiac pilot had spotted a minke whale, and she tracked it down for us. It was beautiful to watch the whale glide across the ocean surface, with an iceberg as backdrop.

    Although we rejoined the boat, the whale display was not over. We worked our way down the Strait and sighted some orca and a humpback whale. They made themselves available for all onboard, before diving out of sight.

    We had a special "Polar BBQ" for lunch. That's right, they were grilling burgers, dogs, brats, and ribs on the deck. It was just like a Caribbean cruise, with alcoholic drinks and sassy dance music; of course, the temperature was just a tad cooler. I skipped the ice cream bar, since I was already freezing from eating outside.

    Our last stop for the day was Paradise Harbor. We cruised first and got an intimate view of the Petzel Glacier. The glacier towers above the ocean, with gigantic rectangular columns of ice, now covered by snow. There were two large archways carved out at the waterline that seemed to invite us to enter. Beyond the glacier were unique rock formations, described in-depth by the ship's geologist. Please see me for more details.

    The zodiac then took us to the landing point, where we saw gentoo penguins, who had overrun an Argentine science base. We hiked up to the top of the point for an amazing view of the harbor below. The ocean was a dark blue, dotted with sea ice and floating icebergs, and punctuated by our tiny little ship; all surrounded by a ring of mountains and sheer cliffs. Several people decided to slide down the slope, so I gave it a try. I was one of the last to go, so the track was like an icy, bobsled run. I tucked my coat under my bum and gave a push. About 100 feet later, at a slope of about 25 degrees, I realized I probably wouldn't be able to see a chiropractor soon enough.
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