Antarctica, uninhabitable in the truest sense of the word. No human can survive it naturally. So what is it that draws us in, makes us want to visit, explore, push the boundaries, and place it on the bucket list?

We've spent hours sharing highlights of our Antarctica experience with family, friends and fellow travelers. The result: we get excited, they get excited. And rightfully so — Antarctica is a special place and our experience there was truly memorable in so many dimensions.

Inspired by all of these conversations ourselves, we decided to dabble in a different medium, the audio slideshow, to relate our Antarctica experience in a different way.

Antarctica Highlights

Detaille Island

Take a look at the photo from Detaille Island, just south of the Antarctic Circle, for a clue. Take a good, long look at the glaciers — their color, how they seem to glow from within. For a place so devoid of light much of the year, that light should seem to emanate from within frozen blocks of ice is remarkable.

While we were giddy frolicking with penguins on our trip, but it's that otherworldliness of raw openscape where beauty meets brutality that always brings us back.

Just a few meters from where where we took this photo lies an abandoned British Antarctic Survey (BAS) research center — a sort of three-dimensional snapshot to man's fallibility. The story goes that the center's inhabitants left in a hurry — food still in the cupboards, sweaters still draped over chairs — when faced with a decision to either meet a ship beyond a glacier just a few kilometers away or to stay put for another season with existing supplies. The scientists decided to leave — to flee, really — in 1959 and the place looks today just as they left it then. It's frozen in time, in a way, like Antartica itself.

We're still prone to shivers, less because of Antarctic temperatures than Antarctic temperament, when we recall our journey south of the Antarctic Circle.

The Antarctica tour we took with G Adventures was paid for by us and went south of the Antarctic Circle. We highlight this feature as most tours to Antarctica do not go this far south. If you plan to book this or another tour with G Adventures, please consider starting the process by clicking on the ad to the left. The price stays the same to you and we earn a small commission. Thank you!

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“I believe penguins are the answer to world peace.” — Heidi Krajewsky, resident ornithologist (bird gal) aboard the MS Expedition to Antarctica

Our challenge to you: read this, enjoy the photos, check out the video — and maintain a straight face.

Can you envision the world’s leaders meeting onstage at the United Nations with a group of penguins to kick off the next round of nuclear arms reduction talks? Or during a break at the next Israeli-Palestinian peace talks, running a few clips of Antarctic penguins chasing each other down a snow-covered slope?

Whereas Antarctica’s landscape stirs the blood, its penguins touch the heart.

Penguins generate excitement, too. They bob, they waddle. They appear like they are forever on the verge of tipping over. But they do walk upright. And it's because of this (and perhaps their tipping over) that we identify with them. We find human connections in ways we just don’t with other birds.

There is a huge temptation to anthropomorphize penguins, from characterizing how they “toboggan” down snowfields on their bellies to comparing their appearance to someone wearing a tuxedo.

They tempt imitation. They draw laughter.

Watch Our Video on Antarctic Penguins

The life of a penguin is not all good fun though. Anyone who has watched the incredible film March of the Penguins knows this. During our visit, we witnessed both Adélie and Gentoo penguins molting.

During this process, penguins shed their feathers in favor of a new coat. Because they must remain on land — and away from the their source of food, the sea — they are unable to eat. Penguins in various stages – some on the verge of a shiny new coat and others with bits of Mohawk-y feathers puffing out atop their bodies — tuck their heads in and bring their shoulders up to stand rigid against the cold and wind as they endure this stressful process.

Then there’s raising children. With this, humans can empathize. Although we missed the penguin chicks’ early days, we still caught a glimpse of a few that were shedding the last of their baby fuzz. Some of the more mature chicks even engaged in a feeding chase – running after their parents in the search of the good ol’ days of dependence and (regurgitated) food.

Many parents, eager for their children's independence, were forced to show some tough love. They rejected their children’s overtures, thereby implying that their relatively new offspring were ready for adulthood and all that comes with it.

Any of this sounding familiar?

And amidst this circle of life, the reality of death: a land scattered with the carcasses of those not strong enough to survive, often being picked over by hungry sea birds.

How Many Penguins Are Enough?

Some readers were concerned that because our visit to Antarctica approached the end of the Antarctic summer, we would miss out on penguins. Not at all. We didn't experience the epic King Penguin rookeries of South Georgia Island (tens if not hundreds of thousands of penguins at once), but we felt ourselves exceptionally fortunate: we saw several thousand penguins, and needed only a precious few to put us in our penguin happy place.

Our suggestion: enjoy our penguin photo essay, slideshow and video. Soak it up, let us know what you think. Then, bookmark the page. And the next time you are having a bad day, return to it and watch it.

Penguins may not make all your cares go away, but they will probably make you smile. And if penguins become the next big thing in happiness therapy, you can say you heard it here first.

Antarctica Penguins Slideshow

If you don’t have a high speed connection or you would like to read what the penguins are saying in these photos, view our Antarctica Penguins photo essay.

The Antarctica tour we took with G Adventures was paid for by us and went south of the Antarctic Circle. We highlight this feature as most tours to Antarctica do not go this far south. If you plan to book this or another tour with G Adventures, please consider starting the process by clicking on the ad to the left. The price stays the same to you and we earn a small commission. Thank you!

The post Antarctica, Part 3: Penguins, The Key to Happiness and World Peace? appeared first on Uncornered Market.

Life's journeys play host to the constant battle of expectations and delivery. Antarctica was no different except that our expectations of it were within inches of the stratosphere given the mystique and the cost of the trip. However, we did not carry a must-see checklist outlining this bit of wildlife or that bit of landscape, this scene or that moment. We could not really quantify our desires — we had simply hoped to be overwhelmed.

Then, on that first Antarctic morning, we stepped foot off the gangway of the MS Expedition and into a zodiac. It was clear that we were about to be blown away — but in a way that none of us had quite expected.

We were in Hanusse Bay, a few clicks south of the Antarctic Circle. Just before, Mother Nature had tested us on the Drake Passage by sending 35-50 foot waves our way. (A polar navigation veteran with 35 years of experience rated the difficulty of our passage as 8 out of 10).

Everyone was anxious to see and feel the place for which they had traveled all this way.

Mother Nature began that day by painting the sky with gray primer touched by steel wool. She offered no postcard cliché, no azure blue skies with popping white mountains. Her opening display was about honesty. On her canvas of truth, she dropped in shrouded glaciers and brushed in water that was ink-black. But amidst all this dimness, she placed massive hunks of turquoise blue ice that appeared to be illuminated from within and reflected them in the water in electric shades of light green.

We could only wonder: from where the light?

Jared, our zodiac driver, quit the motor. We sat suspended, swaddled by the immensity of our surroundings. It was fiercely quiet. Although we were not the first to ply these waters, the scene evinced freshness and mystery, a kind of infinite natural virginity.

A few crabeater seals and seabirds sitting on icebergs dotted our vision, but the star of that morning was ice, pure and simple. All we could hear were the occasional plunks and scrapes of glacier fragments glancing off the side of the zodiac. When the floes thinned, the silence was punctuated with the snap, crackle, and pop of melting brash ice in the water that surrounded us.

We began moving again. Behind each giant piece of floating ice, the light shifted with the Antarctic wind and the whites and blues of icebergs and glaciers took on a new character. It played stunning and eerie as we glided through the water. Like a land conceived of in the imaginations of inventive science fiction writers seeking to teach us a lesson, this Antarctica was solemn and otherworldly.

A few times, giant hunks of ice separated from calving glaciers and fell into the sea, setting off waves that would have toppled our zodiac had we been too near. This was Mother Nature’s way of saying, “You can look, but you can’t get too close.”

For a first impression, Antarctica opened for us like a prizefighter that moves with ballerina-like elegance, only to deliver a knockout blow. Most passengers returned to the ship stunned and exhilarated by both the beauty and the mood of what they'd just experienced.

A land harsh and brutal, graceful and serene, Antarctica makes clear that visitors are voyeurs — guests at best, interlopers at worst. On this trip, she would eventually treat us to a taste of the stereotypically dramatic that she has to offer – the blue skies, jagged peaks and wildlife that she is known for.

But on that first morning Antarctica showed who she really was, rather than what we believed we wanted her to be.

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A journey to Antarctica from Tierra del Fuego, the southernmost point of South America requires crossing the Drake Passage, an infamous body of water that serves as a rite of passage for those who seek the seventh continent. The seas are notoriously some of the roughest in the world.

As a teacup and breakfast plate sailed by Wednesday morning, followed by a fellow passenger or two, it again occurred to me that no story of a destination is complete without recounting the process of getting there.

To wit, one reader pointed out before we departed: “The Drake Passage can be brutal. I was bed-ridden for 4 days.”

Hard to believe, perhaps, until you experience it first-hand.

Although we left Ushuaia, Argentina on Tuesday evening with the calm of a beautiful sunset, by the end of our first breakfast the next morning, circumstances had changed dramatically. Much of the service went upside-down. Chain-anchored chairs tipped, coffees once adhered to the non-slip table mats tipped over. Passengers held on to railings and tables to stable themselves as the boat swayed. A few bodies stumbled by in our peripheral vision; they hadn't grabbed hold quickly enough.

Where did this suddenly come from?

The reality is that conditions can change instantly in the Drake Passage. That’s why Antarctica isn’t simply a walk-up, an ordinary luxury cruise. Our tour leader put Antarctica circumstances and planning in perspective: “You can’t really get weather reports down here. We get wind reports and some low resolution ice reports.” Despite all the commercialization and professionalism of Antarctic tours, this is still a serious venture prone to the unpredictable.

In fact, this adds to the excitement. You can't just purchase a trip to Antarctica — you must earn it.

Of the 120 passengers aboard, only about 30 made it to the lecture after that first breakfast. Most were huddled in their cabins. Sea swells continued from the west. Passengers traversing the ship walked precariously, their ankles pivoting almost absurdly at an angle.

Our ship continued to rock violently. A look out the windows of the main lounge was a mixed blessing: while a visual of the horizon helped mitigate seasickness, we found ourselves penned in by white-capped waves approaching on the starboard side and the ship kissing the water’s surface on port side. Swells reached 30-35 feet.

Despite all the “take a tour with a small ship” recommendations we had received, we are very thankful that this vessel is not one foot smaller than it is. We were both grateful for a serious crew of professionals and curious as to what it might take for a boat of this size (100+ meters) to capsize.

If you've never really appreciated the might of nature, take this trip. It will convince you. Even in this large mass of reinforced steel, it’s easy to feel tiny — if not entirely powerless — compared to the surrounding forces of nature.

Good Things Come to Those Who Wait

Because of bad weather on the first day, our approach to Antarctica has been slowed down a bit; we expect to arrive below the Antarctic Circle tonight (something most Antarctic tours don't do). In the meantime, everyone has been on the lookout on deck and on the bridge (the captain’s control room) for sea birds, whales – and now icebergs.

In the vastness of the sea, an hour or two can pass without a sight of anything.

Then, all of sudden, you can be rewarded by an albatross or a storm petrel — or much more dramatically, a visit from a pod of 6-10 killer whales breaching right next to the boat. We are told by the cetacean expert (i.e., whale and dolphin guy) on board that they are a rare and newly identified sub-species D. We were excited to see whales – killer whales! — regardless of their type.

Weather permitting, we take our first zodiac rides and land expeditions tomorrow morning (Saturday) around the Crystal Sound and Detaille Island just below the Antarctic Circle.

Something tells me we are in for much more.

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The other day we were chatting with some friends over dinner about travel and the topic of Antarctica came up. Perhaps it was the martini and red wine combination (it was a long day), but I got fired up as I considered the possibility.

Until now, Antarctica seemed like a far off dream, the stuff of speculation only. But could we – or rather, should we – try to make it a reality?

The end of the season – always our favorite time to travel anywhere – is approaching. Perhaps there would be a cancellation we could fill? Last time we executed a just-in-time strategy – in the Galapagos Islands – we booked a last minute tour and it worked out great.

So we put a call out on Twitter for information on the availability of Antarctica tours launching this March (as in two weeks from now). Surprisingly, we received only one response. (Note: A similar call last summer for Galapagos tours quickly delivered more than a dozen responses. Galapagos tour agents are apparently more attuned to Twitter than the Antarctica crew.)

Regardless, the one response this time around seems to have put us in touch with the right Antarctica agent. At the time of writing, there are spaces available on two trips launching in March. Both would be great; one in particular looks incredible. It bears mentioning that absolutely nothing connected with Antarctica is inexpensive, but both offers strike us as comparatively good value.

So what's the fascination with Antarctica?

Antarctica strikes us as truly far away, beyond consideration. Forbidden. Harsh. The land is remote and barren – aside from a few regulars we’d hope to meet up close (e.g., penguins). I envision an ice-breaker and the adventure of braving the elements and rough sea to get there.

Finally, the sheer visual beauty of the place has strong appeal: the landscape, the glaciers, the way light bends over it all. (Have you some of these photos?)

Add to all that the urgency. There are rumors that authorities may begin restricting tourism to Antarctica. Perhaps it won’t be immediate. Perhaps the rumor is a marketing ploy and the restrictions will never come to pass. I’m a skeptic and aware of all that. I am convinced the poles are melting — regardless of what or whom happens to be causing their accelerated disappearance.

Then, there's the fact that Antarctica is the seventh continent. We're not big fans of counting passport stamps or bragging about the number of countries we've been to, but there is something oddly appealing about visiting a continent so remote that most will never have considered going.

What's keeping us back?

It’s simple: money. We aren’t rolling in it, so making this happen would take a big chunk out of what we planned to spend in South America. It would require us to ramp up the business side of our existence (perhaps not a bad thing?). We are looking at having to make some timing and financial adjustments.

We are here in Argentina. We are close. And the little man on my shoulder is saying to me: “You only live once.”

But we question. We recently wrote about deliberate living. How does this fit in with our larger priorities?

In writing this post, I may have jinxed us completely and the opportunity may pass with the next keystroke.

But, I’m curious to hear your thoughts:

What do you think? Should we go for it? Is a trip to Antarctica worth it?

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