In our global village there remains one last great wilderness that can inspire awe in the coldest heart

Captain Cook didn’t like Antarctica. He made the first circumnavigation of it during the summers of 1772–75 and crossed the Antarctic Circle four times. Yet he never saw Antarctica itself and wrote: “I firmly believe that there is a tract of land near the Pole, which is the source of most of the ice which is spread over this vast Southern Ocean. I can be bold to say, that no man will ever venture farther than I have done and that the lands which may lie to the South will never be explored. Thick fogs, snow storms, intense cold and every other thing that can render navigation dangerous one has to encounter and these difficulties are greatly heightened by the inexpressible horrid aspect of the country, a country doomed by nature never once to feel the warmth of the sun’s rays, but to lie forever buried under everlasting snow and ice.”

Ouch. But Cook’s dismissal fits with an observation I’ve found to be true during more than 100 visits to Antarctica over the past 12 years. The world is divided between those who can’t wait to go and the few who see little attraction in visiting “some boring place that’s white and cold and infested with penguins”, as a friend of mine has said.

Cook was wrong about no one visiting after him. In fact, tourists are heading to Antarctica in unprecedented numbers. The options for those who wish to sail south are getting better and more varied all the time. The season remains short, however. If you wish to see Antarctica before the penguins depart and you need a torch to see anything, the window of opportunity lies in the short summer between November and March. For much of this time, Antarctica is bathed in 24-hour light. Shining silver peaks and gleaming icebergs against a deep blue sky remind you Antarctica is a frozen desert with little precipitation.

The question often asked (particularly by those who haven’t looked at a map) is, “Why sail from South America when Antarctica lies directly below Hobart?” The answer is that the mountainous spine of the Antarctic Peninsula extends northwards towards the Andes so you can reach Antarctica about 48 hours after boarding the ship. From Australia, it’s about five days sailing across the Southern Ocean to merely reach the continent, so a 10-day voyage from Ushuaia gives you about five days in the ice while 10 days on a ship from Tasmania may give you a chance to see Antarctica for a few hours or less.

Unless you’re an old salt, you’re most likely to seek the shortest time possible crossing the Southern Ocean. Of course, there are benign days when staff and passengers vie to hang over the bow and photograph their reflections in the mirrored waters of the Drake Passage. And there are many days when they don’t, but rather take medication and retire to their cabins to sleep off jet lag and seasickness. Fortunately, that clears once you reach Antarctica, where ice and islands dampen any waves.

Such travel is called ‘expedition cruising’. The ship and its cabins are warm and comfortable, the meals are prepared by talented Western chefs, and you spend as much time as possible off the ship, either ashore at penguin colonies and scientific bases or cruising in inflatable Zodiac craft through fields of icebergs or in the company of whales. There’s even a kayaking option, but that must be booked in advance.

It’s an intimate environment where the Russian captain welcomes you onto the bridge at any time to watch the albatross or to take in the glorious scenery while cruising around the Antarctic Peninsula. It’s not unheard of for the crew and chefs to have a BBQ on the stern and there’s an option to camp ashore if you’d like to join the select few who have ever slept on Antarctic soil (well, ice and snow).

How does a day on an Antarctic cruise unfold? Well, the sea days heading south are filled with briefings about what you are going to see and do, punctuated by sleep, naps and meals. The sea days back to Ushuaia are usually filled exchanging addresses and culling photographs.

Because there is perpetual summer light, days in Antarctica are intense, with up to three excursions per day and more hours off the ship than on it between breakfast and dinner time. Everything is optional, of course, but I have been on voyages where a couple in their late 70s were still going strong when the 30-year-old barflies had wilted under the sensual overload that Antarctica imparts.

For those who, unlike James Cook, ‘get’ Antarctica, a voyage down there changes your life. No number of David Attenborough documentaries can prepare you for the last place on earth where people are irrelevant. I’ve seen eyes brim with tears as a fluffy and curious penguin chick pecks at rubber boots - or even climbs into a warm human lap and falls asleep. And I’ve had to tell the passengers of my Zodiac not to pat the whales when a Minke surfaced alongside and held eye contact with each of us in turn.

On one memorable morning we had orca (or killer) whales use our Zodiacs for decoys while hunting crabeater seals on ice floes. Seeing the impossible blue of cracks in icebergs, or hundreds of glaciers spilling down in a 360° panorama in a sheltered bay, takes me outside the everyday world.

Getting to Antarctica is not cheap. But I’ve never heard anyone complain that the voyage was a waste of money - even those who were merely accompanying their partners, only to discover the joy of Antarctica for themselves.

If you have the time and money, the ultimate Antarctic experience includes a visit to South Georgia. As others have said before me, “South Georgia is where God takes his holidays.” It is almost too much to absorb at times. The island looks like a slice of the European Alps dropped in the South Atlantic - black mountains tower overhead while glaciers run down in profusion to the coast. But it’s the wildlife that enthrals.

Of course, ‘Sunny Jim’ Cook visited here too - and didn’t think much of it. In January 1775, he wrote as he sailed away: “I did not think it worth my while to go and examine these places where it did not seem probable that any one would ever be benefited by the discovery... The inner parts of the country were not less savage and horrible: the wild rocks raised their lofty summits till they were lost in the clouds and the valleys lay buried in everlasting snow. Not a tree or shrub was to be seen...”

He didn’t neglect to mention the wildlife. Indeed, his account of its abundance brought sealers and whalers that decimated the animal populations and left the rusting shells of huge whaling stations. It’s a strange combination: man-made ruins and an overwhelming abundance of wildlife.

If you’ve ever wondered where those photographs are taken of hundreds of thousands of king penguins with their colourful orange neck patches, it’s here on South Georgia. And the fur seals have returned too - so the beaches are alive with seals and their pups. Giant elephant seals congregate in bad tempered (and bad smelling) muddy wallows. Albatross nest on the cliffs behind, and this is one of the few places on earth you can walk to see nesting albatross - including the wandering albatross, the largest flying bird that, when it does a fly-past, seems the size of a small Cessna.

An added bonus of the South Georgia voyage is that it calls into the Falkland Islands. Like Gibraltar, the town of Stanley is more English than England, festooned with Union Jacks (and pubs). The wildlife is abundant, too, and it’s strange to walk through an island farm where sheep and penguins co-habit.

One Ocean prides itself on having an excellent ratio of staff to passengers - and the staff are all experts on various aspects of Antarctica, too. It promises to bring enthusiasm to the voyages that can be missing on larger cruise ships.

No matter which departure you select, it’s likely to be one of your life’s most memorable journeys. About the only drawback is running the gauntlet of friends who ask, “Why on earth did you want to go there?” You’ll be able to say that you’ve experienced the wonders of the world’s last great wilderness - and Captain Cook got it wrong.

By David McGonigal Open Road May/June 2008