A Unique Adventure: Camping in Antarctica

[Social Media]

 

Antarctica, once reserved for explorers and scientists, is now opening up to adventurous tourists seeking unparalleled experiences. From the opportunity to sleep out on the ice to exploring the sub-Antarctic waters in a mini-submarine, this remote destination offers outlandish activities that few get to experience. When the chance to camp on the seventh continent arises, it’s an opportunity that’s hard to pass up.

 

When I was offered the chance to join a camping trip on the ice, I accepted without hesitation. Despite having only 90 minutes to prepare, pack, layer up, and eat my final meal—since no food was allowed at the pristine tent site—I was eager for the adventure.

 

Out of the 335 passengers aboard Hurtigruten’s Fridtjof Nansen, only 30 had the opportunity to camp in Antarctica. These coveted spots were allocated by secret ballot, with invitations slid under the cabin doors of the fortunate few. Though I didn’t initially receive a ticket, I remained undeterred and attended the briefing out of curiosity. In Antarctica, the unpredictable nature of the environment means that itineraries are often uncertain and subject to change. Activities were announced only the night before, maintaining an air of mystery.

 

 

After a two-day voyage from Ushuaia, Argentina, our schedule simply read: Five days, Antarctica. We knew that some of us would have the chance to go kayaking and snowshoeing, elective activities ranging from $80 to $900. Even after being selected by ballot, there was no guarantee these excursions would happen, as evidenced by the cancellation of the much-anticipated “Amundsen Night” on the previous sailing due to a sudden blizzard in Paradise Bay.

 

Each activity required a comprehensive briefing, and attendance was mandatory. Even those who had been seasick had to attend the International Association of Antarctica Tour Operators (IAATO) briefing and biosecurity inspection to be allowed on the ice. This strict protocol ensured the preservation of Antarctica’s pristine environment. The unexpected call to my cabin came from Paul, the ship’s expedition leader. “There has been a dropout,” he informed me. “It says here you were at the briefing. There’s a space if you’re up for it. We leave at 8.30.” With little time to think, I quickly prepared and joined the other campers in an inflatable dinghy, heading towards the ice with 15 red two-person tents.

 

I was paired with Todd, a retired lecturer from Texas with a wealth of stories about his adventures in Yellowstone and Yosemite. Despite his extensive experience, like the rest of us, Todd had never spent a night on Antarctica nor used a snow anchor. Setting up the tents on the ice was a far cry from the controlled environment of the carpeted meeting room on the Fridtjof Nansen. Under the guidance of experienced expedition leaders, we began the task of setting up our tents on the ice. The process involved digging into the snow to secure the tents with snow anchors—a new skill for most of us. Once the tents were up, we arranged two layers of ground insulation and thick down sleeping bags, ready for the frigid night ahead.

 

As the temperature dropped to around -6°C, it became difficult to discern when sundown had occurred, as the sun hovered just below the horizon, casting a perpetual twilight. It wasn’t until the Nansen sailed around the cove and out of sight that it truly felt like night had fallen on Antarctica. We were left in near silence, with only the ethereal sounds of breaking ice, the wind blowing snow, and the occasional snore from fellow campers punctuating the stillness.

 

Camping in Antarctica comes with unique challenges and strict regulations to preserve its pristine environment. One of the less glamorous aspects is managing human waste. The Antarctic Treaty stipulates that no waste, including human waste, can be left behind. We were provided with buckets in a snow dugout to collect and bring back all waste, ensuring we left no trace. Additionally, no food or cooking stoves are allowed onshore, adhering to treaty regulations aimed at minimizing human impact. Only emergency rations were permitted, emphasizing the self-sufficiency required for such an expedition. The Antarctic summer provided around 16 hours of daylight, with twilight persisting through the night, adding to the surreal experience.

 

Despite the cold and the stringent regulations, the experience was nothing short of magical. The landscape was otherworldly, with vast expanses of ice stretching in every direction, and the sheer silence of the environment was awe-inspiring. The sense of isolation and the pristine beauty of the surroundings were profound, making every moment feel like a privilege. Sharing this experience with fellow adventurers like Todd, who brought stories and laughter to the camp, added a communal spirit to the expedition. We were all aware of the rarity of our adventure, each of us savoring the opportunity to be part of something so extraordinary.

 

As dawn approached and the Nansen returned to retrieve us, there was a shared sense of accomplishment and reverence among the campers. The experience of camping in Antarctica is not just about enduring the cold or the challenges but about connecting with a place so few have seen. It’s about understanding the fragility of this environment and the importance of preserving it for future generations.

 

Antarctica’s allure lies in its untouched wilderness and the extreme conditions that make any activity there unpredictable and unique. For those who get the chance to camp on its ice, it’s an adventure that leaves an indelible mark, a story of resilience and respect for one of the last great wildernesses on Earth.

 

 

Credit: NZ Herald 2024-05-29

 

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[Purdey]

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[thaibeachlovers]

On 5/29/2024 at 8:32 AM, Social Media said:

Despite having only 90 minutes to prepare, pack, layer up, and eat my final meal—since no food was allowed at the pristine tent site—I was eager for the adventure.

Oh dear, I don't know whether to laugh or cry at that. I know that the luvvies have almost taken over the western world, but seriously, not allowed a meal because it might spoil the billion tons of ice under their tents, or something like that. I don't even understand the logic of it.

 

Given I actually lived and worked down there, I have a somewhat different point of view, and it is that it's rather difficult to spoil a pristine Antarctic environment ( unless driving an oil tanker into an iceberg ). It's actually quite large, and the number of humans infinitesimal.

Just as well then, that the trip the author went on did not stop at McMurdo, a small town with loads of polluting vehicles and people. Many people will journey into the wilderness ( scientists and such like ),and I doubt they are fasting or bringing all their poop back in a little bag. I do know that everyone I worked with down there would be somewhat amazed that tourists are not even allowed to eat on the ice. Seems that the luvvies won't allow any human poop ( not much they can do about all those naughty penguins pooping all over the place though- perhaps penguin poo is "different" to human poo ) while allowing a vessel burning dirty fossil fuel to pollute the pristine environment, and  the thousands of aircraft that go down to Antarctica every summer.

On 5/29/2024 at 8:32 AM, Social Media said:

The process involved digging into the snow to secure the tents with snow anchors—a new skill for most of us.

LOL. Dig a hole, put the anchor in it and fill the hole in again. Skill required?

 

Having had a little chuckle at the excesses of luvvies, I will agree that it's an amazing experience. I did many trips into the wilderness ( and no, I did not bring a bag with my poop back ), and it really is a special place to visit. I'm quite glad that I didn't get to only have 5 days down there though, and I enjoyed being there for almost the entire time. I would not hesitate to recommend it as a place to work the summer, or even better a whole year.