Antarctica-Crossing the Violent Seas of the Drake Passage to Visit the World’s Last True Wilderness, An Icy Paradise Where Penguins, Seals and Whales Have No Fear of Humans

March 2008: In my opinion, no traveler can truly claim to have visited every country in the world without also setting foot in Antarctica. While it isn’t a country, it is something even more profound—an entire continent. To visit every nation without exploring every continent feels incomplete.

But beyond checklists, Antarctica is one of the most breathtaking and unique places on Earth. Few places remain as remote and untouched. Crossing the vast southern seas into this wild frontier is both magical and humbling. It’s a rare experience to witness such pristine landscapes, and it’s a place that demands both respect and reverence.

Antarctica: The Last Frontier

Antarctica, the seventh continent, is a land of extremes. It is twice the size of Australia and is the only continent entirely covered by ice. Classified as a polar desert, its interior receives less precipitation than even the Sahara Desert. Despite its harsh environment, Antarctica’s coastal waters are rich with marine life, home to whales, seals, albatrosses, and its most iconic residents, penguins. The continent also holds 70% of the world’s fresh water, locked away in glaciers and ice caps that blanket nearly the entire landmass.

Because of its geographic isolation, unforgiving climate, and seasonal ice buildup—which can double its size in winter—Antarctica remained one of the last unexplored places on Earth. It wasn’t until 1895 that humans first set foot on the continent, triggering an era of daring expeditions over the next half-century. This period saw some of history’s most legendary explorers, including Ernest Shackleton, Robert Scott, James Ross, and Roald Amundsen, who braved the world’s harshest conditions in pursuit of discovery.

Today, Antarctica has no permanent residents. Its population fluctuates between 1,000 in winter and 5,000 in summer, consisting mainly of scientists stationed at research bases. This makes it the least populated place on Earth. The extreme conditions, vast distances, and harsh terrain make traditional settlements impossible, limiting human presence to scientific research.

In 1959, the Antarctic Treaty was established to prevent territorial claims, protect the environment, and preserve Antarctica for peaceful and scientific purposes. Signed by 54 countries, the treaty ensures that the continent remains free from military activity and commercial exploitation—at least until 2048, when its terms are up for review. For now, this agreement has successfully prevented international conflicts over Antarctica’s land and resources, safeguarding its fragile ecosystem.

However, despite the treaty, nations are subtly positioning themselves for future territorial disputes. Some countries have built research stations in areas with little scientific value, while others have sent pregnant women to give birth in Antarctica—an unusual attempt to establish sovereignty through birthright. The future of Antarctica remains uncertain. Given humanity’s history of resource exploitation and territorial conflicts, it is likely that competition over the continent’s untapped wealth will one day test the limits of its protected status.

Tierra Del Fuego National Park

My trip nearly came to an abrupt end when the GAP Adventures ship struck an iceberg just shy of Antarctica, in the middle of the night at the start of the summer season. The ship had an ice-reinforced hull, designed to navigate through certain amounts of ice, but there are limits to what it can safely withstand. Unfortunately, the captain misjudged the iceberg’s size and thickness—it was much larger and denser than expected.

Within minutes, the ship began sinking, forcing all passengers to evacuate into open-top life rafts. Some had no time to grab their shoes or belongings. As the vessel disappeared beneath the frigid waters, sinking to a depth of about 12,000 feet, we were left floating in the icy Antarctic seas, waiting for rescue.

A distress signal was eventually answered by a nearby Chilean icebreaker, which reached us just hours before a powerful storm was expected to hit—one that could have easily capsized our lifeboats.

With the ship lost, all future expeditions for the season were canceled, including mine. But by a stroke of luck, a Russian vessel was leased at the last minute, salvaging one final trip—the very last of the year, which happened to be mine. Since the ship was arranged so late, a significant discount was offered to attract passengers, making my trip considerably cheaper than originally planned.

Looking out the ship’s windows at the stormy Drake Passage.

We began our journey in the Beagle Channel, raising a glass of champagne as we were introduced to our Russian ship crew and the Philippine hospitality staff. Following the welcome toast, we attended a safety demonstration, which placed strong emphasis on evacuation procedures and the life rafts, now equipped with immersion suits for every passenger. With the briefing complete, we set off overnight, waking the next morning to the vast expanse of the Drake Passage.

Named after Sir Francis Drake, the legendary British privateer, the Drake Passage is infamous for its volatile weather and towering waves. This narrow stretch of sea separates South America from Antarctica, flanked on either side by the vast open ocean. The constriction of land between these waters creates powerful currents, massive swells, and rapidly shifting storm fronts, making it one of the most formidable and unpredictable seas in the world. Sailing through the Drake is a rite of passage—both feared and revered—adding to the adventure of reaching the icy continent.

The wandering albatross can glide across the open ocean for up to a year without ever landing.

For two days, we battled the fierce southern seas as we pressed southward toward Antarctica. The ship rocked relentlessly, its movements dictated by the untamed waters of the Drake Passage. Most passengers retreated to their cabins, succumbing to seasickness in solitude. Some were too unwell to even appear for meals, preferring to ride out the torment in isolation.

Fortunately, I had applied a seasickness patch behind my ear before departure—a small precaution that proved invaluable. While others struggled with the relentless swells, I remained unaffected, able to fully experience the journey. Watching my fellow travelers pale and weary, I felt grateful for my good fortune, knowing how easily the unforgiving seas could have claimed me as well.

Barf bags are strategically placed throughout the ship’s hallways to assist with seasickness.

The outer islands around Antarctica fall outside the jurisdiction of the Antarctic Peace Treaty, and many have already been claimed by various countries. After two days of battling the Drake Passage, the first land we sighted was the British-controlled South Shetland Islands. These islands, both on our route to and from Antarctica, were simply breathtaking. Their rugged beauty, combined with the abundance of wildlife, was unlike anything I had ever seen.

Unlike the glacier-dominated mainland, the South Shetlands had more exposed land, making them easier to explore and offering plenty of hiking opportunities. We trekked across rocky shores and snow-dusted hills, venturing close—though not too close—to the islands’ formidable inhabitants. The massive bull elephant seals, in particular, made it clear that we were in their territory. These giants would let out deep, guttural roars, snort clouds of mist into the frigid air, and even bluff charge if we encroached too much on their space. Their sheer size and dominance were awe-inspiring, but keeping a respectful distance ensured a thrilling yet safe encounter.

The penguins, however, had a completely different attitude. Unlike the imposing seals, they were fearless and curious, often waddling right up to us. One particularly bold penguin took an interest in a girl sitting on the ground, hopping up onto her lap as if inspecting this strange new visitor. The unexpected interaction left us all in awe, a reminder of just how unspoiled and unafraid the wildlife in this remote part of the world remained.

Moments like these—standing among the raw beauty of Antarctica’s wildlife, surrounded by an untouched landscape—made the arduous journey feel truly worthwhile.

Landscapes of South Shetland Islands

Weddel Seal

Whale Bones Abandoned on Beach

Fur Seals

Fur Seals

Originally, we had planned to venture into the Weddell Sea, but thick ice conditions made passage impossible. Instead, we adjusted our course, heading westward down the Antarctic Peninsula. Every leg of the journey was carefully planned—dictated by the need to avoid other ships, navigate unpredictable storm swells, and, most critically, steer clear of dense ice. Over the course of the next week, we traveled all the way to the Antarctic Circle, sailing by day through narrow, ice-choked channels surrounded by some of the most breathtaking landscapes on Earth.

The scenery defied imagination—glacier-capped mountains towered over us, and massive icebergs, sculpted into surreal shapes, gleamed with vibrant shades of blue. Some were topped with resting penguins, hitching a ride on their floating platforms. One of the most unforgettable sights was a towering iceberg where a group of emperor penguins—the largest penguin species in the world—stood proudly, surveying their frozen domain. The journey was further punctuated by frequent encounters with whales—fin whales, humpbacks, and even killer whales—gracefully surfacing in the icy waters, adding to the overwhelming sense of awe that surrounded us.

The weather varied dramatically from day to day. At times, we found ourselves enveloped in blizzard-like conditions, where visibility dropped to near zero. Other days, the skies cleared, and the sun reflected brilliantly off the ice, with temperatures rising to a surprisingly mild 40°F—a welcome reprieve in this unforgiving land.

Each day brought new adventures as we explored different parts of the peninsula, disembarking at various islands to navigate their shores by zodiac boat. The captain and crew remained constantly vigilant, monitoring sonar radar for lurking icebergs to ensure our safety. Some of the remarkable places we visited included the Errera Channel, Andvord Bay, Danco Island, Neko Harbour, Lemaire Channel, Petermann Island, the Argentine Islands, Paradise Bay, Waterboat Point, Wilhelmina Bay, Foyn Harbour, Barrientos Island, and the Aitcho Islands.

Every stop offered something unique—whether it was an up-close encounter with wildlife, the sheer majesty of an untouched landscape, or the profound silence that reminded us just how far we had traveled from civilization.

Icebergs of glacier ice that have calved off the Antarctic ice sheet, some of which are miles long, float alongside the boat in the ocean.

Killer whales spotted of the side of the boat

Glacier Lined Coasts

Glaciers Meet the Ocean

View of our boat from the zodiac 

Being met upon arrival by the friendly natives

Penguins

Since the animals are not hunted, they have no fear of humans. I am enjoying time with my new penguin friend.

Burtality of nature, baby penguin being eaten by Petrol birds

View from the penguin Colony

The Zodiac boat trips were among the most exhilarating highlights of our Antarctic journey, offering an up-close and intimate encounter with the continent’s wildlife and its towering, sculpted icebergs. More than just our means of reaching shore, the Zodiacs allowed us to navigate through narrow channels and remote areas inaccessible to larger vessels. Gliding through the icy waters, we approached massive icebergs, their intricate shapes and vivid blue hues mesmerizing. But caution was paramount—some icebergs could unexpectedly flip, sending small tsunamis across the water, a stark reminder of the ever-changing and unpredictable nature of this frozen world.

One of the most breathtaking moments was encountering whales up close. We watched in awe as they surfaced just meters from our boat, their immense bodies gliding effortlessly through the frigid waters. Scattered throughout the region, we also spotted the rusting remains of abandoned whaling ships from the early 1900s—somber relics of the brutal slaughter that once defined these waters.

But perhaps the most electrifying encounter of all was with the leopard seal—my favorite animal of the trip. These sleek, powerful predators, stretching up to 15 feet in length, are the undisputed apex hunters of Antarctica. With razor-sharp teeth that look more fitting on a prehistoric beast than a seal, they are highly efficient killers, primarily feeding on penguins. We were lucky enough to witness one in action, violently shaking a penguin midair, tearing it apart with astonishing precision.

At times, a curious leopard seal would follow our Zodiac, nudging it with a forceful swat—perhaps testing its strength, or simply investigating us as intruders in its domain. While no recent attacks on humans have been recorded, these seals have punctured inflatable Zodiacs with their powerful jaws, a sobering thought given our remote location. Despite the ever-present danger, the thrill of locking eyes with such a magnificent yet fearsome predator in its natural habitat was an unforgettable experience.

If leopard seals lived in more human-populated areas, there’s little doubt that encounters—and likely fatalities—would be far more common. But here, in the raw, untamed wilderness of Antarctica, their dominance remained unchallenged. Watching them patrol the icy waters, I felt a deep sense of both awe and respect, reminded once again that in this land at the edge of the world, nature reigns supreme.

Iceberg Art

Zodiac on Paradise Bay

The Leaopard Seal-Most Feared predator of Antarctica

Abandoned old whaling ship

During our journey, we had the opportunity to visit several research stations, each offering a glimpse into the unique lives of those stationed in Antarctica. We stopped at bases operated by Chile, Argentina, Britain, and Ukraine, each with its own distinct atmosphere. But by far, the most memorable was the Ukrainian research station, where we encountered a rather unexpected tradition.

Inside the base, we discovered a small, lively bar—its ceiling adorned with an unusual decoration: bras. As it turns out, passing female visitors are encouraged to leave behind a bra in exchange for free vodka, a tradition that likely emerged from the long, isolating months spent by the men at the station, where female company is rare. The scene was both humorous and slightly surreal—a quirky slice of Antarctic culture in the middle of the frozen wilderness.

Beyond this peculiar custom, I also took the opportunity to send a postcard home from one of the research stations. Antarctica operates on its own timeline, and the realities of its remoteness became clear when the postcard finally arrived—eight months later. Holding it in their hands after so much time had passed, my parents had a tangible link to one of the most distant corners of the planet. It was a simple but meaningful connection, a reminder of just how far I had traveled.

A British explorer’s hut from the early 1900s near the current British Research Station

Not far from the British research station, we visited an old explorer’s hut—an eerie relic of Antarctica’s early expeditions, frozen in time. In the pioneering days of Antarctic exploration, adventurers built these small huts as vital shelters, using them as bases for launching expeditions into the continent’s harsh, unforgiving interior. Remarkably, many of these structures still stand today, their contents preserved in astonishing detail by the relentless cold.

Stepping inside was like walking into a time capsule. The air was heavy with stillness, the silence so profound it felt almost sacred. The explorers’ belongings—wooden crates of supplies, weathered boots, rusting tins of food—remained untouched, as if their owners had just stepped out and might return at any moment. The sense of isolation was palpable, a stark reminder of the immense solitude these men endured.

It was impossible not to imagine the brutal conditions they faced—months, even years, cut off from the rest of the world, surrounded by nothing but ice and howling winds. Their missions were perilous, their survival dependent on sheer resilience and ingenuity. Standing in that tiny, frozen hut, I felt a deep respect for those early explorers. Their courage had carved a path into the unknown, leaving behind more than just these weathered shelters—they had left a legacy of human endurance against the harshest conditions on Earth.

Relics frozen in time in the British explorers hut 

Only the bravest passengers dared to take the plunge into the freezing Antarctic waters off the ship. To steady nerves, a shot of vodka was handed out beforehand, while the crew worked to clear a path through the ice to open water. Once the route was ready, it was time for the daring leap. A doctor stood by, and a staff member in a life jacket remained on high alert, prepared to jump in for a rescue if needed.

The water was well below freezing—saltwater’s lower freezing point made it an excruciating, almost unbearable cold. The moment my body hit the water, a jolt of shock surged through me, stealing my breath. Every instinct screamed to escape, to climb out as fast as possible. There was no time to linger; it was a brief, heart-pounding dive before scrambling back onto the ship and making a beeline for the sauna.

The contrast was almost surreal—one moment engulfed in icy oblivion, the next enveloped in blissful warmth. My skin tingled from the sudden temperature shift, but the rush of adrenaline made it all the more exhilarating. It was a true test of endurance, an unforgettable moment of raw immersion in the polar landscape.

Staff pushing ice aside so passengers can do the Antarctic Plunge

After an unforgettable week exploring Antarctica and the South Shetland Islands, it was time to make the long journey back across the Drake Passage to Ushuaia. The return trip was anything but smooth—stormy seas and relentless waves turned the crossing into a turbulent, stomach-churning ordeal. The ship lurched and rolled with each towering swell, a stark reminder of the Southern Ocean’s raw, unpredictable power.

Yet, despite the discomfort, a sense of camaraderie grew among us. We had all faced Antarctica’s extremes together—its beauty, its brutality, its isolation—and that shared experience forged a unique bond. When we finally reached Ushuaia, exhausted but exhilarated, there was only one thing left to do—celebrate.

We headed to a local bar, raising our glasses in a well-earned toast to the adventure of a lifetime. It was a fitting end to a journey that had tested our endurance and deepened our sense of wonder. As we shared stories, laughed over shared struggles, and reflected on the surreal beauty we had witnessed, it became clear—Antarctica was not just a destination. It was an experience that had left its mark on us forever.