Aboard the MS Expedition, we experienced the Antarctic peninsula with Drake Lake luck! Witnessing pods of Orcas, up-close encounters with Leopard Seals, being mobbed by curious Gentoo Penguin chicks, exploring historic bases (Port Lockroy), and braving the unforgettable Polar Plunge at Deception Island.
Embarkation & The Drake "Lake"
We set off for Antarctica aboard the MS Expedition, not quite sure what the Southern Ocean would throw at us—and wound up with the kind of luck you tell stories about for years. We embarked the MS Expedition at 4pm on February 17th. Nicola and I had separate cabins: she shared a triple, I had a double. The ship carries a maximum of 134 passengers.
We cast off at 6pm, gliding through the Beagle Channel toward the notorious Drake Passage. The expedition team emphasized one word: **flexibility**. Weather, ice, and wildlife would dictate our days. The ship’s doctor offered seasickness patches. I’ve never been seasick, but I grabbed one—better safe than sorry.
Day two felt like a gift from Neptune: **Drake Lake**, not Drake Shake. Word spread that this was among the smoothest crossings our captain had seen. We spotted our first icebergs and whales around midday and crossed the Antarctic Convergence during the night, well ahead of schedule.
First Landings & Penguin Etiquette
Because the crossing was so swift, the team announced a surprise—our first landings that very afternoon. Before anyone could step ashore, we went through a mandatory bio-check: vacuuming and inspecting outerwear to prevent introducing foreign seeds or pollen ashore.
Landings are capped at 100 people ashore at once. The first site was alive with gentoo and chinstrap colonies. It was late in the breeding season: big, fluffy chicks begged parents returning from the sea; adults were mid-moult.
Guidelines say we must keep 5 metres from wildlife—but penguins aren’t bound by that rule. I sat still and two curious chicks waddled right up, pecked my pants, and even clambered over my legs. A moment I’ll never forget.
We also met two dozy elephant seals sliding into the water and a handful of feisty fur seals. One adolescent male kept rushing me; the advice is to stand your ground and “bark” back. He backed off every time, clearly more bluff than bite.
Marine Mammal Bonanza: Orcas, Humpbacks & Minkes
Day three started with a shout over the PA: **orcas** off the bow! A pod of roughly 15 type A killer whales rolled and showed flukes as we threaded a maze of ice. After breakfast, our group did a zodiac safari.
On glassy water stippled with sea ice, we tracked **humpbacks** by blows and tail flukes, drifted past Weddell and crabeater seals on bergy bits, and watched gentoos porpoising like tiny torpedoes.
Ashore at Neko, gentoo colonies spread across a stable plateau. We climbed to a viewpoint; the glacier thundered and small avalanches tore down a distant slope—no calving for us, but the panorama of mirrored water, ice walls, and peaks was breathtaking.
Paradise Bay Up Close & Historic Bases
In **Paradise Bay** we first visited an Argentine research base and its surrounding gentoo colony—including one beige-and-white albino chick. The ride down the slippery slope was on our bums—nature’s toboggan run.
Back on the zodiacs, a humpback lingered near the ship, raising its fluke over and over. Later, we found a **leopard seal** lounging on an ice pan—huge head, powerful predator, utterly at ease while we watched from a safe distance.
Day four dawned at **Port Lockroy** (Base A), a restored WWII-era British station turned museum, post office, and tiny shop. We mailed postcards, picked up a few souvenirs, and even logged a geocache. Across at Jougla Point we viewed a scatter of whale bones—remnants of the whaling era.
Then the Expedition nosed through the narrow **Lemaire Channel**, hot chocolate with Kahlúa in hand, and anchored in Pleneau Bay, the famed “iceberg graveyard.” The zodiac cruise afterward was all ice artistry: flat raft-like slabs, towering weather-sculpted spires, and stranded giants.
Adélies, Vodka & The Polar Plunge
Day six carried us to the Yalour Islands. Our zodiac cruise delivered seals and big swell around the ice; then a leopard seal swam right beneath our boat and surfaced by Nicola—close enough to make eye contact. Ashore, we finally met **Adélie penguins**: black heads with bright white eye rings, belly-sledding uphill and sliding down like kids on a snow day.
In the afternoon we visited **Vernadsky Station**, a Ukrainian base where the ozone hole was first documented. There’s a cozy bar serving homemade vodka: $3 for a shot—or free for a donated bra. I paid the $3 and mailed a postcard from their tiny post office.
Sunday, February 23rd: we slipped through Neptune’s Bellows into the flooded caldera of **Deception Island**. At Whalers’ Bay we hit the jackpot: 800–1000 fur seals crowded a beach—a rare southern gathering.
And then: the **polar plunge**. Zero-degree water. I sprinted in, dove, popped up, face-planted back under, and scrambled out with stinging hands and feet but a surprisingly warm core. Sauna. Shower. Pride. Disbelief. Laughter.
The Drake, Round Two & Disembarkation
Homeward bound, the forecast promised a livelier Drake. By evening the ship was rolling; by morning, trays slid, people clutched railings, and a few souls succumbed to seasickness. Even the ship’s musician took a tumble and needed 28 stitches. Lectures, films, and thousands of photos helped pass the time until we reached the calmer lee of Cape Horn.
We docked at Ushuaia the following morning and disembarked with full memory cards and fuller hearts. We were told how exceptionally lucky we’d been: all planned landings achieved (only ~10% manage that), extra landings added, abundant wildlife, and a smooth Drake on the way down. Hard to imagine asking for more.
Antarctica is less a place you visit and more a feeling that stays with you: fragile, vast, and impossibly alive. Unforgettable.
