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| Trying (and failing) to capture penguins diving into the sea. |
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| Some of the protuberances were extraordinary. |
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| It's hard to describe how blue this iceberg was. |
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| Maybe like the blue of a raspberry Slush Puppie? |
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| I didn't taste it so can't confirm whether it tasted of raspberry. |
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| Chonk. |
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| More cocktails please barman. |
When not making a landing you would typically be zipping around icebergs in a Zodiac, looking for local fauna to watch. Occasionally there could be no landing, in which case everyone piles out in the Zodiacs, creating what could be a floating buffet for leopard seals if only they could get past the packaging.
The seascape is a rapidly transforming environment. Landmark icebergs are soon lost with your changing perspective, often looking impossibly different from one side than the other, like some unlikely shape created by a mathematician. Brash ice bashes and knocks against the boat, drawn by unseen currents around larger pieces. It can come in quickly, surrounding the boat before there is time to easily escape it.
It is an eerie place that is neither land nor entirely sea. It shifts restlessly yet from moment to moment it is serenely still and exquisitely pristine. Fresh, crisp edges sparkle like glass in the bright sunlight and hard, airless ice deep within filters the sunlight into a pure and piercing blue glow.
Occasionally, amongst all this barren splendour, you will see a seal, often a Weddell Seal, lounging on a piece of ice. It may be rolled onto one side, a flipper louchely dangling, while its big puppy eyes gaze wistfully into the distance in exactly the same way a fully-comped tourist does on a sun-lounger after their mid-afternoon mimosa.
There's an etiquette to riding in a Zodiac on one of these jaunts around the ice. While all around you is very photogenic, the appearance of wildlife is an instant draw and naturally everyone wants to see and photograph it. This can present a problem when you're nine people in a small boat. What tends to happen is that people on one side will be in the way of the people on the other side. The solution to this is for people nearest the subject to keep low or, if possible, sit on the bottom of the boat, looking over the side. This allows people who would otherwise have a blocked view to see over them or even stand up if the water is calm enough. In practice this worked pretty well, but there were some cases when people weren't playing ball. Anecdotally it tended to be the people with the biggest, fanciest camera equipment. I guess if you're dragging all that to Antarctica you want to be sure you get all your shots as clearly as you can. But also, get out of my way!
I don't want to give the impression that the boat excursions were filled with self-centred opportunists jockeying for position. A few people occasionally got a little caught up in the excitement of the moment. There were also opportunities for the opposite experience, which was cutting the engine and just taking it all in. The temptation to take photos all the time is strong, and I especially felt it with my pocketfuls of cameras. But it's important to be in the moment. To take the time to simply experience being in a Zodiac, amongst the ice, in Antarctica. It's beautifully peaceful, the ambient sounds belying the terrible power of the continent. Water laps at the rubber hull of the Zodiac. Ice dinks against ice forming a gentle percussion that surrounds us. It's a sight I've long imagined and even seen on TV, but to be here and now experiencing it is… I briefly wonder whether I've photographed that iceberg over there that looks like an upended house. My hand reaches automatically for the camera bag around my neck but I stop myself and let my mind quieten again. These are the moments I have paid for. There would be plenty of time for photography later.
Bonus selection of digital 3D and 2D shots on Flickr
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