1999. A different cruise? Just go to Antarctica!

Welcome to the special section “GdV 5th Years.” We are introducing you, day by day, An article from the archives of the Journal of Sailing, starting in 1975. A word of advice, get in the habit of starting your day with the most exciting sailing stories-it will be like being on a boat even if you are ashore.

A world apart

Taken from the 1999 Journal of Sailing, Year 25, No. 01, February, pp. 36-41.

A boating vacation among the ice of the White Continent can be an enjoyable and exceptional experience. We board a 20-meter schooner among icebergs, Cape Horn, forgotten islands of incomparable beauty.

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Aboard the Valhalla among the ice of the White Continent, for a cruise truly out of the ordinary.

Going to Antarctica by sailboat is not an easy thing to do: anchorages on the “white continent” are scarce and, moreover, to get there you have to face the Drake Passage, which separates Tierra del Fuego from the Antarctic Peninsula, dreaded by sailors all over the world because depressions occur there almost nonstop and the sea is often stormy. Our boat, the Valhalla, is a 20-meter steel schooner that has been sailing in South America for three years now. Everything is ready, materials have been carefully stowed, instant instant soups and mashed potatoes are on hand. The crew consists of six people: Alexandra and Francois, who now know the boat, Olivier (the ship’s doctor), Arnaud, Pascalou and me. About a week will have to be calculated for the crossing. In February, light no longer illuminates all 24 hours: we will therefore have 4 hours of darkness each night, In addition, from 60° South (convergence zone) we will have to get used to living with fog, due to cold Antarctic waters coming into contact with temperate air coming from the North. We should also constantly scan the horizon for icebergs. On February 8, we leave Ushuaia with course for Cape Horn. The weather is not favorable and Pascalou decides to stop atLennox Island. It is useless to leave with a strong wind on the nose. On the 10th the wind seems to want to turn and we get back on course. The first night is a bit rough, but the second day is already better. The Drake is not too bad. the wind redounds, we advance fast and comfortable enough. Let’s hope it continues like this… Outside, the show has already begun: little storm petrels fly almost brushing against the waves in a continuous dance. An albatross comes to greet us and glides like a glider, advancing at the same speed as us without beating a wing.

Earth, or rather ice!

In just three and a half days we reach the Melchior Islands, our first stop in Antarctica. We come across a few icebergs and the mountains finally appear above the clouds, with snow, ice everywhere and the smell of a penguin colony, still unseen. Everything around us on this coming day is white, blue or black, beautiful and peaceful. A group of sea lions suddenly appears in front of us, right where we have chosen to anchor. After a revitalizing breakfast we finally disembark. We decide to try François ‘s sleds down a beautiful descent. It all ends in a battle…with snowballs of course! Pascalou then goes to explore the other side of the descent and has his first experience with a crevasse…. A whole leg suddenly gets swallowed up, he feels the water sliding over the fabric of his pants and does not dare to move, not knowing how to assess the size of the hole hidden by the snow. She quickly frees herself from that grip and folds wisely in the direction of the beach. Our first real dinner is Veuve Cliquot, jam, good wine, Camembert and, to finish, chocolate mousse. Afterwards, we fall into a dreamless sleep. The next day we are invited to the Argentine base for Saturday night pizza. The facilities hosting it are very close to our anchorage, so only a short move is necessary. While sailing, a whale performs a little show and Olivier manages to get two “full tail” shots of it. The evening passes cheerfully in the company of the thirteen military personnel confined down there for more than three months, who even manage to make me dance. We return on board very late, tired but happy.

Sailing among the icebergs

From now on, navigation will be solely by day, zigzagging through ice-encumbered waters. We tackle the beautiful Neumayer Channel, which separates the islands of Anvers and Wiencke, to spend the night at Dorian Cove, a small basin surrounded by icebergs and rocks, where a colony of penguins occupies the ice-free part of the hill. The following day we skirt the cliff to Port Lockroy. The small British base is but a small house resting on a series of wooden poles among which the penguins take refuge, clattering constantly. The fairly precarious installation, heated with coal and lit with oil. We invite the boys from the base to share a leg of kid, and they enthusiastically accept content to escape their shack for a moment. The weather remains overcast, but we hope the sun will come soon. Along the route to Port Charcot we see a lot of islands. In February the melting is far advanced and the smaller ones are free of ice; others, however, are shrouded in a snow cap and all we can see is their outline. Along the valleys immense glaciers advance to the sea. It is there that icebergs form. The weather changes little by little and the sun eventually makes its appearance. The landscape becomes more and more beautiful and the icebergs show all shades of blue.

The anchoring ceremony

Port Charcot anchorage is open to the north. It is fine now, as the wind is blowing from the south, but Pascalou fears a rotation during the night. We therefore get up every hour to check. General wake-up call at 3 o’clock! We need to clear out and fast: ice is encroaching on our small bay. The tops ashore are soon cleared, the anchor winged. All we have to do is contour the West Point to find ourselves sheltered in the South anchorage, now completely free of ice. And the “ceremony” of anchoring begins again: most of the time we secure ourselves with three or four grounded lines, but we have to find suitable spots to tie up. There are no trees, so one can only rely on rocks. On those with a rounded shape we simply give vault with a line while to the more angular and sharp ones we secure with a chain or an old cable. When we can’t find suitable rocks we plant berms in the rocks. The work of exploration can take a long time, but you would think Olivier and Pascalou are enjoying it because, while I keep the hull steady with the help of the motor, I see them going all over the beach, discussing, returning, changing their minds. On Feb. 20, we arrive at the Ukrainian base at Vernadski, ceded by the British for the symbolic price of one pound, on the condition that ozone thickness measurements continue. Some serious work is being done around here: ozone. weather, magnetic fields. Also, during the summer, a few tour ships call at the base and the researchers become cicerones. We bring them some fruit and vegetables, much appreciated, and some vodka, but they much prefer their own, with which they make cocktails using millennial ice. The evening spends playing darts and chatting about everything and nothing. Alexandra even wins a trophy: an old black-and-white photo of a seal with snow-whitened whiskers. The Polar Circle is not far away, but it is now time to reverse course.

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On the way back

First stop Port Circoncision, onPeterman Island. In the evening we arrive at Pléneau, having come across a series of rocks of all colors, then a “field” of icebergs that the sea has laid on shallows. It’s also sunny and we really can’t ask for more! Francois, Olivier and I decide to hike to the top of Hovgaard, from where the view sweeps over the entire peninsula and nearby islands. The landscape is grand: icebergs form many moving islands that relentlessly alter the panorama. The sun whimsically illuminates first one area then another, making its own contribution to the spectacle. We return with our socks soaked, but our eyes still dazzled by the sunset that has just finished tinting the horizon. The following day we sail again among the icebergs. It is necessary to climb into the crow’s nest to look for a safe course, as from the deck we cannot detect danger. A Leopard seal comes to visit us, wanders around Valhalla and shows us his belly. But when he notices our dinghy, and before we can intervene, he sinks his teeth into it, munching on one of the two terminals. We wing it immediately: we need to repair it before tonight’s anchorage.

Toward the last stage

And then, Paradise Bay, Couverville, Entreprise… more seals and penguins and even a few whales, the sound of breaking ice, the smell of animal colonies, the cry of skuas and terns, the color of the sky in the evening. Francois‘s birthday, lichens, mosses, games of backgammon, and the blue of the icebergs. A wrecked whaler to which we tie up for the night, the piles of coal and whale bones still on the beach, and always the blue of the icebergs. There is only one stop left,Déception Island, part of South Shetland, where we even enter the interior of an immense crater, invaded by the sea. Blackness dominates here. An abandoned base offers the pitiless spectacle of its smashed roofs, and a few whaling ships along the beach are barely discernible under a layer of volcanic sand. The weather is not good, with much wind and rain. There is too much bottom and we are forced to give still near the beach, but when the wind turns we have to move quickly.

It’s back home

In the night we plow three times, but all that remains is patience as the strong depression that is passing through deters us from leaving this less than idyllic anchorage. The bad weather having passed, we set off in a moderate but straight wind on the nose. We proceed under sail and motor against an unpleasant sea. It is only on the last day that the wind arranges itself to the transverse, reconciling us to sailing, and leads us straight toLennox Island, our starting point. This time it took us four and a half days for the crossing, but there is no need to complain. Besides, the reward is already there: five whales come to bid us good morning and the sun illuminates Cape Horn as we pass. Tierra del Fuego has made itself beautiful on the occasion of our return, and greenery explodes everywhere, deafening us with its bird cries. We find our home-and our companions as well, with smiles on our faces. We resume charters in Cape Horn, thinking of our crew departed back to civilization. One bond will unite us forever: having shared a truly out-of-the-ordinary experience.

Antarctica, land of discovery

Antarctica occupies much of the southern polar ice cap and is almost entirely within the polar circle (66° 33′ South). It was James Cook, who cruised the South Seas between 1772 and 1775 in search of the southern continent, who first sighted theAntarctic ice shelf. Beginning in the 1800s, the Antarctic Peninsula was a destination for seal and whale hunters before the race to conquer the pole was unleashed. Since the landing of the Frenchman D’Urville in 1840, there was a succession of extraordinary explorations: Ross, Scott, Amundsen, Shackleton. It was the Norwegian Amundsen who reached the pole on December 15, 1911, followed by Scott, on January 17, 1912. In 1989-90, mountaineers Messner and Fuchs were the first to cross Antarctica on foot.

By Bernadette Montembault

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