Polar Blog Series Part II: The Arctic

July 18, 2023 by Trevor Allen

Chapter 9: Lessons of the Arctic

Our experience in the Arctic was transformative. It reinforced lessons learned in Antarctica: the Earth is huge and magnificent. We live on a planet with an incredible diversity of life. And we are but one (albeit important) component of it all.

Surprisingly abundant plant life on Svalbard

But our trip also solidified new learnings as well. I now understand how crucial the polar regions are to the health of the entire planet’s ecosystem. The phytoplankton and zooplankton that thrive in these regions are integral to the food cycle that exists throughout the world’s oceans, and the prosperity of the oceans determines the life on land. This includes us; we are recipients of what occurs in the water in these parts of the world.

Polar bears only reside in the Arctic, and the opportunity to not only see them but spend prolonged bouts of time with them was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. They are amazing animals that contain full-fledged personalities. Their behavior is truly unpredictable, as we witnessed during each and every encounter. And they really are the regal symbols of the Arctic, and all that this special ecosystem represents.

I know I will return to the polar regions some day. Their impact on my life cannot be overstated, and I feel reinvigorated about promoting the protection and appreciation of this planet. It is all connected, even these most unique and remote regions. We are connected to it. We are one planet, that will thrive or fall together. What’s our next move?

Polar Blog Series Part II: The Arctic

July 17, 2023 by Trevor Allen

Chapter 8: The Human History

I shouldn’t have been surprised. History dripped from every conversation; all the places we visited contained interesting facts about explorers and previous societies. Just like the Antarctic, hundreds of sailors ventured into the icy, ever changing waters of the Arctic.

Measly huts and sheds served as shelters to men for months, even during the winter. On our first landing of the trip, we visited a small two room cottage that stood for sixty years. A man, woman and three year old child lived there for over a year, and they even gave birth to a newborn. Stepping inside the hut, it was surreal to imagine raising a family in such a remote, inhospitable place—alone.

We also visited a former coal mining town of the USSR. Abandoned and left as it originally stood, the smattering of buildings and infrastructure resembled a tiny ghost town. Storage crates and barrels of supplies remained unopened where they were. Even remains of the railroad tracks and the bridge/tunnel that transported the coal back to an airfield were still present. This limited infrastructure still hinted at a miserably cold winter experience.

The almost feeble attempts at settlement around the island of Spitsbergen were a reminder, almost a warning: we may possess the ability to create tools and manipulate our environment, but even on our own planet, we are at the mercy of the elements. We are fragile compared to the other animals that have adapted to thrive in this harsh environment. We may be mighty in many ways, but we are also small. This beautiful world is not our domain, but that of the universe. We are simply one part of it.

Polar Blog Series Part II: The Arctic

July 15, 2023 by Trevor Allen

Chapter 7: What does the Fox Say?

We had been searching for an Arctic fox for days. Two of our fellow passengers, who had been to Svalbard many times before, particularly liked foxes, so we desperately looked for them as the days went on. On June 28th, the weather became calm and clear, which permitted us to land at Fuglehuken, the northernmost tip of the island of Prius Karls Forland. This narrow, elongated island is just west of the main western side of the island of Spitsbergen, and can only accommodate small ships. Our expedition leader had never landed here in all his travels to the archipelago, so we were very lucky.

A mountain rises at the tip of the island, and various bird species nest on the cliff face. These included gulls, little auks, puffins, and snow buntings. With the thousands of birds came thousands of nests—and with the nests, came foxes. Eager to see the elusive Arctic fox, we landed with anticipation and hiked up the hill to the base of the cliff. Passing reindeer along the way, we came to a good stoping point and stood to watch the birds. It was a cacophony of activity. Numerous different colors flashed across the sky as birds swooped to and from their nests on the vertical wall.

And then, my wife saw it—“Fox!” It was incredible how well it blended in with the green and brown environment. We could only see it because it was moving, darting between the rocks. Black, brown, white and gray, the size of a house cat, the fox kept checking back at us as it quickly climbed the hill. Eventually it reached a good vantage point, sitting and surveying the landscape for a while, before curling up and laying down for a nap. A charge of electric excitement surged through the group. The fox was so different from anything else we had seen thus far. I kept thinking about the phrase ‘clever as a fox,’ and how apt that comparison is. They definitely look intelligent, almost devious, and they move with purpose and cunning.

After enjoying the birds and the fox on the hillside for some time, we started to turn to head back to the beach. But one of our guides yelled to go back to the front of the group. For a split second I thought he had seen a polar bear, and that there was danger. Instead, we turned to see another fox, a momma with five kits. They were so cute! Solid gray and tiny, they pounced on each other, suckled at their mother, and explored the landscape. Mom kept a watchful eye on us constantly, as the kits played on obliviously. It was magical to see foxes so young and so close.

We thought we had seen it all as we finally started our return downhill to the landing site. But we saw another, and another fox. They ran along the low-lying hills. Our guides explained that although foxes are intensely territorial, the nesting site was a huge food source. The foxes were vocalizing to each other, likely proclaiming their territory boundaries. In all we saw twelve foxes, hardly believing what we were witnessing. It was evident how special Svalbard was. In an environment so inhospitable, there was all kinds of life everywhere. It felt like another world, but it was still Earth. It reinforced how unique our planet is. And we learned what the fox says.

Polar Blog Series Part II: The Arctic

July 14, 2023 by Trevor Allen

Chapter 6: The Birds of Svalbard

We first became intrigued with birds on our visit to Antarctica. It was whole new world; you’re introduced to so many different species in the polar regions. So we headed to the Arctic with excitement, not only for polar bears and whales, but for the birds.

There was so much to learn. I remember standing out on the deck on our first night departing from Longyearbyen, the photographer explaining a few different species to me. We saw Northern Fulmars and Puffins on that first night in abundance. It was my first time seeing a puffin since I visited Alaska as a kid. They were both so different than anything we saw down south.

The company that ran our trip is called Arctic Tern Expeditions. It was an apt name, as we saw dozens of Arctic Terns, if not more, while on our journey. We learned about these birds in the Antarctic, because we also saw them there: while the Antarctic Terns stay solely in Antarctica, the Arctic Terns migrate back and forth between the two poles. These amazing birds travel around 50,000 miles per year, roughly the equivalent of twice the Earth’s circumference. On our expedition we also learned these animals spend 95% of their lives in sunlight, as they spend time in each polar region during the “summer.”

The Arctic is filled with incredible birds. As I already mentioned, the highly social kittiwakes hang out on icebergs near glaciers to wait for calvings, so they can swoop down on the shocked fish. Common Eiders filter for food on the sea floor using their beaks. The Little Auks build their nests on sheer cliff faces. And the Rock Ptarmigan, which we also saw along the side of a cliff while hiking, winters in Svalbard, despite the subzero temperatures. The birds were all around us all the time. And it was the bird nests that brought us the foxes.

Polar Blog Series Part II: The Arctic

July 13, 2023 by Trevor Allen

Chapter 5: Cody Bear and Junior

After dinner that night we went up to the main deck as usual, looking for wildlife. It was a bright, peaceful evening with just a small breeze. As it always happens with whales, we suddenly spotted a blow and a fin way off in the distance behind us. A few fellow passengers and I scanned the horizon with our binoculars. There were at least 3-4 of them, and our guide identified them as a pod of orcas. We were excited, because orcas are difficult to see in the Arctic--they're only migratory. But our ship kept progressing forward, and it soon became clear why: our crew spotted a polar bear swimming in the water near the shore dead ahead.

I wrenched myself from the rear deck and hurried toward the bow. There he was, our first bear up close, playing in the water with a sea log as if it were a pool noodle. We laughed gleefully as we watched him for nearly half an hour, grabbing the log with all four paws and using it to float in the water. He also partially climbed up a nearby rock and then launched himself backward back into the water. It was like he was performing a show for us, and yet you could tell he was simply happy, simply playing for his own amusement, playing because he could. Our expedition leader proclaimed him the most charismatic bear he had ever seen.

Cody getting out of the water for the first time

We watched him climb out of the water onto the shore, shake himself dry like a dog, then investigate various patches of snow. There was hole in the snow slightly up the slope, and we inferred he had probably created that. He flopped down in the hole and rolled onto his back, stretching his legs in all sorts of directions while grunting and snapping at the air. Again he was just having fun in the moment, for the sole purpose of enjoying life. It was at this point I named him Cody Bear, because he appeared this goofy, happy-go-lucky bear that enjoyed Svalbard to the fullest. We watched him lazily slide down the snow slope and then start walking to the left down the coast.

As we followed him down the shoreline, we saw another smaller boat approaching us. Our captain said they were following a bear too! We didn't believe them at first, thinking they were trying to swoop on our position (an unfortunately common occurrence in Svalbard). But then... we spotted a smaller bear, a male juvenile, walking in the opposite direction, toward Cody. What was going to happen?!? We waited with bated breath. As they got closer, the smaller bear picked up Cody's scent, and fearfully headed up the slope away from the shore, trying to avoid Cody. Being upwind, Cody carelessly plowed onward on his same track. We watched the smaller bear, who we named Junior, watch Cody and continue on toward the direction Cody came from, higher up on the hill. Cody seemed completely oblivious until he reached the spot where Junior diverged... then the chase was on.

Cody turned around and began following Junior's scent. Junior realized he was being followed and picked up his pace, quickly outpacing Cody. Our guides explained that energy conservation is extremely important to polar bears, because they don't know when and where their next meal will come from. Cody's swimming, and this extended chase, was abnormal behavior. But Cody kept coming. Junior looked back and saw he was still being followed, so he got into the water and started swimming across a small bay to the next piece of land. It was incredible to watch him urgently swim, his head barely visible as we maintained our distance in the ship. There was no way Cody would follow, our guides said, because it was too much energy. Yet Cody did! We watched both bears swim toward the opposite shore, astounded.

Junior reached the faraway bank and continued to walk away, slowing his pace a bit, assuming he had lost Cody. But Cody continued to make his way across the channel, and eventually turned up on the same bank. We started to become worried for Junior, because Cody was much bigger, and our guides stated this had now become a chase to the death. As Junior continued to slow down and become less perturbed, we urged him on silently. And then they both saw each other for the first time. Cody had caught up, and he saw Junior below him on the shoreline. Junior broke into a run, obviously terrified, and Cody pursued him in his same lumbering wake. We were all shocked and amped up as we watched Junior get into the water for a second time! Then Cody got there, and incredibly... followed after him! A second swim chase was on. We couldn't believe what we were witnessing.

Cody Bear pursuing Junior across the bay

It was at this point that we had to leave our two bears, because it's not allowed to follow bears in the water with a ship (for fear of disturbing them or altering their natural behavior). Before fully turning the ship around though, we lost Junior. We could still see Cody swimming in his straight line after his original direction, but couldn't find Junior. Then we spotted him crossing the larger channel, in a perpendicular direction--a long swim! We deduced he was circling around Cody and attempting to double back. Cody reached the opposite shore completely unaware, and as we turned away, we assumed Junior had successfully evaded the confrontation. Three and a half hours had passed, and it was all of a sudden past midnight. We staggered to bed, trying to sleep, processing all we had seen. We witnessed the majesty of polar bears, and their unpredictable nature. It was hard to believe we shared this Earth with such magnificent creatures. How lucky we are.

Polar Blog Series Part II: The Arctic

July 12, 2023 by Trevor Allen

Chapter 4: 80 Degrees North

We awoke on the 26th of June to a swath of fog covering the area around our ship. Our captain and expedition guides always warned the weather can change quickly, and it finally did for us. Our original plan to fully explore the northern coast of Spitsbergen and the boundary of sea ice foiled, we instead set our sights on another destination: 80 degrees north. I didn't know this was something sought after until hearing from some of the other passengers and crew. Longyearbyen, the main settlement in Svalbard, is already at 78 degrees north, holding the record for northernmost commercial airport, northernmost gourmet restaurant, northernmost bar... you get the idea. Apparently even fewer people cross into the 80's.

The moment we reached 80 degrees north on the bridge

It was surreal traveling through fog in all directions to the horizon. It was like we were traveling through a wormhole, to a completely different world. We all gathered in the bridge to witness the threshold crossing, and one of our passengers got to blow the horn. Just like landing on the continent of Antarctica, this was an “accomplishment” I knew nothing about. But few souls have ventured so far north.

And then it was back down to walruses. We headed south towards where we came, toward Longyearbyen. Our destination was a landing site we were previously bumped from by a larger ship on our first full day: a common location for herds of walruses to show up. After anchoring, we took the zodiacs to a small spit of land where about forty were gathered, resting on each other on the beach. The smell was horrid. And the animals were huge, some of the adult males reaching 3,500 pounds. While they mostly lay and rolled over, some sparred with each other when one touched another in a place they didn’t like. We observed them for almost an hour, watching these huge creatures along the beach. We had seen juvenile elephant seals in South Georgia, which were roughly the same size, but there were only a few of those then. To see the sheer weight and size of all these animals up close was exhilarating.

Finally, we moved to another spot to do our last excursion of the day. It was one more zodiac cruise in a shallow, sheltered bay, where we came across several harbor seals, some with their pups. Much more timid and nervous than the bearded seals, they anxiously watched us as they swam around the small cove. The babies were adorable; it was watching a new cycle of life begin in Svalbard. We thought it a fantastic end to an eventful day. And how wrong we were.

Our first walrus amongst a beautiful backdrop

Polar Blog Series Part II: The Arctic

July 11, 2023 by Trevor Allen

Chapter 3: Polar Anniversary

I knew our wedding anniversary would be different this year—it would be the first one without a wedding ceremony. But I had no idea it would be so special in this way. On June 25th, we were awoken by our expedition leader informing us they had spotted not one, but two polar bears: a mom and her cub. We frantically got dress and up on deck, watching them move across a low plain beneath a mountain. It was surreal to see a polar bear in the wild for the first time. They were an off-white, clearly visible in the surrounding snow, and were walking along like they didn’t have a care in the world. The crew loaded both zodiacs and we prepared for a cruise. Unfortunately, that was the end of our time with them. Mom and cub both disappeared over a ridge, and while we searched for them for well over an hour in the zodiacs, we couldn’t find them again. Our consolidation was approaching incredibly close to yet another glacier, and spending time with another bearded seal.

The immense glacier shrouded in fog and snow

We still got to do two landings that day. On the first one, we pulled into a beautiful glacial bay surrounded by snowcapped mountains. The boarding routine starting to become familiar, we changed into our protective clothing, pulled on our rubber boots, fastened on our lifejackets, and took the ladders down to our zodiacs to head to shore. It was covered in lichen, which seemed incredible. How could so many different species of plants survive further than 78 degrees North? We also came across some polar bear paw prints in the snow, and exciting but also spooky sign. It felt like we could run into one at any moment. Although we felt safe with our guides (and their big game rifles), it was also clear that we were visiting a truly wild place, in which we were not the top animal.

The second landing in the afternoon was even more spectacular than the first. We journeyed up to the northwestern corner of Spitsbergen island, and anchored in between a few of the smaller islands off the coast. Our guides then took us on a guided hike up one of the islands, in which we had a magnificent view of the channel and the surrounding scenery. We trudged through the soggy tundra at the base, carefully avoiding the nesting Arctic Terns, which are very territorial. Then it was up, up toward the peak, probably 500 feet up. The view was inspiring. It was as if all the northern world lay out before us in splendor. I felt moved by the beauty of the Earth and the wonder at being in such a special place with my life partner.

I assumed that would be the highlight of our day as we returned to the ship, which then headed northeast around the corner of Svalbard’s biggest island. How wrong I was. After dinner, the sun still blaring outside, we headed up on deck to watch our approach into a beautiful bay. All was silent, as the water turned to glass. Then we spotted a lone walrus resting on an iceberg up ahead. We barely slowed down to admire it, even though it was our first sighting of the species, because our crew spotted a pod of beluga whales. There were at least 30 of them, which our guide Marcelo called “sea bananas”—you mostly only saw their yellowish humped backs as they surfaced to get new air. We followed them deeper into the bay, until the ice pack, then anchored. We watched them for hours, until we had to split our viewing time: one of our fellow passengers unbelievably spotted another polar bear, moving back and forth across the ice roughly two miles away from our ship. The entire ship, passengers and crew alike, watched both sightings with giddy joy—it was hard to know which animals to watch!

Watching belugas from our ship at midnight

As the “day” drew to a close, my wife and I took a picture on the top deck with the midnight sun. There was minimal change in the sun’s height in the sky as the clock turned toward a new day. It was the most beautiful anniversary day we could ask for, with three polar bear sightings, incredible scenery, and walrus and beluga watching. I’ll remember it for the rest of my life. And maybe, because it was a special day for me personally, the magic of the Arctic will also imprint on my brain. I knew as I lay my head down to rest that night: we inhabit the most spectacular planet imaginable.

Polar Blog Series Part II: The Arctic

July 10, 2023 by Trevor Allen

Chapter 2: Sights and Sounds

This post was written on the 1st full day of our Svalbard Expedition…

Today was even better than the first day. Partially due to jet lag, and partially due to the amazing unique things we are seeing and doing, it’s hard to know which day is which. The Arctic is teeming with life. When you look outside our boat, in any direction, you’ll see some type of life—usually birds. But we also saw several reindeer today, both near and far, and two separate pods of minke whales, and we had amazing close encounters with seals.

Looking back toward the ship and our group

I felt some apprehension during our first landing in the morning. It would be our first time going ashore on Svalbard outside of Longyearbyen, and there are polar bears wandering around… Martin, our captain, and Heidi and Freddy, our first and second mates, dropped the zodiacs into the water after breakfast. After Phil and Marcelo, our two guides, checked the coast for any sign of polar bears, we boarded and headed to shore. It was great to walk around. There was no sign of any polar bears… except for the damage to one of the historical huts and the paw prints on the door. Apparently a polar bear had been “playing” with the wooden wall of one of the huts. It was slightly ominous. We also got to see a mating pair of long-tailed ducks as well as a pectoral sandpiper. It was our first close encounter with the Svalbard wildlife.

But the highlight definitely came in the afternoon. We moved to a smaller glacial bay in the afternoon and dropped anchor. With a magnificent glacier as a backdrop, the water was completely littered with ice floes. We got in our zodiacs for a cruise and were transported to a different world. Drifting slowly through the ice, no one saying a word, all we could hear were the sounds of popping and clicking. Our guides deftly guided the zodiacs around the larger icebergs, and we even touched some of the smaller bergy bits and growlers. It was peaceful, and yet utterly active. We passed a social group of black-legged kittiwakes perched on a glacier. These birds wait for the glacier to calve and then pounce on the shocked fish below. We witnessed the enormous glacier behind us calve multiple times, in complete awe.

And then we spotted the bearded seals. Slowly, silently, we glided towards them, one by one. They each were resting atop shallow domed icebergs, resting in the cool air. Twenty yards, ten yards, fifteen feet… we kept inching closer. Our guides were shocked the seals weren’t spooked by our presence; normally they leap off the iceberg back into the sea at any sign of danger. Curious, they regarded us warily from their ice perch as we gaped in stunned silence. It was incredible to spend nearly any hour so close to these creatures. It was the epitome of up close and personal.

Up close and personal with a bearded seal

It was our first time seeing bearded seals, or kittiwakes, or drifting through the ice like that. No one wanted to return to the ship. For the second day in a row, we experienced a different realm. The Arctic’s wildlife and environment captivated and captured us. It was plain to understand: we are a part of this magnificent Earth, one component of a magical planetary phenomenon. We are not the masters of it, but participants. It’s all so clear, if one can simply take in the myriad of sights and sounds.

Watching a reindeer outside Longyearbyen, Svalbard

Polar Blog Series Part II: The Arctic

July 09, 2023 by Trevor Allen

Chapter 1: The Top of the World

We’re off! On Friday, June 23rd we boarded the M/S Cape Race and embarked on what would become a 9 day journey. Describing our emotions as excitement is an understatement. We awoke at the Radisson Polar Blu hotel in Longyearbyenwith anticipation. After a leisurely breakfast looking out the huge windows to the mountains north of town, we packed up, checked out, and wandered outside for a walk. It was nice to explore the town a bit more, without as much jet lag. Longyearbyen is an intriguing place: remote, utilitarian, and simple. A town of about 1,000 people located at 78 degrees North, there are only a few streets and various establishments for services. It definitely feels like the northernmost city in the world.

We headed to see the ship for the first time at 4pm. After some safety briefings and explanations about what to expect for the next week, we set off. I clicked away as we drifted toward the unknown. It was fascinating to experience the Arctic after having already visited the Antarctic. The polar regions are certainly similar. You feel the same remoteness in Svalbard as you do down south; you somehow know you’re at the end of the Earth. The midnight sun embellishes this strangeness; we had to remind ourselves it was 9:30pm, and that it was time to go to bed, despite the blaring sun outside.

About an hour into our voyage we were treated to a breathtaking view of the mountains on the northern side of the Isjforden. I eagerly hastened outside to photograph the snowy peaks glinting in the misty sliver of sunlight. The scenery was mesmerizing. I once again felt as though we had ventured into some fairytale—the mountains even reminded me a bit of the movie depiction of Whoville. The pristine nature of it all reminded me of our first glimpses of Antarctica.

Our first treat to Svalbard’s immense beauty

I could already tell the top of the world would transform me the same way. While the similarities are noticeable, I knew there would be so much to learn, and so many more unique things to discover. The Earth cannot truly be described in all its glory. One must see it, experience it, themselves. When you do, you start to understand its miracle, the miracle of us, and all that we know within our beautiful home. Even at the top of the world, you know deep down, that you’re a part of it.

Polar Blog Series Part I: The Antarctic

July 01, 2023 by Trevor Allen

Chapter 9: Lessons of the Antarctic

Our trip down to the Antarctic was a transformative experience. I learned so much more than I expected. I observed a new kind of scenery rarely seen, and watched wildlife I had never encountered.

But more than that, the expedition reinforced the sheer size and scale of the Earth. It took two days, two days, and four days to get between our three destinations on a modern vessel. Tierra del Fuego, the Antarctic continent, and South Georgia feature completely different environments. The Earth truly is amazing. The bottom of the world resembles Hoth. The jungles of Avatar can be found in the planet’s many jungles. Dune exists in the vast Sahara desert.

Returning to South America through the Beagle Channel

And that’s just the setting. It’s the life on Earth that makes it truly unique. Diverse, plentiful life in all sizes and forms. In the Antarctic we experienced intimate interactions with penguins, seals and whales. We share the world’s oceans and landmasses with these creatures. It is incumbent for us to protect this planet, for it is the only home we know. We are not stewards, but passengers. As we hurtle through space and time aboard our starship, we must recognize this miracle, the miracle that is us. The Antarctic is extraordinary. So are we.

Approaching the South Georgia coast on a zodiac

Polar Blog Series Part I: The Antarctic

June 30, 2023 by Trevor Allen

Chapter 8: Expedition Methods

Our last four days of the expedition were completely at sea. South Georgia is out there, and even in a modern vessel, it’s a long way back to South America. But it gave us time to decompress from all the stimuli. It also made us feel like real explorers!

It was also true that being on the ship was just as much a part of the expedition as anything else. We learned the floors and decks well. It became second nature to head to the briefing room, where our expedition leaders would give us the rundown on the upcoming day, or to hurry up to top deck to try to glimpse some wildlife. We knew the quickest route down to the mud room, which we used to change into our outdoor boots and clothing, and also disinfect to prevent contagion.

Zodiac cruisin’ while shooting zodiac cruisin’

Learning the art and science of riding the zodiacs was the most engaging aspect of the expedition. Two sailors would help you board from the gangway, while your pilot would help catch and seat you on one of the long rubber tubes of the raft. There’s a feel to riding the waves while trying to take pictures or video. And the landings are definitely adventurous: with big waves, the pilot will throw the zodiac into reverse to ride the wave to the shore so you can time your jumping out point to make it to dry land without getting soaked (not a good idea at these latitudes). Our expedition leaders were expert at positioning us in the narrowest of nooks and crannies to get intimate with penguins and seals. We even had one pilot take us up extremely close to a small iceberg so we could touch it.

Seeing a city-sized iceberg from water level, courtesy of a zodiac ride

We only participated in the most thrilling activity on the ship once: the polar plunge. Somewhere off the coast of Antarctica, not quite yet in open water, we stopped the ship. The captain gleefully told us the water was 31 degrees Fahrenheit—the salt content allowed the water to exist below freezing. For anyone who wanted, they could put on their bathing suit and jump off the gangway into the icy depths. Without a doubt, it was the coldest I had ever felt. Immediately upon surfacing after my jump, I scampered back to the gangway to be pulled up by sailors. They handed me a towel… and a shot of vodka—the sailors were all Russian. Safe to say we felt invigorated for several hours afterward.

Through all the expedition methods and activities though, my biggest takeaway was the connection to true adventure. We had to do everything in a certain way for safety. The weather dictated our day, what we could and couldn’t do. It was very far removed from how many on the planet live. In a way we were connected to the muses of the Earth. And it felt good to know that still exists in the world.

Polar Blog Series Part I: The Antarctic

June 29, 2023 by Trevor Allen

Chapter 7: Spectacular South Georgia

Our guides kept telling us to wait until we got to South Georgia. While we wowed over wildlife in Antarctica, they simply smiled. Despite all their proclamations of South Georgia’s brilliance, we still weren’t prepared. We made 6 stops along the eastern side of the island over the course of 3 days. Every moment was awe-inspiring.

Three different species overwhelming the beach

South Georgia is in the middle of nowhere, right where the currents cross between the Atlantic and Southern oceans. A dozen or so scientists temporarily inhabit the island on any given year. Besides their base in Grytviken, the rest of the land is owned by the wildlife. Hundreds of thousands of birds call South Georgia home. There are also tens of thousands of seals. It’s simply a wildlife phenomenon unlike anything else on Earth. You feel you’ve entered a National Geographic documentary when visiting.

We were treated to remarkably good weather while visiting all the main destinations: Grytviken, Salisbury Plain, Fortuna Bay, Gold Harbour, St. Andrew’s Bay, and Cooper Bay. The dramatic scenery, completely visible in the clear weather, was only surpassed by the jaw dropping amount of wildlife. We laughed at the clumsy and playful baby fur seals as they swam over each other in the shallows and bounded through the tussock grass patches. We watched elephant seals bounce out of the water to rest on the shore, some of the males well over a thousand pounds. We picked our way carefully on long walks, careful not to bump into one of the tens of thousands of king penguins on the way to their rookery. It was impossible to take a photo without some type of bird or animal in it. And all the commotion and noise echoed off the backdrop of blue glaciers, jagged peaks, and snow covered fields.

King penguins basking in the last remaining sun

We booked the expedition to see Antarctica, a place completely foreign to anything we had ever experienced. But South Georgia stole the show. The complete isolation, the scenery, and the astonishing proliferation of wildlife… it was a perfect crescendo to our trip. We were sad to leave, and faced four days at sea to return back to Ushuaia.

South Georgia wasn’t this pleasant when Shackleton landed

Polar Blog Series Part I: The Antarctic

June 28, 2023 by Trevor Allen

Chapter 6: Shackleton’s Story

We were fortunate to have some true Shackleton scholars on our ship. Our expedition route partially followed his ill-fated attempt to make the first land crossing of the Antarctic continent, and thus our voyage was certainly Shackleton-themed. Maps adorned many of the common room sections of the ship, and our guides provided a running commentary of his crew’s trials and tribulations. Thankfully, our journey contained only good luck.

When we departed Antarctica, we made way for Elephant Island, a desolate, isolated island with an eponymous shape. It was here that his crew sheltered for four and a half months after their ship, Endurance, broke apart and sunk in the Antarctic ice. While most of the crew remained huddled on Elephant Island surviving on any wildlife they could catch and kill, Sir Ernest Shackleton and 5 crew members braved 800 miles of open ocean—in a rowboat—to South Georgia Island. Even upon landing, a miracle in itself, these 6 courageous souls had to cross the mountain range that stretches the island’s spine. In Grytviken they were able to get help, and incredibly, ever single member of the crew survived (the rest of the crew who remained on Elephant Island were rescued almost 5 months later). It’s truly an amazing story. That is the level of lore that embodies Antarctica. Decades of profound history precede any orthodox tourist journey down south. With our 16 day expedition, we experienced some of that history with intimacy.

Shackleton and his crew survived off fur seals

We stayed at Elephant Island for less than an hour. It was unthinkable to try to make a landing. The wind terrorized us as we cowered from it on the top deck of the ship, gazing towards the most inhospitable spit of land I had ever seen. After snapping some pictures and shaking myself from a reverie, we trudged back inside. Our captain and expedition leader were eager to leave. It was almost unfathomable that 22 men survived for so long in such a hell. Our guides, most boasting at least a decade of experience, grumbled how they had each only landed on the island itself once or twice. As nightfall hastened, we resumed north to South Georgia.

It took 2 days for us to reach the island on our massive ship. I can’t imagine the journey in a rowboat. Shackleton’s journal recounts swells more than 100 feet high. Just thinking about it makes me shudder. Our travel was leisurely, as we looked for whales and birds while enjoying good weather. I read up more on Shackleton’s exploits and adventures. It was fascinating to learn about humanity’s progress as we tried to explore entirety of our planet. And then we were greeted with the most spectacular island I’ve ever visited.

Polar Blog Series Part I: The Antarctic

June 27, 2023 by Trevor Allen

Chapter 5: The 7th (not really) Continent

The day finally arrived in which we would land on the Antarctic continent itself. Everyone on the ship was excited; so few people venture to this remotest region of the planet. Our morning began with the usual wake up call from the expedition leader, who told us the temperature and weather forecast in his soft, calm voice. After a quick breakfast we organized into our usual "red" and "blue" groups--there were only enough zodiacs for half the passengers at a time, so we took turns. One group would take the zodiacs to land, while the other waited for those same zodiacs to come back to the ship to pick them up for an hour cruising around.

We were the first group to land on the continent that morning. We had already landed on the South Shetland islands and a few other small rock outcroppings, but not the actual landmass itself. Our zodiac pilot got us extremely close to a low lying shore, and then we jumped into the shallow water and trudged up the snow covered embankment. Climbing up some gradual hills, we reached a point where we could enjoy a mesmerizing view of the surrounding landscape. Snow was ubiquitous in all directions, and you could see glaciers near the distant mountains. The sea glittered with icebergs blue big and small. It was hard to believe--we were standing on the edge of a huge landmass, a continent larger than Oceania. Although least explored, Antarctica was still a huge landmass on the Earth!

I remember one of the other passengers near us as we trekked up the tallest hill. "Yes, yes!" he cried triumphantly. We smiled at him, a little surprised. "Is this your seventh continent?!" he exclaimed? "No..." I replied... "I've never been to Australia." He looked surprised and slightly crestfallen. Apparently it is just as big a deal to check off visiting the seventh continent as it is to experience the expedition... for some. My wife and I chuckled to each other. We were thrilled to embark on the expedition for the chance to see unique wildlife and amazing landscapes, for the pure adventure. I guess we had some more traveling to do before we could "check off" all the continents.

Feeling free and euphoric, we slid down the "slide" the expedition guides created for us. We couldn't believe what we were doing. Walking around Antarctica was like visiting the moon. We were exploring a landmass that likely only ~500,000 people have ever set foot on. It was surreal. As we would soon learn, Antarctica is synonymous with adventure.

Watching a humpback surface in wonderland

Polar Blog Series Part I: The Antarctic

June 26, 2023 by Trevor Allen

Chapter 4: Whales

Nothing could have prepared us for our experience with the whales. Our encounters with them felt spiritual, and they epitomized the reasoning for visiting Antarctica. Sightings were made from the decks of The Ocean Atlantic, and those were memorable, but our interactions with whales from the zodiacs were magical. Only a foot or two above the surface of the water, we would drift along the Southern Ocean, motor off, surrounded by icebergs the size of houses and stadiums. The only sounds were the lapping of the water and the sharp intakes of cold air. And then one would surface, an enormous humpback, right next to us. Its blow would powerfully pierce the stillness, and then we'd see the rest of its body come up to the surface of the water. It was incredible.

Humpback’s face right in front of us, barnacles and all

It felt as though the humpbacks were communicating with us, almost reassuring us the raw nature enveloping us was okay. That's how overwhelming the experience was. They would say hello at the surface, sometimes go under our zodiac, and then appear somewhere else a little later. Our guides explained they came down to feed, and would lazily glide through the nutrient-dense water. They were calm, and their presence was reassuring, not alarming.

The humpbacks were by far the most numerous, but we also saw minke whales and southern right whales--even blue whales! We observed a few minke whales from the zodiac; slightly smaller than the humpbacks, they were a little more wary to approach as closely. The most surprising sighting of the minkes, however, came as we were departing Antarctica for Elephant Island. It was only the marine biologist, one other passenger, and us on the top deck of our ship. We all wanted to say goodbye to the wonderland that had been so good to us. But right after we turned northward, we spotted a pair of minke whales on the port side. They kept pace with the ship briefly, then crossed underneath us to the other side. We whooped and cheered, our guide included, for we were overjoyed to catch one last interaction with the majestic creatures. I had tears in my eyes when we finally went inside as the ship picked up speed.

You could sense a powerful benevolence from the whales. Despite all the horrors we performed on them, the ones we witnessed in the Southern Ocean only wanted to bond. They dwarfed our zodiacs and could have easily flipped us if they wanted, but there was no sense of danger whatsoever. Whales are inherently peaceful. They embody the exotic, beautiful diversity of species living on this Earth. I will always remember my experience with them. It was definitely one of the highlights or our trip, because it reinforced the simple message: Earth is precious--we must protect it. The other highlight of course, was stepping foot on Antartica itself.

Polar Blog Series Part I: The Antarctic

June 25, 2023 by Trevor Allen

Chapter 3: Southern Wildlife

The Antarctic coast might appear desolate upon first glance, but there’s an entire ecosystem of life near the continent, mostly under the water. Penguins dart under the surface near our zodiac, or porpoise in and out of the water in groups, sometimes even racing the zodiac. There are several different species of penguin, and we got to see five on our trip: Gentoo, Magellanic, Chinstrap, Macaroni and King.

The real secret of visiting Antarctica is the wildlife experiences made possible by the zodiacs. We landed on a small island, more of a rock outcropping, and watched penguins scuttle here and there. We watched a fur seal bathe in the grey light. Our guides trained us how to ward off the furseals if they became interested in us and approached: stand tall and firm and be big, holding your ground—face them and don't back up.

We even witnessed a kill. While heading back to the ship after an hour of cruising, there were gasps by others on the zodiac. I looked back and saw the fragmented remains of a gentoo penguin launched in all directions. A leopard seal had just snatched one close to the surface. To more easily devour them, leopard seals will thrash penguins back and forth to rip them apart. Literally ripping their tissue and skin and bones apart, it's a ghastly site. I had never seen a marine kill like that, and it felt very different than the ones I saw in Africa.

The leopard seal thrashing about its caught penguin

As a privileged suburbian from California, I had to adjust to seeing nature in its most raw and deadly form when on safari. In the beginning you feel bad for the prey. But towards the end you start to feel bad for the predators—you see their continual and mounting hunger over the course of a week, and every failed hunting attempt brings them closer to the edge of death. But this was different. I had never seen something in the water, and I was completely unfamiliar with this setting. The penguins hunt the fish, and the seals hunt the penguins, and the orcas hunt the seals... it all flowed together, even if violently. We watched nature take its course.

And it struck me how wild all of this was, that I was at the bottom of the world watching marine animals hunt and kill each other, surrounded by scenery impossible anywhere else. That in today's time, a middle-class American could travel down to the White Continent and observe the wildness of life and nature. This is the Earth we inhabit. This is the world we are a part of. In such a faraway place it was plain to understand how removed we are from it. Humans merely study the Antarctic, because we know so little. And yet it's here. The glory of our planet is on full display for anyone who ventures down. It's an incredible experience, because it's so surreal and different, and yet ordinary for the planet in the grand scheme of things.

Chinstrap penguin making its way down the rocks

Observing the wildlife of Antarctica changed me. But it was nothing compared to the whales.

Polar Blog Series Part I: The Antarctic

June 24, 2023 by Trevor Allen

Chapter 2: Water and Ice

I vividly remember our approach to Antarctica. We slowed down, as if to proceed carefully through a forbidden environment. The water resembled smooth glass as our ship glided through it noiselessly. It was cold. My hands grew numb while trying to snap pictures. Icebergs big and small littered the Southern Ocean in every direction. The occasional bird swooped past the ship; birds we had never seen before. A lonely seal far away rested on a smaller patch of ice. And individual penguins periodically zoomed through the water--they moved so fast! All of this newness unfolded gradually as we advanced toward the peninsula. And then it was within view: The White Continent.

Drawn to the Antarctic glow at first sight

Seeing the landscapes for the first time was a surreal experience. It's as if you're transported to another realm. A desolate realm, but one of incomparable beauty. The sky was low, providing perfect visibility for the land growing larger as we got closer. The sun illuminated the edge of the most remote piece of land on Earth, the snow shimmering in the light. Foreboding mountains appeared like sentries, guarding an ancient domain. The reflection of the gray-blue water called us toward it. I'm not sure I've ever experienced a more wild place.

Mountains and glaciers dominate the horizon

You can feel the emptiness around Antarctica, and you can inexplicably sense its remoteness. Perhaps because it takes so much effort to get there, but when viewing the continent from the prow of a ship, you know you're looking at a land less visited. Wildlife was present and easily spotted, but we 300 souls were the only humans within miles. You truly feel the sense of adventure, because everything you see is unfamiliar. Most people don't live in the polar regions of the world, so penguins and seals seem just as otherworldly as the landscape. The dark mountains, the immense glaciers, and the feel of the water all feel alien. And yet it's still the Earth; this magnificent planet of which we so easily take for granted.

An expedition leader returning a zodiac to the ship

Because the Drake Passage currents were calm during our crossing, we arrived at Antartica early and had half a day to explore. This meant it was our first time zodiac cruising. These professional-grade rafts were piloted by our expedition guides, jetting us around the shallow areas close to the land. We were able to land on one of the South Shetland islands, where the "Great Wall" Chinese research station was based. Upon landing, we were greeted by various signs pointing to well-known cities and destinations around the world. All distances were astronomical. We also got our passports stamped and examined some old whale bones. The landscape was utterly lunar: rocky, dry and monotone, with little snow.

The Chinese research station was a strange place

I couldn't keep from looking off into the distance, where we could see glaciers and mountains. It was all a strange dream: something foreign and graphic and exciting, as if we were immersed in some bizarre fantasy. Our adventure had only just begun, as we would soon discover the abundant wildlife of the Antarctic.

Tierra del Fuego off the tip of South America

Polar Blog Series Part I: The Antarctic

June 23, 2023 by Trevor Allen

Chapter 1: The Bottom of the World

I'm writing this from the comfortable confines of my own home in Northern California; it was March 2019 when my wife and I visited the Antarctic. But I vividly remember the feeling of the bottom of the world. Embarking on a 16 day journey from Ushuaia, Argentina, we set sail for Antarctica aboard the Ocean Atlantic on March 1st.

Tierra del Fuego, or "the land of fire," as Magellan called it, already feels like the world's end. You somehow know when you're on the edge of a continent. The tip of South America is especially remote, with the small town of Ushuaia (~57,000 people) surrounded by undeveloped and protected land. You know you're leaving the last bastion of civilization, toward hundreds of miles of volatile, open ocean. The Drake Passage is notorious for rough seas, and you face its crossing with some trepidation for what may come. The bottom of the world intangibly instills a self reliance, a heightened awareness of survival. You understand the unknowable lies ahead, and you're compelled to muster some courage.

The ever-present backdrop of mountains in Ushuaia

Now we weren't Shackleton's crew drifting towards the white continent. The 130 or so passengers, mostly Chinese citizens from a tour group that didn't fill up, were being shepherded by about 50 well-trained, experienced crew members. But the company, Albatros Expeditions, was adamant upon our booking: this was an expedition, not a cruise. We were guaranteed nothing, emergencies can happen, and danger is real. While we hoped to set foot on the Antarctic peninsula and see penguins, seals, and whales, nothing was given. The weather turns quickly at the bottom of the world, and safety was always the first priority. The slightest uptick in wind, any small gust, while normally unnoticeable, heightened our every nerve. I had never been on a ship for so long before. There was a mixture of emotions: excitement, nervousness, anxiety, joy. We were going on a true adventure!

We boarded our ship in the late afternoon in the port in Ushuaia. After checking in and some safety briefings, it was time to set off. Clambering up to the top deck to ensure a good view, we bid farewell to South America as we pushed off. It felt surreal to know we wouldn't return to land for more than two weeks. The Ocean Atlantic would be our vessel and home.

The journey through the Beagle Channel is breathtaking. High mountains arise on either side as you navigate the long, narrow strait toward the Southern Ocean. You pass the last of three large islands, Isla Nueva, and begin the long journey south. The Drake Passage can take up to 48 hours to cross and can resemble the Drake Lake...or the Drake Shake. We were lucky to experience the former, and arrived at the peninsula after only a day and a half. Our boat was alone as we approached the continent. It's impossible to describe the remoteness. It feels as though you have reached the end of the Earth. And it's a whole new world.

Hoping for a smooth start to a long journey

Setting Off for the Arctic

June 20, 2023 by Trevor Allen

Airlines today make travel much more difficult and stressful. Our flight was cancelled last night, a mere 25 hours before scheduled departure, without any notification—lucky we checked online.

However, despite all the mess… we are setting off. Today we head east, to Denver, then London, then Oslo. After a night there we fly toward our ultimate destination: Svalbard.

We’re going to take an expedition around the archipelago, hoping to see Northern wildlife. Seals, walrus, various birds, even narwhals are possible to see. But the main attraction is the chance to see polar bears in the wild. Fingers crossed!

It will be my first time to the Arctic, one of the most remote regions on the planet. I don’t even know what I don’t know: it will all feel completely new and there will be lots to learn. To document my experiences there, I will be publishing a Polar Blog Series. Part I will feature the Antarctic, which we visited in March 2019. Part II will feature this upcoming adventure. Stay tuned for the series start on Friday, June 23rd. To the Arctic!