In Part 1 of our Antarctic expedition, we boarded the Silversea Silver Cloud (our home for the next 10 days), crossed the Drake Passage, and made our first landing on Deception Island, South Shetland Islands.
As we continued our journey deeper into the heart of Antarctica, each day brought with it new adventures that felt even more surreal than the last. The quest to discovering the White Continent had just begun, and as the expedition unfolded, each new stop felt like stepping into a different world.
Image courtesy: Pranjal Mallick
Day 4: Monday, December 2
“Good morning, ladies, and gentlemen! It is 07:00 hours, and we have arrived at anchorage at Spert Island…”
That was Peter, our expedition leader, over the ship’s PA system. It is a voice we better get used to as it would serve as our alarm clock for the rest of the trip.
Today’s morning excursion was a zodiac cruise in Spert Island in the Antarctic Peninsula. Groups 2, 3, and 4 were called at 7:30 a.m., and bundled in thermal layers, merino wool long sleeves, and our all-purpose parkas, not to mention woolen gloves, beanies, and neck gaiters, we headed toward the mudroom. It was our first zodiac cruise, and just the thought of witnessing the breathtaking views of towering glaciers and dramatic icebergs left me giddy with excitement.
Image courtesy: Pranjal Mallick
Eight of us boarded Sam’s zodiac, and he skillfully navigated us through narrow channels along the coastline and between massive icebergs glittering in the Antarctic sun. The small rubber boat bobbed on the icy waters as the untouched beauty of the continent unfolded before us. The air was crisp, fresh, and very chilly, tinged with the faint scent of salt and ice. The silence, broken only by the occasional splash of penguins jumping into the water, or the hum of the zodiac’s engine, allowed us to immerse ourselves in the sublime purity of nature. More than once during the trip, and certainly not the last, I found myself marveling at how fortunate I was to be living this day.
Our afternoon call came at 2 p.m., by which time the ship had set sail from Spert Island to anchor at Mikkelsen Harbor. Located on the western side of the Antarctic Peninsula, Mikkelsen Harbor is known for its breathtaking scenery. The routine repeated itself: bundling up in warm layers and donning boots before heading to the zodiac that would take us shore side.
Once ashore, the first thing that hit me was the stillness, with only the crunching sound made by our boots on the snow and the occasional call of a seabird breaking the silence. Mikkelsen Harbor is home to a variety of wildlife, and we found ourselves right next to three Weddell seals, blissfully enjoying their afternoon siesta, completely oblivious to a group of humans in bright red parkas!
Image courtesy: Pranjal Mallick
Following the trail, we found ourselves next to a colony of Gentoo penguins, who were busy hunting for marine crustaceans called krills — their favorite snack — and leaving their yellow and red “artwork” behind! However comedic, these tuxedoed species are also great hustlers — creating their own highways on ice and waddling as if always on a mission!
We wandered further along the shoreline, soaking in the grandeur of Mikkelsen Harbor. Everywhere I looked, the landscape stretched on forever, untouched, and unspoiled. The experience, like every moment in Antarctica, was both awe-inspiring and humbling —reminding me that I was just a tiny observer in an ancient world shaped by ice and time.
But every riveting adventure comes with its own flipside and that evening found me in not exactly the pink of health. Apparently, all the heavy protective gear, necessary for withstanding the cold, wind, and elements, had buoyed me down, as I stayed in my room, skipping dinner and exorcising my demons, for the rest of the evening.
“The beauty of Antarctica lies not in its grandeur, but in its quiet, stark simplicity, where the world is reduced to white ice and blue sky, and everything else falls away.”
Image courtesy: Pranjal Mallick
Day 5: Tuesday, December 3
Our human alarm woke us up promptly at 07:00 hours, but this time, the news wasn’t all good. As planned, we were docked at Orne Harbor. Our morning’s excursion today was supposed to be a 45-minute landing followed by a 45-minute zodiac cruise.
The anticipation for our landing at Orne Harbor was high, as it was going to be our first mainland landing. But nature had other plans. The weather had turned overnight, and conditions became less than ideal for a safe landing. With high winds and choppy seas, Peter had to make the difficult call to cancel the landing. Instead, we were treated to a 75-minute zodiac cruise.
I was still feeling a bit under the weather, and even though a canceled landing is often a thing of great disappointment, I was secretly feeling relieved that I had to only sit on a zodiac for the first part of the day.
Image courtesy: Pranjal Mallick
Orne Harbor is home to a delightful colony of Gentoo penguins, and as Qi cruised the zodiac closer to the shore, we watched them waddling busily as they moved with purpose across the snow. The penguins seemed perfectly at ease in their icy surroundings. Some were grooming, others preening their feathers, while a few dived into the chilly waters for a swim. Seventy-five minutes on the zodiac felt like barely enough, but then again, when is time ever enough in Antarctica?
Image courtesy: Pranjal Mallick
Since our “mainland Antarctica” landing was canceled in the morning, Peter quickly revised plans, with Captain Andriy Domanin playing along like a sport! Instead of a zodiac cruise at Wilhelmina Bay, which was the original plan for the afternoon, we would now go to Portal Point where we would make our first steps on the mainland.
By now, I was feeling much better, having skipped breakfast and lunch. Once again, I donned my layers of clothes and gear — the bane of my existence — and prepared for landing at Portal Point.
Located northeast of the Reclus Peninsula off Graham Land, Portal Point is a narrow, rocky outcrop that was named by British explorers as part of the “gateway” to the Antarctic Plateau. As the ship anchored and the zodiacs were lowered, anticipation buzzed in the air. The cold wind bit at our faces, but the thrill of the moment kept us energized. As we approached the shore, the silence of Antarctica wrapped around us.
Image courtesy: Pranjal Mallick
Stepping onto the Antarctic mainland felt surreal. The snow was pristine white — almost like a blob of whipped cream — untouched by human hands. The towering glaciers in the distance only added to its otherworldliness. Time seemed to stand still, as if we were the only people in this remote, frozen world that stretched for eternity. The first steps onto the mainland were an unforgettable moment, a powerful connection to a land that few have the privilege of visiting.
Image courtesy: Pranjal Mallick
After returning to the ship, we were welcomed with a small cake and balloons in our room, thoughtfully arranged by our butler Polly and suite attendant Gede to celebrate our 9th anniversary.
For dinner, we had a reservation at La Terrazza, but since I was on my way to recovery, I kept it simple and enjoyed a comforting bowl of pappa al pomodoro (tomato and bread soup). We ended the day at the Panorama Lounge, marveling at the stunning landscape that enveloped the ship as it sailed toward its next destination.
“Antarctica is the last great wilderness, a land where the natural world is still in its raw, untouched state. It is both fragile and formidable, reminding us of nature’s power and its vulnerability.”
Image courtesy: Pranjal Mallick
Day 6: Wednesday, December 4
As I pulled back the curtains first thing in the morning, an enchanting sight unfolded before my eyes. I had witnessed a similar scene on a smaller scale at Spert Island, but here, at Petermann Island, the view was nothing short of breathtaking. Our ship was cutting through thick ice sheets, shattering the surrounding ice and pushing the broken pieces aside, allowing us to continue deeper into the frozen wilderness.
I could have stood there forever, mesmerized by nature’s untamed beauty, but with a landing call at 7:30 a.m., we had little time to marvel. But a landing also meant that we would be able to experience the phenomenon up close. This was going to be a long zodiac ride to the shore as it had to carefully navigate the sheets of ice that glimmered under the Antarctic sun. Chunks of ice cracked and splintered off, drifting away as the zodiac pushed forward, leaving a path of clear water behind.
Image courtesy: Pranjal Mallick
Petermann Island, at 65.1706° S, was as south as we went during this expedition, and it was one of my favorite landings. Situated in the Gerlache Strait, this island is known for its dramatic landscape, with towering glaciers, ice cliffs, and rugged terrain. At one end stood a bright brick-red Argentine refuge hut, surrounded by large colonies of Adelie and Gentoo penguins and a variety of seabirds, their occasional squawks punctuating the serenity.
Image courtesy: Pranjal Mallick
Standing on the vast stretches of snow, I could see our ship at the distant horizon, partially hidden behind a hunk of gleaming blue bergy bit, a silent marker of how far we’d come. The unblemished elegance of the surroundings overwhelmed me, evoking a deep humility in the face of nature’s raw power. It was an experience of intense solitude, but a solitude I’ve grown to covet by now.
The landing site at Petermann Island was tricky, with slippery rocks and ice slushies making it difficult to get in and out of the zodiac. So, the entire operation had to be slowed down a bit to ensure everyone’s safety.
In the stark, icy expanse of Antarctica’s unforgiving environment, the harsh realities of survival are evident. As we stood in line waiting for our zodiac, a sudden commotion caught our attention. A skua, a large predatory bird, had spotted a vulnerable penguin nest. With sharp eyes and swift movements, it swooped down and snatched a penguin egg, while the penguin parents only watched helplessly, unable to prevent the theft.
Once back in the ship, we had a couple of hours to shower and lunch before our 2:00 p.m. call for a zodiac cruise at Planeau Bay. Just as we were savoring sushi, sashimi, and a hearty plate of rajma chawal (!!!) from the lunch buffet, Peter’s voice echoed over the PA. An untimely announcement could mean one of two things: a sudden wildlife spotting, or a canceled excursion. This time, it was the latter. The waters leading to Planeau Bay were choked with ice, making it impossible for the ship to reach. And even if we could, the zodiac cruise would likely be out of the question.
But trust Peter to always have an alternative plan. So today, instead of a zodiac cruise, we will be doing Polar Plunge! The Polar Plunge in Antarctica is an extreme, exhilarating, and often hilarious challenge where participants jump into the freezing cold waters surrounding the icy continent.
The thing about me as a traveler is that I often sign up for things completely arbitrary. A tiny part of it is FOMO, but a bigger part is the adrenaline rush — the high you get from doing things you’ve never done, and, in all likelihood, will never do again. No one told me to sign a waiver, join my shipmates in swimsuits, and brace myself for a jump into the subzero waters of the Antarctic Ocean on a chilly December afternoon. But it’s something I’ve never done before, and certainly never will again. So, what do I do? I jump.
The shock to my body was immediate and intense. As I plunged in, trying not to scream, my body went numb with cold. When I hit the water, it felt like I was drowning, the freezing water seizing every muscle. After three full life-changing seconds underwater, I popped back up, gasping for air. A crew member pulled me out using the safety belt, and another wrapped a hot towel around me. They offered a shot of Bailey’s, which I declined. I immediately rushed to the hot pool on the 8th floor along with some of the 64 other travelers who apparently also made questionable life choices as me. We bonded over shared trauma, till my body temperature came back to normal, and I realized I’ve lived to tell the tale.
“Diving into the icy waters of Antarctica wasn’t just a plunge — it was a leap into the unknown, a reminder of nature’s power and my own resilience.”
Image courtesy: Pranjal Mallick
Day 7: Thursday, December 5
A 9:45 a.m. call today tempted me to sleep in, but old habits die hard, and I found myself wide awake by 6:30 a.m. I decided to enjoy a leisurely breakfast for the first time in three days, sipping a cappuccino and savoring a warm bowl of congee as I watched the zodiacs being lowered and the first three groups head out for landing.
Image courtesy: Pranjal Mallick
We were at Damoy Point, a site of historical significance in early Antarctic exploration, and known for the Damoy Hut, established by the British Antarctic Survey in the 1970s. The hut was initially a way station for expeditions traveling between research stations, and later served as a backup base for scientific teams. It is one of the few manmade structures in the area, providing a glimpse into the region’s exploration history.
Stepping ashore, you could almost feel the weight of history as the hut stands against the icy backdrop, a silent witness to the pioneers who braved these harsh conditions. The contrast between the quiet solitude of the land and the lively activity of the penguins was striking, and I even made a new friend — a penguin who seemed willing to follow me to the zodiac!
The afternoon plan was to cross the S-shaped Neumayer Channel, flanked by steep cliffs, glaciers, and icebergs, enroute to our next anchorage at Cuverville Island. With a landing scheduled for 3:30 p.m., and having already enjoyed the hot pool the day before, I decided to relax in the piping hot jacuzzi while we prepared to glide through the channel.
However, as often with Antarctic expeditions, things didn’t go as planned. Another untimely announcement from Peter meant a change of course. The Neumayer Channel was blocked by pack ice, making it impossible for the ship to pass through. Instead, we were heading to Paradise Bay, but getting there would take longer than expected. Would a landing even be possible, given the late hour? Only time (and Peter) would tell.
After a refreshing 30 minutes in the jacuzzi, followed by some potato and leak soup at The Grill, I took a shower and planted myself at the Panorama Lounge. P joined me soon after and we spent a delightful time chatting with a fellow solo traveler V, who also happens to be from our (almost) neighboring city of Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada.
While we were deep in discussion about her backpacking trip to South America in the ’70s, Peter’s announcement came: we were entering Paradise Bay. We rushed to the deck to take in the view. The day was bright, the sun shining, and the water around us was as still as glass. Rugged, icy cliffs and massive glaciers stretched into the horizon, their reflections shimmering in the serene waters. It was 6 p.m., and we were almost resigned to the fact that the excursion might be canceled, when Peter surprised us with a fantastic twist: since an excursion now would conflict with dinner hours, we would take a twilight zodiac cruise at 9 p.m.!
The routine was not something we were familiar with, and after dinner, when we would usually hang out at Panorama Lounge, we were busy layering ourselves with activity-gear for a twilight zodiac cruise. As we glided through the icy waters in Lisa’s zodiac, the surrounding glaciers and towering snow-capped peaks seemed to be bathed in the soft golden light of the sun. As the twilight set in, the hues of pink, purple, and orange painted the sky, casting a magical glow over the landscape.
That night, we lingered at the Lounge for hours, mesmerized by the kaleidoscope of colors that danced over the striking blue icebergs and stark white glaciers. The spectacle felt endless, and we couldn’t get enough.
Image courtesy: Pranjal Mallick
“The Antarctic sky, kissed by the golden hues of twilight, is a canvas so perfect it almost feels like the world is holding its breath.”
Follow along my Antarctic adventures with Part 3 as we venture deeper into the Antarctic wilderness, where the challenges and rewards grow greater as we explore new shores and discover some majestic wildlife.