Home » Antarctica » Seal of Approval January 11, 2004

The Melchior Islands are a small gathering near the eastern edge of the Drake Passage. As our final outing, the Melchior cruise was a perfect finale to our Antarctic journey.

Seal of Approval January 11, 2004

Ttrealtravels
2005-12-24 23:42:58

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and we could clearly see the bottom of the ice underwater.

Much like Deception Island, this iceberg appeared to offer only a cold, hard face to the casual observer. But on the other side was a dazzling world of blue and white, a hidden villa of ancient snow. I felt as if we'd been let in on a little secret. Antarctica had opened herself, just a little, to us. We'd glimpsed behind the harsh curtain and found the splendor within.

This land is the pearl in the shell. The isolation, distance, and bitter cold are the ugly oyster. But if fortune smiles, you'll pry open the shell to discover the rare gem inside. There is so much beauty here, it is overwhelming and humbling.

The Last, Best Place on Earth

I feel terribly lucky, not just for the excellent, clear weather we've had, but to be able to come here at all. No longer is the journey so hazardous as in Shackleton's day. The hardship isn't physical, it's simply financial. Yet we're not rich by American standards. And only a few of our fellow travelers seem to be very wealthy. There are plenty of people who can afford this as well as us, but they don't go.

In addition to the cash, it requires a certain kind of madness to take this trip. Not quite the Heroic Explorer Disease of Scott, Amundsen, et. al., but some pale imitation. There is something that drives us to come here, and when we arrive, we know exactly why we came.

It is a wild, woolly place, also elegant and sublime. It is so many superlatives, and so completely unique, my words are inadequate. Film can't capture the feeling of being here. Oh, we try, we try. Nearly 2,000 digital pictures and a journal's worth of words, but still I haven't pinned it down.

Perhaps that's the appeal. Antarctica cannot be pinned down. For all the scientific work here, it still can't be quantified and analyzed, categorized and labeled. This is natural wildness, nothing to do with humankind's effects and achievements. More so than any natural place I've seen, this is unchanged and pure.

Yosemite is a grand cathedral of nature, but it's overrun with people, as are so many other U.S. parks. Kauai has some isolation, but tons of people fill the Na Pali Coast trail year after year. Throughout the Hawaiian islands, there's a tourist-filled beach only a few miles away. In my own backyard, the Sierra Nevadas are imposing and grand, but they're traversed with highways. All the wild places I've seen of the U.K., Ireland, and France are still close to civilization. I suppose Alaska and Canada have true wilderness, but I doubt they feel as perfectly remote as this. In the Great White South, only a rare, and often abandoned, tiny station reminds you that humans exist.

Antarctica is unlike any other place on this earth. It is the last frontier, the last untouched land, the last pure spot on our planet. And I devoutly hope that it can stay this way for generations to come.