The Drake Shake (Antarctica

How to get to Antarctica?

You go south, far south, to the very edge of the known world, the southern tip of the Americas.

Ushuaia is a little sleepy resort town in Argentina whose claim to fame is the southernmost national park, delicious and cheap crab, and the starting point for most ships who venture into the Antarctic.

From Ushuaia to the Antarctic peninsula is two days by sea. What bad things could possibly happen crossing the most turbulent waters in the world to a land of icebergs, zero infrastructure, and two days away from any kind of help?

A live action re-enactment of the Titanic is definitively absent from my bucket list, so I picked my vessel accordingly.

The M/V Ortelius looks like a nuclear bunker on water. Originally a Russian ice-breaker named Marina Svetaeva, it’s now on it’s second reincarnation as a Dutch tourist expedition vessel that splits time between the world’s poles shuttling around people who just don’t understand the concept of staying home.

No giant floating city with a water slide and tiki bar. The ship has ample polar preparedness gear and two fully enclosed emergency boats. Definitely enough room for Jack to make it.

This isn’t one of those snoozer cruisers for people who like to spend two weeks turning into elephant seals. As our expedition leader Sara said, “Sleeping is cheating”. Camping, mountaineering, kayaking, snowshoeing - It’s a trip geared towards those who are young and adventurous at heart, even if some of those adventurers do have a bad hip.

On the down side, while that little boat can survive an iceberg and probably make it to Atlantis unscathed, you’re in for a topsy turvy time if the Drake passage is being its usual violent self. On a weather map, pinks and purples are the worst colors to see.

My people have centuries of survived harsh winters, held off foreign invaders, and put dog and man into space. But by lacking a warm water port we are genetically doomed for sea life. Any romanticized notions I had of what fun it would have been as a 17th century ocean explorer was abruptly and irreversibly put to an end as our ship bounced on 6 meter swells.

Those two days in open sea crossing the Drake passage were spent curling up in a ball, doubling up on sea sickness meds and patches, and wondering why I can’t just drive to Florida like everyone else for vacation. Misery loves company, and there was plenty of company as many green-tinged passengers clutching paper bags emerged from their private torment to attend the mandatory safety briefings in the basement lecture auditorium, which was christened as the “vomitorium”.

So no, the Drake Shake isn’t a new Tik Tok dance. It’s when you’re curled up in a fetal position, using all means to mentally leave this dimension. And then slowly you feel yourself sliding down the bed, suddenly achieving flight, and crashing back down. All items not secured are now at the tail end of the cabin. Sounds like the neighbors are hunched over the toilet again. Rinse and repeat.

We had an artist on the boat that captured the moment well.

As we got closer to Antarctica, the Drake Shake turned into the Drake Lake, braving me to venture out of my horizontal position and up three sets of stairs to the bridge, where the ship is steered. Much to my dismay they had many reasons to not let you press any buttons or touch the wheel. However they did have the best view that didn’t involve getting blown away into a freezing 60 knots of wind.