Week 1: F 27 October 2017, 22:38. Cape Shirreff, Livingston Island, Antarctica

For months now I’ve been saying the phrase “It’ll feel more real when…” to talk about my then-pending Antarctic experience. The idea I’d really been given a position working with penguins and seals in Antarctica had always been a dream – not a reality. After briefly interviewing and then getting offered the position while working on Buldir this summer, the conclusion of the phrase kept changing with the times.

From Buldir: “It’ll feel more real when I’m back in Homer and dealing with paperwork.”

From Homer: “It’ll feel more real when my medical and dental checks are done.”

From Fairbanks: “It’ll feel more real once I tell friends about it.” & “It’ll feel more real when I start packing.”

From LAX: “It’ll feel more real once I’m in the minority on the international flight to Santiago, Chile.”

From Punta Arenas: “It’ll feel more real once we’re on the ship.” (Never mind the fact I’d been working with the season’s crew to prepare gear, eating delicious Chilean food, staying in my own room at a nice hotel, and bumbling through Spanish again for a few days.)

Even from the Laurence M. Gould icebreaker: “It’ll feel more real when we’re rocking across the Drake Passage.” (Unfortunately we had a very tame ride. Once in camp I even declared that the Drake’s got nothing on the Bering Sea!)

The night before our scheduled arrival date: “It’ll feel more real after my last shower.”

Well, it took all of the above and a little more to make me recognize reality.

Bering Sea-like fog made me feel right at home on our approach to the South Shetland Islands in the afternoon of Tu 24 October. Disinfecting our boots before climbing down a 5 foot Jacob’s ladder and stepping/falling on cue into the waiting Zodiac rocking in the waves below made me acknowledge I wasn’t leaving the Tiglax and bound for Buldir. This wasn’t the big kids’ league; we had moved up to the minors.

The scientists and logistics team bound for Palmer Station crowded on upper decks to watch and photograph our hardcore departure. They’d be headed roughly south for another 24 hours to dock at Palmer and live in a station with running water and normal electricity for just a couple of months. We were a 5 member crew headed to 5 months without running water, internet, standard electricity, or guests.

As we rode the waves and Doug issued directions from the GPS to the marine tech driving the skiff, reality started to hit. Just shy of 16:00, we finally saw the land of Livingston Island through the fog. Fortunately our landing beach was much calmer than the surrounding waters and we were able to land the skiff without a problem.

Once Doug, Nai, Adam, and I had climbed into the shin-deep water and started passing our plastic-protected bags of valued possessions – laptops, cameras, wallets, and passports – from the skiff to the snow, I could finally believe it.

While we moved gear and started digging stairs to get us up above beach level, a gentoo penguin emerged from the surf not 20 feet away – and proceeded to go about its business.

Surrounded by snow-covered rocky outcrops, pristine white snow, frigid water, and a couple penguins, I finally had to announce with a smile, “Okay, this is pretty real now.”