“We’re going to try something here…” I’ve been around enough adventurers in my life to know when someone says these words, whether directly to you or in your periphery, you pay attention because something’s about to go down. My instincts were right. Sixty minutes later, the baby-fine blonde hair on my arms were standing at straight attention, not because of the icy-cold waters slamming against the hull of The Ortelius below us, but because I knew I was about to be a part of something huge.
In a swirl of back-and-forth conversations between the friends and colleagues I’d joined this Antarctic expedition with, the opportunity to join a team of scientists on a zodiac in the middle of the Drake Passage was offered to me, and I said, “Absolutely.” After a rushed lesson of how to operate new (to me) photography equipment, an on-deck briefing with the Oceanwise staff and safety officers, and an exchange of wide eyed smiles, hugs, and whispers of “I can’t believe we’re getting to do this” to the five women next to me, we were securing the straps of our PDF’s and ready to head out. Down the gangway. Here we go. This isn’t real. The Drake Passage. No way. What’s happening. Waves slapping. A black zodiac. A red jacket. Lou! Nets. Ropes. Bags. A hand reaches out. Holy shit. Hold on. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Science ready? Captain ready? Radio call to the bridge.
“Let’s go!”
The flashes of images I have from this moment in time don’t do justice the feelings I’ve carried away from it. Even as a writer, there are simply no words to properly convey the feeling of watching the line connecting us to The Ortelius being tossed back into the zodiac, the confidence, excitement, and impressive skills etched across Chloe’s face as she skillfully maneuvered the sleek black zodiac through the current, nearly 100 of our friends, colleagues, peers, and yet-to-be-introduced acquaintances clapping and cheering from the decks above as we sped away into the infamous-yet-highly-unexplored-Drake Passage.
We spent 30 minutes navigating these stories waters, casting plankton nets, smiles, hopes, and dreams into the wind as laughter, excitement, and the feeling of achieving life dreams we didn’t even realize were an option when we woke up that morning reflected back into the zodiac with us. We worked as a team to untangle lines, to hold canisters and nets, to time plankton pulls, to chart a course and re-direct when we strayed. We asked questions, watched in excitement as bottles of previously untouched plankton-rich sea water were pulled in hand-over-hand, as countdowns were read out loud, and as cameras snapped every exciting moment of it.
In the distance we could see the second zodiac; the divers. We were “the science” they were “the divers”, together we were a crew of adventurers and explorers, creating stories to share with our families, friends, and the rest of our teammates watching us from the balconies of the ship, but also understanding these memories were ours, etched into our DNA for the remainder of our time here on earth. The unworldly blue of the ocean, the humming sound of the zodiac engine, the sunshine pounding down on us while massive icebergs traveled just out of sight on the horizon, and yet, even with all these beautiful sights and sounds to capture and comment on, it’s the feeling I’m left with from this experience. The feeling of achievement, of grand adventure, of feeling so big and so small at the same time. I walk away from my time in Antarctica with memories of penguins, whales, seals, and ice, but I walk away from this experience with a feeling of gratitude, of understanding this was more than just an expedition. This was a testament to the power of saying yes to life, to adventure, and to every wild, unpredictable moment that comes our way. Because if we don’t grab hold of these moments, they might slip away forever.
Photo credit: unknown
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