Drake Passage – Day 1: The Long Way Back
DRAKE PASSAGE
Day 1: The Long Way Back
March 12, 2023
It felt a little like the adventure was over, even though we still had two full days of sailing ahead. The 1/10 Drake we’d crossed a few days earlier felt like a fever dream now that we were dealing with something closer to a 6/10. Can I brag about being completely unaffected by it?
According to Jonathan, the waves were sitting around four to five metres. Not the worst-case scenario, but the swell was messy – coming from different directions and stacking in a way that made the ship lurch unpredictably. Every so often, a bigger set would roll through and you’d hear this deep rumble that made half the ship think we’d just clipped an iceberg. If it got much worse, the staff warned, we might have to slow down or change course to look for shelter – something that does happen in the Drake when conditions turn properly nasty.
Distractions from the Drake
We started the day later than usual, with the dining room almost empty at breakfast. Some people were still in their cabins, either sleeping, trying to forget where they were, or simply wishing they were elsewhere. The rest of us shuffled down the hallways like inebriated penguins, bouncing from one wall to the other like we were trapped in a pinball machine, snatching railings whenever we could.
Now imagine holding a cup of coffee while climbing the stairs to the smoking area. It became a competition between Nico and me to see who could make it up without spilling a single drop. That was the day in a nutshell – smoking breaks, eating, and lectures. By that point, the talks felt like welcome distractions, and the few minutes between them became little windows for chatting and re-living Antarctica.
Also, for messing with people. After eight days off-grid with no internet, some passengers went completely neurotic, constantly refreshing an Instagram feed that refused to update. I was lucky – I had this stupid little article that kept me entertained for ten whole days. It had a photo of a crowned raccoon, fangs out and claws ready, titled “Raccoon King Declares War on Toronto”, with the subtitle “Soon Toronto will be ashes and only raccoons will reign supreme – King Squishems”. Nonsensical, sure, but when you’re stranded in the middle of nowhere, hysteria makes everything funny.
Apart from that, and sifting through the 4,303 photos I’d taken over the past few days, I kept myself busy AirDropping elephant seal photos to unsuspecting strangers as a social experiment. Poor Yuan Liu accepted the same photo eleven times. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me eleven times…? Others just bought data for an obscene amount of money. To each their own, I guess.
Enter Jose: The Cruise Doc
Lunch was bumpy, to put it mildly. Even with the chairs bolted to the floor, we still found ourselves being flung side to side, sometimes ending up leaning on each other rather than falling. Which of course made us wonder how the hell the kitchen staff managed to prepare all that food while the ship was doing its best impression of a washing machine.
After that came more lectures, then for the first time since the trip began, some proper downtime. While wildlife-watching on deck, I had a genuinely lovely chat with Heidi about her adventures and the spectacular birds she’s seen across her life. Talking to her, I couldn’t help but feel like a complete idiot – like that one Maltese model in her Miss Malta interview talking about her love for “the birds” and “the Disney”. No wonder Heidi became an ornithologist. “Birds are the only thing we have that flies”, after all.
Then it was darts at the bar, where I finally introduced myself to Jose, the ship’s doctor, so I could pick his brain. As always, my first question was about the coolest cases he’d seen while travelling to Antarctica. Basically, he told me it’s a lot like working in a normal emergency department – you see anything and everything. From STI outbreaks (especially among the older crowd) to suicidal ideation (blame the Drake Shake for that), from bar brawls (he once had to suture a guy’s head after an axe attack) to straightforward medical stuff like atrial fibrillation and heart failure. Anything urgent enough, or requiring treatment unavailable on board, could mean a diversion or returning to port, which he said he never takes lightly given the consequences – though the captain is very receptive when it comes to health.
He showed me the ship’s medical centre – a small room that was surprisingly well-equipped. They even had a mini lab for basic tests. Afterwards, we sat down with a cuppa and he told me more about his life. He grew up in Mexico and surfing was always his thing. To reconcile medicine with travel, he trained in emergency medicine so he could work and still keep moving.
Quarter-Life Crisis: Continued
As he spoke, I felt a quarter-life crisis creeping in – politely interrupted by a seasick passenger needing Jose’s help. He really was one of the most popular guys on the ship. That gave me the perfect excuse to disappear outside for one of those self-reflective smoking breaks. It had been a while since I’d thought seriously about my future, and usually I do that sprawled on a tropical beach somewhere.
So yeah, where was I? Right – my crisis. I love medicine. But I also love travelling. Was there any way to do both? I’d spent ages on Pacific and Caribbean beaches earlier in this trip ruminating on the exact same dilemma, eventually making peace with it. I’d resume my training, go on to become a neurosurgeon, and travel all the while. But now, I realised that’s way easier said than done.
For that to pan out, I’d have to do two years of basic specialist training and then five years of higher specialist training. I’d be working upwards of seventy-hour weeks and when I wouldn’t be at work, I’d have to study and fulfill all kinds of extracurricular requirements. When would I get to travel? How could I balance my love for medicine and my passion for travelling? Looking back, I guess I tried to rationalise the fact that I could do both just so that I could put my mind at ease.
I zoomed out. A life in neurosurgery would preclude me from all of this. What about medicine in general, though? Could I practise while travelling? That sounded less absurd. But could I really see myself doing anything other than neurosurgery? Maybe. You see, back in med school, emergency medicine had intrigued me. Then I did my rotation and I genuinely loved it. For the first time in years, I started questioning my path again. And if I subspecialised in expedition medicine, I could actually combine my two main obsessions – medicine and travel.
But then there’s the one giant pro of neurosurgery that steamrolls everything else – it’s friggin’ neurosurgery. What’s more interesting than the brain? Would I really give that up for travelling? On the other hand, would I give up travelling for it? I know, I know, they’re not mutually exclusive. But for the way I want to live, they might as well be. That said, as an emergency physician, I could work in the Amazon one year and go on Antarctic expeditions the next – the world would be my oyster. As a neurosurgeon, my options would be narrower. And just like that, I was back to square one. Again.
I knew I had to talk to Christa, my neurosurgery resident back home who taught me everything I knew about the specialty. I knew I had to. But in the meantime, I was stuck in the middle of the open ocean with my thoughts and self-doubt. Counterintuitively, as the weather began improving as we pushed towards the northern edge of the Drake, I felt sicker and sicker.
Once again at an impasse, I retreated to the quiet of my room where I could things over. After dinner – a burger on a paper plate because a chunk of staff were out sick (they held on long enough) – we had an Antarctic quiz. I knew loads and especially did well on geology, meteorology and wildlife, but I was completely hopeless with the history and explorers. So yeah, yet another loss for the Antarctic Gang.
Day eight:
- Weather:
- Sunny and cloudy
- Wind: NW 41-47kts
- Wave: NW 5.5m
- Temperature: 5°C
- Weather:
- Position: 59°48’S 63°46’W
- Animals seen:
- Light-mantled sooty albatross
- Black-browed albatross
- Soft-plumaged petrel
- Black-bellied storm petrel
* Ones I didn’t get to see myself.