Drake Passage – Day 2: The Final Wake
DRAKE PASSAGE
Day 2: The Final Wake
March 13, 2023
The Drake Passage, with its overcast skies and rough waves – a pathetic fallacy for my unrest about going back – was finally behind us. It felt like everything was nearing its end. First my trip through Central America, then Antarctica, and pretty soon the last month I had left would be behind me too.
As we entered the Beagle Channel, the gusts finally died down, the sky turning cloudless and sunny. Breakfast was once again a stable affair and ahead of us was a day of closing presentations – a few final lectures and the dreaded disembarkation briefing – reminding us that this would all be over in a day’s time, and that we’d have to transition back to normal life afterwards, whatever that might be. After one final lunch, we all ended up on the bow, suddenly alive again after the previous day’s swaying and rocking.
Sailing smoothly along the Beagle, we had our last wildlife-spotting session. And lemme just say, it didn’t disappoint. Our farewell to the icy continent was accompanied by the sighting of the incredible sei whale from the distance, a few humpbacks, a couple of Magellanic penguins that floated about and a South American fur sea which popped its head out of the water for a couple of seconds, amongst the albatrosses, gulls and petrels that soared above us.
Antarctic Luck
Once again, I felt immeasurably lucky, the privilege palpable. Going back felt almost as surreal as going to Antarctica in the first place – an adventure I never thought I’d ever get to do.
Jonathan was right after all. On day one, he told us this would be anything but a cruise and that we’d come back different people. I can’t speak for everyone else, but the Marius who set off from Ushuaia was definitely not the same one who came back. Antarctica had changed me in more ways than one – reigniting my hunger for exploration, for uncharted places, for discovering new things, and for chasing adventures that don’t feel real until you’re living them.
Out there in the Antarctic wilderness, I felt more alive than ever. The cold was sharp, the wind relentless, and nothing around me was softened or made comfortable for human presence. Every breath, every step, every moment felt intentional. With no cities, no noise, and no safety nets beyond the people and ship we trusted, my senses were constantly switched on. The vastness of the ice, the unpredictability of the weather, and the raw indifference of the landscape stripped life down to its essentials. It wasn’t adrenaline in a dramatic sense, but a steady, grounding awareness that I was fully present, fully awake, and exactly where I was meant to be.
Maybe it was the purity and remoteness of the islands, the wildness of the animals we were lucky enough to encounter, or the connections and friendships we built over such a short time. As wary as I had initially been about the strangers on board our Little Red Ship, we were now kin – bonded forever and impermeably through this unique experience. Antarctica has indeed changed me.
The Captain's Farewell
Around noon, the ship paused in the Beagle Channel, waiting for the pilot who’d escort us safely back to Ushuaia’s dock. For most people, it was the perfect moment to reminisce. When the pilot arrived, we were back on the move and on our way in, ready to spend one last afternoon aboard our beloved G-Expedition.
More lectures followed. Then, finally, we were allowed onto the ship’s bridge – something most people had been waiting for since the start. I couldn’t quite get the hype, given I know next to nothing about sailing. As impressive as the monitors, buttons and dials were, they were just that to me. You can imagine the captain’s face when I asked him where the self-destruct button was. Smiling, he told me every button is a self-destruct button if you use it incorrectly.
It wasn’t quite over yet. To conclude the trip, we had one last gathering in the Expedition Lounge – the Captain’s Farewell. Every staff and crew member paraded in front of us, showered with applause and shouted thanks. I was screaming at the top of my lungs when Jojo, my room attendant who I’d had many a good chat with, and Jayne, the restaurant manager who’d happily fuel my seconds, thirds and fourths, stepped into view.
Once everyone was on stage, they sang for us as we cheered them on with a glass of bubbly. With the captain congratulating us for surviving roughly 1,700 nautical miles, and Jonathan congratulating us for finally learning how to hold, sit and slide, it really did feel like the end of an era. Man, I was gonna miss this ship and everyone on it. It was also at this point that Joseph, the hotel manager, gave us a rundown of what we’d consumed:
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- 237 kg of fruit
- 678 kg of meat
- 4,320 eggs
- 318 L of milk
- 475 L of wine
- 72 L of spirits
- 272 rolls of toilet paper
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Poor guy must’ve lost count with the thousands of gallons of coffee I was responsible for on my own.
The Auction Circus
An honourable mention goes to the raffle and auction at the end of the captain’s speech. Over the previous days, they’d been selling raffle tickets, with first prize being a map of Antarctica with hand-drawn illustrations of some of the animals we’d seen drawn by Heidi, plus our trajectory marked by the captain himself. Then came the auction, with items like:
- The bow flag – $800
- A flask filled with glacier water – $260
- A recording of Jonathan’s announcements – $180
- A copy of the whale shark film – $100
As uninterested as I was in the whole suffer-fest, I’ve gotta admit the bidding war for Jonathan’s recording was top-tier entertainment. Asha, a Nepali lady who was born in Gandaki Hospital in Pokhara – the same one I had volunteered in a few years back – had been shamelessly trying to get with Nico all throughout the trip. With him being completely uninterested in her, she started to spend less and less time with our group. When they announced Jonathan’s recording as a prize, she simply went feral – apparently seduced by his sexy, Matthew McConaughey-ish voice. In a frenzy to outbid everyone else, she paid her price for being so thirsty. Don’t wanna sound too toxic but man, she simply reeked of desperation!
Finally, Jaco gave a presentation – a slideshow of voyage highlights while Melanie played piano in the background. I don’t think there was a single dry-eyed soul in the room. Well, definitely not Asha after spending that much money on an MP3 file.
And then we had one last thing on the agenda – Nico’s 36th birthday. After dinner and a couple of bottles of red, we made our way to the bar for the last time, accompanied by Melanie’s tunes once again – her encore of Little Red Ship earning a well-deserved standing ovation. We drank, laughed, danced, and damn, it was a good night.
Day nine:
- Weather:
- Sunny
- Wind: NW 17-21kts
- Wave: NW 1m
- Temperature: 8°C
- Weather:
- Position: 54°58’S 66°46’W
- Animals seen:
- Magellanic penguins
- Black-browed albatross
- Southern giant petrel
- Cape petrel
- Sooty shearwater
- Brown skua
- Imperial shag
- Dolphin gull
- Kelp gull
- South American tern
- South American fur seal
- Humpback whale
- Sei whale
- Dusky dolphin*
* Ones I didn’t get to see myself.