Antarctica: Incident A

I accepted Dad's invite for this adventure in what I like to think is the True Spirit of Adventure: Ya never know how things will turn out. 

Antarctica is not to be trifled* with. It is the world's most remote continent, separated from the rest by unforgiving waters. It's also the coldest, windiest, most icy and driest, least vegetated, and least populated continent. It does not welcome. It radiates a frozen and benign inhospitability. If something goes wrong, help is not on the way. 

Nevertheless, one can sign up for a luxury Expedition Cruise to Antarctica. (Or, one's father, willing to expend a healthy portion of his life's labor to check another box on his bucket list, might invite one to accompany him on this cruise.) This cruise will coddle one's refined (or even unrefined) sensibilities with leather, wood and stone in elegant Scandinavian style. This cruise will appease any palate with an overwhelming array of extraordinary food. This cruise will spoil with friendly and obsequious staff members at every turn and for the slightest of needs. And maybe, almost incidentally, it will offer a chance to see and explore the waters, snow, ice and wildlife of Antarctica.

There was no telling if we'd even MAKE it to the ship, much less Antarctica, what with Dad's delicacy, pandemics, falling off bikes, etc. But we did make it. By air to Ushuaia, Argentina and onto the ship. Across the ragged waves of the Drake Passage (I barfed). Then into a Zodiac to motor to a landing. Then the ice, snow and penguins of Antarctica! And safely back to the ship, as the weather changed, the wind and swell picked up. An amazing experience! We were primed for more of the same over the coming days. 

But while we were standing on the ice, nearby events were re-shaping our future.

Tom, a trim and raptorish runner and triathlete we'd met earlier, was on a zodiak on the other side of Damoy Point, heading out to board the waiting submarine for an underwater tour and scientific survey. They arrived, but were told the submarine crew needed ten more minutes to prepare, so the zodiak pilot started taking them for a close pass of the penguin colony while they waited. 

As they were motoring along, there was an explosion from the right front of the boat. Not a firey explosion, but some kind of explosion. The woman sitting closest was launched four feet into the air and came down hard in the boat. Meanwhile, a man toward the back was knocked backward and fell over the side into the Antarctic waters. He managed to hang onto the rope. Tom jumped to hang onto him until the pilot got the boat stopped and they both got him pulled back in. The man somehow managed to hang onto his camera, too. 

With that immediate excitement over, and with safety boats swarming toward them, their attention turned to the woman, who was saying her leg was hurt and she was in pain. Help arrived and found her leg was broken, either from the explosion itself, or the hard fall. Despite no visible damage to her clothing or visible bleeding, medical assessment later found she'd suffered a compound fracture with bleeding, at least one broken lower leg bone and a shattered ankle. 

While she was still being evacuated to the ship, we were enjoying our relatively blissful side of Damoy Point. But the calm weather was changing quickly. The wind was picking up and snow was starting to fall. Our landing crew hurried us back toward the waters edge before our alloted time. We loaded up and pilot Laurie gave us a slow spin past the penguins, then motored us across the now wind blown chop, cold salt water dousing our faces and our expedition coats, pants and boots. We arrived wet and safe, crawling out of the zodiak and back into the warm ship.

That evening there was a meeting for everyone in the Aula, the ampitheatre at the back of the ship. The captain announced that we had started the two day crossing back across the ragged waters of The Drake Passage. The ship did not have the resources to care for the woman. We were over 700 miles from the nearest continent with a hospital, and alternate evacuation plans were either laughably impractical or frighteningly risky to the patient and the whole ship. We were headed back to Ushuaia. Our Antarctic adventure was over. 

There was much grousing among the crowd. We were all disappointed. Those who hadn't made a landing were understandably extra disappointed. But so were those who had expected their money to shield them from these kinds of inconveniences. Later, there was an announcement that our money would be returned, which cooled the overall steam in the ship.

We were still sailing back northward over increasingly rough waters, when it was announced that we would spend the balance of our time touring the fjords of Southern Chile. This was a spectacular alternative, and most of us settled into our revised itinerary, willing to make the best of unusual circumstances. None of us knew that further unusual circumstances would once again reshape our future.

Stay tuned.

*f__ked