Over the whitecaps of the Drake Passage, we can see Cape Horn drawing into view; our journey of exploration to the Antarctic Peninsula is now behind us, becoming itself a part of the history of the White Continent. Although we came in the comfort of a modern expedition ship, although we follow a century behind the footsteps of the great trailbreakers of the Antarctic, the nature of this remote and pristine part of our planet is such that history continues to be written every day. However small, we have had the opportunity to write our own page in that great story.
What history have we written? An ROV exploration of a never-before-seen part of the ocean floor, contributions to growing catalogues of Antarctic humpback whales and killer whales, quiet moments of sunset light over the Weddell Sea recorded in memory and much more. Every day here is history, perhaps more clearly so because the book is still so much newer than the crowded annals of our homes.
Some say that the “heroic era” of Antarctic exploration is now long past. I say that heroism is defined not by endurance of discomfort or even by the courage to venture into the unknown, but by vision, and the strength and determination to make that vision a reality. The Antarctic has changed greatly in the past century, and it is in those changes that I see the possibility of heroism remain. The age of exploration here was an age of exploitation as well. Whalers and sealers, brave and intrepid men in their own right, came here to take what the southern ocean and the ice had to offer. Now, scientists and travelers come to study and simply to drink in the days. Perhaps we are beginning to give something back to this unique and precious place, and that is heroic.
Port Lockroy has been a whaling station, a research base and now a museum. Beneath the waters of the quiet bay, the bones of slaughtered leviathans lay scattered across the bottom. But in this terrible graveyard, flower-like anemones bloom, ruby red. Life returns, history continues, and the Antarctic endures. The heroes of our day will be those who see the Ice most clearly, who value it and work to protect it simply for the sake of the wild white continent.
What history have we written? An ROV exploration of a never-before-seen part of the ocean floor, contributions to growing catalogues of Antarctic humpback whales and killer whales, quiet moments of sunset light over the Weddell Sea recorded in memory and much more. Every day here is history, perhaps more clearly so because the book is still so much newer than the crowded annals of our homes.
Some say that the “heroic era” of Antarctic exploration is now long past. I say that heroism is defined not by endurance of discomfort or even by the courage to venture into the unknown, but by vision, and the strength and determination to make that vision a reality. The Antarctic has changed greatly in the past century, and it is in those changes that I see the possibility of heroism remain. The age of exploration here was an age of exploitation as well. Whalers and sealers, brave and intrepid men in their own right, came here to take what the southern ocean and the ice had to offer. Now, scientists and travelers come to study and simply to drink in the days. Perhaps we are beginning to give something back to this unique and precious place, and that is heroic.
Port Lockroy has been a whaling station, a research base and now a museum. Beneath the waters of the quiet bay, the bones of slaughtered leviathans lay scattered across the bottom. But in this terrible graveyard, flower-like anemones bloom, ruby red. Life returns, history continues, and the Antarctic endures. The heroes of our day will be those who see the Ice most clearly, who value it and work to protect it simply for the sake of the wild white continent.
