3 hours off the ship. We’re still bracing ourselves every time we stand up, ready to shift our weight in accordance to the rolling of the nonexistent waves. Still keeping one hand for the ship, throwing our arms towards walls and railings and handles. Why isn’t the floor moving? Why don’t I feel slightly queasy? Where is everyone?
20 days of amazingness are over – 20 days I will never be able to explain. You just had to be there to see it, feel it, hear it, and especially smell it. Obviously I took pictures – 6,000 pictures – but they will never do it justice. I will write about it, but not now, and when I do, it will never come close to describing it. I feel like I’ve spent the last weeks in shock at the splendor of the universe, and perhaps words will come when that shock subsides a bit.
For now, it’s all a blur. Fur seal attacks and penguins stretching as far as the eye can see. Albatross after albatross. The desolate, sinister grimness of Deception Island, insanely large amounts of food, whaling stations and zodiac rides. Accents and foreign humor and so much laughter. That magic day in the ice when everything stood still. Scopolamine patches and dance parties on the bridge. Shag rocks, the Falkland Islands, South Georgia. That night on the Drake passage, gripping the sides of our mattresses and listening to the sounds of drawers opening and slamming and our belongings flying around the room.
Consider this a preview.