Having accepted the cancelation of our Falkland Island Penguin Excursion, navigated the tsunami of emotions, and positioning myself in the Authentic Conscious Question of “What is this trying to show me, the seeing of which will change everything?,” I was ready to move forward. Turning on the television in our stateroom, and tuning in for the Captain’s pre-recorded video announcement, we settled in for some facts. And boy, did we get some facts.
In his announcement, the captain explained the challenges of navigating Drake Passage; the body of water between South America’s Cape Horn and the Shetland Islands of Antarctica. The passage, where the Pacific and Atlantic oceans meet (and duke it out), is considered one of the most treacherous voyages for ships to make. Nicknamed for its two extreme degrees of difficulty, ships can expect to navigate the more “calm” Drake Lake, or the unhinging Drake Shake.
Using maps and charts as visual aids, the captain went on to explain how there were three weather-fronts moving toward Drake Passage–one from the East and two from the West– which collectively threatened to jeopardize our smooth, and safe, crossing. There was a limited opening for a clear shot through the passage; so, informed by the unsafe conditions in the bay at Falkland Island, the captain opted to take the window of opportunity; even if that call, in that moment, was wildly unpopular.
That evening was the first Formal Dining night of the cruise and the members of our group were decked out in our evening best. Having had the bulk of the day to review and process the events (and non-events) of the day, we collectively agreed that, though disappointed, we understood the facts.In spite of the events earlier in the day, or perhaps because of them, we chose to celebrate new friendships being made on our once-in-a-lifetime Antarctica adventure. As if right on cue, we were then informed the Captain had given orders for champagne to be served to all dinner guests, complements of the cruise line. What some may have thought of as a “blood money” offering, our party raised our classes in an enthusiastic toast of appreciation for the captain and his team for navigating safe voyage for all passengers and crew.
Two days later we arrived at the Northern Peninsula of Antarctica. Like landing on another plant, the environment was unlike anything I had ever experienced. The majestic icy terrain was breathtaking, the energy of the air was supper charged with the magnetic pull of the South Pole, the silence was deafening, and the air bitter cold yet strangely invigorating. All of my senses were stimulated by the fantastical world in which I had found myself. Where three days earlier I had been navigating disappointment and grieving, this day I was managing myself in an overwhelming respect for Mother Nature that had every cell my body aching with the buzz of awe.
Later that day word started spreading around the ship, how, shortly after we made our quick exit from the bay at Falkland Island, another ship was reported to have dropped anchor and was able to tender passengers “safely” to shore. They had been able to accommodate all of their booked excursions, including the penguin adventures. However, while that ship’s passengers were enjoying their time with the penguins, the three weather-fronts we avoided, had moved in and collectively closed them off from access to Drake Passage. That captain was forced to cancel their entire Antarctica itinerary.
Standing on the deck of our ship, dressed from head to toe in the specialty clothing we had purchased for the cruise, taking in the grandeur of a mammoth crystal-blue iceberg, I had the answer to my Authentic Conscious Question.
