No End: Life Lessons from Antarctica

Brave? Some said I was brave to go to Antarctica, with its bone-chilling cold and the treacherous Drake Passage on the way. But I’ve done braver things. As I looked out the porthole at my first iceberg, I realized that this expedition to Antarctica was very similar to other moments on my life journey: examining my purpose, preparing for the unknown (an ironic contradiction), mustering my courage, moving on when I get slammed, being open to change, and pondering creation on the move. Perhaps you are learning similar lessons on your own life journey. 

This expedition especially had me thinking about women explorers: mothers, daughters, and granddaughters, providing layers of meaning to unpack along with my frozen weather gear. In a world of flat thinking, my mind explored what it means for women, and even the land itself, to have no limits, here at the “end of the earth.”

“What I’ve realized all over the years is that a lot of women don’t realize they can do things; go on expeditions; take leadership roles or work in extreme environments. It’s not even in their subconscious.” —Françoise Gervais, expedition guide from Quebec

I. Know your “why” —unless you don’t. Then go forward with that alternative purpose, to discover whatever the experience will teach you. 

That was everyone’s first question: “Why are you going to Antarctica? That’s like the end of the earth!” Polling my fellow voyagers, I heard varied answers: adventure, It’s my seventh [continent], bucket list, following my dreams, a big trip with my family, and marking a major life transition with a dramatic voyage.

My own why? It’s hard to put into words. A bit of all of those answers, I suppose. But there’s one other factor: my mom. People think I’m adventurous? You should have known my mom.

Mom went to Antarctica in her seventy-fifth year, older than I am now. Among her travel group, she knew no one, making the voyage in a solo cabin, making friends at mealtimes and on excursions. Yes, it was her seventh continent. When she passed away in 2018 at age ninety-three, she had visited or lived in eighty countries (not counting places where she changed planes).

So when my daughter found a discounted expedition to Antarctica, she thought, This would be a big adventure, but hey, if my grandmother can do it, why can’t I? She asked me, “Wanna go to Antarctica with me for ten days? They’re having a great sale on the first expedition going out this season.”

Well, Antarctica isn’t only for the Jacques Cousteau types. Mom went to Antarctica and she was no Arctic explorer—she used to watch baseball on TV! I thought about Mom’s adventurous spirit, wondering if I had the courage to do the same. “Sure,” I answered. No hesitation, at least outwardly. 

Since her passing, I take Mom with me everywhere I go. My ring contains a little bit of her ashes in a small compartment, tightly screwed shut. She’s been gone for five years, but I still think of her with a bit of tenderness every night as I take the ring off.

After we booked the excursion, we realized that Mom’s ninety-ninth birthday fell during our expedition, and she visited Antarctica in 1999. Perfect. We celebrated with her favorite specialty candy that I brought in my suitcase for the occasion. Happy birthday, Mom.

So, why? A little bit of adventure, fulfilling some dreams, a fabulous experience with my daughter, and maybe hoping to connect with Mom’s spirit. I wanted to see what Mom had seen on this frozen continent and experience her adventurous side in that place. I miss her every day.

“I believe we move and have our being in the presence of heavenly messengers and of heavenly beings. We are not separate from them. . . . We live in their presence, they see us, they are solicitous for our welfare, they love us now more than ever.” —Joseph F. Smith

Bringing a bit of my mom with me to this place she had been, wondering whether her spirit was with us, taking on this adventure with my daughter—it all felt like women-power on the move. And, regardless of gender, if you don’t have an adventurer in your pedigree, well, become that adventurer, if that path is calling to you. 

II. Prepare for the unknown: Drake Passage

“We pressed onward, seized by that almost feverish eagerness which can only be felt by an explorer who stands upon the threshold of the great unknown.” —Swedish explorer Otto Nordenskjold

The shortest distance to Antarctica is from Argentina. Getting there from New Zealand or Australia takes twice as long (and South Africa to Antarctica is triple the distance). However, the shortest route, the infamous Drake Passage between South America and Antarctica, has the roughest seas on earth. Outbound, our wave swells were “only” fifteen feet. Traversing the Drake Passage means a good forty-eight hours of rocking and rolling. “It’s the price of admission, I suppose,” said one of my friends.

Thanks to seasick patches applied early, my daughter and I both managed astonishingly well. We tucked seasick bags in our pockets just in case, but neither of us even felt queasy as we rode the roller-coaster ship for two days. We even slept soundly at night, rocked to sleep in the bosom of the seas.

In the dining room, we sat on chairs bolted to the floor, holding a fork in one hand and our china with the other hand, so we didn’t get a lapful. Sounds of shattering glass behind the bar punctuated conversations, as cups tumbled to the ground in the side-to-side waves. The merchandise in the ship’s supply outpost literally flew off the shelves before the shop closed until we got to calmer waters. Kind passengers sometimes spontaneously body-blocked the top of the stairs when a particularly wobbly passenger approached, so they wouldn’t take a tumble as they dove for the railings, climbing down hand over hand. We sometimes walked on floors tilted at a 45 degree angle, then waited for the backside of the wave to send us to walk at a 45 degree angle the other way. (So this is what it’s like to walk staggering drunk while stone cold sober!) 

When we arrived at the South Shetland Islands off the coast of Antarctica, the thrill of surviving the two-day voyage was tempered by the realization that we would have to do it again on the return. Who knows whether the weather would be better or worse?

Did Mom traverse the Drake Passage like this? She didn’t mention that part. Perhaps she was lucky enough to experience “Drake Lake.” We got “Drake Shake” in both directions. A fellow traveler said, “Well, even if your seasick patches don’t work, you can survive anything for two days.” And she’s right.

Whether your own life is “Drake Lake” or “Drake Shake,” you can be prepared for whatever comes. Even if your preparation fails for whatever reason, you can survive until the swelling waves of life pass. And they will pass. 

III. Landings: Muster your courage when it’s go time.

“Antarctica makes the rules.” Despite our eight planned excursions (four days, morning and afternoon), it was only safe to land twice: once on Deception Island and once at Neko Bay on the continent. The other six excursions were sitting around the edge of Zodiacs (inflatable boats with outboard motors), bringing us closer to shore for closeups of ice shelves, glaciers, penguins, sea birds, and seals.

“A journey is a person in itself; no two are alike, and all plans, safeguards, policies, and coercion are fruitless.” —American writer John Steinbeck [5]

I was astonished to discover that I really felt warm enough inside all my layers. I was prepared for teeth-chattering cold, but well-researched gear kept me surprisingly warm (November is spring/summer in Antarctica, which is not saying much). The lowest temperature we experienced was 28 degrees Fahrenheit, or 18 degrees with windchill (balmy summer weather for Antarctica). 

My daughter signed up for ice camping in sleeping bags rolled out on the ice, with no shelter of any kind, not a cabin, lean-to, or tent. (No, I was not even mildly tempted.) Some experienced guides said they had woken up buried in snow that fell overnight, and one guide woke up with a penguin on his belly. In the end, our ship’s ice camping expedition was canceled, because floating icebergs might have blocked the passage to pick up the campers in the morning. 

“Who is seeing snowfall for the first time?” our Zodiac expedition guide asked. Of the eight of us, three folks raised their hands—all from Australia. What a way to sight your first snowfall! It’s like everything else in Antarctica: whether or not you’ve ever seen snow, ice peaks, and wildlife, it’s likely never been on this scale. Antarctica is another dimension, a vast, sacred continent.

Biosecurity measures were fierce, disinfecting our muck boots and hiking poles going on and off the continent, to protect the wildlife and this pristine, fragile environment.

Wild, perilous, treacherous, inhospitable, remote, vast, raw, extreme, exhilarating, dynamic, majestic Antarctica.

IV. When the volcano hits (twice), move on.

Deception Island is still an active volcano to this day. This was Mom’s most vivid memory of her Antarctic journey: taking off winter layers, stripping down to her bathing suit, and taking a dip in the hot springs surrounded by ice in this flooded caldera (hollow center of a volcano). Bathing in the caldera like Mom did is prohibited today, but they say you can still feel the geothermal heat through the black volcanic sand. Our muck boots and double socks kept us insulated from the cold of the air and the warmth of the sand, but I imagined Mom in her bathing suit in the freezing air, laughing in disbelief at the experience.

That active volcano on Deception Island erupted in 1967 and 1969, twice destroying the now-abandoned British research station. A few hollowed-out structures remain near the Norwegian graveyard, now covered with snow, among a colony of hundreds of Gentoo penguins. Today Antarctica has over forty permanent research stations sponsored by thirty nations (at locations other than Deception Island).

Many times in my life I have built on metaphorical volcanic islands, hoping for the best. When the volcano exploded and spread destruction, then exploded again, eventually I got the message that it was time to move on.

V. Be open to change, no matter what.

I laughed at the difference between today’s versus yesteryear’s expeditions. What would the epic Irish Antarctic explorer Sir Ernest Shackleton have thought of our expedition? My daughter and I exchanged grins when we asked questions like, “Our cabin is chilly. Could you have the engineer look at the heating system in Cabin 4045?” “The panna cotta at lunch was rather flavorless, don’t you think?” “Should I book my hot stone massage before or after the afternoon expedition to the continent?”

Our outdoor barbecue was moved inside because of a heavy snowstorm. Snow is rare for this continent whose interior is a frozen desert with scarce precipitation and extremely dry air (my skin can attest to that). The snow visible everywhere has gradually fallen for millenia, never melting. I had my doubts anyway about an outdoor barbecue in 28 degree weather with gale force winds, even without snow coming down sideways. Alternatively, we enjoyed our burgers and bratwurst in buns in the dining room.

Mom’s journey was even more like a cruise than our expedition. On her sea days she played bingo (her favorite) and trivia quizzes with prizes. Our sea days were spent listening to lectures by the expedition team: an iceologist, meteorologist, historian, and specialists in whales, seals, and sea birds. 

Antarctica has no indigenous inhabitants or permanent residents, no native language, no flag, no military, no currency of its own. Thanks to the Antarctic Treaty of 1959, the continent is intended only for science and peace. Lest I be tempted to consider it a utopia of cooperation, the truth is that many countries have made competing territorial claims over Antarctica, all of which are deferred while the treaty is in force (through 2048). For now, Antarctica belongs to the world.

On my own life journey, I have sometimes been locked into expectations of the past. Yesteryear’s expeditions are not today’s, and yesterday’s treaties are not tomorrow’s challenges. I try to live in today. 

VI. Creation is on the move.

“In his hand are the deep places of the earth: the strength of the hills is his also. The sea is his, and he made it: and his hands formed the dry land. O come, let us worship and bow down: let us kneel before the Lord our maker.” —Psalm 95: 4-6, KJV

Antarctica represents the majesty of uncivilized nature. Active glaciers, avalanches, tides delivering tsunami-sized waves, towering steep ice cliffs that regularly shear off enormous blocks of ice, and Category 5 hurricanes continue sculpting the landscape. Creation is still happening here at the end of the earth.

Expedition staff members checked our hiking area before we landed. Trained staff cut ice stairs for us where needed, watched for hidden crevasses, and marked off penguin highways with crossed poles to make an X—let the penguins have their highways.

Sea kayakers paddled through a thick soup of ice chunks bobbing with the waves, clearing a path with the bow of their boats as they paddled.

The outdoor color scheme is only black and white (penguins), brown (seals), and blue (seas, sky, and spots of deep ice). Everything else is white on white. 

I peered through Mom’s binoculars to get a closer look at the shore and the wildlife. These binoculars have seen penguins before, I thought.

I could watch clever penguin antics for hours: walking with their comical waddle; tobogganing on their bellies; splashing into the freezing water; swimming together like porpoises; arching their backs when they surfaced, then diving underwater, popping up next to my Zodiac. We spotted Gentoo and Chinstrap penguins (one of Mom’s favorite critters), sleepy fur seals, leopard seals, and Weddell seals, with albatrosses and cormorants overhead. We saw only a few whales, because they were still migrating south for the summer.

(No polar bears here. Their home is the Arctic, not the Antarctic. In fact, the word Arctic comes from the Greek word for “bear.” Antarctica means “opposite the bear,” or “no bears here.”)

Because of its vastness and the particular forces of nature at work in Antarctica, it’s easier to see creation on the move here. But in reality, creation is on the move everywhere, especially in my own life, in the form of continuing revelation and ongoing personal guidance. Like the earth, I am an unfinished product, as creation continues on the move in my own life.

VII. The end of the earth

“Out of your vulnerabilities will come your strength.” —Unknown

If the earth were flat, these ice cliffs would be the edges of the earth, and a misstep might mean falling off into nothingness. Some say that Antarctica is indeed the end of the earth, except of course, the world has no end.

Did I feel my mom in Antarctica? Yes, of course, because love has no end.

As I examine my purpose, prepare for the unknown, muster my courage, move on when it’s time, stay open to change, and ponder creation on the move, I realize that life—my life and yours—has no end. 

The works of God continue, 
And worlds and lives abound;
Improvement and progression
Have one eternal round. . . 
There is no end to matter;
There is no end to space; . . . 
There is no end to glory;
There is no end to love.”
—"If You Could Hie to Kolob," Hymns, no. 284

Photo courtesy of author

Marci McPhee is editor to Steve Young, Richard and David Ostler, and Fatimah Salleh, among others (see marcimcpheewriter.com). Mother of six and grandmother of sixteen, she has lived in places such as Germany, Panama, Boston, Texas, and Baton Rouge.