A voyage to the Ross Sea Antarctica, part 15
The return to port, a morning in Dunedin, a layover in Christchurch, and beyond.
It’s our final day on board. Our boots and life jackets are to be left outside our doors by 0900 for collection. A mandatory meeting is scheduled to instruct us on the disembarkation process. A final briefing is scheduled for the afternoon. It’s the least-fun day of the trip.
At the meeting we’re told we’re to tag our bags and leave them outside our staterooms by 0600; we’re to vacate our rooms by 0800. Breakfast is from 0630 to 0830; 0900 in the main lounge.
Before the final recap I head back to the rear decks to stare at our wake. I meet Roebin, a deckhand swabbing the decks. He’s on the regular rotation, six months on, two months off. He has an eight-month old daughter named Sky that he’s looking forward to getting back.
A cape petrel appears behind the boat. It’s soon joined by another and I have my second good cry on the aft decks overlooking the sea.
At the final briefing the winner of the nautical chart of the trip is drawn. The proceeds from the tickets go to the crew. The route is charted and one of the crew members has illustrated it with animals we have seen, including a dragon to commemorate the lunar new year. Allie wins, having entered but one ticket.
Each of the guides is given time to give a final lecture. The most affecting is a video created by Elsa, where line drawings resolve themselves into photos of the past trip. Afterwards another guide tells me as many times as they see the concept, it always brings them to tears.
Oscar presents slides on what we’ve consumed on board. I’m a little disappointed the champagne nubmers aren’t higher, but we’ve done our best.
312 kg of cheese
124 kg of butter
1,068 beers
230 bottles of rose
252 bottles of champage
704 bottles of white wine
816 bottles of red wine.
1,068 rolls of toilet paper
Finally, we play a game whereby the room is split in half and we’re tasked with mimicking bird cries that the naturalist guides have to guess. Amazingly, all of the guides manage to decipher our attempts and the game ends in a tie.
The harbor pilot arrives around 17h. The captain announces their approach and I step out onto a portside area to watch the boat approach. As it begins to round the back of the ship I cross over to the starboard side in time to see the boat arrive and the pilot make his way on board.
Lachie arrives just as the pilot boat is pulling away. He’s just missed it. He has yet to see the pilot board the ship and he tenses in frustration. I show him my photos, small consolation for missing the actual event.
The land closes in upon us as we slip into the Otago Harbour. It feels claustrophobic after spending so much time on the open sea, and it’s shocking to see the brightly-painted cars crawl along the roads that run along the shore.
I see Inge and ask her how many people she thinks she might see again. She says its hard without physical proximity. You stay in touch a month or two but then . . . But then there are people she’s met from traveling 20 years ago that she’s still in touch with. So you never know.
The light filtering through the clouds is beautiful, and someone remarks on how it makes New Zealand unique in the world.
As we approach the narrowest part of our journey I notice the channel markers seem to be flipped. Penny corrects me. She’s adamant. No, it’s the United States and one other country that has it flipped. Internationally, the red markers are on the port side as you return home.
I ask her what mnemonic she uses; in the States it’s red right return. She tells me that you’re tired when you’re heading home and so you match colors on the way back. It’s easier than the mnemonic learned in the US.
As we come closer to port a passenger points out their house on a small hill by the water. They could be home in less than 30 minutes if they could commandeer a zodiac. The house sits bright and welcoming, eagerly awaiting their return.
I find Leonie at the guides desk and we talk about Sydney. She loves spending time there, having a few friends in the city. She tells me she’s always wanted to visit the opera house and we look up what’s playing this week. Coincidentally, it’s The Barber of Seville, a favorite of the crew of the Endurance. She tells me that performances sell out and encourages me to get tickets. I do.
We dine with Guiseppe at a large table. He talks about his life as a cruise director and how it came to be. He used to work large cruise ships, and completed at least two around-the-world cruises lasting over 100 days. He tells us he’s remained friends with a number of the guests, after so much time together. He tells us that he came out of retirement to join Ponant, having wanted to work on smaller ships and also with the brand.
He tells us that his mentor once told him how few cruise directors there are in the world, and how privledged he feels to be able to have made a career out of it.
We ask him about the artist who illustrated the nautical chart and he makes a call. Soon, he appears. Allie thanks him for his work and we ask if he posts his work elsewhere. He has facebook. We jot down his name.
Walking back to my cabin after dinner, the halls feel devoid of life. The boots and coats that have stood outside our rooms have been replaced with packed bags, a solid reminder that the cruise has come to an end.
I’ve donated my coat to the crew. A few people have given me their coats and other affects and I’ve given them to the dancers and other cabin crew. I’ve given my waterproof pants to Alice, wanting them to be well-used; I won’t see the need for a while.
In my room I find one last treat, the last of the cabin cakes. It’s a madeline, referencing Proust. It couldn’t be any more French.
It’s a warm night and I sleep with my door open, awake to the strange sounds outside. It takes me a while to get to sleep; I don’t want the night to end and I keep myself up playing back memories until my eyes close and the curtain descends over my reverie.
In the morning I wake to the sound of people working outside. I have breakfast with Guiseppe, taking a break before he needs to make final arrangements for his guests, before he readies himself to welcome his guests.
I ask him how he knew I’d say yes to his request to join the dance competition. He tells me it’s a gut feeling he has. I wonder if it’s something he’s developed, or something he’s had which had helped lead him to his profession. Who’s to know.
We exchange contact info and he tells me to find him before I disembark for the final time. I tell him I will and head back to my cabin to take one last look around before vacating it.
I had hoped to have been to see the Expedition Officer and the Safety Officer before leaving but I haven’t heard from them. I’m not surprised. There’s a lot to do and little time to do it. Later, the Safety Officer will text to say they hope to see me again sometime. I tell them we can plan on it, and commit to seeing them in August when they are on break in Europe.
I run into Mar who thanks me for the tip. She went out last night and bought food with it. I wish her luck and good fortune before making my way back to the main lounge.
I say goodbye to Patricia and Natalie and Cheewai and Lily and Chrinstine and George and Zack and Tanya and Pattianne and Jim and Mick and others I’ve seen in passing and others with whom I’ve shared a meal. Natalie tells me to let her know when I’m in London. I tell her I plan to be there in August.
June checks me out one last time, standing where he stood when I first embarked, not knowing who he was. see guides. The guides have lined up on the deck and I say my goodbyes and share hugs. I struggle to keep my composure.
Mark is the last guide I see. I’m on shore looking for my bags and he appears to help. I give him a hug. He tells me to look him up if I’m ever in his neck of the woods. He lives near Cairns, where I’ll be in a few weeks; he’ll be back on board.
I’m close to losing it and I shoulder my bag quickly and head towards the small building where we checked in before he sees my tears.
I leave my bags and head into town. My flight doens’t leave until the afternoon and there’s been a change in my booking that has me wonder if I’ll be flying out in the afternoon at all.
Cheewei had recommended a street art walking tour, and I decide to take his advice, downloading a map and making my way to the various sites.
From the location of the first murals I can look back over the water to the ship, resting where it was when I first saw it, when the cruise was ahead of me and everything was unknown.
The city is quiet and empty. It’s great to be able to walk around outside. It was also great to be able to use the treadmill and see whales swim by while walking, but there’s something nice about walking in the shadows and the sun.
Some of the work is hidden down alleyways, tucked into parking lots, almost hidden behind shrubbery. I check and recheck the map to make sure I haven’t missed anything as I continue to make my way around the city, crossing streets I had traversed while staying in town, my eyes not then attuned to the art around me.
Some of my favorite pieces are the hardest to capture, large murals that take up an entire building, cars blocking out details, the shadow of another building obscuring a corner of the art. One of my favorite pieces I enjoy most when I spot it half hidden by another building, a child catching or releasing clouds from his net.
With a few hours before my scheduled flight I head back to the docks to collect my luggage. I want to get to the airport with a little extra time so that I can sort out my tickets. I had learned of the snafu while onboard the ship, but didn’t feel like spending any time or energy while suspended in the alternate reality of our voyage.
At the airport run into Natalie. Her flight has been delayed. She tells me she’s going to spend some time outside working. I tell her I’ll see her before she leaves.
Nick helps me with my issue. My connecting flight had been rebooked; the new time leaving from Auckland before my initial flight arrives. Nick takes my passport and tells me he’ll be back in a bit. He needs to use a better computer than the one they have avilable at the help desk.
When he returns he’s booked me on a flight leaving soon through Christchurch. It actually gets me into Sydney earlier than my original flight. He tells me he had to make a few calls and move some other people around to make sure I made it to Syndey today.
When I board the flight to Christchurch the woman beside me asks if I’m headed to Sydney. It was her friend who was moved to another flight, direct to her home, so it worked out better for her as well. They had been in Dunedin on a garden tour, whch she absolutely loved.
I run into the chef waiting at the airport. He’s on his way back to France for the first time in ten years. He’s excited to see his parents, excited to eat the food. I’m excited for him.
As my flight is about to board I find Natalie and hug her one last time. When I head to my gate I run into Inge, who is also on the flight to Christchurch. We board together, but she’s up front. First class, I say. She laughs. It’s a small plane; all seats are equal.
in Christchurch I wait for her to disembark. We exchange contact info before she heads off to her connecting flight. She tells me she still owes me a drink for the cab ride from the hotel. She’s the first passenger I met and the last I say goodbye to. She disappears down a connecting hall as I head to the exit.
I have a few hours in town and Patricia had suggested I visit the International Antarctic Center. Her office sits near there, but I forget to ask her which building it is.
At the entrance to the centre a woman helps me plans my activities. I should head first to the penguin feeding, which has just started followed by the 4D movie and then the Hägglunds field trip followed by the storm experience.
There’s something funny about visiting a centre for the place you’ve just been, where it seeks to simular the experience I’ve just had, but I roll with it.
I just miss the feeding, but still see the little blue penguins housed in the sanctuary at the Centre. Checking the time, I head back to the main counter to see if I could schedule my Hägglunds earlier. In fact there’s a trip in five minutes.
The Hägglunds are all-terrain vehicles used by Antarctic scientists. The driver takes us out and to an obstacle course the mimics the conditions of the white continent, crossing crevasses, and climbing steep slopes. The temperature can’t be simulated, however.
I ask the driver if he’s been to Antarctica. Not yet.
Before the movie an attendant tells us that the experience is one that usually costs thousands of dollars, but it’s one that he’s going to give us for free. It’s a fun reminder of the cruise I’ve just been on, but it also feels too soon to be experiencing an approximation of the real thing.
An exhibit of Scott’s hut feels even more surreal as I walk into a small room with a photo of the hut I had been in the week before. A small shelf is set up as if it were there. I appreciate the attention to detail and the recreatoin, but again it feels like it’s too soon.
I laugh when I reach the exit. I couldn’t have written a better ending. 🇦🇶
— 15 & 16 February 2025
