A voyage to the Ross Sea, Antarctica part 8
Cape Royds, Shackleton’s Nimrod Hut, and a dance competition.
We wake up at 77°33.62' S, 166°11.37' E just off the coast of Cape Royds. Ernst Shackleton’s hut sits on the Cape, erected during his Nimrod expedition to be the first men to the South Pole.
It was the first of the three expeditions he lead to Antarctica. He was unsuccessful, turning back just 97.5 nautical miles from the pole, knowing that if they continued they could attain his goal but that the expedition party would run out of supplies and die on the return. “We have shot our bolt,” wrote Shackleton, “and the tale is 88° 23' S”
At the time it was the farthest south anyone had been.
From the sixth floor observation deck we search unsuccessfully for the hut, spotting instead a few wooden crates near the shore. We watch as the guides land and walk to the west, disappearing behind rock outcroppings. We surmise the hut must be sheltered behind them. The night before Patricia told us she might have the opportunity to land with the guides. Looking through a telescope I manage to pick her out amongst the group and follow her as she walks towards the presumed location of the hut before she, too disappears.
At last night’s briefing Xavier had told us there were two options for landing sites. One was father to the west, requiring a bit of a hike. The one to the east is closer, but would require us to climb a gentle slope on the snow and ice. He would prefer the shorter walk, but they would make the final determination on the day. It looks like he’s chosen the ice landing.
An announcement is made to let us know our landing times. We’re warned of the nature of the landing and encouraged to consider our fitness and ability before disembarking, though the guides are happy ferry passengers to the landing spot to assess it for themselves. If they decide not to disembark then they’ll take them back to the ship. Natalie and I are in the first group, and I quickly ready myself, donning my layers and life jacket before heading to the marina where Guiliana once again calls out the groups and June scans us out.
An Adélie penguin greets us at the Cape, gazing down at us as the zodiac nudges the shore. The guides have cut stairs into the ice and grab our arms to help us out of the zodiac and onto shore. We’re given a quick briefing and Mark is assigned to our group for the walk to the hut.
It’s a quick walk to the top of the hill and then we walk along a rocky path towards the hut past a small research station. Looking back at the landing site I can see Mt. Erebus backlit by the sun.
We soon have our first glimpse of the hut, sheltered in the lee of a small hill. It’s about where we guessed it was and it’s clear why we couldn’t spot it from the ship. A small lake spills forth before it. On this warm summer morning it looks like a beautiful place to spend some time.
As we approach we see Patricia standing before the hut. She arrived with the guides and spent some time showing them the hut, pointing out various aspects of the hut so they, in turn, and show them to us.
She tells us that when she first arrived Remi let her in to explore as they set up outside. “I may be some time,” she had said, quoting Lawrence Oates of Scott’s Terra Nova Expedition. Suffering from gangrene and frostbite, he stepped out of the tent they shared into a blizzard to sacrifice himself to increase the chances of the party’s survival on their trek back from the South Pole. They were the last words he spoke to them.
Inside, it’s a marked contrast to Scott’s Hut. Patricia had said that people find Shackleton’s Hut warmer and more inviting and I find that it’s true. Instead of a warren of blocked-off areas it’s one large communal space, the stove set at the far end away from the door.
Like Scott’s Hut it’s incredibly well-preserved. It’s almost unbelievable that everything is just as it was. After seeing the photos of the snowed-and-iced-in conditions I can only imagine how much work went into bringing the hut back to this state.
By the entrance there’s a small room that had been built for Shackleton. It’s dark and Mark helps illuminate it with a torch. A narrow bed sits against the wall with just room enough to maneuver beside it.
It’s hard to believe that the hut was last occupied over 100 years ago. Socks are hung out to dry, boots are set by beds ready to be worn. There doesn’t appear to be any dust that’s collected anywhere.
As with Scott’s Hut, there’s not enough time to fully immerse ourselves in the space. We take in what we can, and try to slow time down. Ultimately, we’re called out.
Patricia had told us that during the restoration they had found a cache of whiskey beneath the floorboards. We each had crossed the exact spot where they were found. A bottle was taken out and tested and tasted by master blender Richard Paterson OBE (aka “The Nose”) who recreated it and sold it under the Shackleton label. She introduced us to him via a YouTube video where he taught us how to drink whiskey.
A bottle of Shackleton Whiskey had been brought on the trip and taken into the Hut. It’s one of the items to be auctioned off to raise money for the Antarctic Heritage Trust. Dain pulls the bottle out from a backpack to show us and Natalie is enlisted to model it before the hut.
Before walking back to the landing site Mark gives us some time to walk around the hut.
It amazes me how well-preserved the wooden structure is and the boxes of stores that encircle it. Here and there there are other stacks of boxes and I wonder why certain stores were placed where they were.
Patricia joins us as Mark leads us back to the landing site. We retrace our steps back to the ice and he offers to help escort anyone who wants back to the landing site and the waiting zodiacs. There’s also another path that’s been staked out that we can walk if we so choose heading to the south and east that we’re welcome to explore.
Natalie, Patricia, and I decide to stay on the island and do the walk. We pass Sabrina on watch. She points out a large grey rock that sits in contrast to our volcanic surroundings. It’s a continental rock left here by a retreating glacier. It’s our opportunity to touch continental Antarctica.
It’s a hot day in the sun and looking at the boulder Patricia tells that on days like this her mother used to say “Let’s get naked and lie on a hot rock.” It’s an inviting thought, but we don’t think the guides would approve.
We stand At the far end of the marked area Stand at the far end enjoying the view and warmth. Birds fly by, snoke continues to issue from the volcano.
As we walk back towards the landing site we pass a guide and ask if can go back to the ASPA and walk around the hut. It seems that there are few passengers on the island; a number of guests appear to have eschewed this landing. They radio ahead and tell us it’s ok. As a representative of the Antarctic Heritage Trust, Patricia will be our guide.
We run into Alice at the hut and she leads us along a protected area to a point where we can see the penguin colony on the other side of the lake. A sea leopard and a crab seal lay together on an ice floe. A line of penguins waddle towards the sea.
As we watch the penguins a guide asks if we’d like to take another look inside the hut. There’s a gap in the schedule and there’s some time before the next group arrives. We jump at the chance; Natalie practically runs back to the hut and I don’t blame her. It’s an amazing opporutnity to spend more time with the ghosts of Shackleton and his crew.
Inside, Patricia shows us paw prints under a shelf made from an old crate and we take the time to explore the nooks and crannies of the hut, attuned to details we missed during our initial visit to the site.
In the kitchen, Penny shines a light on a tin of biscuits, still full. I want to reach in and take one and take a bite. I wonder if it’s any better or worse than when it was first baked.
Eventually, the next group arrives and we’re once again ushered out of the hut. With Alice we climb the hill behind it for the views. On the opposite side I can see the cache of wooden boxes I had spied from the ship, correctly assuming the hut lay in a shallow beyond the slope.
Patricia leads us back to the landing site and we head back to the ship for lunch. When it’s time for dessert they’ve run out of tiramisu at the buffet. Someone overhears me lament that fact and before I know it, a plates are brougth to our table with fresh batches made.
It’s the night of the Officer’s dinner and, true to my word, I’ve booked the Safety Officer’s table. I’ve asked to include Natalie, and they’ve organized a table to accommodate all of us. I sit across from her next to the Expedition Officer, offering Natalie the seat next to her so they can meet more people.
By now Natalie and I have heard each other’s introductions so often we can tell each others stories. At one lunch I decide to mix it up and tell our new companions we’re siblings; Natalie’s parents had adopted me out of an orphanage. She laughs. So that’s what we’re going with? I fess up and straighten out our stories. (Whatever happened to “yes and, Natalie?!)
The Expedition Officer and I talk about the ship. It’s he who tells me that we’ve been heading down the middle of the Ross Sea in order to travel faster and to avoid the ice. We talk about anchorages and the weight of the anchor and chain. He tells me they have to be careful about how much chain they lay out; too much and it’ll be too heavy for the winch to bring up. It’s really expensive when you have to cut chain and lose your anchor.
He tells me that the boatswain (“Boss”) has been on the ship since it was commissioned. He’s seen people start as cadets and move up the ranks. I think I hear him say the boatswain first met the captain when the captain served as a cadet aboard Le Soléal.
He tells me he wants to work on a ship until he’s 32 and then study to become a harbor pilot in Marseilles where he’s looking for a house. Once he succeeds he’ll be the second harbor pilot I’ll know, both of whom I will have met on Antarctic cruises.
I have to excuse myself before dessert is served. Guiseppe has enrolled me in “Dancing wit hteh stripes,” a dance competition after the Cadet’s dance performance. The start is slightly delayed. Natalie has kindly brought me dessert, which I wolf down standing at the bar. As the competition is to begin we’re short one dancer and Guiseppe tries to enlisted the Expedition Officer who has come to watch. He slips away when Guiseppe’s back is turned. Natalie is enlisted as a judge. The Safety Officer has gone to the bridge to start her watch.
I’m paired with Emma, one of the professional dancers. I ask if she’s won this competition and she says no; she’s come in twice. We’re determined to win.
The first round starts with rock, after which one couple is eliminated. I had thought this would be a quick exercise, but looking at the number of couples around us realize it’s going to be a fraught competition. The judging is lenient save for an officer who is a harsh critic, but fair? He’s a fan of ours.
Salsa comes next and Emma is surprised that I know the basics. Her eyes brighten and she starts to relax. Tango, waltz, and can can follow and I lean on her expertise her to help guide us through them, find our center. One by one couples are eliminated. The officer always gives the lowest marks, saving his best for us. Natalie judges us harshly to avoid charges of favoritism.
During the waltz Cindy tries to box us into a corner but Emma maneuvers us into an open area of the dance floor so we are free to glide. She’s eliminated.
Finally it’s down to two couples: us and an cadet paired with Anna. Guiseppe cues the music. It’s “I’ve had the time of my life” from Dirty Dancing. I can lift you, Emma tells me. I look at her, skeptical. She nods enthusiastically. I leap into her arms; she holds me aloft.
Is there video? Yes. Am I linking it here? Nope. Do we win? Yes!
Guiseppe awards Emma and I with a bottle of champagne, which I give to the dancers after they confirm they can accept. I thank Emma for the dance(s) and invite them all to lunch the next day. Natalie and Patricia are overjoyed. Patricia has it all on video. I’m not sure I want to see it. We celebrate together with . . . Champagne! 🥂🇦🇶
— 4 February 2025
