To the shores of Antarctica on Explorer II

Gennady Iosefavicius went I visited the south. Not in the south, where it’s warm and pleasant—I would brag about a vacation on the beach—but in the very, very south, in Antarctica. The thought of setting foot on Antarctic ice has haunted me for a long time. I wanted to breathe air without chemical impurities, look at icebergs and the ozone hole, get acquainted with the natural habitat of a penguin and a polar explorer, and wash my boots in the southern seas. I wanted my eyes, ears and other organs to rest, cleanse and gain strength.

A dozen ships sail from the southernmost port in the world - Ushuaia, Argentina - towards the Antarctic continent. Most of them are former Russian scientific ships with the names of academicians unknown to me, the rest are special ice-class tourist ships. I didn’t expect the comfort of a scientific vessel, so I chose the Explorer II chartered by Abercrombie and Kent. The two-week cruise would start in Ushuaia, sail towards the South Georgia Islands, reach the Antarctic Peninsula, turn towards the Falklands and return to Tierra del Fuego via the Drake Passage.

I booked a cabin on the Explorer II and flights on the route Moscow - Frankfurt - Buenos Aires - Santiago - Puerto Montt - Punta Arenas - Ushuaia and went shopping with a list of recommended items. They promised to provide a parka and rubber boots on board, but waterproof and windproof pants, hunting socks, a hat, sweaters, gloves, thermal underwear, seasickness pills, sun cream and a dozen paper-bound books had to be lugged across countries and continents. . To the above I added a flask of vodka, a couple of cans of caviar and a camera.

The path to Tierra del Fuego (which is where Ushuaia is located) could have been shorter, but greed forced us to add land Patagonia on its Chilean side to the southern seas - hence Santiago and Punta Arenas on the Strait of Magellan. It was in Patagonia, on the shores of the Ultima Esperanza fjord, that I received a message that my ship was stuck in Montevideo, thousands of kilometers from Ushuaia. It turned out that Explorer II is in the port of the Uruguayan capital, where it is undergoing some repair work, because of which no one is going to Tierra del Fuego. I didn’t want to return home unsatisfied, and therefore, after having breakfast in Chile (Punta Arenas), I went to lunch in Argentina (Ushuaia), from where I flew back to Buenos Aires, so that with the help of the third flight of the day, now to Montevideo, I would have dinner in Uruguay.

Over the past year I have been to Montevideo twice. I became attached to him. While the ship was being repaired, I walked through the half-abandoned quarters of the old center, ate the most delicious meat in the world, and listened to hoarse-voiced singers singing in bars. I became a frequent visitor to second-hand booksellers and was about to look at houses for sale when Explorer II left the dock and pressed its port side against the quay wall of the port. I boarded a wonderful ship.

In a large and tastefully furnished cabin, a piercing red parka with my initials behind the collar and an expedition chevron on the right sleeve was waiting for me. On the desk I found an invitation to a cocktail party that the captain was giving in honor of his guests. I put on my jacket, attached my name tag to it and went out for a drink. Captain Moulds - the English version of the typical drinking resident of the Central Russian Upland - introduced his officers (two Russians, an Italian, a South African, a couple of Austrians, an Egyptian and even a Nepalese) and knocked back the first glass. The fun has begun.

Designed to carry 400 passengers, Explorer II typically sails to Antarctica with half the load. In our case, there were no more than a hundred rich frost lovers and penguins on board. A library, a cinema room, two restaurants, a laundromat, an endless circular promenade deck, a microspa and several bars with free booze are at the disposal of travelers confined for two weeks.

For three days the expedition moved towards the Falkland Islands. Naturalists gave lectures about penguins, taught how to recognize birds flying behind a ship, and looked for fountains of water blown by whales on the horizon. A staff historian talked about the Falklands War, a Russian mechanic took us into the engine room, and the captain taught us how to leave the ship and go ashore in rubber Zodiacs.

On the morning of the fourth day, Explorer II dropped anchor off one of the Falkland Islands. Dressed in identical red parkas and Wellingtons, we resembled a detachment of a strange paramilitary organization preparing to land on an enemy shore. Strange because its composition, in age and bearing, resembled the last reserve of the militia thrown by the queen to recapture the disputed stones in the ocean from Argentina.

So who is he, the modern defender of the Falklands and conqueror of Antarctica? Who is this person, worthy in all respects, who paid $15-20 thousand for the happiness of sharing the deck with adventurers and lovers of fresh air like him? He is not young - not everyone can find a few weeks of free time and several tens of thousands of dollars of free money. He is a retired stock speculator, rentier, retired spy, wealthy parent of successful offspring, lottery winner, professional traveler.

He is greedy for communication. Common lunches and dinners, moving from table to table, meetings in the library and on the captain's bridge - all this makes it necessary to make acquaintances. After the cruise, I received a list in my e-mail with all the addresses of all the conquerors of Antarctica with whom I shared a rubber boat, a table and a stool at the bar. Among them are a French translator from Russian living in Kenya, a descendant of Korean emperors who advises US presidents, a Canadian aircraft collector, an old Australian crocodile hunter, a Wall Street guru, a St. Petersburg decorator, a Louis Vuitton bag collector and an English computer security specialist. , formerly a famous hacker.

The conqueror of the icy continent is a born naturalist, a lover of birds, marine mammals and, as a result, a photographer. The number of cameras per Explorer II passenger exceeded any average statistical norm.

Our detachment in red parkas landed on the shore for the first time. We were divided into platoons, each of which was headed by one of the ship's regular naturalists. Led by professional nature lovers and under a curtain of rain-fog, we set out to splash through the piles of guano left behind by the tens of thousands of birds that inhabit the island. About three kilometers later we came across the house of the only island inhabitants. Tea and cookies were waiting for us.

For the rest of the day, our Explorer II, having made several propeller strokes, transported us to another tiny island, where, unlike the first, two families already lived. Each of the pair of families has a charitable foundation like “Save the Penguin!”, and each of the families has an artist who writes sketches for almost all the Falklands postage stamps. In the interior of the island, a colony of rock climbing penguins was discovered sharing their rocks with albatrosses and diving birds. The first meeting with wildlife ended with a picnic on the deck.

For the next two days, the ship crossed the ominous Drake Passage, known for its violent temper. In the ship's stall, all the pills and bracelets that protected against seasickness were bought, but the elements deceived us - the roaring latitudes greeted us with suspicious silence. The next morning, Explorer II entered the ice zone, which we immediately learned from the unexpectedly increased amplitude of the flopping of the hull in sea water. As it turned out, all the time before we were sailing with the stabilization system turned on, which made it possible to neutralize the influence of waves on us and on the ship. Now, in view of the icebergs that had appeared, the lull had come to an end - Explorer II began to sway noticeably.

In the afternoon we saw the Antarctic land. If you imagine Antarctica as a huge skating rink, then you are mistaken. In the coastal part, rocky beaches emerge from under the heavily melted snow, where seals and sea lions warm their thick sides. A little further, mountains stick out, only the tops of which are covered with snow. Between the spurs you can see glaciers, from which icebergs break off and slide into the ocean. Antarctica is a real continent, and quite a large one at that. Is that the population density here is even lower than in the Koryak Autonomous Okrug, although it is already approaching it. When we reached the Argentine Antarctic station Esperanza ("Hope"), it turned out that 59 people, 21 of whom were children, settled in a God-forsaken corner, in the Bay of Hope! Soulless parents gave birth to children, opened an infirmary, a kindergarten and a school for them, but they themselves, it seems, do nothing but teach their children, feed them, treat them, and simply don’t give a damn about science. There are only three so-called scientists at the entire station, the rest are adults - cooks, mechanics, drivers, teachers, doctors and other bosses. Near the station there is a large colony of Adelie penguins, the same ones that look like conductors. Penguins walk around the station like owners, while polar explorers are not allowed to go to the penguin colony. So understand who has bird rights here - flightless birds or occasionally flying people.

In Antarctica, in general, all people are superfluous: the envoys of humanity must take any of their garbage, any results of economic and other activities with them to their places of permanent residence. Any hunting, fishing, or other extraction of natural resources is prohibited. This land is for ice, penguins, wind, and not for oil rigs and seal fur factories. The last whaling fleets disappeared half a century ago, when the UN decided to bring Antarctic affairs into some order. Since then, the Antarctic Treaty has declared the continent to be a territory belonging to all mankind. However, the treaty expires in about forty years, and therefore countries and unscrupulous companies hoping to extract unimaginable wealth from the depths of Antarctica are trying to stake out their territories, mark their presence, and some (like our Argentinian friends) are even raising a generation of children born and grown up in harsh polar conditions.

By the way, we were the first non-penguins that the inhabitants of Esperanza saw since the closure of last year's summer navigation. In the evening, polar explorers visited Explorer II with noise and moonshine. In honor of our brothers in mind, our Austrian chef gave a particularly luxurious dinner, the menu of which was designed to show the Argentines that something else besides stew can be present in the human diet. Or penguin meat, as one might assume.

For the next four days, our ship fearlessly stuck its nose into the cracks between the ice, landed us on islands, rounded various capes and avoided collisions with icebergs. Twice a day we dressed in red parkas, green boots with yellow soles, were taken in, equipped with cameras and set off to study the habits of elephant seals and penguins. Twice a day we returned safely aboard Explorer II, drank tea or hot chocolate, changed clothes and hurried to the set tables. The forces sucked into the ozone hole returned along with the first spoon of soup, a piece of lamb, a slice of bread. In the evening, the heroes-polar explorers gathered in the salon to show off to each other particularly successful shots, listen to tales from naturalists or instructive stories about Shackleton as presented by the ship’s staff historian. I can’t say that penguins from different islands, as well as the islands themselves, were in any way very different from each other - it’s not really a matter of diversity. The fact is that on the second or third day, by some sixth landing, you strangely begin to be imbued with the beauty of Antarctica, the charm of emptiness.

What, you say, can a Russian person, who spends most of his life in the cold, icy slush and mud, find here, in Antarctica, something that he does not have on the other side of the Earth? How can sailing among icebergs be better than a cruise in the Caribbean? What is this all for?

But why. Firstly, not a single mobile operator has extended its hand here, not a single beer manufacturer has advertised here, and not even a single Hollywood company has been able to build a single multiplex here. The territory of Antarctica is free from almost all microbes of civilization known to science, including nuclear dirt and all chemistry. In any case, I want to believe so. Secondly, mostly good people end up here. Why, one might ask, would a bad person fly and sail across the whole world so as not to be able to go to an expensive restaurant, change cash, or use a credit card? It’s impossible to yell at anyone here, there’s no one to be rude to, there’s no one to humiliate. Human ecology is added to environmental ecology. Thirdly, the opportunity to come within arm's reach of wildlife and feel the difference between a zoo and a real penguin colony is worth a lot! Here you should sit down on a stone, hold your breath, and this very living and untouched nature in the form of a penguin will begin to study you with great curiosity. Unlike South Africa, where over the past half century more than one generation of animals has grown up and perceive jeeps and tourists as fellow humans, as part of the landscape, here a few tourists dissolve among millions of individuals of real wild animals.

The last two days on the ship - the return passage through the Drake Passage - were as calm as the sailing towards Antarctica. The sea pretended to be a modest calm lake, Cape Horn did not demand sacrifices, Tierra del Fuego did not frighten with lights.

It was a shame to go down to earth. Ushuaia sparkled with the very lights that we had become quite unaccustomed to - neon letters called for “the last city in the world”, restaurants offered to feed you to your heart’s content for five dollars, telephone booths and Internet cafes were crowded right on the pier. At this moment, civilization looked especially unsightly.

Magazine “Kommersant Weekend” No. 57 dated 04/01/2005, p. 50

Vacations in the Far South