One of the most common pre-voyage questions I get asked is: “What’s the Drake Passage like?”
Returning clients rarely mention the Drake, especially if they enjoyed two easy crossings (one there and one back). With an estimated one in three crossing being a bit lumpy, those who have experienced the storms and rocked their way over the passage often wear it like a badge of honour. And so they should; perhaps a t-shirt with the slogan “I survived the Drake” would be a fitting souvenir.
A few facts about this notorious strip of water. The Drake Passage was named in 1578, after the legendary Sir Francis Drake, him of potato and tobacco fame. 5000m (16,400ft) deep, and 800km (500 miles) wide, it is the shortest crossing from South America to Antarctica, taking two days by boat and a couple of hours by plane.
Crossing the Drake provides a great opportunity to learn a little bit about all things Antarctic. The expedition team take it in turns to entertain and educate their passengers in a series of lectures, some of which are mandatory (such as the lifeboat briefing pictured below). Attending lectures, and looking out for albatross and whales from deck, actually make the two day crossing quite busy.
Danny remains one of the stand out lecturers from my first voyage. With a strong Texan drawl, he says “‘Type 1 Fun’ is a nice day out on the Antarctic peninsular, with nothing going wrong and everyone filling their camera memory cards with 3000 photos of penguins, whales, and icebergs.” Danny smiles to himself as he concludes his tale of a leopard seal biting into the side of a Zodiac, twice (thankfully, the Zodiacs are designed not to sink, and so no one had to swim that day).“That’s Type 2 Fun”, Danny chuckles, and I can’t tell if it’s his own joke, or for us all to enjoy. “We are always hoping for Type 1 Fun”. I’m not actually sure what Danny’s lecture was about; some lectures are like that, just tales from the seemingly bottomless experience of the fascinating expedition teams.
Breakfast, and day two of crossing the Drake, begins with a competition for who can spot the first iceberg. I suspected the captain might win, but at 4pm I’m still sat in the library at the front of the vessel, feeling confident, that I’m in the right place and my eyes are peeled. Turns out someone had spotted one a half an hour before.
So far I have crossed the Drake Passage three times. Each one of my crossings has been easy. On my first voyage, I remember hoping for a rough crossing, and asking the Captain how the weather looked. “Unusually quiet for this time of year” he replied, which was ominous. I figured the vessel to be jinxed with a comment like that, and waited for the clouds to roll in and a sea serpent to roar from the depths; expecting something like the tyrannous storm that drove the vessel down to Southern Ice, just like Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s Ancient Mariner. But the broad-billed prions soon started flying around the boat, and the albatross with its unlucky 13ft wings were left far behind us, land was almost in sight.
The moody snow covered rocky out crops of the South Shetland Island, I caught sight of my first fin whale, and then some chinstrap penguins porpoising through the water. The loudspeaker tannoy called us all to the lounge for a pre-adventure briefing. Drake is now firmly behind us. Jezza the barman pours me a beer, excited chatter clatters in the room, full glasses bump together in ‘cheers’, and no one can sit still. It’s like my own Christmas list being read back to me: Paradise Harbour, Neko Harbour, gentoo, chinstrap, humpback, crabeater, Deception Island. The Drake quickly and totally forgotten, well, at least until next week, when we cross back.
Whether you’d like to sail or fly across the Drake Passage and plan your own adventure on the White Continent, get in touch.
