Celia’s Antarctic Chronicles, Episode 3: Whales, Volcanoes, & Return

If you've been following along with my chronicles of my Antarctic adventure (previous chapters here and here ), you're already aware of the unforgettable moments I had aboard the Sylvia Earle, crossing the Drake Passage, attending informative lectures, and of course snorkeling and hiking on the White Continent. But nothing could have prepared me for the magical moments of the last few days of my trip, or how the journey changed me forever. 

Back on the west side of the peninsula,__ Portal Point greeted us with untouched powder snow. The little hike was magical — lush snow, soft light, and total silence, apart from the crunch of our boots. At the top, we paused for photos and reflection, staring across the white vastness. Antarctica has a way of making you feel very small, in the best possible way.

Then came the snorkel again. We slipped into the icy cove, surrounded by drifting ice. Just 100 feet away, a humpback surfaced. We swam closer, adrenaline surging — and suddenly, she breached right in front of us. I screamed through my snorkel as she passed beneath. A humpback whale. In these wild waters. It was raw, surreal, and holy. 

But this afternoon! When I thought days couldn’t get better …

The snorkel team set out in our Zodiac, searching for a good spot to enter the water at Recess Cove. The mood was misty, and we couldn't see any of the other Zodiac groups nearby. We had two hours to explore this eerie, iceberg-filled cove, hoping to find sleeping humpback whales.​

We spotted a few from a distance, but nothing remarkable happened until it started snowing, transforming the landscape into a wonderland. Eventually, we stopped the motor, enveloped in silence, when a humpback whale approached our boat. She played beneath us, circling and diving, staying with us for 45 minutes. At one point, she even called over three of her friends.​ We named her Aura.

Ironically, our most memorable snorkel session was the one where we didn't get in the water. There was no space, and we were intimidated by these magnificent creatures. Yet, it was magical to have this intimate encounter—just the eight of us in a Zodiac, far away in the middle of the snow, without a sound but the playful whales. Even the expedition staff shed a tear at the rarity of this experience.

On our last day before hitting the Drake again, we sailed into the flooded caldera of Deception Island , a still-active volcano. The landscape was dramatic — black sand beaches, steaming shorelines, and ghostly remains of an old whaling station. We hiked a smoking ridge and explored rusted tanks and buildings. Strange. Eerie. Beautiful.​

The return across the Drake gave us time to reflect. In the citizen science lab , we looked at a krill under the microscope, studied humpback whale poop, and attended more lectures. One of my favorite was on Greenland dogs brought to Antarctica for exploration. Also announced was the winner of the best/funniest iceberg photo competition. My “Gruyere” Iceberg didn’t make the cut, but I was proud of it! 

On April 3rd, as we neared Cape Horn, dolphins danced at the bow, and the sea turned gold beneath the setting sun. Our final gift from the south.

We docked in the early morning hours. Sleepy smiles, tight hugs, and a quiet goodbye to the ship that carried us to the bottom of the world.

Antarctica strips everything down — the noise, the rush, the ego — and leaves you with light, stillness, and awe. I’m so deeply grateful to have seen it with my own eyes. And now, even more excited to help others get there too.

If Antarctica is calling to you — let’s talk. I’d love to help you answer it.