My grandmother’s response to my initial entry to be the Quark Blogger: “Why you would want to go someplace to freeze to death is beyond me…”

She isn’t as captured by Antarctica as I am, and truth be told all of us here writing/reading and expressing/fulfilling our passion for such an isolated place are a rather rare bunch.  With the relatively small number of people landing on Antarctica’s shores every year, first-hand accounts aren’t easy to come by. For those of us that share this passion it’s easy to understand how valuable each of these accounts are. 

This opportunity is more than a chance to satisfy a personal dream, it’s a chance to share the story of a lifetime. I’ve read many articles and books from those who have visited the region, and what I can guarantee is an honest account of the Quark Tour experience. When the ship enters the Drake Passage you’ll read not only about the reaction of the passengers onboard, but also the reaction of the tiny ice ship as it cuts through those notorious waves.  Once the ship reaches the peninsula, I can promise more than long strings of adjectives and descriptors preceding every sight that interests me, but rather the story of all of us visiting the frozen continent that day. And instead of only educating you on the continent you already hold such a passion for, I can provide context and meaning to the research you’ve been stockpiling since your dream first took hold. 

The extraordinariness of Antarctica can’t be captured within the most impressive of its frozen architecture, and its vastness can’t be realized simply by peering over the most endless of its terrains; like anyplace or anything else, the truth is in the context.