Nearly all Antarctic tourism happens on the peninsula, and nearly all of it leaves from Ushuaia at the southern tip of Argentina. A standard voyage runs ten to twelve days, of which four are spent crossing the Drake Passage — which means the trip you are booking is, in terms of days, roughly forty per cent ocean.
That is the first thing to understand about it, and it is not a criticism. The Drake is part of the experience for most people who have done it. But it changes what you should be looking for when comparing operators, and it is the reason ship size matters more than anything else on the brochure.
The Drake
Two days each way across the roughest regularly-sailed water on the planet, where the Southern Ocean circulates unobstructed by any landmass and the continental shelves at either end shallow the water abruptly.
It can be flat — the "Drake Lake", which people who get it will mention repeatedly — or it can be a six-metre swell for forty-eight hours. Most crossings are somewhere in between.
Practical management: take medication before departure rather than after symptoms start, because once you are unwell the tablets are difficult to keep down. Patches, tablets and injections are all available and the ship's doctor will have supplies. Stay midships and low, where the motion is least. And go up on deck rather than lying in a cabin — the horizon genuinely helps, the fresh air helps, and the seabirds are extraordinary. Wandering albatrosses follow the ships for hours and the wingspan does not translate to photographs.
The alternative is flying to King George Island and joining the ship there, which removes four days of sea and adds substantially to the price. Flights are weather-dependent and delays of a day or two are common, so it swaps one uncertainty for another.
The daily rhythm
Once south, the days settle into a pattern that is more structured than most holidays and less predictable than any of them.
A landing after breakfast, usually two to three hours ashore. Lunch. A zodiac cruise or a second landing in the afternoon, often among icebergs or along a glacier face. Lectures from the expedition staff between outings — glaciology, ornithology, the history of the heroic era — and a recap and briefing each evening for the following day.
Everything is weather-dependent and the schedule changes constantly. The expedition leader will announce the plan, then change it, and this is a sign of a good operation rather than a disorganised one. Sites are chosen on the morning based on ice, wind and what other vessels have booked, because landing sites are coordinated between operators to avoid two ships arriving at once.
The rules
IAATO, the industry association, governs almost every operator, and the rules are stricter than most tourism anywhere. In practice:
- A maximum of 100 passengers ashore at any one time. Ships carrying more than 500 passengers cannot land anyone at all under the Antarctic Treaty framework.
- Minimum distances from wildlife — generally five metres, more for some species and situations. Penguins routinely ignore this from their side, and the rule is that you do not approach; if they approach you, stand still.
- Boots washed and disinfected before and after every landing, in trays at the gangway.
- Bags, velcro and pockets vacuumed for seeds and soil before the first landing. This is done as a group session on the way south.
- Nothing taken, nothing left, including organic waste. No food ashore. No sitting down on a rock and eating a sandwich.
- No smoking ashore and no walking on visible moss or lichen, which take decades to recover.
These are not a formality and the staff enforce them. The whole tourism model on the peninsula depends on demonstrating that it can operate without damage.
Ship size matters more than anything
If you take one thing from this article, take this.
A 100-passenger vessel can land everyone at once, which means two full outings a day and no waiting. A 200-passenger vessel splits into groups, so you get roughly half the time ashore and spend the other half on the ship or in a zodiac. Above 500, you are looking at the continent from a deck and never setting foot on it.
Choose the smallest ship you can afford. The difference in what you actually do is enormous, and it dwarfs the difference in cabin quality.
Two secondary considerations. Ice class determines how far south and into what conditions the ship can push. And the ratio of expedition staff to passengers determines how much of the naturalist knowledge you actually get access to — a good ratio means someone knowledgeable in every zodiac.
The season, and what changes across it
The season runs from roughly November to March and the three phases are genuinely different trips.
November and early December. Pristine snow, unbroken ice, penguins courting and building nests, and the most dramatic sea ice. The landscape is at its most photogenic and some sites are still inaccessible. Colder.
Mid-December to January. The height of summer. Chicks hatch and grow, days are effectively endless, temperatures are at their warmest, and this is the most expensive and most booked period. Colonies are busy and noisy.
February and March. Whales in real numbers — humpbacks and minkes feeding before the migration north — chicks fledging, colonies muddy and stained pink with krill, and the best value of the season. Days shorten noticeably by March.
If wildlife is the priority, late season. If landscape and ice are the priority, early season.
What you need to bring
Most operators supply the parka — usually yours to keep — and lend waterproof boots, which is worth checking before buying either.
What you provide: waterproof trousers, thermal base layers, a mid-layer fleece or down, waterproof gloves plus a thin liner pair, a warm hat, sunglasses with good UV protection, and high-factor sunscreen for the reflected light off snow and water, which burns faster than people expect.
A dry bag for camera gear in the zodiacs. Binoculars, which are more useful than a long lens for most of the wildlife. Seasickness medication, brought with you rather than relied upon from the ship. And a power bank, since cabins have limited sockets.
Leave behind: an umbrella, formal clothing on all but the most traditional ships, and any expectation of reliable internet.
Is it worth the money
It is the most expensive trip in this journal by a wide margin — commonly somewhere between eight and twenty thousand US dollars per person depending on ship, season and cabin, before flights to Ushuaia.
We have not spoken to anyone who regretted it. That is not a defence of the price so much as an observation about how the place lands on people. There is no landscape comparable to it and no wildlife encounter comparable to standing still while a gentoo walks past your boot on its way to the sea.
If the cost is a stretch, there are two real discounts. Late-season voyages in March are consistently cheaper. And last-minute berths sold in Ushuaia — turning up and taking what has not sold — still exist, though far less reliably than a decade ago, and it requires open dates and a willingness to be disappointed.
Before you book, ask these
- How many passengers, and how many land at once?
- How many landings and zodiac cruises are planned per day?
- What is the ratio of expedition staff to passengers?
- Is the operator an IAATO member?
- Are activities like kayaking, camping or snowshoeing included or extra, and how limited are the places?
- What happens if the Drake or the ice prevents the planned itinerary?
The answers vary considerably between operators at similar prices, and they determine what the trip actually is.
For the region, see the Antarctic Peninsula guide. If you are already travelling to Ushuaia, the Patagonian trekking on both sides of the border is covered in the W Trek planning guide.
