By Mark Flager, Sales Manager | November 26, 2018 ( Comments)
Expedition Leader Schalk Botha's tenets of expedition cruising include 1) guests are responsible for the weather, and 2) in-suite announcements are the best way for him to appraise everyone of schedule changes. We should expect his “melodious voice” (it really is) at any hour of the day or night.
Our bonus Saturday, thanks to Captain Taillard's speedy transit of the Drake Passage, began with Botha's announcement that we were approaching the South Shetland Islands, and would try to operate a zodiac cruise or wet landing. Finally we were here – overcast, bracing weather; icebergs; sea birds; snow, mountains; all pristine and indifferent to the ship sailing past. It does take your breath away.
Alas, the wind picked up and the weather worsened, so Botha went to plan B – sailing further south, to Cierva Cove, for our first zodiac cruise. As the ship nosed into this spectacular, glacier-backed, ice-strewn pocket, everyone's anticipation grew even as it started snowing. It kept on snowing, visibility dimmed to a general whiteout, and the call was made – no zodiac cruising in that weather.
So we waited a bit, and hoped we'd soon be gearing up for the first time. Silversea's pre-cruise literature details exactly what you need to bring, or rent, to participate in wet landings and zodiac cruises. It's all about layers, starting with thermal underwear, then adding fleece tops, wool sweaters, warm pants, lots of socks, a scarf, gloves and hat, all covered with waterproof pants (rentable) and a snazzy red parka (provided). On your feet are thick rubber knee-high boots (rentable), worn with really thick socks or two pairs of normal ones. That's just the basics. It's fine to bring extra gloves, sock liners, heat-treated warming insoles and hand warmers. The last layers are a life preserver vest (a compressed version that inflates by tugging on cords), and, if desired, a backpack for cameras and extra layers (provided). Once attired, guests become the “Silversea red penguins,” according to the expedition staff.
Botha had mapped out the landing protocol on Friday. The ship assigns everyone to one of six color-coded groups (we are red). When your group is called, geared-up guests head for the tender embarkation area on deck 3, with a first stop at the mud room to change into the knee-high boots. (For landings, guests next step into a tray of disinfectant, so nothing is tracked ashore.) Exit the ship, walk down the gangway and step down into a zodiac, with the assistance of deckhands in a forearm-to-forearm grip. You immediately sit down on the edge and slide down to make room for the next guest.
To everyone's delight, the weather cleared and Botha announced that the zodiac cruise was back on. We cruised the cove under overcast and occasionally snowy skies, with an occasional chop, past ice of amazing forms and sculpture. We learned you don't get close to anything bigger than a meter, as it could roll over and swamp the zodiac or land on it. The drivers definitely avoid a “blue tongue,” a visible, submerged shelf of an iceberg – on a roll, it could launch the zodiac in the air.
If the bounce and spray of a zodiac do not get you sufficiently close to the water, the expedition team also opeartes sea kayaking excursions. I'm sailing on this cruise with my daughter, Madison, who is quite keen on the idea. I am less eager, remembering a past vacation featuring a dodgy jet ski, but how could you not take the opportunity to kayak in Antarctica? What could go wrong? So we attended a briefing on the program, which detailed the “dry suit” provided and described how to get in and out of the kayak from a zodiac. We signed up for the lottery that determines the groups and the order they'll go out. Kayak excursions are more affected by the weather than are the zodiacs, so it's not at all guaranteed that every call will have a kayak team on the water. They'll post the results on the announcement board outside the Explorer Lounge.
