Homeward bound

What can you say about heading home after experiencing something like this?  Its not something you can put into words, but because I know that memory can be fleeting and writing can help make those memories more permanent, I'll try and put some thoughts down.  I'll start with last night.

I didn't get seasick, but that definitely doesn't go for everyone on board.  Many people looked a little green and the dining hall was a bit empty.  As it approached 11, the ship began to toss more as the seas grew rougher and me and my companions headed down to our bedroom to try and get to sleep before the rough water hit in full.  Lets just say it was an interesting attempt at getting some shut eye. The ship tossed all night, smashing me into the wall and a couple times it felt like I was being lifted right out of it.

This morning its calmer, and we're working our way into stiller seas.  Its still rough, and hand lines are up in all the common areas.  Donnie and I decided to head up to the bridge to see what the experts had seen. They saw a pilot whale - thats cool - and bunch of other birds.  While I was there I saw four wandering albatross - three adults and one very brave juveniles who buzzed the ship repeatedly.  Those birds are amazing.  They live 50 years, and spend almost all of that time at sea.   To accomplish this, they do something called dynamic soaring, and that enables them to spend minimal energy flying.  They fly up in dramatic arcs, and then soar down to the edge of the waves and water, turning again their long wings to soar back to the sky.  It reminds me a little of the pumping one does with their legs on a swing.  In fact you hardly ever see them move their wings.  And what wings they are - almost 6 feet a piece.   They are a rare bird to see, and I was able to get a look at them today.  To me thats pretty amazing.

This has been a mind expanding trip in a number of ways.  First of all, the guys I'm traveling with are really intelligent teachers with really interesting ideas on how education should change. I've come away with some deep challenges to the way I teach, and commitment to keep learning and growing as an educator.  The main focus was how to make things student centered - I'm going to keep working on it when I get back.  We also played a lot of music.  I found out that that the waitstaff had an acoustic guitar, and in the lounge there is a piano, so we were able to 'entertain' (I use that term loosely) the guests.  Two nights ago the National Geographic Explorers aboard hung around and joined in with us as we played song after song.  Good stuff.

The scenery is hard to describe.  There isn't anything like it I've seen before - its totally raw and primal, with animals and plants (very few plants) just scratching out a living.  Its dramatic, and the mountains rival anything I've ever seen.  The ice - you would figure you'd get tired of seeing ice everyday, but that couldn't be further from the truth.  Everyday the ice is different, and often times its so beautiful you strain to capture it on camera only to know you really can't, no matter your skill level. The water is another thing that stands out in my mind - its so clear.  You'd have a hard time believing how clear it is.  From what I've heard it is some of the cleanest on earth.  It seems different though, different from the ocean water I've known in New England. When we jumped in yesterday it was 24 degrees - the water that is. Thats cold water.  But this place is all about the water - frozen or otherwise.   It's responsible for making all of the channels, bays, and inlets - it's the source of this beauty and what allows us to be here, floating our way from pristine spot to pristine spot.

So now we cruise on towards Ushuaia, and the scent of trees is in the air.  After a complete absence, you can smell them.  Its the smell of home.  We will sleep on this ship tonight for the last time, and then begin the long tip back to where we came from.

Out the window I can see land. Tierra Del Fuego - the land of fire.  You know, I'm not exactly sad to say goodbye to this, but I'm not happy.  This expedition has left me with a mixed emotions.  It was so long in coming, and now that its coming to its end, well, I'm not sure how I feel.  So many amazing things happened - from 5 am orcas, to calving glaciers and Dr. Pettit's glaciology studies, to wandering leopard seals and beaches full of penguins, its something I'm not like to see again.  In meeting and speaking with the crew here (especially the naturalists and people who run the ship) life on ocean seems expansive and adventurous, but also hard.  Of course by doing the work they do they are able to develop a familiarity with some of the most beautiful areas and amazing living things on Earth.  They truly see parts of the world most of us only dream about. Whats more, by being the people who share knowledge with the guests about this awe inspiring place they hold a sacred position.    As a naturalist myself, I kept wondering if I could do something like this.  What a life to live!  All of that said, it does seem as there is a certain sacrifice made when you are away form the ones you love and the place you call home months at a clip, and one that I have not had to experience.  I'm not sure I'm cut out for it.

Leaving this place and this experience,  leaving the dream that started one winter day last year when I got the call from National Geographic and Lindblad, well thats just something I'll have to come to terms with on my own.  The fact that I have a loving family to return to - well, that makes it easier.   I suspect that Antarctica and my travels here will visit me in my dreams and in the waking hours when my mind wanders.  In time I'll make sense of this all, but for now I'll just have to let it ferment.  As I said before - I get the feeling in my life there will be before Antarctica and after Antarctica. That second part is the next adventure.

Thanks to all of you out there who were sharing my adventure virtually.  It has been great knowing you were out there with me.

Justin