I began writing this in an attempt to express my thoughts, feelings, and experiences on my trip to Antarctica. Except - I don’t even know how to begin processing what just happened, the past few weeks of my life. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to, or if I even want to.
I’m sitting in the lounge at EZE, free entry courtesy of my credit card. My post-trip routine usually involves a beer or two in preparation for my re-assimilation to the online world. A thousand notifications, text messages, and emails flood my phone as I unwillingly join the free airport WiFi after a month of my phone on airplane mode.
While I reconnect with much trepidation, I do enjoy catching up with my friends who are usually left wondering “where has Ryan run off to this time?” Admittedly, I do a pretty poor job of telling people where I am until I’m asked, so no one but the emergency contacts in my satellite communicator ever really know.
I’ve survived the flight and I’m back home, melting into the couch. My cat, ever eager to show her displeasure at my absence, is busy clawing away at my hair while I’m editing more images and catching up on the F1 races I’ve missed since.
I still don’t believe it. As I browse and edit these images, replay all the footage I captured. How did I end up here?
I was just a kid from Singapore, with zero prospects or relevant education. I’m just like one of many millions of people worldwide - I’m passionate about nature and happened to own a camera.
Yet, I found myself standing on top of the M/S Expedition, cameras in both hands, sailing across the infamous Drake Passage southbound towards the Antarctic peninsula, working on my ongoing project, Gelum.
With the bergy bits (yes, that is the actual scientific term for teeny icebergs) getting more frequent and larger in size, it became more and more apparent that this was real, that I was there, and it was happening.
On top deck, it’s just me and the open sea, immense icebergs, towering peaks, endless glaciers, and unparalleled beauty in every direction possible. I was simply speechless.
At some point, the icy-cold spray of sea water had stopped, yet the salty water on my face remained. However, when faced with the most beautiful scene I’ve ever viewed, and will probably ever view for the rest of my entire life, it’s kind of impossible not to be overwhelmed at the sight.
Visiting, exploring, and experiencing Antarctica is something that can’t quite be put to words. In fact, I’m confident that there are no words, feelings, thoughts, pictures, videos, or any other kind of expression that can adequately convey the beauty of this place.
But I’ll try.
I’ve been fortunate enough to have visited some truly unique places as a result of photography. Some live up to the hype, while others don’t quite meet it.
Antarctica, however, firmly and unequivocally lives up to every single story, rumor, hope, dream, or expectation, and surpasses them a million times over. There’s simply nothing else like it on Earth - not even close.
It is devastatingly beautiful.
On our first expedition beyond the vessel, stepping foot on the continent for the first time, I was too stunned to even take my camera out. I just had to stand there, completely dumbfounded, looking around, having to catch my breath and reminding myself that this was all very real.
I’ve always felt a strong connection with the winter world - nothing brings me more sense of peace and belonging than these frigid environments. But stepping foot onto the continent, surrounded by countless penguins, glaciers, and ice bergs - it’s an emotion more intense than anything I’d felt.
Prior to embarking on this trip, I’d been unsure about a few things.
Whether my whole pursuit in photography has been worth it, whether my work actually has the positive impact on the environment I want it to, whether it’s even ethical for me to be visiting such a fragile ecosystem, and so on.
Don’t get me wrong, I think about these things all the time, no matter where I go. I’m acutely aware of the struggles of over-tourism, local real estate, carbon footprint, and contributing to economies that I don’t morally agree with, alongside the numerous other ethical conundrums that exist in many of the places I visit.
But standing on an ice shelf, surrounded by leopard seal pups and Adélie penguin colonies, 50knot winds battering our faces, I’m reminded why I do this - to save the world that saved me.
I’ve always strived for one thing with my images, and it’s to inspire. To get people caring about the outdoors, caring about wildlife, caring about the environment in which all of us humans have to live in. To enjoy, appreciate, and protect this incredible planet.
I know I can’t convince everyone - but this trip has proved that it can be done.
Not everyone boarded that ship with the intention of basking in the beauty of the frozen continent; many were there to check off “the last continent,” to visit “before it all melts,” or had simply ran out of exotic destinations to visit.
While the reasons for coming onboard were varied, everyone left the ship an expert on icebergs, penguins, whales, Antarctic history and weather, eager to share their experiences and knowledge with their peers and family back home.
Being a solo-traveler and uploading images to my website/socials, I hardly get to see the impact of my work. Getting to share images, drinks, and conversations with my fellow ship-mates and seeing their opinions change and grow stronger each day was an absolute treat.
To know that I played a part in someone else’s enjoyment of nature - that’s about all I can really ask for with my work.
When they say “visiting Antarctica will change you as a person,” it’s easy to laugh and brush it off as nothing more than the ramblings of someone who thinks they’re well-travelled.
It’s easy to say that - until you experience it for yourself. Because it really will.
Antarctica was already crazy enough, but we weren’t allowed outside all the time. To everyone I met aboard the G Expedition ship, crew, passenger, or otherwise - thank you for making the onboard experience such a fun one.
I’ll someday share more details about the travels - logistics, the itinerary, costs and all that jazz. But for now, I’m still not done dreaming about the experience.
Hopefully, I can return not just as a tourist or for my own personal project, but actually work and collaborate with researchers to advance the critical science that is being conducted in the polar regions. If any polar scientists or researchers are reading this, please reach out! I’d love to assist in any way I can.
As always, thank you all for reading! In the meantime, I’m working on some stuff behind the scenes and prepping for my next Arctic visit in January.
