Y’all, today was another stunner—sun shining, clear blue skies, and an 8 a.m. zodiac call that felt like a genuine treat. I’ll take that extra hour of sleep any day, thank you very much.
We arrived at Portal Point on the Reclus Peninsula, and I swear it looked like Santa had already delivered Christmas early. Pristine snow, sparkling ice, and that classic Antarctic glow—pure magic.
A Quick History Note on Portal Point This spot got its name back in 1960 because it served as the “portal” or gateway for British surveyors to access the high plateau above. In 1956, the Falkland Islands Dependencies Survey built a small refuge hut here to support mapping and dog-sled traverses (famous explorer Wally Herbert even wintered over in 1957 for a big crossing). The hut was dismantled in the 1990s and shipped to a museum in the Falklands—now only the concrete foundations remain, usually buried under snow. Talk about a chilly time capsule!
We zodiac’d over to the mainland (yes, the actual continent!), and the expedition team went full mountaineer mode because another ship had been there the day before and turned the path into a polished ice rink. Our crew was out there with shovels and picks, chipping homemade “igloo steps” into the hill so we could climb to the top without doing an unintentional penguin slide (or an embarrassing butt-bounce).
It was slow going—slippery as greased lightning—but we made it. At the summit we posed for the classic photo holding the “7th Continent” flag, grinning like we’d just won the lottery. We’ve cruised Antarctica before, but this was our first official continental footstep. Felt pretty darn special—and a little like cheating, since the “continent” here is mostly snow piled on rock.
On the way down, drama struck: one of the crew guys who’d been heroically chipping ice, walked past us with blood dripping down his face. Turns out the shovel won the fight—he accidentally whacked himself in the head! Crazy guy was laughing it off (classic tough-guy move), but he got pulled off duty. Chuck (now basically the ship’s unofficial medical escort and frequent flyer) and I rode back in the same zodiac with him and helped him to the clinic. Good thing Chuck knows the way blindfolded by now—perks of being a regular.
After lunch came the main event: the Polar Plunge. Who in their right mind jumps into 32°F water wearing nothing but a swimsuit and a grin? My husband, that’s who. I was up on Deck 5 like the proud (and slightly worried) paparazzi, filming and snapping photos while he splashed in like it was a summer pool party. Not bad for a fella pushing 80! He came up whooping and grinning—said it was invigorating. Ok, whatever. I still say he’s certifiably nuts (and possibly part polar bear), but I had hot chocolate waiting in the cabin, followed by a steaming shower and warm clothes. He survived, and now he’s got bragging rights for life—complete with an official certificate to wave at the grandkids—plus a story that’ll make them think Grandpa’s a superhero.
Another amazing day in the books, and we’re soaking up every minute because our time on this beautiful ship is winding down.
Tonight we had the farewell parade—crew lined up on stage for a heartfelt thank-you from the captain. On a small ship like this, you really get to know people, and it’s wild how they all learned our names by Day 2. (It probably helped that Chuck became a regular in medical so early on—nothing says “memorable passenger” like repeat visits!)
Bittersweet feelings tonight. Antarctica, you’ve spoiled us rotten.
May God bless you all! Chuck & Lea Ann
WorldTravelReynolds 