Antarctica had been one of those places that almost didn’t feel real to us.

It was somewhere we had seen in documentaries, photographs, and travel shows—a place of enormous icebergs, endless white landscapes, penguins, whales, and some of the most remote wilderness left on Earth. Actually standing there ourselves seemed like something that belonged on a bucket list more than something we would really get to do.

But after a lot of research, we decided that if we were going to Antarctica, we wanted to do it right.

We chose Quark Expeditions, a Canadian-based expedition company specializing in polar travel. And one of the biggest decisions we made was choosing an itinerary that allowed us to fly over the Drake Passage instead of sailing across it.

We had seen the videos.

The Drake Passage is known for having some of the roughest waters in the world, and watching ships disappear behind giant waves was enough for us to decide that spending two days violently seasick was not how we wanted to begin our once-in-a-lifetime trip to Antarctica.

One thing you learn very quickly about traveling to Antarctica is that nothing is guaranteed.

Our entire trip was always subject to change, delay, or even cancellation because Antarctic weather is incredibly unpredictable. Flights may not be able to land. Zodiac excursions may have to be changed. Landing sites can become inaccessible. The itinerary you thought you were following in the morning might look completely different by the afternoon.

You are traveling somewhere that still makes the rules.

We got incredibly lucky.

But before we ever got on that plane, Antarctica had already made us rethink the way we normally packed for a trip.

For the flight from Punta Arenas to King George Island, we knew we were limited to just 35 pounds of luggage.

Thirty-five pounds.

For a two-week trip.

And not exactly a trip where you could toss a bathing suit and a few T-shirts into a suitcase and call it a day.

We needed cold-weather layers, waterproof gear, boots, camera equipment, and everything else we would need for two weeks away from home. So while packing at home, we had to carefully weigh everything and make sure that everything we planned to bring fit within that 35-pound limit.

And they were serious about it.

Once we arrived in Punta Arenas, those bags were weighed again.

There was no casually looking at the suitcase and deciding it seemed close enough.

Thirty-five pounds meant thirty-five pounds.

After spending the night in Punta Arenas, Chile, we boarded our flight to King George Island, where our Antarctic expedition would officially begin.

Even that flight was never guaranteed. If the weather on King George Island wasn’t cooperating, we simply wouldn’t be able to land.

Thankfully, it cooperated.

And even arriving in Antarctica made it immediately clear that this was not going to be a normal trip.

I’m not exactly sure what I pictured when I imagined landing in Antarctica, but apparently some part of me was still expecting something that resembled a regular airport.

That was not what we got.

As we approached King George Island, we could see this incredibly remote landscape of mountains, snow, ice, and water.

And then we saw the runway.

It was basically a gravel strip.

That was it.

Just a gravel runway in the middle of one of the most remote places on Earth.

And we were about to land a plane on it.

When the wheels touched down, there was something almost surreal about it.

We had actually landed in Antarctica.

That was the moment when it started to feel real.

We had officially left normal travel behind.

And from there, the adventure really began.

Once we boarded our expedition ship, Quark Expeditions continued to exceed our expectations in just about every way.

Our cabin consisted of two small twin beds and a tiny bathroom.

A bathroom that, as it turned out, I would become much more familiar with than originally planned.

Because somehow, despite successfully avoiding the Drake Passage, I still managed to get seasick our first night on the ship.

And not just a little seasick.

I may have spent considerably more time in that tiny bathroom than I had hoped.

The doctor onboard later told me that the seas we experienced that first night were apparently just as rough as the Drake Passage.

Perfect.

Apparently the Drake found me anyway.

And, in Sarah’s defense, she had warned me.

She told me I should take the seasickness medication before things got rough.

I did take it.

Just apparently too late.

By the time I realized she had been right, there was no turning back, and I was already getting far too familiar with that tiny bathroom.

From that point on, I took the seasickness medication every six hours, exactly as directed.

No skipping doses.

No “I think I’m fine now.”

No experimenting.

There was absolutely no way I was going through what I had just gone through again.

Thankfully, things improved considerably from there.

And once they did, Antarctica became everything we had hoped it would be—and somehow even more.

The food onboard was amazing, the staff was incredible, and there was something I really loved about being on an expedition ship rather than one of those enormous cruise ships carrying thousands of people.

There were approximately 100 guests and around 100 crew members onboard, which made the entire experience feel incredibly personal.

We weren’t one of thousands of passengers watching Antarctica from the deck of a floating city.

We were there to explore it.

One of the things I loved most about the expedition was how much we learned along the way.

Every day there were lectures from members of the expedition team about Antarctica—penguins, whales, seabirds, glaciers, icebergs, weather, geology, exploration history, and the continent itself.

It wasn’t just sightseeing.

We were learning to understand the place we were seeing.

We were also divided into smaller groups that became our Zodiac groups, and usually twice a day we would bundle ourselves into layers, pull on our duck boots, climb into small inflatable Zodiac boats, and head out into the Antarctic landscape.

Even getting on and off the Zodiacs came with procedures we had never experienced anywhere else.

At the time of our trip, bird flu was a concern in Antarctica, so protecting the wildlife was taken very seriously.

Before we were allowed to land, members of the expedition team would go ashore first to assess the area and make sure it was safe for us to visit.

And every time we disembarked a Zodiac, our duck boots had to be thoroughly scrubbed and disinfected in a special solution.

It became part of the routine.

Zodiac.

Landing.

Scrub the boots.

Explore.

Back to the Zodiac.

Scrub the boots again.

It was another reminder that we were visitors in an incredibly fragile environment—and that seeing Antarctica came with a responsibility to help protect it.

Those Zodiac rides became some of my favorite moments of the entire trip.

Sometimes we cruised between enormous pieces of ice. Sometimes we headed toward shore to walk among penguin colonies. Sometimes we simply floated quietly, surrounded by mountains, glaciers, and water so still that the entire landscape seemed reflected back at us.

And then there were the whales.

On one Zodiac excursion, humpback whales began swimming around us.

And then underneath us.

These enormous animals were literally passing beneath our tiny inflatable boat.

One came so close that I could have reached out and touched it.

Was it slightly terrifying knowing there was an animal weighing tens of thousands of pounds directly underneath our very small boat?

Absolutely.

Was it also one of the coolest things I have ever experienced?

Absolutely.

There are moments when you travel that you know you will remember forever.

That was one of them.

But honestly, Antarctica was filled with moments like that.

Including the moment when we voluntarily decided to jump into the Antarctic Ocean.

Yes.

We did the Polar Plunge.

Into the actual sea.

In Antarctica.

With chunks of ice floating around us.

I had always planned on doing it.

If I was traveling all the way to Antarctica and someone offered me the opportunity to jump into freezing Antarctic water, apparently my answer was going to be yes.

So I came prepared.

Sarah, on the other hand, had never been quite as enthusiastic about the idea.

She had spent most of the lead-up to the trip somewhere between maybe and absolutely not—with a definite lean toward absolutely not.

Somehow, though, I convinced her.

How that actually played out deserves its own story.

Read more about our Polar Plunge in Funny Moments.

Once we were safely back in warm clothes and questioning some of our life choices, we returned to appreciating Antarctica from a much more sensible position above the water.

The first time we actually stepped onto the continent was unlike anything I had ever experienced.

The air felt unbelievably clean.

There was no traffic, no city noise, no pollution, no buildings stretching across the horizon.

Just ice.

Mountains.

Water.

Wildlife.

And silence.

A kind of silence that is difficult to describe unless you have experienced somewhere truly remote.

The scenery was beyond beautiful. Everywhere you looked felt like a photograph—massive blue icebergs, glaciers spilling toward the water, snow-covered mountains disappearing into clouds, and penguins casually wandering around as though seeing humans dressed in matching parkas was completely normal.

I have traveled to some beautiful places, but I had never seen anything as beautiful as Antarctica.

There was something about it that made you feel incredibly small.

Not insignificant exactly—just aware that you were standing in a place that existed completely independent of us.

Antarctica didn’t need cities, roads, hotels, restaurants, or anything else humans usually build to make a destination feel impressive.

It was impressive simply because it existed.

And we felt incredibly fortunate to be there.

Another unexpected part of the journey was the people we met onboard.

When you spend days together on a relatively small expedition ship—taking Zodiac rides, attending lectures, eating meals, jumping into freezing oceans, and standing outside staring at icebergs together—friendships seem to form pretty quickly.

We became friends with some incredible people during the trip, most from the United States and one from England, and those friendships became part of the Antarctica experience too.

Looking back, Antarctica wasn’t simply another destination—or another continent—to check off our list.

It was one of those experiences that reminds you just how enormous, beautiful, strange, fragile, and extraordinary this planet really is.

We went there hoping to see penguins, glaciers, whales, and icebergs.

We came home with all of that.

But we also came home with an even greater appreciation for wild places, for the people who dedicate their lives to studying and protecting them, and for just how fortunate we were to stand at the bottom of the world and see it with our own eyes.

Because Antarctica also taught us something else:

You can plan every detail.

You can research the ship.

You can carefully choose to fly over the Drake Passage.

You can somehow cram two weeks of clothing and Antarctic gear into 35 pounds of luggage.

You can pack every layer imaginable.

You can board a plane hoping that a gravel runway on King George Island will actually be visible when you arrive.

But ultimately, Antarctica decides what Antarctica is going to let you experience.

And somehow, it let us experience something extraordinary.

If you ever have the opportunity to go, go.

Even if you think it sounds too far away.

Even if you think it sounds a little crazy.

Even if you carefully plan your entire trip around avoiding the Drake Passage only to discover that Antarctica can apparently bring the Drake Passage to you anyway.

And apparently, if someone asks whether you would like to jump into an ocean surrounded by floating chunks of ice, you might say yes to that too.

Save your money and go.

There are some trips you take because they are convenient.

There are some trips you take because they are relaxing.

And then there are trips like Antarctica—the kind you may only get one chance to experience in your lifetime.

If it is somewhere you have dreamed about going, make it happen.

It was one of the most extraordinary journeys of our lives.

And one we will never forget.