Footprints at the end of the world

By BERNICE DAVISON

When the second penguin fell into the hole made by my foot in the soft snow, my heart sank. Was this right? Should I - and several dozen others - be pockmarking the penguins' Antarctic hillside colony with our footprints?

"Take only pictures, leave only footprints" has been the mantra of the green tourist since John Muir coined the phrase in the 19th century when he spoke about the unspoilt beauty of the American Sierras. His words ring true in the crystal air of this international wilderness. But should we be leaving even footprints?

I looked at the landing site after our ship, the MS Nordnorge, had left. I saw the trampled snow and trails of footprints left by more than 100 people on the visit. Was this acceptable green tourism, or had we well-heeled visitors desecrated a virgin site? It proved a hot topic of debate, not just over the dinner table, but also at our last lecture about our "Voyage of Discovery" on the Norwegian Coastal Voyage ship.

If you're going to sail from the sea fjords of southern Chile through the Beagle Channel, from Cape Horn to the sheet narrows of the Antarctic Peninsula, who better to take you than the Norwegians? Their coastal ferries have been sailing such waters daily for more than 100 years, from Bergen to the Russian border on a 12-day trip known as "The World's Most Beautiful Voyage".

That title must now surely apply to these Antarctic sea voyages, which NCV has been running since 2002. The Antarctic is heart-stoppingly beautiful, unimaginably huge and fascinatingly empty. And about the only way to get there is by ship.

The Nordnorge - moved from the Norwegian fjords for the southern summer months - always follows the same itinerary (with a few variations depending on weather conditions), allowing landings at the same Antarctic Peninsula sites as a handful of other small ships (none of which we saw during our 13-day voyage). Each landing site appeared pristine; no footprints, not one sign that anyone had landed there in years, let alone in previous weeks. But then, there was hardly likely to be the usual tourist detritus of overflowing rubbish bins, cigarette stubs or Coke cans, because the Antarctic isn't like any other tourist destination - there are no waste bins. Or docks, quaysides, roads, buildings, shops or anything. And also because, unlike other holiday spots, regulations about visiting were spelled out clearly before we had even caught sight of Antarctica.

We were taken point by point through the Antarctic Treaty. We were informed of the rules about behaviour laid down by the International Association of Antarctica Tour Operators and we were warned about the dire social ostracism that faced anyone who ignored these rules.

We had practised getting on and off the ship using the inflatables while still in the Chilean fjords. We were visiting small towns and settlements whose populations watched warily as more than 150 visitors, all clad in the same bright red windproof jackets, stomped around their streets.

At that stage we were allowed to descend onto the boat deck, don our lifejackets and climb - wearing our own walking boots - down the metal stairs into the waiting Polar Cirkel boats, the rigid-framed inflatables lowered by crane into the sea at each landing site.

Once in Antarctic waters, our own footwear was not allowed. We had to use the ship's supply of gumboots, kept on the deck, and ruthlessly scrubbed and disinfected to prevent any cross-infection of disease from one bird or animal colony to another, and to lessen the chances of seed dispersal.

If it sounds more like an educational outing - rules, regulations, uniform gumboots and red jackets, daily lectures and set meal times - than a holiday, that's probably because it was. It was exhausting, busy, physically challenging and mentally stimulating in a way most holidays aren't.

I learned the difference between bergy bits and the sparkling jewels of crumbled ice sprinkled on the surface of the glacial meltwater. I can explain tabular ice, tell you why some bergs are green, some blue. I can explain the difference between a fur seal and an elephant seal (about two tonnes). I can tell you that penguin poo has an unforgettable smell of salt cod, rotting fish, over-aged anchovies with a whiff of ammonia and - if they've been eating a lot of krill - is bright pink (the olfactory surprise of the trip was our first landing near a large colony, where thousands of penguins had splattered bright pink guano across the snowfields. We all reeled).

I learned about the history of whaling from a Polar Medal winner, an Australian called Alan Parker, who pointed out the rusting blubber tanks on Deception Island. I learned about penguin mating habits from Dr John Chardine, a scientist with the Canadian Wildlife Service, who kept his audience so spellbound with his infectious enthusiasm for a subject which normally leaves me cold (seabirds). I was similarly swept along on Ian Shaw's imaginative storytelling of Antarctic history - this from a man who has overcome a paralysing brain injury to return to the polar region which has held him spellbound for 10 years.

The same guys - and the other half-dozen onboard lecturers - could be found on deck at 4.30am (it is hard to sleep through the light nights, and none of us wanted to miss anything) taking dawn photographs or making notes. They would be ashore on the first boat, clearing landing spaces and positioning themselves on the site to ensure we didn't step on to any "out of bounds" territory such as a lichen bed or a nesting site. And they would stay out for hours in wind-chill of up to -15C while most of the 200-plus passengers made land visits in small groups.

I never did learn the difference between the various petrels, cormorants, shags and albatrosses, though I could sit for hours watching the birds effortlessly ride the ship's slipstream. I had difficulty telling one penguin type from another. They are all gloriously entertaining creatures, natural comedians with their ungainly inability to cope on land yet which suddenly transform, ugly duckling-like, into sleek, synchronised, speed swimmers when they dive into the water en masse.

I was interested, but not as excited as some, at seeing minke whales spouting off the starboard side as we slid softly through the Lemaire Channel. It is difficult to explain that you do not become sated by the spectacle of white peak after peak, grey rocks, snowfields, glaciers, ice and water. Whether dazzling in the brilliant sun, lost in a crystal-tinged mist or softened by the midnight gloom, the sight continued to hold me spellbound. I have never before cried at the sheer beauty of the world.

I wasn't alone. The silence in the ship's glass-walled viewing lounge was extraordinary. Up to 100 people sat looking at the stillness of the water, the reflected skyline, the amazing light and the varieties of ice.

As we made our way across the Drake Channel and back to civilisation, we assembled in the viewing lounge for Ian Shaw's last lecture. That morning we had turned east towards Point Wild on Elephant Island, where Shackleton left most of his crew when he set off on the most daring rescue mission in history. Ian's last lecture was about a new "Heroic Age" of explorers - today's Antarctic travellers. He wanted us to ask ourselves whether we really should have been to the places we'd carefully captured on camera. Whether we - or any other ship - had a right to sail into waters whose ownership was unclear.

Several people admitted they had felt guilty about setting foot on land; some suggested that Antarctic tourism should be solely ship-based and no landings should be allowed. Others argued that they felt protective about the Antarctic, having set foot there themselves and realised how fragile an environment it is - but wanted others to be able to have the same experience.

The Antarctic is a vast continent. We had experienced only the tip of one tiny corner, yet had been shocked at how delicate the balance was between experience and exploitation.

What will happen to the Antarctic if mining rights are taken up, if some means of extracting the gold, coal, oil or whatever, is discovered? Will the arguing nations position weapons on this ice-bound land?

Tourism to the Antarctic is already restricted. It is only open to those people who can afford to make the long and expensive trip. Many passengers voiced the wish that more children could "come and see all this so they can help save it". And this, I think, was the point of Ian's provocative talk. The Antarctic changes people. The old explorers were changed, returning home after suffering the most appalling conditions and deprivations, yet still with an unwavering sense of awe about the beauty and power of the place.

You don't have to survive extreme hardship to feel this. Even cocooned in the comfort of a cruise ship, it is possible to experience wonder at being in one of the last of the world's wild places. Should you go to Antarctica? Yes. Scrimp, save, sell the family silver, whatever. Go and stand and stare at the last place on earth. Then do something about making sure it's still there for your grandchildren to be able to do the same.

Case Notes

How to get there:

There are plenty of Antarctic cruises on offer but, be warned, they fill up quickly.

Voyages to the Antarctic Peninsula with World Expeditions run from mid-November to mid-March and prices start at US$3990 ($5965) per person ex-Ushuaia, Argentina, for 11 days. Voyages to South Georgia and the Antarctic Peninsula start at US$6690 ex-Ushuaia for 19 days. For further details contact World Expeditions on 0800 350 354.

Flight Centre is offering an 11-day Antarctica cruise from $9586 per person share twin. The converted icebreaker Polar Star departs Ushuaia on December 10. Contact Flight Centre on 0800 35 44 48

United Travel can offer a 12-day Classic Antarctica adventure cruise including international airfares from $9389 per person departing Ushuaia on November 19. Contact United Travel 0800 730 830.

House of Travel offers Antarctic cruises with Peregrine Adventures ranging from 10 to 19 nights in duration. Cruises start from $6224 per person sharing a triple cabin. Return flights start from $2139 plus taxes per person on Aerolineas Argentinas. Contact House of Travel on 0800 838 747.

Intrepid Travel offers 10-day voyages on the purpose-built Explorer ex-Ushuaia for from $4005 plus a local payment of US$300. See your travel agent or visit the website.

- INDEPENDENT