It was about 10 hours into our voyage through the churning Drake Passage when I realised that I was experiencing a peculiar type of cabin fever. Sailing aboard the Viking Cruises’ ship Viking Octantis, we were a quarter of the way through the notoriously temperamental channel that connects the southern tip of Argentina to the immensity of Antarctica. Cruise-ship passengers on this route typically encounter “Drake Lake” or “Drake Shake” conditions; we were enduring the latter.
As 45-knot (50mph) winds shunted us, 16ft waves smashed against the ship like juggernauts. Pinned to my bed as the horizon trampolined outside, my brain had landed on a helpful dissociative tactic. I had become philosophical. I decided I wanted and needed this experience. Antarctica is somewhere few will encounter. I’d have felt undeserving if getting there was easy; this was the penance owed for the rewards to come.
