When my last post ended we were just about to end our time in Buenos Aires and head down to Ushuaia, the most southern city in the world, also the location of the port where we’d board our ship, The Ocean Victory, which would take us to Antarctica.

All things considered the morning of our departure went smoothly, we were up very early and since we were all still fairly new to each other, the conversations hovered mostly around running, races, and travels. We checked in our bags, mindful of weight restrictions, and headed to our chartered jet (perfectly adorned with a penguin on the back) and set off for the southern tip of South America.

Entering the Tierra del Fuego

As we began our decent into Ushuaia, we peered out the window at the stunning mountains, noticing how quickly we seemed to be approaching the city below. A thin layer of clouds hovered in the valley and we sunk through them only to be immediately greeted with the airport runway practically touching the wheels, we veered right back up into the sky and a nervous hush fell. The pilot apologised for the aborted landing and blamed it on low visibility and then we circled back around and tried again, this time landing without issue. Perhaps it was a sign of some tricky times to come.

We were greeted by the first voyage of runners as we exited the plane, waving enthusiastically through the departure gate glass as we made our way to baggage claim. We waited, and waited, and some of us waited some more. That’s when we were told that over 30 bags never actually made it onto the plane and that, hopefully, they’d be arriving throughout the day to meet us on the ship. Nervous, but confident it would be ok, I boarded the bus to Ushuaia, slightly relieved that we’d have a bit more time to explore this quirky little place.

It is a quintessential tourist town, focusing a lot of its marketing on being the gateway to the Antarctic as well as the stunning natural beauty of the region. There is beautiful street art, quirky cafes, a lot of silly tourist stuff, and lots of nods to the city’s history of being the site of a historic prison. I wandered through the small streets for a short time, picking up some postcards, a few stickers, some snacks and taking some photos before making my way back to the bus that would take us to the port so we could board the ship and start our journey.

Boarding the Ocean Victory

We were greeted by the ship’s staff, a warm welcome from the expedition crews and from the team at Marathon Tours & Travel and given a quick walk through before being taken to our rooms. My stateroom, located on the 6th floor had a large balcony, a comfortable double bed, and felt like a cozy space to spend the next 10 days! We regrouped in the main lecture theatre to practice a safety drill with our lifejackets, and to have a quick debrief, finding out that we’d be spending a bit more time in port than we’d though as many of the suitcases were still on route and wouldn’t make it until closer to midnight. Mine, unfortunately, was one of those unaccounted for.

While some people opted to leave the ship and wander back into Ushuaia for more exploring, I decided to stay put and explore the ship and take some photos before dinner. It gave me a bit more time to mentally prepare for the trip ahead, for two days of sailing and then the marathon itself, only days away now.

After the sun dipped below the mountains and the colourful lights of Ushuaia flickered on, the remaining 10 of us without bags sat in the lounge. Fingers crossed we’d be reunited with our luggage and that we’d be able to set sail without too much of a delay. Already, we were several hours late. Thankfully, just after 10pm, a bus arrived and I watched as my bright green suitcase rolled up the gangway and I was able to unpack and breathe a sigh of relief, ready for bed and ready for the next stage of the adventure.

Life On The Ship

Unfortunately for 2 runners, their bags wouldn’t be making it onto the ship. The true community spirit of runners pulled through and we quickly amassed a collection bin filled with extra clothing and everything they’d need to be comfortable over the next 10 days.

I woke up several hours later, a soft knocking of the hangers against my closet door. We were gently rocking back and forth. We had set sail in the middle of the night and the waves were welcoming us to the Drake Passage. It was comforting, for now, to feel the subtle rocking as I slept. For many though, that feeling would quickly turn into something much more difficult to manage.

In between lessons on the Antarctic birds we’d be encountering, how to interpret the weather maps (and how bad the sailing could potentially be) and some photography tips from the on-board photographer, we started to get to know each other. It was really comforting to hear so many stories from people, how they overcame challenges to get there, how they’ve raced in races around the world and how this was a bucket list adventure for them too.

As we built quick friendships, some were sidelined by the increasing waves of the Drake Passage, and I must admit that while I didn’t feel seasick, it was a difficult sensation to ignore, the feeling of constant bobbing up and down and rocking side to side. It became a familiar sight to see sick bags laid out and ready around every corner. I made a habit of sipping on peppermint tea and trying not to look out the windows.

But, after two days of sailing, we started to see land in the setting sun. Mountains and glaciers in the distance, welcoming us to the Antarctic Peninsula and the impending Antarctica Marathon. Just as we’d scheduled, on March 19th, we’d be setting foot on King George Island, ready to run the 42.2km in this otherworldly place