3/16/2016 – Political Animals

3/16/2016

Kevin’s Log Supplemental – 5:07 AM

There was an incident with a passenger. Not a major one; no fisticuffs or anything like that, but I had an encounter with a passenger that once again soured me a bit on people. I’ve been struggling with including the description of WWD (what went down) and I may or may not eventually get to that point. But for now I’ll just write that I’m shocked that this person hasn’t yet discovered the universe is bigger than just one person, that it does NOT in fact revolve around her. I would hope that coming to Antarctica might have given her perspective. Instead she remained steadfast that everyone else should bow to her whims and accommodate her demands because, ya know, she’s the dark soul sucking center of all things.

I should have confronted her, telling her if she wanted things that way she could pay the monetary price differential to me and Meg and everyone else on the boat so that she was master and commander of all things ship since she now owned the thing. But to keep the peace and avoid unpleasantness for the next four days, I’ll no doubt cave to her demands and avoid her whenever possible. I’ve met a lot of this person over the years. Not this specific woman per se as I only just met her a few days ago, but this type of person. The arrogance, selfishness, and inability to see beyond themselves is the definition of ugly American, of haughty false-sense-of-entitlement. And far too many times I capitulate and walk away to avoid having to deal with him or her for very long. There’s too much negativity and bad mojo in such things and life is too short to be embroiled in their ugly drama. And so she will get her way, as those types of people often do, because all too often we do walk away. Who was it that said all it takes for evil to succeed is for good people to do nothing? Churchill? Shakespeare? Margaret Mead? Or is Mead the “all it takes to change the world is a few dedicated individuals” quote I’ve just butchered and cut out its poetry?

This all makes me sound new age guru-y. I swear when I first woke up this morning at 4:15 AM, unable to get back to sleep, this all sounded so much better in my head. Why is it that we can think of the perfect thing to say in our head, be it to a self-centered bully or in prose for a soon-to-be-composed Microsoft Word document, but when it comes time to put those thoughts into communication, it all goes flat and flaccid? The dream and the ephemeral quality of creation never quite get captured when made concrete or real.

In any case, after uploading a few photos to the shared passenger hard drive for an eventual slideshow celebration at cruise’s end, I had an epiphany. I’m going to try and cast out the devil I have known too many times, and in too many iterations, over the years. And I’m not going to waste time dealing with her. If she hasn’t learned that there are other people on the planet and she is not the alpha and omega but merely a part of a larger (and greater) community of equally interesting and worthy individuals, I’m not going to be able to convince her that she’s being a witch in the next four days.

So instead, I thought I’d take a page from fellow passenger Joanne Follett. She was so sweet to stop Meg, Me, and Gert at lunch one day to tell us face-to-face how nice and supportive we were. It was a genuine moment and one I thought, gosh, would that there were more people who took the time to do that. Thanks for that, Joanne!

There are a lot of great people on this boat, passengers and crew, and I need to remember that. Like a bizarre world fellow big fat dude in a red coat on the opposite pole, I’m making a list and checking it twice. And thus, I thought I’d include a partial list of great people on this cruise (and I must underscore this – due to time and space and photo ops, many wonderful people won’t appear on this list. They’re still awesome and I enjoyed chatting/running/cruising with them. I just didn’t get a chance to tell them face-to-face. That’s my shortcoming, not theirs!)

I’m going to start with Joanne since she was the one who first got me thinking of doing this. She’s a high school Spanish teacher and Meg and I met her actually on our Marathon Tours trip to Rio. Vibrant and talkative, she’s always got a story or a bit of positivity to add. Side story: she was a student in Buenos Aires a few years back so she got to re-create a few photos several years removed. She hasn’t aged a day as far as I could tell when she pulled them up side-by-side on her purple iPad. She also got some great photos along the Antarctica Marathon course and I asked her if I could include a few here.

Joanne

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Karen and Mark Bras live in Celebration, FL, but I first met them on my aborted Australian Outback Marathon last year. We shared a bag of chips in the Ayer’s Rock airport on the flight out and they’re just lovely, warm people. I knew they were coming on this trip and it’s been a real joy catching up with them and chatting about our adventures. It also looks like I’ll get to see them officially finish their Seven Continents Quest at Easter Island.

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John Wilson and Stephanie Crafford are Canadian and share that wonderful Northern sense of humor that has come to dominate American comedy. He set me along a goal early in the trip to swap our 10 best photos at journey’s end and it’s been funny seeing them around the ship and jokingly talking about whether a moment snapped was “one of the 10.”

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Vernon Chapman is an incredible runner – he flew through the Marathon course. He’s also just a good guy, fun to talk with, and unlike some great runners can talk about things other than running (that’s not a diss to anyone in particular on this trip, mind you. But every so often you meet a runner who can’t talk about anything besides their expertise in running. And even those types generate good memories – just look at Brock!) Two of my favorite quick details about Vernon, 1) his now failed plan to skip the email package because his family “knew where he was” (I think he made it 12 hours before buying the package to talk to his wife and kids). 2) Each night he’d finish dinner and say, “Well, I’m off to my iPad for tonight’s movie!” and it would be an Oscar nominated movie he was trying to catch up on. The funniest one was during the Drake Passage swells he went to watch In The Heart of the Sea (2015), the movie about the inspiration for Moby Dick whalers.

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Matt Thomas is also an incredible runner and was Vernon’s roommate. They hadn’t met prior to the event but reminded me of the college suitemates situation from UNC – neighbors to me that I just was happy to see and hang out with. Matt caught up with me on Almirante Brown and asked me if I was doing the polar plunge. I must have said something Coach Taylor-ish inspirational because he said my pep talk convinced him to do it. I *think* that’s a good thing. I’ll let you know when we confirm I have made it out of the freezing waters and this all isn’t some fever dream mental construct of what life would have been like had I not died the Antarctica Ocean. Matt’s another one that you were just glad to see about the ship and in the dining room. His wife starred in a play over the summer and so Matt was on full time dad duty to his 7, 5, and 2 year olds. As a result, he bargained her taking full-Mom duty for this trip.

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Chris and Jenny – These two world travelers had amazing stories. Chris is a running streak runner, having put in at least a mile every day for over 4 and a half years. Four and a half years! That’s astonishing. A great side story I got out of him was that he used to be a bouncer in college and one year at the New Year’s Day polar plunge into Lake Michigan, he and his bouncer cohorts all finished their shift and went to the plunge in their company mandated NYE tuxedoes to take the plunge and make the news. The thought of this chiseled guy in a tux jumping into frozen waters makes me laugh.

Jenny is a police officer and as a result has stories galore. She had tweaked her back taking down a 300 pound female suspect and so said she was struggling a bit now and again. I never saw it – she was always game for anything so far as I could tell. When I took the polar plunge, she said she’d never heard me swear. And then she heard me swear quite a lot! She said as I emerged from the water, within 2 minutes I had said more curse words than the swarthiest of Russian sailors. I don’t know about that – I’ve blacked out most of the details post-plunge save for shivering and a few struggles back to the ship. I do know she told me she brought a leopard print bikini to take the plunge and I thought that was the right amount of crazy for the event. Good on you, Jenny!

Tina Matejka is an HR specialist who overcame a fear of water to sail to Antarctica. She was positive and upbeat and was doing this amazing thing for herself. She’s going to incorporate what she has learned about herself and the drive to succeed by sharing her story, a story that will pay inspirational dividends for years to come. She also sponsored the Mile 10 marker which was a good solid number choice.

Chris, Jenny, Tina, Meg, Me
Chris, Jenny, Tina, Meg, Me

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Gert was running to raise money for rebuilding a school in Nepal damaged by the earthquake last year. He also was finishing up his Seventh Continent. A charming guy, full of fascinating life stories, he would graciously listen to my ramblings and only occasionally remind me I was speaking to quickly. I have a tendency to do that – to rush through statements and questions as I strive to fill any quiet space with the sound of my own voice. At some point, he bought a bottle of house red to share with Meg and me and the rest of our table. Gregarious and supportive, he was another of those “man, I’m glad I’m cruising with you” types.

Note: Meg has a much better photo with Gert but I can’t for the life of me find it.

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Mark sat next to me on the flight to Ushuaia. He’s a radiologist in Kansas City, MO, who also has his own twenty head cattle ranch. An incredibly nice guy, he reminds me a little of one of the cowboys from The Amazing Race – just an inherently likeable, super competent guy who always seems to be smiling and having a good time. He said setting up the radiology practice for his absence was easy but the ranch was a lot harder to leave behind. The funniest story I heard from him is that he can’t wait for his 17-year-old son to help a cow give birth as he knows his kid is terrified. I told him I’d be terrified and the one experience I had trying to milk a cow at a county fair in North Carolina was an unmitigated disaster.

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I honestly can’t tell if Gary and Gabe knew each other before this trip or just became fast friends on board. They seemed like classic friends (I’m pretty sure I’ve previously mentioned that I’m trying to change the phrase “old friends” to “classic friends” because true friends never get old). In any case, they’re Canadian. Gabe is a travel writer and was always ducking into a well-lit corner or the lobby to tap out what I can safely assume was a witty, concise take on what was happening on this trip. Gary was always up for an adventure and he and his partner during the kayak paddle moved through the water like they were gliding. Again, not sure if they knew each other before the paddle, or if Gary is just one of these people that makes you feel like you’ve known each other for years.

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I’ve often said how happy I was to see Jacqui was one of our Marathon Tours contacts onboard. She’s a runner and an all-around amazing woman who understands both the marathon aspect and the adventures aspect. This was her first time to Antarctica, despite having been with the company since 1990. The cold and the confines of the ship had held her back but the beauty of Antarctica won her over. Plus, she needed to be able to tell people about the trip. Her camera unfortunately got soaked during the marathon, where she you may recall, was a cheering turnaround captain and one of the angels at the end of the race for me. She wasn’t going to go out on the zodiac cruises as water wasn’t her thing and without a camera she saw no need to go. I had a spare camera specifically in case one got wrecked during the race and gave it to her; Meg gave her an empty memory card. As a result, she was able to zip around like us, madly snapping photos trying to capture a little of the Antarctic magic. Sometimes things do work out.

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Again, there are many other wonderful people I met on the cruise. Maybe at a later time I’ll add to this list, especially once I have some time to sort through the huge number of photos I took. I’ll no doubt come across some folks and think, “Hey! Those people were awesome!”

But no list of this trip’s great traveling companions would be complete without Meg Sheehan. She is and always will be one of my favorites in this world. Though she describes herself as an Extroverted Introvert, she always seems to me to be off for an adventure. And unlike me, she’s WAY better at remembering people’s names and little details. She’s saved my life more times than I can count; she’s saved me from myself in all things except the polar plunge. Cooler heads (or would it be warmer heads?) would have pulled us both aside on the rocky shore and said, “we could die from this… the risks are higher than ‘minimal’… this is a bad, bad idea… in fact, this is a series of bad ideas. We could stop before putting on bathing suits under our layers; we could have declined to get on the zodiac; we could have declined to get out of the zodiac; we could have not crossed that deteriorating bridge; we could have decided not to climb down those slippery rocks that were above the water and should have been an indication of how slippery the rocks below the surface would be; we could have kept our clothes on; even at water’s edge, we could look down into the cold abyss of water and just, ya know, NOT JUMP.” Instead, we jumped. Would that we could always do stupid things with someone we know and trust. If you have to go, go with a classic friend, a person you’d do anything for. These types are rare and should not be taken for granted or lost in the seas of time and space. We’re lucky to meet people who are good; we are even luckier when we meet such people and get to spend some of our lives with them.

I’m lucky to know you, Meg. You’re amazing.

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Kevin’s Log – Supplemental – 8:18 AM

I’m layering up for my last zodiac ride of the trip. I can’t believe I’m typing that. It’s been both a very long time away already and a whirlwind of snapshots of memories – some indelible and some already sadly forgotten, replaced by new spectacular ones. There is no way to take it all in, no way to process it in the timeframe allotted. So I’m just trying to enjoy what I can.

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Kevin’s Log – Supplemental – 11:35 AM

Just before heading to the Mud Room to prep my PFD and rubber boots, I wandered to the top deck to get a sense of what we’d be seeing onshore. Climbing the ladder, this vista greeted me:

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It was humbling to say the least.

Meg and I once again got an early Zodiac over to shore. Neko Harbour is essentially ringed by glaciers and as we were pulling into land, the large blue glacier calved. The cracking echo continued and I happened to be looking at just the right angle to see a small chunk of ice plummet into the water. Wandering the beach, Gentoo penguins rush about on their penguin highways. Along the water’s edge, the brash ice flowed slowly along, the winds strong enough to carry it toward the harbor’s shoreline. It was hypnotic to watch, the ice, the anchored zodiacs and on the horizon the Ioffe, undergoing final preparations for the return crossing of the Drake Passage.

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There was an opportunity to hike up the hillside to a vantage point overlooking the harbor and various glaciers. The excursion guides warned us it was slippery and that folks should feel free to do it but turn back when each person hit their danger limit. Meg and I exchanged a glance and silently agreed we had already done the stupidest thing we’d ever done at the polar plunge yesterday; we opted not to climb.

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Instead, we just savored the quiet of the last bit of Antarctic land we’d set foot on.

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Strong winds and rougher weather were rolling in, such that the plan to return to King George’s Island pick up the abandoned rented ATVs was canceled by the captain and he ordered us to head North. I wonder if Thom paid for a one-way rental from the counter at Ushuaia to the shores of King George’s Island. That or he can drop off the keys – if he rented for Enterprise would they pick them up there? Things I need to eventually ask Jacqui about.

I came across Jacqui wandering the shores, trying to capture her one perfect penguin picture. She said in another life she thinks she would dream of being a wildlife photographer. She said her home is decorated to absurdity with shots she’s taken over the years, so much so that her son says it’s gotten out of hand. Still, the perfect penguin photo is her quest for this trip, amongst the desire to snap photos to show clients/friends interested in this adventure. She was unnecessarily thankful for the spare camera I gave her. It was an easy thing for me to do, serendipitous, and when you can do something nice for someone and they appreciate it, it makes the world a little better.

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I became obsessed with one penguin I spotted that due to his molting looked like he was sporting a toupee. As dangerous haphazard as a Hollywood paparazzo, I stalked this penguin, snapping photos left, right, center, askew, and bursting. I christened the penguin a Toupeed Penguin (is that a species? If not, somebody suggested I should just bluff my way into its existence). I then decided he was more than just a toupeed penguin, he was the Donald Trump of toupeed penguins. And after all that, here’s his penguin presidential campaign poster:

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Earlier, we thought we must have been on shore for two hours… but it had only been a little over an hour. Now, after a lot more photos and a bit more contemplation, it had been close to two hours since we’d come ashore. The winds were picking up, and the rain was falling ever harder. Meg and I once again exchanged silent glances. We looked about one final time while on land. Antarctica. The last place on earth. And we were standing there, amidst ice, penguins, seals, and skua. We were fortunate enough to be here. We took a deep breath and donned our PFDs for the zodiac ride back to the Ioffe, there to be taken North, back to reality.

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But there was one final trick up the Antarctica Zodiac sleeve. So much ice had blown into the Harbour that the gangway couldn’t be lowered and the Zodiac couldn’t pull alongside the ship. We circled in a holding pattern as the Ioffe’s engines spun up and the ship steamed out of the ice and into open waters, farther and farther from land. Once clear, the Ioffe lowered its gangway and we zipped along the water to catch the retreating vessel. Thomas, our driver, pulled us alongside but as they made ready to tie the boat off, he forgot to release the throttle and we zoomed past the gangway. I’m convinced had I not leaned forward at that exact moment that my left arm gripping the pontoon’s rope handle would have banged the metal stairs and done some serious damage. As with all of the adventure elements of this tour, you never really know how dangerous things are versus how they appear to you.

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Eventually we did get to the gangway and reboard the Ioffe. My fingers were frozen stiff once more (what’s that? Four times this trip? Five? I’ve lost count as, you know, I don’t have that many fingers working to count…). I doused them under hot water in the shared bathroom and solely once again tried to regain feeling. Such was the recurrent story of my excursions to Antarctica.

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Kevin’s Log – Supplemental – 1:40 PM

Lunch was a surprisingly high school cafeteria burger bar – veggie or chicken burger. My charred veggie burger tasted more of nothing than anything and those that had the chicken patty said it was good but did not in any way shape or form resemble chicken. All I could think of was the classic food bit when tasting something for the first time: “Hmmmm… tastes like chicken.” Except in this case, the chicken did NOT taste like chicken. Russian chicken patties perhaps taste differently?

I wanted to add in two brief notes on dessert. It’s too much and always the highlight of any meal. The pastry chef on board we were told isn’t officially a pastry chef. She was a really good cook and told to just make what she’d make at home. If these desserts are any indication of what she makes at home – hoo, nelly. I can only imagine. If I ate these desserts all the time, I’d need to double my marathoning to limit my weight gain to “ballooning” versus “catastrophic.” Delicious but dangerous is how I’d describe her tasty treats.

Secondly, I’m not the only one to feel this way. There is an electricity in the air as dessert approaches during any meal. Typically, Cheryl our cruise director makes an announcement over a portable PA system to let us know what has happened and what will be happening this day. Only after these important messages is dessert unveiled. The kitchen staff are clearly Russian and despite my best efforts to say “спасибо [pronounced spa-SI-ba]” have yielded only occasional smiles and acknowledgments. I don’t know if they’ve been told not to engage with guests due to language barriers or if I’m just saying it wrong. Maybe what I’m saying in Russian is actually, “I hate this.” I hope not.

Anyway, the point I wanted to make about dessert is that the staff have grown to recognize the feeding frenzy that occurs when dessert is brought up. It’s like tossing meat to caged alligators. As soon as dessert brought out, a mad dash to line up follows. You know that scene in Oliver!, the famous one with “Please, sir… can I have some more?” It’s like that only imagine a marauding pack of velociraptors tearing into their prey. I’m a little embarrassed to see it and a lot embarrassed to admit I’m often a party to it. But after a few days of this, the staff has taken to wheeling the dessert out and fleeing the scene, like extras in Hitchcock’s The Birds, arms akimbo, desperate to escape. Again, sad but also kinda funny.

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Kevin’s Log Supplemental – 2:51 PM

The ship is riding at a high angle, tilted like a funhouse floor. Winds are at 40 knots and we’re on course for a tough Drake Passage crossing. I’ve taken Dramamine. The voyage home begins at 5 o’clock but I’m already feeling the seas… and I’m not alone.

We stumble through the hallways, listing to one side, trying to compensate for the ship’s pitch. But it’s going… hilariously poorly. Fingers crossed it remains funny and seasickness stays at bay.