A Relatively Calm Drake?

As with many Antarctic voyages, the first full day will always be spent sailing across the Drake Passage, which is the body of water between South America and the South Shetland Islands of Antarctica. Most travelers exploring an Antarctica trip know that the seas here can be quite fearsome, following a predictable pattern of unpredictability, which could have you sailing the Drake Lake (calm waters) the Drake Shake (turbulent seas) or more often than not something in between those two. During our briefing the night before we were warned of pretty rough seas as the ship would be skirting two fairly large storms in the Drake, which had us nervously excited about the start of the adventure. 

As I mentioned earlier, many Antarctica cruises will have you flying either one or both ways across the Drake, which is a great option for folks who are prone to seasickness, short on time, or perhaps a combination of both. However, I intentionally opted to cross the Drake as I felt like it was an essential part of the overall experience, not only amplifying the remoteness of the continent but also the sense of extremes and unpredictability. While I am a congenitally nervous person, I do have a pretty solid gut, so I went to bed that evening to the gentle rockings of the ship unconcerned about a potentially upset stomach. 

It was maybe around midnight when I woke up, feeling a motion that I had never really felt before that I would roughly equate to being in a washing machine on the spin cycle. The ship (and cabin) rocked not only side to side but also front to back as the bow slammed into (what I perceived to be) monster waves, causing the cabin to groan loudly. Out of curiosity and mild anxiety, I carefully got out of bed bracing myself against the tipping of the cabin to sneak a peek outside to see the rough storm that we were bravely sailing through. All I could gather from my windows was the blackness of the sea, but oh boy it really must be a tumultuous crossing. Wow! Here I was, crossing the Drake in the storm of storms, unsure of what the outcome would be. I laid back in bed, but was mostly unable to sleep from the stimulation of our pitching cabin, although my partner was snoozing comfortably the whole time. 
The next day I excitedly sought out a member of the expedition team to talk about what a rough crossing that must have been, and found the historian Craig. Barely able to contain myself, I asked him about how turbulent the seas were overnight to which he replied “Oh, I guess about a 3 out of 10?”. Sheepishly I excused myself, realizing that I both had no sea legs, and also a lack of appreciation for the power of the ocean….