The Southernmost World: Antarctica

Photography by Yu Tai

Text by Yu Tai

This was a long journey planned in the heart for years.

Again and again, when everything far away, both familiar and unfamiliar, appeared in my dreams, I would wake in sweetness and excitement. At that point, could I still call it only a dream?

It was a summons to act.

I had added Lan Xi on WeChat long before the journey. Our occasional consultations were put on hold by the pandemic, and through those three unforgettable years, the farthest and most sacred place became the most unreachable dream.

In my mind, Antarctica was the purest land: intimate, natural and without affectation. Every time I touched that dream, every time I realized how much I did not know, something heavy rose inside me, even a kind of guilt. That guilt made the courage to travel shrink smaller and smaller. Many times, because the place was too far away and too unclear, the dream dissolved little by little, vanishing rudely with sweat. Many other times, after watching a few minutes of videos and images of Antarctica, my passion seemed to lose its strength. Desire and anxiety multiplied through the long wait, yet that distant call somehow became the final place where my heart insisted on staying.

After years of circling back to the same dream, it felt like an overfilled balloon about to burst.

When my feet finally moved in that direction, there was no cheering or jumping. Instead, in a deep quiet, I raised my camera with all my strength and let composition, color and content enter the frame one by one. I wanted to gather everything greedily into my own keeping.

This was the gift I gave myself as I stepped into the age of 64.

As the plane passed from one night into another, light was already waiting ahead. The sun was still as fresh as ever, but the glaciers and ocean before me carried new meaning, like the years that had already passed.

Those years had settled into layers: thousands of years, hundreds of years, gathering all the world's changes and sorrows. Hardship, frustration and pain would eventually become the strongest places inside us.

The window I had longed for was now truly open. I did not want to speak of the thirst that time had once left in me, nor of scenery as poetry or painting. I only wanted to look with clear eyes and tell the story of this land.

Within sight, time seemed frozen. Everything was fixed in place. As someone from northern China, I have seen snow all my life, but the snow and ice here still stunned me. It was all cleanliness, all pure blue, completely different from the white world between northern sky and earth. Here were blue sea, blue sky, blue ice, charming penguins and a line of green figures. They washed away a year's worth of exhaustion.

At sunset, we met a rare and unforgettable glow. The horizon, resting below distant icebergs, was lifted by a layer of clouds stained orange. It was so special, so dazzling, so moving. Standing on deck and dancing with the wind, I felt a coolness that pleased both body and heart.

Inside the window was the dome observation lounge, where piano music appeared at just the right moment. It was an almost unreal space, one I could never reach in ordinary life. In that instant, I felt as though I had entered a virtual world. With every note, in the afterglow of sunset and with the movement of the sea, all imagination was suddenly emptied out. I was almost possessed by the brilliant light, completing a cinematic purification of the soul. Perhaps that is what people call a summit of life. In that romance at the end of the world, familiar and unfamiliar friends quickly came together, greeting one another simply: hello.

Yes. Who could rehearse in advance the people and surprises one might meet at the end of the world? Who could have imagined that on this clean land, a unique landscape could heal a lifetime of weathering?

When the heart reaches the scenery it has long wanted, phrases such as "mountains and rivers" or "picturesque landscape" become pale. Once the heart enters a place even the soul cannot fully reach, silence says more than description.

There is no noise or bustle in Antarctica. Here I found a world of peace and beauty. It touched the spring water in my heart. I felt less like a visitor than someone coming home, because everything in Antarctica seemed able to awaken feeling, release what had been knotted inside and break open a heart longing for belonging.

It was my first visit, yet it felt like a return.

Antarctica had become an old friend. I stood at the door and knocked gently. The sunlight was still there. You were still there.

Antarctica: the Newayer part

Someone once said that apart from the place where they lived, they had never set foot anywhere else. Hearing that gave me a faint ache.

At some point, I became aware of the awkwardness of age. Going out into the world had become a knot in my heart. Antarctica had become a stormy sea inside me. Struggling with that desire made me realize clearly that travel itself could be a kind of rescue. So Newayer, along with several other companies offering Antarctica trips, became the boats that might ferry me across. After repeated comparisons of price, reputation and after-sales support, I finally chose Newayer. Facts proved that I had made the right choice.

I do not speak English, so I relied on the tour leader for the ordinary details of the journey.

After I told Lan Xi from Newayer what I needed, I did not expect that at Beijing Airport, Newayer leader Wang Miao would make me feel the kind of care usually given to someone who needs protection. For someone like me, who had spent six consecutive years crossing remote areas in China, it felt almost as if my wings had been trimmed.

At first, I was not used to being looked after. It blurred the line between imagination and reality. My feelings were complicated. Surrounded by English words and unfamiliar voices, I moved as if in a haze, like a bewildered child, following the group closely and not daring to fall behind.

By the time the plane landed in Paris, the spirit of the group had already taken shape: joyful, easy, trusting and warm. Quietly, I was glad that I had chosen correctly.

Walking through Buenos Aires, the capital of Argentina, the foreign scenery brightened my eyes. Having grown accustomed to Chinese architecture, I found something fresh in my field of vision. I love my country and do not worship the foreign, but appreciation needs truth. This city was the real starting point of our Antarctica journey. Although I knew where the journey would end, my heart still flew like that of a young person. The freedom of a vast world and the streets of a foreign city unfolded before me like a scroll.

That day's sightseeing included Plaza de Mayo, the colorful La Boca district, the world's most beautiful bookstore, the famous Teatro Colon and the well-known cemetery in Argentina.

In that way, we walked through a good part of the capital. Newayer arranged the day tightly. Even though it was a quick overview, intangible impressions still settled in the heart. As I watched, joy gradually rose, and at that moment I seemed to feel the true weight of travel.

The service along the way was excellent. I am not someone who nitpicks, and for a traveler who had often endured rough outdoor conditions, this level of service already felt very high. Please forgive my limited experience.

When the plane landed in Ushuaia, enthusiasm suddenly rose to another level, and longing expanded with it. We were going to board here, cross the Drake Passage and realize the dream of setting foot on the Antarctic Peninsula.

There was still some time before boarding, and Newayer arranged for us to visit Tierra del Fuego National Park. We saw the world's southernmost post office, reached the end-of-the-world photo point, bought postcards and walked around the town of Ushuaia. None of it felt quite real. That instant happiness belonged entirely to the act of moving forward.

With such a good beginning, the following days on the ship carried no burden and no fear. Online descriptions had made the Drake Passage sound violent and merciless, but our own crossing ended in calm seas. Before we had time to feel tragic or wait for fierce waves, we had passed through safely.

All of us were extremely lucky.

I still remember Mr. Zhao saying that he had wanted to experience big waves and a pitching ship. Unfortunately, the Drake Passage did not give him the chance.

I am not writing an advertisement, but I still want to praise Newayer's service: it was thoughtful.

They celebrated guests' birthdays.

They made dumplings for the Lunar New Year.

We held our own Spring Festival gala.

There was much more, too much to list.

Boarding at the port of Ushuaia, the sky was utterly clear. The moored ship, the wide waters and the town at the foot of the mountains all waited inside a strong current of joy, lifting interest steadily with every step. After putting down my luggage, I rushed straight to the deck. It felt as though all of heaven and earth was flowing with an eye-catching blue. In the distance, a red ship teased and seized the eye. In all that blue, the red point could not escape attention. I kept pressing the shutter on my phone, excitedly gathering everything before me into my desire.

From the moment we boarded, the Antarctica I had dreamed of truly began to appear. A real Antarctica journey, imagined thousands of times, had become much clearer. The warmth on board made me feel welcome. Though language was a barrier, it did not prevent greetings and kindness.

This was a five-star ship, with 133 crew members serving us from more than twenty countries. To have boarded was to become part of this temporary circle of fate.

Everything on board felt new to me. I had taken ships before, but World Traveller felt different. In the corridors there was always a faint plant-like fragrance, never sharp, only a soft trace that calmed the mind.

I have a habit: whenever I enter a new environment, I quickly learn it. Fire exits and safety doors are the first things I must understand. So I moved up and down, level by level, and in less than half an hour I had learned the passageways and doors.

I was fortunate to share a room with a young woman from Beijing. The room was small but refined. Small as it was, it had everything we needed and did not affect our rest at all. The hygiene was excellent. The clean surroundings made someone as casual as me feel almost restrained.

As the journey continued, warmth accompanied us all the way. The most pleasing thing was the unity of people and scenery. Standing on deck, with a cool breeze and the faint scent of the sea in my nose, I looked toward the distant sky and felt as if I had entered an unreal world.

The first night on board was extraordinarily romantic. Fine food and piano music accompanied us into our first sunset at sea.

Only then did I understand how unbelievable a night of just four hours could be. There was no thick black curtain, no full sky of stars, no heavy darkness. Everything was exciting, everything stirred imagination.

I do not know how that first night passed, nor when the ship slipped into the Drake Passage.

In my excitement, I waited for sunset and sunrise, because in my imagination, the Drake Passage must have its own special sunsets and sunrises.

When the second day opened, activities sprang up one after another. Life on the ship was rich and varied: lectures, events, different programs, luxurious and nutritious meals three times a day. We enjoyed five-star service.

Each day moved between anticipation and excitement. The luxurious and comfortable journey made every traveler forget fatigue and the discomfort of drifting at sea. After the excitement, I slept deeply, dreamless and worry-free. The night was short, but waking felt like returning from another world. Each day, I lifted the curtain to look at the sky and the sea. I had brought two books but never opened them, because I wanted to enjoy this leisurely life and remind myself that I was no longer young.

People asked whether I got seasick. To be honest, a few people did feel sick and vomited, but my own discomfort passed quickly and did not affect my lively state.

I would often ask for a cup of coffee and pretend to be deep in thought. In truth, the waves inside my heart were so vast that I felt transformed by temptation itself.

Route:

We departed from Beijing and transferred in Paris.

From Paris we flew to Buenos Aires, the capital of Argentina.

After spending a day there, we flew to Ushuaia and visited Tierra del Fuego National Park.

From Ushuaia, we boarded the ship and spent two days crossing the Drake Passage.

We made five landings and visited China's Great Wall Station in Antarctica.

Finally, we reached King George Island and flew to Punta Arenas in Chile, then onward to the Chilean capital.

From there, we returned by way of Chile, the Netherlands and Beijing.