In 2015, professional photographer Clemens Kok signed up for a cruise to Antarctica and South Georgia on the "Europa". Read his report from that trip here:
Clemens Kok in 2015:
Nature brings comfort. At least that's what I hope. Nine months after the death of my wife Nella, I want to go somewhere where the origin of life can still be felt. Over the past 30 years, we have sailed around 100,000 nautical miles together on our own yachts. Now I have booked a berth on board the Dutch charter ship "Europa", the only windjammer that goes on expeditions worldwide. I want to get away from it all. Literally.
In the last decade, the former German lightship has sailed around the world four times, and every year from November to January, the "Europa" undertakes three-week voyages from Tierra del Fuego to Antarctica.
On arrival by plane, I had already seen the barque lying in the depths of the Beagle Channel at the pier in Ushuaia. The town resembles a mountain village that has slipped down to sea level, surrounded by the jagged peaks of Monte Martial.
It goes on board
I board the ship via the gangway. The ship is to be my home for two months. I shake hands with 35 people from nine different countries. How am I supposed to remember all their names? Then I look up at the three imposing masts, the rigging, the 100 ropes, the 200 or so nails, the ten yards.
Captain Klaas Gaastra welcomes us in English and introduces the ship. He emphasises emphatically that the "Europa" is not a cruise ship. Everyone joins in as best they can: We take the helm and lookout, lend a hand with the sailing manoeuvres, and those who feel up to it climb up into the rigging. The trainees are literally thrown together, divided into three watches that rotate around the clock.
They will be accompanied by a crew of 15 and two expedition leaders. This longer two-month voyage, which will not only take you to the Antarctic ice, but also to South Georgia, is not fully booked. So instead of 48 paying guests, there are only 20. Luckily, I think to myself, otherwise it would have been very tight.
While the ship covers the first few nautical miles through the narrow fjords of Patagonia, I make the acquaintance of the other trainees. Although they are between 18 and 72 years old, they all have one thing in common: their love of sailing and the sea. While some of the younger ones have been saving up for this trip for a long time, many of the older ones are fulfilling a dream that they never had room for in their professional lives.
We spend the first few days in the sheltered surroundings of the Beagle Channel. In the Drake Passage between Tierra del Fuego and the Antarctic Peninsula, one storm follows the next. 55 to 80 knots of wind, plus a swell of a good ten metres. Even lying at anchor in the channels, the movements of the "Europa" take some getting used to; seven fellow sailors get seasick. "Cape Horn is the place where the devil has done the most mischief," wrote Robert Mieth, captain of the "Pitlochry" in 1905. More than 800 wrecks from four centuries lie in the depths here, and over 10,000 sailors fell victim to the storms.
After three days of anxious glances at the weather fax, it suddenly starts. The professional crew set the sails, aligned the yards with the wind and raised the anchor. Very gradually, the bow of the "Europa" turns and the ship picks up speed. The journey begins.
Up into the yards
Before the heavy swell rolls towards us on the open sea, I want to get up into the masts. I grab a climbing harness with a powerful snap hook. Climbing up is surprisingly easy, only scaling the crow's nests causes a few difficulties at first.
Higher and higher we go, up to the third yard. From up there, the people on deck look like miniature dolls. I venture onto the thin steel wire, over which you can push yourself to the far end of the yard. Although the "Europa" barely overtakes, the ship's movements 30 metres above deck are enough to get your heart racing.
"Clemens, could you please loosen the gaskets?" the captain's voice suddenly comes up to me from below. Gaskets - what is that? And how am I supposed to do that? Luckily, Robbie from the crew comes to my aid and points to the toes that tie the sails together. Together we untie them, the cloth falls down and billows out quickly. The ship's movements increase immediately, so let's get down here!
Tough familiarisation
The first few days are cold and windy. Nevertheless, the trainees have to row. "Don't look at the compass too much," recommends Elliot, who is at my side: "Trust your instincts." The compass needle dances back and forth in the darkness, I turn the steering wheel in the other direction each time to stay on course. My eyes are watering from the cold and I curse my fogged-up glasses because I can barely make out the rudder angle display.
The voice of the first helmsman Ruud immediately comes from the wheelhouse: "Watch out, ten degrees off course!" I quickly turn the wheel to windward, a little too far, turn it back and then a little more until the compass needle shows the right course. "Spot on," says Elliot behind me, "you're a real natural. I can go and get a coffee in peace."
It says and is gone, leaving me standing at the wheel, puzzled. Once again, my heart is pounding in my throat. As a little boy, I often dreamt of being on a ship, in the dark of night, all alone at the helm. I would never have thought that this would one day come true, on a barque not far from Cape Horn.
During the day, I watch in fascination as majestic albatrosses fly past the ship without even flapping their wings. Marine biologist Juls tells us that the largest specimens have a wingspan of up to three and a half metres. "Albatross parents sometimes fly up to 15,000 kilometres across the ocean to provide their chick with a single meal," says Juls.
Danger of growlers
"Ice floe at eleven o'clock!" The watch at the bow spots ice for the first time after four days in the Drake Passage. I ask the captain if you can see these growlers on the radar at night. "No," he says, "too tiny."
From now on, everyone on board looks eagerly at the horizon whenever possible. Soon we are sailing in a sea full of chunks of ice, which gradually become larger and more massive. A lone iceberg with sharply notched sides floats in the distance like a huge broken tooth.
With the best aft wind, the "Europa" sails between all the chunks of ice. Their undersides are bright white and light blue, the topsides polished by the wind and swell like Swarovski crystals.
Then land is in sight. The first mountain peaks of the South Shetlands appear, later followed by the snow-covered mountains of Antarctica, surrounded by a seemingly endless glacial landscape. The anchor is dropped in the Bay of Orne for the first landfall.
The first landfall
It is foggy and cold, but everyone is looking forward to setting foot on the Antarctic mainland. "You could walk to the South Pole from here," says on-board biologist Jordi. The Zodiacs land at a rocky plateau that is full of seals. After climbing a steep, snow-covered wall, a huge penguin colony comes into view. Out of thousands of young animals, the parents are only able to find their hungry offspring because of their cries. A crazy spectacle.
I'm on anchor watch at night, freezing in the icy cold while snowflakes dance through the air. The ship is lying to leeward of two islands in the Errera Channel, and the radar shows an iceberg, six metres high and 20 metres long, on a collision course. I call the skipper, but he's not worried. In the headlights, we watch as the monster, driven by the wind, approaches the ship, scrapes along the hull and finally disappears astern into the darkness of the night.
During the day, the mercury climbs to three degrees Celsius, with glorious sunshine and blue skies. We set course for the Graham Passage. This lies between Murray Island and the west coast of the Antarctic Peninsula. The surrounding landscape is uniquely beautiful, with 2500 metre high mountain peaks on both sides of the narrow waterway.
Elephant seals and all that ...
Deception Island is the next destination, a horseshoe-shaped volcanic island whose crater has exploded. This created a crater lake flooded by the sea.
On land, we discover the remains of a whaling station. Rusted tanks between dilapidated wooden houses spoil the landscape. But nature seems strong, reclaiming the land piece by piece. After all, it is far easier to land in this spot than in the bay of Hannah Point, which is battered by roaring surf.
Nevertheless, we also want to go on a discovery tour there, as the area is famous for its diverse wildlife. Elephant seals, macaroni penguins, gentoo penguins, striped penguins, leopard seals, fur seals and giant petrels all cavort close together. And at least the penguins are just as curious as we are. They approach us in groups of ten or twenty and patiently allow themselves to be photographed.
The mighty elephant seals are particularly impressive. When fully grown, they can easily weigh four to five tonnes. On land, they appear correspondingly cumbersome and can only move with difficulty. In the water, however, they are all the more manoeuvrable and fast.
Jordi tells how he once fitted an animal with a GPS transmitter for research purposes. It took five men to tame it, with the bravest one pulling a bag over the elephant seal's head. And while the others attached the transmitter to the fin, he sat on the animal's back like a rodeo horse.
On the trail of Shakleton
We continue sailing eastwards along the coast of Discovery Island. Here, too, the coast is mountainous and snow-covered. The crew and trainees are hard at work on board, hoisting the sails and bringing the jibs round to the other side. The ship heads crossways between the ice walls of the islands. "All hands on deck," the petite Frenchwoman Lucy, who is one of the regular crew, orders the crew to work on the sails. "Bream! Full and at it!" her voice rings out at a volume that at first glance you might not expect.
Next on the route to South Georgia is the uninhabited Elephant Island. It was here that Sir Ernest Shackleton's crew washed up in three lifeboats in the winter of 1915 after losing their expedition ship, the "Endurance". After a masterly feat of navigation, the polar explorer later reached South Georgia, where he called for help to rescue the remaining men who had been left behind on Elephant Island.
The "Europa" carefully approaches the coast. It passes between two icebergs a good hundred metres high. The pebble beach and the rocks with the bust of Captain Pardo are bordered on both sides by glacier tongues. The scout in the Zodiac ahead finally gives the thumbs up: "Landing permitted!
"You're lucky," grumbles the captain, "this is only the second time out of 14 attempts so far that it's worked." This time, too, he mistrusts the weather. Two hours must suffice for the shore leave.
800 nautical miles ahead
Heading north-east, we finally continue towards South Georgia. There are 800 nautical miles ahead - the distances in the Southern Ocean are enormous. It will not be an easy passage. During the first few days, the wind blows at 35 knots. At the helm, it feels as if the ship is about to sail a race: The windjammer ploughs through the choppy sea at twelve knots.
At some point, the weather calms down and the wind drops almost completely. All of a sudden, the sails hang limply from the yards. An unusual sight. The sound of the ship's diesel engine starting up is also unusual.
The first sailor to discover South Georgia was James Cook, who was in search of the unknown South Georgia at the time. He sailed along the coast and explored all the bays until, after 120 nautical miles, he realised that he had found an island. He did not hide his disappointment: he christened the last bay Disappointment Bay.
A bay for eternity
There, rugged, ice-covered mountains reach up to the sky, but at least the lower slopes are green. We land on Prion Island and observe a breeding colony of albatrosses. Six months earlier, Jordi had applied for a special permit. It's hard to believe how close we can get to the nesting birds; the parents don't care as long as we don't disturb their chicks.
At midday, the "Europa" is anchored at a place called Salisbury Plain: here, too, we come across huge colonies, this time of other seabirds, king penguins and seals.
A giant petrel pecks deep into the carcass of a sea lion with its beak, while two metres away a seal throws a pup. There are few places in the world where you are as close to the eternal life cycle of birth and death as here. At a beautiful spot, I leave a little of my wife's ashes, which I have taken with me on this journey.
Most of the crew head ashore to retrace the last section of the famous Shackleton route. Meanwhile, the "Europa" moves to the other side of the peninsula to Stromness, an old whaling station where the British explorer found help at the time. In Grytviken, a research station, the "Europa" moors at the quay. A tractor with a trailer brings 30 barrels of diesel. The fuel organised by the shipping company had arrived here six months earlier on a freighter, as there are no other bunkering options between Ushuaia and the Azores.
Meanwhile, the sailing guests visit a small museum and go to the grave of Shakleton, who died of a heart attack in this harbour of all places - just six years after his rescue voyage - and was buried here at his wife's request.
The conclusion
The journey continues. Cobblers Cove, Godthul and Ocean Harbour are on the programme. In Ocean Harbour lies the wreck of the "Bayard", a sister ship of the "Europa". Finally, Jordi has announced St Andrews Bay as the highlight. There, at the foot of the Allardyce Range with its countless glaciers, you will find such a fascinating landscape as you would otherwise only see in nature films.
When we finally get into the Zodiacs to return to the ship, the penguins don't want to leave us. Apparently, even for them, strangers visiting them is a rare and special event. Some of the animals follow us into the water, accompanying us through the surf almost to the anchorage.
It is a wonderful farewell to this magnificent natural spectacle. Tomorrow the compass needle will turn north-northeast, heading for Tristan da Cunha, 1400 miles ahead.
