Much anticipation brings all 95 passengers on deck as we approach the southernmost point on earth that one can reach by ship.
Fittingly it is cold, blowing snow as the unlikely shape of Scott’s hut comes into view. Just above it the Antarctic winds pummel the cross that was erected in memory of all those brave men who set out from here on expeditions to the South Pole, just a hundred years ago, many never to return home.
It is a spiritual journey to the end of the earth, cocooned in the warmth and comfort of our luxury ship. We board our rubber zodiacs to clamber ashore to get a small glimpse of their world watched by quizzical penguins. It is as if they left there only yesterday, the kitchen still stocked with their provisions, a pile of dead penguins, and seal blubber ready to be burned in the stove for warmth. We walk a hundred yards away, and quickly the winds and snow have obscured our tracks …..just a tiny reminder of what they endured.