Ant 1 VC

Captivated by the narrativeof stormy seas and adventures amidst gale driven swells that we had readin various stories, the Europa's new crew expected to be greeted bysailors of the swarthiest caliber and the roughest seas the 5 oceans hadto offer. While the sailors tight fit with our assumptions squarely,this was heavily counterbalanced by sailing conditions which wereastronimically rare by virtue of the persistent sunshine and calm seas.So unlikely were our 2.5 days 'Drake lake' conditions that we worriedPoseiden or some other eternal force or nature would right thishistorical assymetry with conditions feocious enough to balance whatpreceeded. And so it was that our expectations were finally met when wefinally reached the mass of ominous grey cloud which until that pointhad receeded from us in lockstep as we sailed to the Southeast. Thewinds finally howled and the seas reared up in violent greeting of ourship, finally we reached a Drake's Passage familiar to our imaginations.This drastic change proved unsuitable to many of the crew and stomachswere promptly and repeatedly emptied in a long overdue homage of bile tothe sea.As mentioned this unlikely start was a counterpoint to the crew whocould best be described as archetypal. The Captain, a man who oneassumes at first glance was born on whitecaps is a veritable characatureof a sea captian with long nigh-on piratical hair covering his eternallyservicable sweater. His first mate, a man of assuredly scandinaviandecendent judging by height and Samson like hair, possesed the looks ofone also at sea long enough to acquire the unmistakable look of a lifelong sailor. Various other crew members we've been lucky to sail withare the (presumed but unconfirmed) outlaw frenchman who alleges to havetaken the lives of multiple disobedient crew - unspecified zodiacmisshaps being his weapon of choice; a galley staffed by efficient womenof high culinary talent in proportion to their Rappunzel-length hair;various other trades are occupied by a Canadian who surely must havejumped from his trade as a lumberjack or door-busting locksmith tosailor; a fraueline whose perpetual smile lights up the boat and whosebeaming welcome was unforgettable; a no-nonsense Dutch girl who is bothcapable and obviously determined that by voyages end we would havelearned some measure of her trade; an affable young South African of thefriendliest demeanor whose handiman skills matched the sociableScottsman he often shared tasks with; an Australian girl with a penchantfor rigging and terrifying (safely-harnessed) indoctrinees at greatheights, a Spanish researcher and general hand who helped with landingsin good grace and silent thoughts - and presumably analyzed diatoms orthe spectral properties of guano in her spare time; an accomplished andtalented Slovak photographer who I'm convinced was brought aboard asmuch for his photography as for his sledgehammer fashion of discipliningwayward landing party members who feel afoul of IAATO rules; possiblythe most pleasant Irish woman one could literally ever hope to find onGod's green Earth, and Jordy - presumably the second in command andorganizer extraordinaire who delivered most of the ship's lectures withgood humor and an insistence that every conceivable use of the term 'quepassa' be understood by attendees, and who habitually took easy routesup mountain climbs only to lead uninitiated volunteers back down on themost treacherous path one could possibly navigate while remaining amongthe living. All in all, a group perfectly rounded out by tempor andnautical inclination to lead us on our voyage to the coldest continenton Earth. One week in and this crew has delivered on every promise myimagination freely made to myself before enlisting. What follows as weleave our steaming moonscape of a shelter at Deception Island to beginour controlled pitch and yaw through the Bransfield Straight will beicing on the cake!