I’ve come home from my trip to the Ross Sea in Antarctica with Aurora Expeditions (Hobart to NZ) feeling shaken, distrustful and very angry. For $A20,000 I felt I deserved better.

Let’s start with the Trip Notes booklet that Aurora issued to all passengers once a deposit was paid. Under ‘Fitness Requirements’ it reads: “This voyage is suitable for people of all ages and physical abilities.” I’m in my 70s and, after experiencing this voyage, I can’t agree. Nor, I suspect, would my fellow traveller in her 80s tossed across her cabin in the rough weather, and seriously injured. She was stretchered ashore on our arrival in NZ, and put into a waiting ambulance.

I was luckier than she was. On the day the bridge inclinometer showed the ship tossing 20-35 deg off the vertical, with furniture and glassware being thrown round the bar/lounge/lecture theatre, I was sent spinning backwards across my cabin. But I landed hard on my bunk, not on the cabin floor. (Even caught the action on film as my movie camera kept rolling.)

And what did Aurora’s 2008-09 colour brochure promise everyone about its Deep Antarctica expedition ship Marina Svetaeva? “A robust and manoeuvrable vessel, Marina is impressively stable at sea.”

The uneasiness had started early when we watched from our hotel as the ship arrived in Hobart - listing badly. Then, before we embarked, Aurora’s management announced that a visitor had earlier fallen off the gangway while the ship was tied up at the wharf - because he was on Warfarin, he had “bled like a stuck pig”, and been taken to hospital. On our arrival at the wharf, the hazard was obvious - a deep gap in the horizontal base of the gangway which required a long step to get across. “Mind the hole,” said the welcoming staff member, “Someone’s already gone down it.” It puzzled me that the gap hadn’t been covered, as the accident had happened some hours before. (A board had certainly been put over it by the time those stretcher-bearers came down the gangway at Bluff.)

Several days into the voyage (at Macquarie Island) came our first zodiac transfer, and experiencing that rickety gangway at sea. The gangway steps structure had a swivel platform at the top, allowing it to swing out and back over the sea. The temporary handrails consisted of loosely-connected, short, wobbling sections of metal, and the gangway sides were loosely slung rope. My level of distrust rose further.

I found the return zodiac trip appalling. Our daily news sheet Penguin Post next day reported the “wild and woolly ride...from shore to Svetaeva, not to mention a vigorous swell awaiting us at the gangway...” Awaiting my turn for the big leap up from the zodiac, I saw, with disbelief, that (a) the metal grid platform at the base of the gangway was lashed to its frame with what appeared to be an octopus strap and (b) the thin rope holding the zodiac driver to the gangway was badly frayed. A few boatloads later, according to other passengers, the frayed rope snapped and the woman in transit was flung back into the zodiac.

By now uneasiness was growing into distrust. Soon we would reach the Antarctic waters where the sea temperature was 0deg C. If you fall in there, you have just four minutes to live. ( Later in the voyage some passengers chose to do a Polar Plunge - a quick jump in to the ocean, and a quick climb out. One man, fiftyish and fit, was sobered to find that after 30 secs his legs wouldn’t work properly.)

By the time we arrived at Commonwealth Bay (the thick pack ice had blocked our entrance to the Ross Sea) there was no way I was going ashore, even though the sea was flat, the sun was out and there was no wind. However it was a lovely afternoon, so about 3pm most passengers climbed down into the zodiacs, setting out in their blue parkas to visit Mawson’s Hut and walk up the snow-covered hillside.

Because we were so far south we had 24-hr daylight, but I went to bed about 10.30pm. I woke about 1.15am and looked out the porthole to find the katabatic wind blowing fiercely and to see a distant zodiac, full of passengers, battling its way back through the heavy seas. As Penguin Post later reported “The zodiac ride back to the ship was a wet and bumpy one, and climbing out of the zodiacs onto the gangway was something of an acrobatic act.”

Penguin Post referred to the returning passengers as “tired but exhilarated”. Over breakfast the next morning several people used other terms to describe how they felt about their experience:

* At least two elderly women reported falling on ice-covered boulders. The Trip Notes had promised “plenty of willing arms to lean on” on landing. Wrong, according to those I spoke to.

* Visits to Mawson’s Hut were limited to three people for 10 mins - you do the maths for some 80 people. Cold passengers queued for long periods before their turn came.

* One chilled couple in their 70s decided to return to the ship, and reported arriving at the beach to find all six zodiacs pulled up with no staff in attendance. After fruitless calling, a third passenger eventually went in searching of a driver.

* People who had returned late, very wet, discovered their arms and caps were caked in ice after having to wait for some time on the heaving sea while those in the zodiac ahead were transferred to the gangway.

Distrust was now fullblown, and accompanied by rising anger. All that money - for this? And we weren’t even half way into the voyage. I felt stuck. The worst part was feeling I had such little control over my next few weeks.

Sheer boredom eventually forced me ashore at the next stop - Cape Adare - because the weather was good and so was the sea. But the group expedition leader’s advice about the landing was, again, wrong: no sloping pebble beach, but instead a 10m-wide strip of high-piled pressure ice to negotiate. This time, however, those promised willing staff arms were plentiful. Just a pity there had been no advance party to do a pre-arrival review, or use the ice axe to cut steps before passengers arrived. As I slid down one icy section, the cheerful staff comment was “All part of the fun!”. When there’s little choice? And you’re over 70? Wrong again.

Many days later when we had arrived at Coulman Island on a spectacularly beautiful sunny day, my distrust had almost eased enough to join a zodiac group going to explore round the icebergs. But not quite. I was glad I hadn’t when we heard about the boatload of passengers left alone on an icefloe while the group expedition leader motored off in his zodiac because, as he said, he was “busting for a pee”. During his absence several icefloes came together in the current and, by the time he returned 15-20 minutes later, his zodiac access was blocked. The stranded passengers were only half-joking when they wrote HELP in the surface snow to attract the attention of the ship’s helicopters flying overhead.

(Today, one week after our return, there’s a news report of people in Ohio,USA, stranded on an ice floe. Over there the Ohio state government regularly warns the public that there’s no such thing as “safe ice”. How reassuring.)

There were certainly some good aspects to this Aurora Deep Antarctica expedition. Just a pity that I felt too wary, unnerved and angry to enjoy them as fully as I might otherwise have done.

But for the good things, thanks and big ticks to the following:

* Captain Gena and his friendly, hardworking Russian crew.

* The contracted 3-man helicopter team - professional, calm and capable. Fly anywhere, anytime, with you guys.

* The expedition lecturers - top qualified speakers, excellent presentations, great photos.

* The cheerful galley/diningroom staff - great food and great service.

And, despite everything, I didn’t get seasick.

For travellers considering a Deep Antarctica voyage with Aurora Expeditions, if all this sounds like your thing then go for it. If not, I suggest you spend your tourist dollars elsewhere.

Adelie

Victoria

9 February 2009