To The End Of The World

After I quit my job at Carelink in a defensive rage — sending an email to all the staff airing my true feelings about them — I then quit my next job after a security guard I vaguely knew died suddenly.

For the next six or seven years, I temped around town, sometimes leaving a trail in my wake, until I found myself in Sydney, face to face with a district court judge who looked so much like a man who had exposed himself to me as a child that I loved him more than I’ve ever loved anything or anyone in my entire life.

After leaving a Post-it note on the judge’s bench and being let go in a humiliating and distressing manner, I came home. Then I was working in a Government Chief Executive’s Office on reception when a former mayor walked in, and my colleague yelled out, “Fuck!” — to which I responded like a demon child, chastising the entire department from the Attorney-General downwards.

By the end of 2011, I was starting to feel exhausted just being me. But some reprieve was ahead. It came on New Year’s Eve, 2012, when my mother, my brother Eric, my brother’s friend Kane, and I went all the way to the end of the world.

It’s actually a fairly sad story to start with. Mum had booked a family holiday for all four of us — Mum, Dad, Eric, and me — to go to Antarctica. But when she went to get travel insurance for Dad, she was told that, because of his age, which was 80, and his history of a heart attack and bypass surgery, the insurance for him would cost upwards of $250,000. My parents were quite wealthy at the time, but not that wealthy.

Mum asked if I still wanted to go if Dad couldn’t come, and I said no — I wouldn’t go without him. But Dad insisted we go without him, so Mum sold his ticket, at a very good price, to my brother’s friend Kane. I felt awful for Dad. It was one of those situations where there was simply no control over the outcome.

The reason Mum had chosen Antarctica as the destination was because my brother was going to Afghanistan with the army in a few months, and he had said it was the one place he wanted to see before he died. I had some money saved from temping, but Mum paid for everything. It was also my first introduction to business class.

We flew from Adelaide to somewhere in Australia — probably Sydney or Melbourne — and then on to Santiago, Chile. I remember we were in business class, but I can’t recall the seating or layout. I’ve flown business twice since then — once to Tanzania in 2018, which was, frankly, a bit disgusting, and once to Cambodia last year. Those flights had very modern and comfortable seating, but I have almost no memory of the trip to Santiago.

I do remember the lounges, though. We all smoked back then. Mum wasn’t a full-time smoker, but she would always sneak one in when Dad wasn’t around. So when we got to the lounge in Chile, the first thing we all did was light up a cigarette.

From Chile, we flew to a place called Ushuaia, at the southern tip of Argentina, where our ship would depart for Antarctica.

Ushuaia was a beautiful little town. It exists mainly to service the boats travelling to and from Antarctica, and it was full of quirky little places to explore. We stayed there for about two days, and spent New Year’s Eve in the town itself rather than on the ship. 

Below, you can see the waterfront, along with just a small fraction of the nautical traffic in the area. You can also see Kane and me out to dinner on New Year’s Eve. I look like a serial killer — but that’s not unusual for photos of me.

Something that has stuck in my memory about Ushuaia is a scruffy but beautiful poppy garden in the main street. You can see photos of it below. 

Then there was a the hint of Eva Perón scattered around bus stops and public parks.

There was a colourful little chocolate shop.

And a lush, green, fairytale forest with a small tourist train running through it. We rode the train, and the forest was so beautiful. You can see a photo below of this magical little waterfall hidden amongst the greenery. 

Ushuaia also had bold, colourful street art that made a statement. I took a few photos of the artwork as we walked the streets. The first one is of musicians playing music. Such a creative and cool vibe. 

This second piece of artwork is one I have always loved to look back on. The orange is striking, and it truly captures the beauty of the simple and graceful woman.

I love this painting of the penguins walking down the steps! It’s iconic, and I noticed a lot of people were taking photos of it.

In Ushuaia, we stayed in a cosy little motel, and it was so cold. The town itself was incredibly picturesque, with a backdrop of big, beautiful mountains that made it feel as though something magical was about to happen.

Our ship was scheduled to leave the dock on New Year’s Day. We boarded a bus that took us straight to the Vavilov.

The Vavilov was the ship that took us down to Antarctica — and it wasn’t a cruise ship in the sense of cocktails by the pool. It was a Russian research vessel that took tourists onboard during the summer months to help fund its operations. 

As we boarded, we were greeted by a young crew from Quark Expeditions. They looked to be around the same age as Eric, Kane, and me — I was 30, and my brother and Kane were about 28. There were a couple of very good-looking young men; one of them, Doug, reminded me so much of my brother’s friend Alexander, with whom I’d had a bit of a fling the year before.

Mum and I shared a cabin, while my brother and Kane shared another. The rooms weren’t anything fancy, but I absolutely loved ours. I don’t know if you remember the story I wrote while holed up in a hotel room in Canberra — the one that included the Robin Redbreast and the Dove. The robin had become a very special symbol to me, and I’d told Mum about it.

When we opened our cabin, this was hanging on the wall:

It wasn’t a traditional chirpy-at-your-door Robin Redbreast, but we both looked at it — and, being New Year’s Day and the start of such a special trip — we took it as a sign of good things to come.

The cabin layout was two rooms: one with a double bed and a bathroom, and a smaller one with a couch that converted into a single bed. I happily took the single. We made ourselves at home and then went to explore the ship.

There was a dining hall, and up top, a bar with lounge seating all around, as well as the bow of the boat — where us smokers spent a lot of time. From memory, the Vavilov felt big, but in reality, it was quite small compared to the luxury cruise ships. Most of the other guests we met were older than Mum, who was in her late sixties.

It was the trip of a lifetime — though I didn’t realise it at the time. We were warned that a stretch of water called the Drake Passage, on the way down to Antarctica, was considered one of the roughest seas in the world. Thinking about it now, I’d probably be petrified — imagining rogue waves or the ship sinking — and I’d physically react to that fear. But back then, I was utterly blasé.

We were introduced to the ship’s doctor, who was getting a free trip in exchange for providing medical services to the guests. From memory, he was a bit of a dickhead.

As the boat left the dock and began its journey toward Antarctica, we settled in for a couple of days on open water before we would see ice. The crew were all young adventurer types. Jason — the one who reminded me of my brother’s friend Doug — and I became friendly straight away. Then there was Kai, who seemed to take a liking to me, though this was just after the whole judge incident, and I had no clue whether any man was interested in me or not. I couldn’t read it then, and I still can’t.

Mum, Eric, Kane, and I spent time at the bar getting to know other passengers and crew. Things seemed smooth at first, but then the sea turned rough. I remember being in the bathroom, sick, while the boat rocked violently. I managed to get to the doctor for seasickness medication, but it didn’t help. It felt like it lasted forever before it finally eased.

When it did, the four of us headed to the bow to smoke and talk, before collapsing back into our bunks for more sleep. In these waters, the sun doesn’t set in summer — though I can’t remember if it stayed light all night. It was thirteen years ago now, and I hate that I can’t be sure. But let’s just say it was.

About two days later, we were at the bow again, smoking, when it appeared — out of nowhere. Ice. First in scattered blocks across the water, then in vast, gleaming landscapes. It was everywhere, and it was breathtaking. Guests poured out from the bar and lounge, gasping as if we’d stepped into another world.

When people ask me what Antarctica is like, I always say it felt as if I were on a movie set and someone had built the ice for us. Surreal. Dreamlike. And yes — slightly revolting to think of the four of us puffing away on cigarettes as we stood there, marvelling at the majesty before us.

There are so many things I would do differently if I went back now, and the first would be to take better photos. I don’t have many on my computer, and in many ways I’m grasping at straws to find the good ones. But what you see above was our first glimpse of this most magnificent land — a land I was so lucky to see.

Before we could go ashore, our backpacks and shoes had to be vacuumed for biological hazards, to prevent anything from being transferred onto the continent. I liked that they took such care. 

There were penguins everywhere — different types, too. One of the crew had a degree in some sort of animal science, and she knew so much about them. She held lectures onboard, and I went to a few of them. Below, you can see a penguin making its way through the ice.

While we were onboard, we saw plenty of seals lounging on slabs of ice drifting in the middle of the water. Below, you can see two of them.

Some of the photos almost look dirty with mud, which doesn’t do the place any justice. Most of Antarctica was pristine — beautiful snow and ice, alive with animals.

The photo below shows what it typically looked like on land. Although a lot of the time there was a lot more snow.

Then there was the Vavilov — our temporary home for a brief moment in time. Here are two shots I took of the ship while we were on land.

While I was enjoying my time there, I was still deeply affected by what had happened with the judge. At the same time, my creative mind had switched into overdrive. One day, I met a very cool British couple in their mid-forties. I didn’t know anything about them at first, but I started asking if they knew anything about Bram Stoker and Dracula. They did, so we talked about that. Then I told them about my latest project: I’d been writing to Chief Justices of Supreme Courts around the world, asking for a copy of the oath they swore in court. My plan was to burn the text into glass and then blow a sculpture from it. They were taken aback — in a good way — and told me to pursue it, saying it could be a masterpiece.

I asked them what they did for a living, and they said they were artists. I made a casual comment like, “Pays the rent, does it?” and they replied, “It does.” They were humble, kind, and unassuming. At one point, we walked up a steep hill, and when I was too scared to walk down, they each took one of my hands and guided me. Mum, Eric, Kane, and I spent quite a bit of time with them — Mick and Sandra.

One night, we were invited down to the lecture room, where Mick and Sandra gave a presentation on their work. It turned out they were world-famous, internationally acclaimed artists. Years later, at art school, I would study them. I couldn’t believe they hadn’t told me earlier.

I told Mick and Sandra the Robin Redbreast and dove story, and they loved it. Mick even drew me a picture on a serviette — me, with a robin flying over my head. I told him I wanted a rock from Antarctica, but we weren’t allowed to take them. He stole me one anyway. They were, without question, two of the coolest people I’ve ever met.

They’re best known for their sculptures made out of rubbish, which, when lit just right, cast a shadow in the form of a portrait — often of themselves. I even remember one night, after a few too many drinks, telling them the entire story of the Snowtown “bodies in the barrels” murders, which they found fascinating.

You can see them below.

When I think about this trip, I remember the unbelievable, movie-set-like scenery of Antarctica. You can see two stunning examples below.

But sadly, I also remember how much of it became about us and the crew — and how we all, in one way or another, fell a little bit in love with each other.

Kai had taken a liking to me, and I actually had a “judge moment” with him when the crew were singing sailor songs and performing for us. He started singing Bound for South Australia while staring at me the whole time. I remember thinking, Is he staring at me for any particular reason?

My brother got together with the only other young passenger onboard — but then Jason, one of the crew, got together with her too. Kane got together with a crew member, and I liked Jason. Then people told me Jason liked me, and that I was missing a huge opportunity if I didn’t go for it — but I simply couldn’t.

I did kiss a Brazilian man one night. He was a lot of fun and was travelling with a group of friends. We got along well, and one night he followed me back to our cabin. I don’t think he really liked me — he was just trying to get laid. I wasn’t into it, and I remember thinking, even if something did happen, where would we go? We were all sharing cabins, and there was something a little cheap and nasty about the whole thing.

It was like anyone under the age of 40 had spring fever, only in the absolute freezing cold at the end of the world. If I went back now, I wouldn’t indulge in such childish nonsense. I’d just enjoy Antarctica. I’d take more photos.

Below, you can see my brother and Kane with one of the crew — I think her name was Nikki.

You can also see another photo of Kane and I after two many drinks at the bar.

There were penguins, seals — and a big whale that I missed. I’d decided to stay on the boat during one of the zodiac trips out to sea, and of course, the one time I stayed back, they saw a beautiful humpback. I remember Mick telling my mum to tell me never to stay back on the boat again — this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

I do recall spotting a cloud that looked exactly like a UFO. Everyone on the ship went over to the window to look at it. You can see it below:

One of the crew told us that these clouds are an actual phenomenon — they’re called lenticular clouds. They form when moist air flows over mountains or other obstacles, creating standing waves in the atmosphere. If the temperature drops enough at the crest of a wave, the moisture condenses into a smooth, lens-shaped cloud. Because they’re so perfectly layered and often hover in one spot, they’ve inspired plenty of UFO reports.

They can appear as single formations, stack like pancakes, or stretch into long, smooth ovals — all of them looking just a bit too alien to be accidental.

After so much ice and snow — and cold like nothing you could imagine — we came to another magical land: Deception Island. It’s actually the flooded caldera of an active volcano in the South Shetland Islands, just off the Antarctic Peninsula. Its horseshoe shape was formed when part of the volcano collapsed, allowing seawater to flood in and create a natural harbour called Port Foster.

Deception Island was a major whaling station in the early 1900s, and later, a research base for the British and Chileans. I remember the colour of the dirt, the rocks, the streams, and the abandoned equipment left over from the whaling days. This place was like nothing I’d ever seen before.

I don’t even know how many days we spent in the Antarctic region — maybe five or six — but it was unforgettable. Like I said earlier, though, it was also a little bit like a soap opera. That wouldn’t happen now; I’m not young anymore, and I have no interest in picking up vagabond men on research vessels.

Once we’d seen everything we could see, we made our way back to Ushuaia over the Drake Passage. The return crossing wasn’t as rough as the trip down, which was a relief. We said our goodbyes, vowing to stay in touch and visit each other. I kept in contact with Mick and Sandra for a while, and Mum even went to see one of their exhibitions in London — but apart from that, we all became forgotten friends.

Mum, Eric, Kane, and I spent the night in Ushuaia, and the next day we had a stopover in Buenos Aires before starting the journey home. By the time we arrived, we were all exhausted. Mum, Eric, and Kane stayed at the hotel, but I told Mum I wanted to go see something and would be back later. I jumped in a cab and asked to be taken to the Supreme Court — I just had to see it. I don’t think there’s a whole lot of justice being dispensed in Argentina, but out the front of the court there was a sign that I found incredibly powerful.

There was also a statue nearby, marked with graffiti I couldn’t understand — though it felt like it might have been aimed at the lack of justice.

That’s the thing about the square in front of the Supreme Court building — there were a lot of homeless people sleeping there. I didn’t take photos of them, because that would have felt incredibly intrusive, but I did take one photo of a man sleeping against a statue.

Below, you can see the Supreme Court itself.

I don’t know why I went there — I really don’t. At the time, I was caught up in the whole “Lady Justice is blind, love is blind” scenario.

Mum and I left Eric and Kane in Buenos Aires and made our way back to Adelaide. It had been an absolutely mind-blowing trip — like nothing I could have possibly imagined. All of our friends wanted to see photos and hear every detail, but I felt bad for my dad. He acted interested — and of course, he was — but I know he would have loved it.