It’s nearly midnight. The sky is almost as light as a typical UK winter’s day and there’s not a sound to be heard – alien to my London-polluted ears.
The air is icy, and the white-out vista eerily beautiful. I feel something in the pit of my stomach: a solo cruise to Antarctica is already the best therapy I could’ve wished for having emerged from the breakup of a long-term relationship – my mind feels cleansed and my soul stirred.
I spot a cluster of gentoo penguins porpoising out of the lake-like water which is instantly uplifting, and it’s then I realise that a voyage to the seventh continent could be more mentally transformative than any wellness retreat on land.
Journeying to Antarctica is only for the committed traveller, however, and I feel like, to get here.
