Antarctica · 12:08am Feb 15th, 2018
Picture the scene.
You're a high-falutin' author of fantasy, and you've sequestered yourself in a cosy office somewhere with someone else – an editor, a regular proofreader, some hapless innocent you've pulled off the street, whoever – who's going to act as a sounding-board for your next big fantastical idea. Pouring yourself a glass of whatever it is fantasy authors use to keep the creative juices flowing, possibly a pint of high-proof spirits, you begin.
“Right,” you say. “So the bulk of the action takes place in this continent far removed from any bastion of civilisation. A bleak, forbidding place, only relatively recently discovered by the world, where humanity only has the most tenuous of footholds. So far, so sensible?”
“Yeah, yeah,” replies your sounding-board, pouring themselves a glass of whatever you're having. “Elaboration please.”
“Right. So bleak and forbidding, like I said. But beautiful as well. Beautiful and terrible and alien all at once. Gorgeous vistas that threaten any life that embarks lightly into it. That old-fashioned notion of the 'sublime'. Awe-inspiring splendour. Here enter only the curious and/or mad.”
“Keep going.”
“So speaking of curious and/or mad, the protagonist goes down there. You've heard of him, he's the mop-headed prat who writes at the speed of molasses flowing up a hill and has this strange pastel horse fixation —”
“Who cares about that gowk? I'm here for the setting.”
“Oh, fine."
"Gorgeous vistas like I said. And more.”
“Define 'more', you gurgling paragon of vagueness.”
“Well, amongst other things, a barren vastness, littered with the remnants of those heroes and adventurers who dared go there in the past, and not all of whom came back. Their ghosts and ruins hanging on still.”
“The shattered remains of those human endeavours which sought their fortune, but were ultimately laid low.”
“Age-old structures flow over the land, and rise from the sea. Lambent magic lives in them, glowing out through cracks and rents.”
“Fantastical beasts. The sorts of creatures you just don't see elsewhere, who've clawed out a niche in this terrible and remote corner of the earth, and thrive there, no less. Birds of the high skies and monsters of the deep seas.”
“And these monsters, rarely glimpsed in the world above the waves … their bones lie on the land's black coast. Thrown up there by great forces, bleached and pecked clean and lying as testaments to the vastness and terror of the powers that slung them there.”
“Just a hint of Lovecraft. I like it. Eldritch powers, eh?”
“Oh yeah. Rules hold court there that just don't exist elsewhere.”
“No wonder the world keeps coming back to it. No matter that things exist there on a scale beyond their ken. No matter it's a graveyard for the bold. Moths are drawn to flames, aren't they? So folk come here as well. If only because, nowadays, swiftness and utmost protection lets them glimpse its wonders briefly in safety.”
“Sounds like a neat setting. Very high fantasy. Adventure possibilities aplenty. I approve.” Your sounding-board takes a sip. “So does it have a name, or is it Placeholder Continent A for now?”
You smile enigmatically. You down what's left of your drink.
“I'm very glad you asked,” you say. “As a matter of fact, it's Antarctica.”
At this point, your sounding-board rolls their eyes, swears, and advises you to not be such a smart-aleck. You rise up, annoyed that your cunningness went unappreciated. Harsh words are exchanged. The virtue and character of each participant in this discourse are called into question. Events devolve from here. You may need a new sounding-board by the end.
But no matter. You've gotten it all off your chest. And you weren't that misleading, anyway.
So anyway, to summarise, Antarctica was fantastic in every particular, and in the truest sense of that word. Photos struggle to do it justice. Fancy words arranged in cack-handed framing devices that seemed like a good idea at the time certainly can't do it justice. Its landscapes exist on heroic scales, and defy prior experience enough to have come straight out of Fae. Park yourself in the right spot, where black rock rises into the sky, crowned by clouds and glaciers, and icebergs lit with turquoise from within drift by, and there's nowhere to turn to that doesn't have beauty in full view. Terrible, indifferent, awe-inspiring, genuinely sublime beauty.
Look up its history as well, and much of what's there is all but pure storybook. The grit and unflinching endurance of Shackleton and co., the tragedy surrounding Scott and Oates, Amundsen's ingenuity, Filchner's farcical bad luck, the rise and decline and fall of the whaling industry empires. It's all there, all the genres.
And most of that in just one corner, the corner I visited, the Weddell Sea and environs. There's much more. So much more of it.
If any of you ever have the means, the chance, or the sheer jammy good luck like I did, wander down there. If there's any truly fantastical places left in the world, it's one of them.
And I'm sure there's inspiration for horse-words to be had from it as well. 
Sounds magical.
The penguins look neat, especially that wonky one with the fluffy crest and red wings.
I don't think Lovecraft ever visited Antarctica, but they certainly drew inspiration from the treks of others.
A remote land, far away from what we're familiar with, where death doesn't just wait for the unprepared and overconfident but actively hunts them.
Breathtaking. Thank you for sharing what you could.
Okay, but you used the word 'gowk' and that's the best :D
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T'was exceedingly so.
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The penguins were everywhere, and they were ace. Mostly wee shin-high ones - Gentoos, Rockhoppers, etc - but one stop on the Falklands offered up the pictured Kings. Plenty of fluffy chicks as well. (Though, alas, the pictures don't really convey the smell of a large and lived-in penguin colony. Bring clothes pegs for your nose if venturing there.)
Lovecraft never visited, nah, but I suspect he was definitely influenced by a lot of the stories coming out of there. He'd have done most of his writing post-Heroic Age of Antarctic Exploration, when the mystique might have had a chance to settle down a bit. He brought it back, and popped on a few tentacles for good measure.
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These are just a few culled from a total photo count of over one thousand. My internet struggles enough with these, god knows how it'd be coping if I tried sharing much more.
Glad to have shared!
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If it's not a blog post that has 'gowk' in it at least once, it's not a good blog post. Science has settled this.
Can't spell nice without ice.
Gorgeous land and a wonderful framing tale around it. Thank you for sharing!
Were there any collisions on the penguin highway?
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No collisions! A five-metre rule was enforced by the guides on the trip, so that we kept our distance from the wildlife and didn't disturb them too much (or get mauled by them, for that matter - a real risk for fur seals and the iike). If you're walking, and a penguin looks like it's going to cross your path, the penguin gets right of way. If the penguin should stop right in the middle of your single-file track, wait for the penguin to bumble off and do penguin things. I'm not sure what the consequences were should any of these rules have been breached, but I assume it would have involved being left to the mercy of the penguins.
Incredible. Not many folks get to visit such a place.
A nice little travelogue... wonderful pictures, adorable penguins. I love the shots of the crumbling past, whether the whaling boats or the bones, especially.
That was beautiful. Both the words, and the pictures.
I'm really looking forward to anything you make that's inspired by this trip.
Truly incredible and I assure you it has definitely climbed much higher on my list.
Damn, that looks awesome. Wonderful descriptions, too!
Some rather splendid photography there, I must say. Good job!
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Gey few, aye. It's a situation that tears me a wee bit - on the one hand, it's good for the place itself to have as few people as possible there, to be spared the brunt of our shenanigans. On the other hand, it's a place utterly worth seeing. I count myself absurdly lucky to have been there, even though I'm not sure how many should follow my example.
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Much as the natural stuff appealed, a lot of the crumbling human artifacts captivated in their own way. One of these shots, with the rusting tanks, was from the old whaling station on Deception Island, which itself is built around an active volcano. Every so often, said active volcano forcibly reminds the primates on it what it is.
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Glad you liked it! I've been knocking a few ideas vaguely off one another, and we'll see what comes of them.
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Glad it's climbed your list! That sort of once-in-a-lifetime trip's well worth it.
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Awesome and awe-inspiring and aw sorts, especially in person.
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I credit the scenery, myself. You could be (and I am) the most cack-handed photographer who ever consumed oxygen that more valuable entities could be using, and Antarctica would still make your shots gorgeous.
Beautiful pics, and a quite amusing framing device to go with them. Visiting Antarctica is on my list of "If I ever win big in a lottery" things to do, and this makes me want to underline the entry, twice.
Not only great photographs, but some really nice commentary from you. I like the framing device and the way you describe it all. You should be an author or something.
... ... ... .......................... wow. Ah, I wish.
What I took away from this photoset is that while the baby albatross looks like a bedraggled muppet; the adult has the most fabulous stylist on earth. Check that smoky eyeshadow effect against the perfectly sleek feathers, the disdainful look of superiority; it's like the catwalk model of the bird world.
Great photos, and I'm so glad that you got to go and had a good time, amidst all the wonders and splendours.
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Glad you approve! And if that lottery win ever comes, yes, definitely lay eyes on Antarctica in person. Underline that thrice, even.
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I the words bestest.
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If all else fails, grab any wee boat going and row hard southwards. A chance to see Antarctica, and arm muscles worthy of flexing afterwards.
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Albatrosses are great. There the adult is, this sleek and constantly disapproving creature, looking like it had fun once and it was awful. And then there's the chick, which is essentially an ambiguous ball of sedentary fluff with an oversized beak and a permanently gormless smile. I adopted the latter as my spirit animal on sight.
I love your pics, and a setting for future horse-words. Perhaps there's a lost tribe of corvids that ended up really far south...
But seriously, it's great that you enjoyed yourself. Was there ever a part where you considered quitting the fast-paced Scottish lifestyle, marrying a penguin and just staying in Antarctica forever?
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Oh, I've an idea or two for what can be found around Utmost North/South. There's even one especially Equestria-shaping event in recent history I've been contemplating digging into for a while.
There are wee places down there, like Port Lockroy, that apparently take on volunteers to man wee visitor's stations for weeks and months at a time. And I shan't lie, that sort of peaceful isolation in gorgeous surroundings appeals.
4797749 I'm going to take that as a "no" on the penguin bride then. Ah well, finding the right round stone is pretty tough.
Well, those were indeed awesome pics! Thanks for sharing!
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Glad you think so, and no trouble to do so!