Jaunted

Why 'Deception'? Because from a distance the island looks like a solid land mass but is, in fact, hollow. In the center is a crater or caldera, formed by a violent volcanic eruption that blew most of the island into the stratosphere, leaving only a scorched rim of lava and cinders (mostly obsidian-colored but streaked with reddish strata) that rises 300 meters above sea level. Over time the caldera flooded, forming the bay known as Port Foster. The only way in is via a narrow passage known as Neptune's Bellows.

The volcano is still active, and like the giant in Jack and the Beanstalk seems able to smell the blood of a Englishman. Several times during the 20th century the Brits set up bases here; on each occasion the volcano threw a fit and made short shrift of their facilities. The half-destroyed buildings and abandoned scientific instruments only add to the island's creepy vibe.

Sulphur and other noxious gases waft across the water. Krill and other small crustaceans unlucky enough to get sucked into the bay get cooked, and eventually wash up on the black-sanded beaches. Thick clouds of steam rise from fumaroles, making the water warm enough in places to swim in. In fact, a number of my braver shipmates did take a dip in the muddy bay. Your correspondent declined, citing an entirely fictitious head cold.

There were fewer penguins here than we'd seen elsewhere: no colonies, just a few couples waddling along the shoreline and occasionally taking a swim together. Perhaps, like us, they were on vacation.

Our final excursion was to the Frei Chilean Station on King George Island. This is a scientific base, with a permanent population of 100 people and their families. It has a school, a church, a gym, an airstrip and a gift shop. All it needs to become a bona fide nation is a brand of beer.

Then it was back to the Drake Passage, a case of déjà spew. In truth, the waves were lower than they'd been on the outward trip, and the breakfast queues longer.

I'd spent 12 days in, on and around the world's last true wilderness. It was the longest I'd ever been without speaking to my wife, checking my emails, making a phone call, or seeing a re-run of Seinfeld.

I don't know how to finish this series because I don't seem to have finished with Antarctica. I haven't filed it away; the sights of the ice continent are still spooling around in front of my mind's eye, only fading slightly with each replay. But I would like to dedicate these pieces to the memory of my father, whose dream it was to do this voyage.

Wish you'd been there, dad.

Some useful links
Antarctic Dream homepage
Antarctica Log Book
Cool Antarctica (travel guide)
Cruise Critic message boards (Antarctica forum)