A Midwesterner on the Drake Passage, some of the most notoriously rough waters on the planet. Yeah. I was pretty much planning on barfing all the way there and all the way back, only daring to hope that I would have a few days of non-barfing while we were at Antarctica. So I slapped on a patch and downed a few different kinds of anti-nausea meds, and I actually did okay for most of the trip! For real guys, I had the video camera ready to blog about my barfing, but it just never happened.
But it almost did.
Okay, so one day we were cruising around an area we affectionately nicknamed the ‘iceberg graveyard’. Zipped around on zodiacs checking out cool icebergs.
(I havent added descriptions to anything yet, sry)
The entire time my head was vigorously reenacting the asteroid belt scene from ‘Empire Strikes Back’:
It was super cool.
But at one point, three humpback whales showed up. At first we just saw a mommy and her baby… but then Daddy showed up! OMFGYAY!!! They were literally right underneath us and another boat, to the point where we were actually concerned they might knock our boats over. Because of this, our tour guides cut our engines, and we just floated, watching the whales
Yeah… no… AWESOME! for a few minutes… See, riding some waves in a boat is like riding a horse. Bumpy, but no big deal. But when the engines were cut, we were just bobbing along… up and down…. up and down… up and down…
Me: Um guys, I need to be dropped off at the boat. Now.
Nice Tour Guide: No prob! Does anyone else want to take a break?
Everyone else: *silence*
Yeah, I got on the main boat just in time. Laid down in the mudroom for like 30 minutes. Another couple that got off with me raced to see who could get all their outdoor gear off and get me a ginger ale first (example #98264501724697145294 of how super sweet and nice everyone was on this trip).
I was within 5 seconds of barfing my guts out on three humpback whales.
Spock would not approve.