Shooting in Antarctica by Benjamin Ergas

Penguins exchanging meals of half-digested fish, mummified crab-eater seals, humpback whales leaping out from the frozen sea, leopard killer seals chasing fleeing penguins, giant white albatrosses running along the surface of the sea, laid-back fur seals peacefully bathing in the sun, chinstrap penguins feeding on krills and squids by the shore, powerful minke whales trailing our zodiac.

Wildlife photography can be as frustrating as it is rewarding. Hunting your preys successfully require patience and persistence. But the sheer excitement of being so intimate with the wildlife, the sheer fulfilment of capturing that one shot, that one vision of nature in its primal state, by far offset the hostile conditions which you have to endure.

There can be no more desolate, unforgiving landscape on earth than that of Antarctica. It is the coldest, windiest and driest continent. Human life here is hardly relevant. In the winter, temperature falls to -50c to -70c. The ground is permanently frozen to a depth of at least half a mile. Roughly 95% is covered by this ice sheet and of the 5% of exposed rocks, there are no permanent rivers, no flowers. The extremely cold and arid conditions mean that little wildlife live down there all year long - except maybe those 900-pound Weddell seals who dig holes to access the warmer sea below (only -1c).

Ushuaia, the southernmost city in the world at the tip of South America, is the starting point of most expeditions. From there, your boat (mine was a Finnish-made icebreaker, formerly a spy ship in the 1980s, navigated by a crew of 10 Russians) cruise along the Beagle Canal, pass the legendary Cape Horn, and sail south-east towards the Antarctica Peninsula after two miserable days crossing the stormy seas of the Drake Passage.

Sunday, February 16, 2003. Our first glorious sights of Antarctica. We woke up at 4:30am deep into the Weddell Sea to witness the most spectacular sunrise. Silhouettes of great white icebergs were set beautifully against the muted colours of dusk, the warm red glows of the sun softening their edges. Turning around, floating bergs were bathing in the light, evincing soft, shimmering yellow colours contrasting with the cool blues of the frozen water. It is difficult to articulate the magic of such a scene - but three rolls of film were burned with delight to be later shared with my friends.

Our boat, the Professor Molchanov, carefully made its way through a dramatic maze of floating ice to reach Snow Hill island by 9:30am - a place that no more than 200 people had reached this year due to rigid pack ice blocking access. There we visited the wooden hut of the adventurer Oldo Nordenskjold, who led the Swedish Antarctic Exploration in 1901-1902. Oldo's own remarkable story of disaster and survival speaks forcefully to the bravery, endurance, determination and dedication to science of all early explorers (e.g. Shackelton, Amundsen, Scott, Dumont D'Urville).

By mid-afternoon, we were navigating in the majestic Sound Passage amongst huge tabular icebergs. Standing on the dock, absorbing the freshness of Antarctica under a totally clear sky, I was admiring the remarkable scenery, camera in my hands. This was the edge of the frozen sea: ice sculptures radiating out their translucent blues, towering glaciers sweating and crackling under the summer sun, snow-capped mountains glistening in the background. A stunning backdrop for wildlife photography!

Brown Bluff: 32' S / 55' W. We set foot on Antarctica's Terra Ferma for the first time.Our expedition landed in a mixed colony of brush-tailed Adelie and Gentoo penguins, that welcomed us with solemn astonishment. Their quaint gait, innocent gaze and formal posture were features well known to me. But their sounds and smells were an unforgettable surprise. These seabirds were chanting the most unusual and cacophonous vocal sounds, and smelled worse than you could possibly imagine - pretty much like a fish shop, the morning after. Penguins however remain ideal subjects for photographers because they barely move (energy conservation, breeding mode) and look so glamorous (note: you can purchase penguins on eBay if you desperately need one by your side).

Wildlife in Antarctica does make you think about surviving the wild, about hostile predators and vulnerable preys, about competition and defence mechanisms. This is why penguins have black-and-white feathers (typical anti-predator adaptation in the sea), or why the leopard seal, which seats on top of the food chain here, does not worry when it falls asleep on an iceberg, seemingly fully exposed to other hungry animals (there are no polar bears in Antarctica). Life is a jungle everywhere. Only the fittest survive - and get to relax.

If you are hooked into wildlife photography, an understanding of your subject, its location and routine is critical to taking successful shots. As they say, "chance favours the prepared mind." This biological environment was all new to me, so I greatly relied on trusted advises from our local scientist as well as our experienced Russian zodiac sailors. That support was much needed to grasp the animals' feeding habits, sleeping patterns and breeding modes. It is one thing to miss a shot because of poor focus, lousy exposure or insufficient light (very frustrating!), it is another to miss one because you have not done your homework - particularly when you travel so far away. Good photography is all about anticipation!

Shooting at the edge of the world is a privileged activity. Bringing along proper outdoor equipment is imperative. To ensure optimal close-ups, image contrast and sharpness, I had taken with me my trusted Nikon F4 along with a 75-300mm zoom, two polarizers (to filter aggressive reflections from icebergs and sea), a bag of Fuji's velvia films (official speed of 50, great for fine-grained definition) and extra batteries (very cold weather).

Surreal episodes in those remote environments are frequent. They always make for great memories which at times cannot be captured by photographic snapshots. My expedition team once held a special "Antarctic barbeque" at the back of our Finnish icebreaker - eating ribs and sausages with our thick outdoor gloves and dancing to the rhythm of Russian pop, whilst bits of glaciers were detaching themselves from the main land and humpback whales were pulling acrobatic moves. A few days earlier, in Whaler's Bay, five of us were mad enough to experience a polar plunge and feel within our bones the frigid -1C water. Other amazing memories included a late night impromptu snowball fight, behind the remnants of an Argentine scientific base, under the dazzling glow of a full moon. as well as the delectable sights of penguins lined up in a queue - throwing themselves off a cliff, feet first, to the sea. All those unforgettable moments would make for a good case to bring along a video recorder in addition to or as a substitute to a camera. It is a matter of personal taste and enjoyment. Of course, the hostile conditions would prevent you from swapping easily from one piece of equipment to another - I personally had a sufficiently hard time keeping my camera stable, and my hands warm enough (gloves removed to operate zoom and lenses), against the cold winds.

Wildlife always seems to attract unusual characters & profiles. Travelers whom you meet in locations so cut off are never virgin tourists: rarely is Antarctica your first holiday destination! People on this particular expedition included a handful of addicted National Geographic readers from Austria and New Zealand, a mad Physics professor from Norwich, two women from a photography club in the Midlands, three young girl members of Greenpeace and an 82-year old man on an adventurous honeymoon with his second wife. This was an eclectic group bound together by a deep thirst for open air and wildlife photography - the added advantage being that most had set foot on the other five continents, enabling one another to exchange notes on other nature/photo/adventure travel destinations.

Integrating photography to my outdoor trips has always been a rewarding experience. The awe-inspiring backdrop and distinctive wildlife made this trip extraordinary. But beyond the vast photo opportunities, it was Antarctica's freshness and silence that in the end struck me most. I felt profound emotions of inner peace and spiritual renewal.

For me, it was the ultimate destination to beat London's urban chaos, stop hearing about UN diplomatic conundrums on Iraq, and spend St. Valentine with penguins.