Nothing quite prepares you for the first morning south of the Drake Passage. The crossing is rough enough that most of the group is just grateful to be upright, and then the ship rounds a headland and the whole world turns white and blue at once.
As a guide, my job on these mornings is logistics — landings, safety distances, weather windows. As a photographer, it’s trying to be ready the moment the light does something no forecast predicted. Both jobs compete for the same five minutes, most days.
This gallery is from a landing on the Antarctic Peninsula, early season, when the ice is still sharp-edged and the light barely leaves the horizon.