The opening shot of a photo essay should set a tone or theme for what is to follow. I open my essay on Antarctica with this shot made from the deck of a ship in heavy weather off Cape Horn. At this place, the Atlantic Ocean meets the Pacific, and winds deflected down the Andes are free to bend and race past the Horn like a snapping whip. Bad weather is what makes this part of the earth terrifying, yet special. My precarious vantage point – hanging on to a railing with one hand and shooting with the other -- features the blowing and churning seas, and also the distant but distinct shape of Cape Horn in the misty background, which adds context. For centuries, sailing ships were tossed about and smashed to pieces in these waters -- the 600-mile wide Drake Passage separating Antarctica, the Great White Continent, from the tip of South America.

It was a moment hard to forget and difficult to believe. What seemed at first to be a distant bank of clouds suddenly revealed itself as cloud shrouded mountains lining the edges of great peninsula awaiting us. The colors contrast to those in the previous image, and set the stage for the snow-covered scenes that follow.

This image is linked to the previous image by the blue ice – but here I reveal more of it. The tiny upright figures of eight Gentoo penguins form what seems to be a welcoming committee. Actually, penguins gather in groups at water’s edge because it is too dangerous for them to swim out for food individually. For these penguins, there is safety in numbers; one will warn the others if a foraging seal interrupts their hunt. Antarctica is all about survival, for animals and man alike. This photograph offers us insights into one mechanism of survival.

The only people who live and work in Antarctica are researchers employed by various governments. At Waterboat Point, we visited a Chilean research station and the thousands of Gentoo Penguins and Blue-eyed Cormorants swarming over its grounds and buildings. Shot from the distant deck of our cruise ship, this research station is dwarfed by the frozen landscape that surrounds it. I waited for a Zodiac to reach a spot halfway between the iceberg in the foreground and the station’s landing area before I made this photo.

A wideangle converter lens was an essential tool for this shot of nesting Gentoos. This image is all about numbers – the penguin colony seems to go on forever. The previous shot shows but one penguin – this one includes hundreds. Some sit on their eggs, sheltered in nests made of rocks. Others stand watch, guarding the nests from marauding birds. I moved my camera down to ground level and moved in as closely as I could to the foreground nest without disturbing the penguins.

Because Antarctica is so “other-worldly”, a visit is often likened to a dream. The final third of my photographic essay reflects these dream-like aspects of Antarctica. The first of these five final images confronts us with a bizarre blue and white iceberg that seems to bear a figurehead at its front – it was as if the ghost of an 18th Century ship came sweeping past us, a reminder of those who came through these very waters during the great age of polar exploration.