Take a sneak peek inside the camp deemed the "next best thing" to space travel
When Lars-Eric Linblad took the first group of tourists – or “citizen explorers” – to Antarctica in 1966, seal halitosis was a serious issue. “God made a huge joke animal in the elephant sea,” declares a film produced by his company, advertising one of its most popular attractions to a band of intrepid travellers. They weren’t put off: that initial voyage began a steady increase in tourism to “the last great wilderness.”
Linblad died in 1994, but his company remains, ploughing past icebergs and glaciers to show tourists Antarctica’s strange, isolated wildlife. Before the pandemic, more than 74,000 tourists travelled to the continent. This year, it’s thought that around 100,000 will make the trip.
Those numbers are high, but the allure of Antarctica – especially after the pandemic – is in the sense of it being some last, unexplored part of the world. For the super-rich, opportunities for truly rare and exclusive holidays are scarce. And so a new world of opulent, “last-chance” tourism has opened up on the continent.
White Desert, an “authentic luxury camp” run by Hugh Grant-lookalike Patrick Woodhead, provides exactly that service. The brand has been running in some iteration or another for 17 years, but this season it opened a new, space age-themed camp named Echo. Here, guests can gaze out at the polar landscape from the comfort of a heated, fur-lined pod. A private chef arrives six months in advance to prepare. Desserts are served in bowls of Antarctic ice. Prices start at around $98,500 (£85,250) for a week. Flimsy tents and rusty dog sleds this is not.
The level of work it takes to support the camp is staggering. “A single can of Coca-Cola costs $36.80 (£31.85) for us to put it in Antarctica,” says Woodhead, making it the most expensive in the world. The comparison to a space mission doesn’t seem flippant – for guests to take an excursion to the South Pole from the camp, for example, it’s a seven-hour flight. In preparation, a contingent of White Desert staff trek for six weeks, “sit for three months” in anticipation of visitors, and then trek home. “If you can’t afford to go on Virgin Galactic, it’s the next best thing,” says Woodhead.
This is, of course, an extreme way to see the continent. Antarctica has been a regular on cruise programmes ever since Linblad’s first trip in the 1960s, and this is how most visit. Tourists are greeted by imposing glaciers, huddled penguin colonies, and not much else. The breathtaking, vast expanse – made all the more alluring because of its isolation – is within the grasp of wealthy tourists, who sail breezily through the ocean passages that claimed the lives of explorers a century ago.
The cruise market is not, however, quite what it seems. The ships are orchestrated by the IAATO, the organising body that attempts to regulate tourism on the continent (although operators aren’t obliged to join it). Guests on a cruise are given unspoilt views, but around the headland will be a queue of other vessels waiting for their turn at witnessing the sublime. “It’s a fake wilderness,” says scientist Dr Kevin Hughes, who works for the British Antarctic Survey. “The reality is it’s a really busy place, and it’s a bit disingenuous.”
For the super-wealthy able to pay White Desert’s six-figure rates, however, that subterfuge can be avoided. “We had Bear Grylls on the same trip as a Saudi princess who had never seen snow before,” says Patrick Woodhead.
And operators like The Explorations Company provide tailored trips for people looking for an extreme adventure, whether it’s climbing a never-before-summited peak or skiing along an empty plateau. “Two men brought their motorbikes all the way to the South Pole,” says Johnathan Drew, operations director at the company. “We had to make sure they were completely oil-tight before they went in, and we caught every drip.”
That vigilance is key to Antarctic travel. All parties – whether operating in a scientific capacity or for tourism – have to act in accordance with the Antarctic Treaty, signed to ensure no nation has a controlling stake in the continent. The imperative to leave no trace is taken extremely seriously, and visitors have to scrub their shoes on arrival to prevent the introduction of non-native species.
Then there are the wider environmental concerns. The Antarctic is melting, in part because of the industry that allows guests to gawp at it. For White Desert, this means offsetting flights and researching the feasibility of sustainable aviation fuel. “The camp can be dismantled without a trace, we remove all waste, all the plastics are removed, all the soaps are biodegradable,” says Woodhead, eager to itemise the camp’s green credentials.
Jonathan Drew from The Explorations Company is more cautious: “One has to be very aware of the pressures on the environment. It’s not somewhere where you can just go and give the penguins fifty quid.” Dr Hughes equally so: “It could be argued that scientific research is contributing to global issues, but it’s hard to see what tourism provides.”
Marketing for Antarctic trips often relies on the notion that once rich people have experienced ecological insecurity first hand, they’ll be inclined to live more environmentally conscious lives. It’s something White Desert is keen to stress. “We have CEOs and very influential people visiting, and if you want to protect something you get people to fall in love with it,” says Woodhead. But research undertaken by scientists in 2010 found there’s no evidence of this being the case.
For Dr Hughes, the increase in tourism is troubling, regardless of how influential those tourists actually are. “It’s not clear to me that the number will ever be limited,” he says, adding that most human activity is crammed into one tiny part of the vast, icy expanse: the biologically interesting bits of the coastline are also where tourists are taken to see whales and penguins. And while a committee of 54 nations meet to discuss the potential impact of travel on the continent, Dr Hughes says that cultural ideas of wilderness and conservation vary so greatly between them that he “wonders if they’re even speaking the same language.”
The premium travel companies know their audience, however, and largely don’t pretend that they are replicating some heroic expedition nor acting as a scientific proxy. “At White Desert, you are going to get decent champagne,” says The Exploration Company’s Jonathan Drew.
And the sublimity of the place isn’t in doubt. Whether visitors are taking part in some formative personal challenge or drinking whiskey in a space-age pod, all are grasped by the notion that “we have a finite amount of time on the planet”, says Patrick Woodhead. “If Antarctica had a personality, it would probably just laugh at us.”
Hurtigruten Expeditions runs a 19-day trip to Antarctica and the Falklands from £7,415 per person.
G Adventures runs a 21-day Antarctic voyage, The Spirit of Shackleton, with prices starting from £12,699 per person.
The Explorations Company offers tailor-made trips to Antarctica. Prices on enquiry, but expect to pay well in excess of £100,000.
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