Standing on the stairs beside the doors to the bridge, I had to time each picture I snapped perfectly with the height of the wave. If I ducked too late I risked me and my camera being soaked with salt water… as you may know, that means death to electronics. This was the crossing south from Ushuaia, Argentina, across the dreaded Drake Strait to the Antarctic Peninsula. The shipped pitched at 40degrees. Tables over-turned, books flew off shelves, drawers slid out of bureaus and people fell down stairs. It was two days of sea-sick hell for all but one or two of us on this rickety old Russian icebreaker. But once in the protected waters of the peninsula, the sights, sounds and experiences were more than I could ever have bargained for. Would I do it again? In a heartbeat. The journey is always critical in measuring the reward.