There is a place on this planet – our planet – that is so surreal, so magical, that it feels like an entirely different planet. There is a place where the air seeps into your skin and the quietness of the world is so real that it’s like being in a Disney movie. There is a place on this planet that I could have never dreamed of.

The Journey to the Bottom of the World.

The mountains push higher than the clouds, and the snow cliffs stand proud with ownership. The sea water can be as flat and clean as glass, or it can be as rough and turbulent as the world that sits above it. The penguins – the only real land animal that can be seen by humans – go about their lives as though they are the only creatures living on this planet. They own this place, and in a knowingly strange way, everyone else knows it. It is theirs. We respect it, we respect them. Our goal is to take only memories and leave only footprints.

It was a long journey to get to the bottom of the world. I was coming from the Pacific Islands. Twenty-two hours of flying time to get to the US where I would spend three days sleeping, repacking, and completely changing my mindset. For the first time in over six months, I woke up not knowing where I was. On two different occasions. In my own bed. But it was short-lived, because from there, I would take another 10-hour flight to Buenos Aires where I would spend a few days with my family. There was a lot of speculation in the airline industry about potential pilot strikes, so we built in a few extra days in Argentina. This was not a trip we were going to miss because of a delayed flight! And finally, we all took one final 3-hour flight to Ushuaia, the southernmost city in the world.