I Want to Feel ...

I’m in bed on land for the first time in 3 weeks and reflecting: I find myself longing for the gentle (or not so gentle) rocking motion of the ship on the sea; the constant sound of waves splashing — crashing — and engine humming; the anticipation of the next day’s adventure and what the fantasy-like world of the Antarctic and sub-Antarctic has in store.

There is a nagging feeling in my soul that will always call me back to the region, and I will feel incomplete until the next time I visit. Parts of me were left behind on the ice and the Ocean Victory. As for tonight, there are many things I miss, many things I long for, as I lie land-bound.

I want to feel insignificant in the surrounding environment and hear only what Mother Nature sings. I want my heart to ache for a sad, rejected penguin. I want to listen to seals sleep-singing on a shoreline, and the click of beaks as a breeding pair of Albatross greet each other. I want to see Beach Masters defend their harem and fur seal mothers defend their young. I want to see a youthful elephant seal weaner gaze upon the light of life in blissful ignorance with wide eyes and a snotty nose. I want to see the nefarious grin of a scheming leopard seal as it slithers through the frigid water. I want to see the ocean exploding with hundreds of geyser-like blows as a pod of whales feeds across the distance. I want to see the effortless glide of a wandering albatross over a sea of windy swells. I want to see the bends, folds, and striations of ancient rock and the majestic formations of the terrestrial crust. I want to wade in a tidal pool as waves wash over my feet, bringing with them mesmerizing tiny critters. I want to hear the thunderous crack of ice calving in the distance and watch it crash into the water with a violent splash. I want to watch a midnight sun set into a color-splashed sky as it melts slowly behind a snow-capped mountain, jettisoning from sea to cloud.

I want a lived lesson in gravity as the ship rises and falls over the behemoth waves, effortlessly flying up several flights of stairs with no resistance, only to be halted in place with the next attempted movement. I want to dance like an astronaut and get thrown back down from a jump with a thud. I want to accidentally run into walls and collide with other people because gravity said so, then laugh about it. I want to walk with my body at a 45-degree angle to my feet and the floor. I want to stare out the windows on the top deck and completely lose sight of the horizon, looking straight up at only the sky or the expanse of the open ocean. I want to watch the jacuzzi waterfall onto the decks below and give the Zodiacs a bath from my seat at the dinner table. I want to constantly hold my glass so it doesn’t shatter on the floor. I want to form a strategic plan at mealtime, deciding what I eat off my plate first to avoid playing dinnertime goalie with my potatoes, only for my dear friend gravity to make a fork-full of rice fly sideways through the air and into my neighbor’s lap. I want the aggressive pitching of the ship to keep me awake into the wee hours of the morning, only to wake up on the floor because I was tossed out of my little bed. I want my inner ear to make my stomach churn. I want to risk the odds of traversing the stairwell with other people, hoping their seasickness comes with good aim. I want to shout, “SHUT UP, JAMIE!” in unison with my roommate as the gentle morning wake-up call plays from the ceiling, waking us from our unrestful slumber. I want to be exhausted but fueled so completely by excitement and anticipation of the day’s events. I want to gear up, head down to the mud room, and hop on a Zodiac. I want to feel the wind on my face and the cold, salty water running through my hair. I want to worry about proper biosecurity measures. I want to scrub my boots and dip my gloves in Virkon. I want to smell fur seal and penguin on my wool hat. I want to hear the thud and crunch of brash ice colliding with steel as we sail over it. I want to watch seals and penguins race and jump alongside us. I want to shower sideways and feel the water temperature shift from hot to cold as the ship rocks from side to side and watch the water flow out of the shower and flood the bathroom. I want to struggle to open doors as I fight the force of the howling wind and be greeted with the inability to breathe as the air rushes into my nose and mouth, tears flowing uncontrollably off my face and into the wind that caused them. I want to be upset that the portholes are closed due to the conditions of the sea, restricting me from sitting in my little cubby, where I watch the world drift by as everyone else sleeps peacefully.

I want the wild smile on my face, so wide and constant that my face hurts but so natural in its wondrous origins. I want to feel the awe shining from my eyes as I gaze upon the beauty of pristine Earth. I want to feel the cold twinge in my lungs. I want a world of rock and snow, where only the curious and bold dare to go.

I want to be in my happy place.

I will be back soon.

Lauren Richards
Future of Innovation in Society

January 3, 2023