By the time I boarded the Greg Mortimer in Ushuaia, Antarctica wasn’t new to me. I had spent the last two seasons chasing the surreal landscapes of the White Continent—icebergs the size of cathedrals, penguin colonies stretching to the horizon, that electric silence that fills your chest when you stand alone on a frozen shore.

As I stepped aboard the Viking Polaris in Ushuaia, Argentina, the southernmost city in the world, I could feel the crackle of excitement in the crisp air.