It is at times like this when you really do feel like you are sailing off the end of the known world. There are only a couple of us awake and we speak in whispers. The navigation instruments faintly send a red glow onto the faces of nearby mouse-clicking onlookers and the windows fog over. I scrub some of the window clear and look through at an alien world. Stars I’ve never seen before are scattered across the sky in random patterns that leave me in awe. After two hours, I hit the bed again and wake for next watch at 8.00. It is snowing now, accumulating on the deck, and the water temperature has dropped to negative something degrees Celsius. We just passed sixty degrees latitude and a mood is beginning to set in on Pangaea. Along with the muffling snow, a distinct quiet echoes around the boat, as we get closer to Antarctica and prepare ourselves for stepping onto Trinity Island, a semi-uncharted body of land. This is the biggest adventure I have ever undertaken and have been searching for a moment like this since I stumbled into a love affair with nature long ago. I have prepared as best as I can and hope I can perform as is hoped of me in and after Antarctica. We are getting close.