An unexpected medical emergency aboard Viking Octantis dramatically changed our travel plans. Rather than repositioning overnight to Damoy Point to explore historic British and Argentine huts, Captain Cardestig rerouted the ship and raced north to King George Island in the South Shetland Islands to facilitate a medical evacuation for a sick passenger.

Consequently, all future excursions were rescheduled to align with our revised four-day itinerary. Although the majority of passengers calmly accepted the changes, I sensed some disappointment, especially among those whose submarine excursion was delayed indefinitely.

Of the 350 passengers aboard Octantis, nearly 75% expressed interest in a submarine dive. And who wouldn’t, given the allure and bragging rights among friends. In fact, several passengers were offered a complimentary submarine ride as a bonus for early booking, amounting to a $499 savings.

But submarining was never intended for everyone. Given the demographics of the passengers (average age of 70 years), there were many aboard Octantis who lacked the general physical characteristics or requirements to take advantage of the opportunity. To determine eligibility–after boarding the Octantis in Ushuaia–we were immediately sorted into two groups: those who would dive and those who would not. Leah was always less than interested. However, as a self-identified adrenaline junkie, my choice was obvious, but I still had to pass the two physical challenges to qualify.

After I was weighed, I was instructed to step onto a chair seat, alternating legs while maintaining my balance. Subsequently, I had to squat between two tables set 18 inches apart and stand. I completed the test with ease, but others found it challenging.

One delicate woman, possibly in her 80s, approached the chair with a cane. The officer was kind but firm; canes were not allowed. With dignified resolve, she handed over her cane, declaring, “I don’t need it. I can walk without it!” I was amused when she bent over, grabbed her right thigh and hoisted her foot onto the seat. She repeated the task with her left leg in the same manner. She was most pleased with herself, as if she had won gold in a power-lifting competition. She tackled the final challenge by sidling between the tables, grabbing the edge for support, and lowering herself into a half-kneeling position. I sensed that her strength was sapped, but she struggled mightily to pull herself upright.

The officer was hardly impressed. “If it was my call, I would disqualify you. However, since you mostly completed the task as asked, I will allow you to pass. However, I recommend that you reconsider your decision.”

During our second day at sea, I sat through a compulsory briefing for prospective submariners in the Aula on Deck 2. Understandably, the memory of Titan’s implosion seven months ago at a depth of 3,500 meters was still fresh in the minds of many of the attendees in the auditorium, not to mention a familiar, frail woman who seated herself beside me. Oh, the irony!

The briefing was indispensable. The crew gave a detailed rundown of essential safety measures which provided the worriers and skeptics with much-needed reassurance. For example, in case of an emergency:

• The submarine is stocked with a four-day supply of food, water, and oxygen for the pilot and six passengers.
• There is no toilet on board.
• Passengers are required to bring a four-day supply of any essential medications, which they will need to administer themselves.
• Passengers will be coached to operate the sub by communicating with the support vessel on the surface should the pilot become incapacitated.

We also learned about some of the features of our submarine:

• The Cruise Sub 7 by U-Boat Worx is capable of descending to 900 meters.
• It’s air-conditioned.
• It features two back-to-back acrylic spheres, accommodating three passengers facing forward and three facing backward–offering undistorted 270^o views.
• The seats, situated on rotating platforms, allow everyone to reposition for shared views of the marine environment.
• It’s equipped with eight thrusters: four vectored horizontal, two dedicated horizontal, and two dedicated vertical, providing the Sub 7 with exceptional maneuverability and the power to contend with strong underwater currents.
• A handheld joystick control device enables easy maneuverability.
• It can operate for up to 16 hours submerged.
• Each one costs $4 million.

We finished up with Q’s & A’s. So, I got to wondering out loud, “If the pilot should pass out, and it falls on me to operate the sub, and I wreck it in the process, am I on the hook for $4 million, or will my travel insurance cover the damage?”

It was good for a laugh and a good way to end the meeting.

Following the briefing, my neighbor turned to me and confessed, “You know, my doctor gave me medical clearance to participate in this activity, but I never told him about the vertigo that I started experiencing a couple of weeks before the trip. Do you think I should still go?”

It baffled me that she would even contemplate this, considering her latest complication. “I’m sure you’ll make the right decision,” I said to appease her, “but maybe you wouldn’t want to risk compromising someone else’s experience.”

We arrived at the South Shetland Islands by late morning with a modified schedule in place,

and the hangar toys were immediately deployed.

When Leah and I checked our daily agenda, I discovered that my time had come; I would explore the ocean floor off King George Island. The feeling was akin to winning the lottery… which cost me only $499 to play!

After arriving at the hangar–eager and ready with my Sony RX-10 around my neck–our group of six received lanyards with numbered pendants corresponding to seat assignments and the order in which we would board the sub. Mine was #1.

The Zodiac ferried us to the submarine platform, where #6 stepped aboard with a firm sailor’s grip. He wriggled down the 18-inch hatch opening and took his designated seat on the starboard side. #5 repeated the transfer drill and took his seat on the port side to manage weight distribution.

I was the last passenger to come aboard, and while I don’t suffer from claustrophobia, it was hard to ignore how cramped the cabin felt, especially squeezing into my seat with our bulky parkas taking up so much space.

Excitement quickly turned to disappointment when I realized that my camera’s auto-focus function was compromised by the window. How could I ever get any cool shots in these extreme conditions?

With Kat in command, she rotated our trio of seats into the acrylic bubble for optimal viewing and completed a readiness checklist with the dive support vessel.

After receiving clearance, she managed our descent through a 300 ft. wall of krill, until we finally emerged with a view of the bottom. There was a collective “Wow!” from the cabin.

Kat proclaimed, “I believe we are the first people to have ever explored this part of the Southern Ocean. So, let’s see what we can discover.” One of our initial discoveries was a change in the visible light spectrum, where longer wavelength colors, such as red, nearly vanished as we ventured further into the depths of the unknown.

Kat hit the thrusters to slow our decent, as we gently settled atop the sandy bottom. I was surprised to learn that we had reached a depth of 409 feet.

Far from being mere novelties for tourists, Viking’s submersibles have become a vital tool for marine biologists once constrained by resources, to carry out research missions in remote regions. Consider, in early 2022, when Octantis submersibles documented three sightings of the rarely encountered scyphozoan Stygiomedusa gigantea, commonly known as the giant phantom jellyfish, measuring 30 feet in length. A white paper was subsequently published in Polar Research, the scientific journal of the Norwegian Polar Institute. (The full research paper is available at: http://dx.doi.org/10.33265/polar.v42.8873)

Although our dive didn’t make news, we still encountered a variety of sea life that I managed to capture on my Samsung Galaxy 23 Ultra… such as a lonesome a brittle star,

and multiple snake-armed, Labidiaster annulatus, commonly known as wolftrap starfish,

including a rare look at a hunter, ready to snatch fast-moving, swimming prey as it passed by.

I was also delighted to capture a potpourri of sea life, featuring a couple of sea spiders hugging a sea worm tethered to a feather star.

After 45 minutes, we surfaced!

Indeed, it was a unique experience shaped by our environment and the adventure; however, I had anticipated more. I imagined leopard seals hunting penguins and orcas pursuing seals. Perhaps, my expectations were set too high. Yet reflecting on the event, it remained a highlight of our voyage, and another item checked off my bucket list.

As for the lady with a cane, our paths crossed again on our last day at sea. She was sitting with her older sister sipping tea over dropped surgical masks at Mamsen’s, a Norwegian-styled cafe dedicated to the mother of Viking’s founder, Torstein Hagan. I asked if she had enjoyed diving in the submersible. “Unfortunately, not. I ended up caring for my sister, who fighting a cold at the moment. But there’s always a next time!”

I like her thinking.

Next up: Discovering an unknown penguin colony…