"… fall into these waters and you’ll be dead in two minutes…"

The captain and his 115-strong crew were incredibly generous with their time and knowledge, from announcing whale sightings over the ship’s speakers to regaling us with tales of seafaring adventures. The icebreaker carried two helicopters and if one of the chopper pilots had to fetch documents from a base, we went along for a joy ride, watching penguins scatter as our motorised bubble zoomed overhead. If the navy had business ashore, so did we, and tagged along on every landing.

Transport between ship and shore was in Zodiacs and the most nerve-racking part was transferring from ship to Zodiac — fall into these waters and you’ll be dead in two minutes, I was told.

On all excursions we were dressed in protective suits: puffy, bright-orange overalls. All the crew wore the same suits, so it appeared like nothing less than an invasion of the Oros men each time we zoomed ashore. Bases such as Bernado O’Higgins, a Chilean meteorological station, have exteriors the same shade of can’t-miss-it orange, which is great for visibility, if somewhat poor for style.

Sailing with the navy meant we missed out on guided excursions with naturalists, but while sailors unloaded cargo we were free to explore how people lived in the world’s most inhospitable continent. Some bases were cramped, like nuclear fallout shelters with interiors unchanged since the 1970s. Others were more developed, such as Chile’s Eduardo Frei base on King George Island.

Frei is actually a village — this grey outpost even has a post office and Internet cafe, but only its church stands out; the other structures are all standard bunker-style blocks. Karin and I treated its desolate shores like a tropical resort and, while the men unloaded containers, laid down on a beach of black sand to watch mini icebergs wash in.

The Gift Shop at the End of the Universe

Argentina, Britain and Chile compete for portions of the peninsula, and establishing a village here serves to stamp Chilean sovereignty on the land. (Nations are keen to claim ownership for the usual reasons: oil and gas. Although the 1991 Madrid Protocol to the Antarctic Treaty prohibits mining, conservationists fear this barrier will eventually fall.)

The British have a slice of white wonderland at Port Lockroy, home to The Gift Shop at the End of the Universe. Port Lockroy was a World War 2 meteorological base that fell into disuse but was reopened in 1996 as a museum — complete with visiting hours and a store selling Lonely Planet guides to Antarctica. (Never has a series been more inappropriately titled.)

When we visited, this remote port was populated by hundreds of nesting gentoo penguins and three Poms, with a Union Jack flying valiantly in the wilderness.

The Viel sailed as far south as the Antarctic Circle and crossing this major line of latitude was an excuse for a party — traditionally, Neptune must initiate any polar novices who cross his circle.

Initiation involved all first-timers (passengers and crew) gathering on deck to receive certificates, listen to a speech by the captain and be sprayed with water hoses before rushing off to change for a fancy-dress night. Karin and I wrapped our legs in tinfoil and went as mermaids, the sirens of the sea.

Perhaps fortunately, as we were still a few days’ sail from Punta Arenas, no ships would be lured onto the rocks by that look.

GO TO ANTARCTICA

• By cruise ship. This is the most popular way. Most ships carry around 200 passengers and depart from Ushuaia in Argentina, passing Cape Horn and crossing the Drake Passage to spend a week or two cruising the Antarctic Peninsula. Landings are made in Zodiacs and some ships have helicopters for aerial sightseeing.

  Choose an operator with responsible environmental policies; the International Association of Antarctica Tour Operators has a list (iaato.org). A 20-day cruise to Antarctica, South Georgia and the Falklands Islands with luxury operator Abercrombie & Kent costs from $11 995/about R107 000 (abercrombiekent.com).

• By plane: See the white wilderness from 10 000-feet up with Croydon Travel in Australia (antarcticaflights.com.au). Flights are 12 hours, with about four hours spent over Antarctica, and include expert talks, video screenings and live radio link-ups with scientists on research bases. No landings are made. From A$999/about R6300 (economy) to $6299/R40 000 (first-class window seat).