The setting sun behind the Lemaire Channel bathes everything in magical shades of orange and blue.
A gentoo penguin chick begs persistently for food, its flippers stretched out wide. Soon, the adult bird will give in and regurgitate the coveted krill.
Icebergs merge into a symphony of blue and white. Meltwater channels have etched filigree patterns into the flanks.
Two orcas swim closely entwined through the Antarctic Sea – a rare sight and a typical sign of mating. The yellowish coating on their skin comes from diatoms, which thrive in icy waters.
A huge ice arch frames the view of the glaciers behind it. Waves and meltwater have created this gateway – a transient work of art in front of eternal, snow-covered peaks.
Two gentoo penguin chicks huddle together beneath the watchful gaze of their parent. Soon they will exchange their grey down for the streamlined plumage of the adults.
Frozen waves trace across the flank of this iceberg – marks of ancient melt and freeze cycles. The deep blue waterline marks the zone of constant erosion.
Greenwich Island – my enchanted isle. Jagged rock spires pierce the glacier mantle whilst wisps of mist veil the peaks. In this monochrome world of charcoal and white, time seems to stand still. Primeval, untouched, surreal.
Two chinstrap penguin chicks nestle against their parent. Their grey down does not yet protect against Antarctic cold – only the dense adult plumage will make them waterproof.
Chinstrap penguins dash through the icy sea – an elegant rise and fall combining speed with breathing.
Two Zodiacs plough through the icy Antarctic waters whilst ice floes drift past. Every outing holds new discoveries in this silent wilderness.
In single file, a group trudges across the snowfield at Meusnier Point. Fog swallows the summit, only dark rock outcrops pierce the white.
Two Zodiacs appear like toys before the immense glacier front at Meusnier Point. Crevasses and seracs tower high as houses. Maintaining respectful distance is vital for survival.
The sun behind the Lemaire Channel doesn't seem to want to set.
Like colourful dots, kayaks glide through the icy waters of Neko Harbour. The massive glacier fractures behind reveal the scale – the paddlers appear tiny before the crevassed ice wall that could calve at any moment.
Two gentoo penguins waddle along a penguin highway – well-worn paths trampled into the snow by generations of birds. These routes connect colony and sea.
Arctic silence in its purest form: an iceberg glistens in the calm waters of Neko Harbour.
Paradise Bay lives up to its name. Icebergs drift like white islands through the deep blue water, behind them snow-capped peaks tower in dramatic layers in the soft light – a place like something from another world.
A crabeater seal resting on an ice floe.
Kayakers glide through the ice labyrinth of Paradise Bay.
Wind and water have transformed this iceberg into an abstract work of art. The wave-like grooves tell of countless melt and freeze cycles.
A giant petrel glides just above the mirror-smooth Antarctic sea. With a wingspan exceeding two metres, it roams the southern oceans in search of carrion and fish.
Like sculptures, icebergs rest before the mighty mountain backdrop of Antarctica. The yellowish sky heralds the low sun that sets close to midnight.
Sasha Borodin has travelled across Antarctica on foot, on skis and in vehicles with British and Russian expeditions, and has also circumnavigated it on a research vessel.
Behind a table iceberg, a weathered iceberg stretches its pointed spikes like shark teeth towards the sky. The crevasses in the ice shelf tell of enormous forces – this is where the ice giants calve, later wandering through the Southern Ocean.
Two icebergs in different stages of weathering drift in front of the mighty glacier landscape, each iceberg telling its own story of pressure, time and decay. On the right, the bright blue reveals ancient ice that was once hidden.
A coastal tern, the long-distance record holder among all animals: every year, it commutes from the Arctic to the Antarctic and experiences two summers. Some birds cover up to 90,000 km in 10 months.
Captain Lubo explains a guest how the ship's stabilisers work.
A broad grin – the Polar Plunge is done! Behind me towers the glacier wall, beneath me every fibre tingles. A moment of pure euphoria in the icy Southern Ocean. (Photo by Carlos Chercoles, Swan Hellenic)
