For a tourist, visiting Antarctica creates a conundrum. On one hand, there is the beauty of a landscape barely touched by man, one with no indigenous people and very few residents. But then there is its fragile landscape… glaciers of pristine white, accented with shades of blue created by the refractive power of ice; and coves accented with ice floes, each one more wondrously sculpted than the other. Pleasure cruising to Antarctica didn’t even begin until 1966, but it’s grown in popularity ever since. And there’s the problem, balancing the need to preserve – and not damage – the landscape, while providing a safe, comfortable experience for travelers that don’t fit the hardy profile of polar explorers. We’re talking about people whose concerns tend to center more around whether to have the poached salmon or the prime rib for dinner; rather than surviving high winds and subzero temperatures. I’m over 60, retired with the desire to see as much of our world as possible. But I’m unlikely to be found in snowshoes trekking across the ice toward the South Pole with an eye toward reaching the next cache of food and supplies. But consider Larry from Chicago, one of my dinner companions one night. He was celebrating his 94th birthday. That’s correct, one of my new role models for a life well-lived traveled by himself to the continent of Antarctica, at the age of 94. For more conventional souls, there are large cruise ships that feature the traditional array of onboard activities, but I see these as an aberration; large ships with thousands of passengers and limited maneuverability, navigating through ice flows while the guests view the land through spotting scopes without ever having to put down their drink. Not my style! While many of these are operated by fine cruise lines, they still represent a threat to the fragile ecosystem. Their mere size can create disruptions to the delicate ecosystem. Fortunately, there are several very responsible small ship operators that provide a more responsible experience. Carrying fewer than 200 passengers, these cruises replace multiple restaurants and showy entertainment with a single gourmet dining room, informative lectures, informal parties… and off-ship excursions via Zodiacs, kayaks and paddle-boards. In truth, you needn’t sacrifice safety and comfort in order to responsibly visit Antarctica. I sailed from Ushuaia, Argentina, aboard Quark Expedition’s Ocean Explorer, enthusiastically embracing Quark’s oft-repeated admonition to “take only photos and leave only footprints.” Trust me, the good people with Quark are serious about that. Before any Zodiacs leave the ship, a Quark expedition team goes ashore to scout the area, noting the presence of rookeries, fragile ground etc. Only after the expedition team has planted trail/perimeter flags are other Zodiacs cleared to land. Wander past the “exploration zone” and you will be politely reminded to return. Wander too far and you might not be permitted to land again for the remainder of the voyage. Other rules include not touching or pursuing any wildlife; a provision humorously reinforced by a penguin that took offense at one insistent human, by turning around and demonstrating its ability to projectile defecate in the direction of its clueless antagonist. From the moment we entered Antarctic waters, it was special. A pod of over 30 humpback whales provided us with an epic cetacean ballet. That alone would have made the cruise worthwhile. There were colonies of thousands of penguins, predatory seals and the drama best characterized as the circle of life. One Zodiac excursion was spent shadowing a leopard seal in its quest for a meal of Gentoo penguin. And yes, I brought home a lot of souvenirs. Photographs of an ice flow with vivid blue streaks, the cute big eyes of a swimming crab-eater seal, a porpoising penguin, a century old small boat left behind by whalers, and vistas that I’ve never seen anywhere else. And the memories? Watching a skua herding a group of chinstrap penguins, sitting on a hillside over a bay trying to will a chunk of ice to calve off the glacier, even savoring a cup of Bailey’s and hot chocolate with new friends after a landing. And most fondly, the memory of sharing dinner with a 94-year-old adventurer.