The clouds parted as the plane descended, revealing snow-capped mountains, forests in ravines and water glinting in the sun: the Tierra del Fuego archipelago in Argentina, at the southern end of South America. A new world.
Guts Swanepoel and I looked at each other. It felt unreal to be travelling to Antarctica. Guts was still dressed in shorts and vellies. Two days before, he'd woken up in Kasane, Botswana, and I had brushed my teeth in CapeTown. We'd met up in Joburg and flew to Doha in the Middle East, then to São Paolo in Brazil, and on to Buenos Aires, the capital of Argentina. We slept there last night – jetlagged but not so tired that we couldn't try their world-famous steak – and this morning we caught the…
