Why you should kick Antarctica off your bucket list
Vast stretches of mountains move endlessly towards the clouded horizon, their peaks coated in powder white snow. Enormous walls of ice, carved from the coldest winds on earth, glow effervescent blue and blinding white. The purest colours imaginable, unspoiled and ethereal. In the waters beneath, chunks of ice fall into the freezing abyss. Its blackened depths, impenetrable and unknowable, swallow whole these colossal blocks of ice. The calving of the ice is a raw and prehistoric display, at once the beauty and the power of the natural world. The dazzling and mighty force of nature. Timeless and unstoppable. Elsewhere, in this immense landscape, Antarctica exists under a blanket of silence. A soundless void where no wind blows, and echoes evaporate into the emptiness. A heavenly calm, in a place without sound.
On the edges of this frozen world, on the capes and peninsulas, on the shorelines and ice shelves, live the famed Emperor penguins. In colonies numbering in the thousands, these regal birds paint the continent with splashes of colour and a wall of sound. Their golden crowns glow under the midday sun and their collective squawking resonates for miles. Nearby, elephant seals cavort on the shoreline, their honking and belching further additions to the Antarctic orchestra. Overhead soar the southern giant petrels. They are eyeing the weakest penguin chicks, their hooked bill primed for a kill as they swoop over the colony.
Penguins on Paulet Island, Antarctica
These sights and sounds of Antarctica, the world’s only uninhabited continent, were once the preserve of explorers and adventurers. From James Cook in the late 18th century to the Heroic Age of exploration between 1897 – 1922, expeditions penetrated further and further into the southern continent. In that 25 year period, eight countries launched 16 expeditions to Antarctica, all striving to be the first to reach the South Pole. The first man to achieve the feat was Norwegian Roald Amundsen in December 1911. When he planted the Norwegian flag in the Antarctic snow, British explorer Robert Falcon Scott was only a few months behind. While Amundsen would return to Norway triumphant, Scott perished on his return journey, succumbing to the unforgiving conditions. Throughout the rest of the 20th century, Antarctica welcomed more visitors, with the establishment of scientific bases and visits from researchers and documentary filmmakers. The first commercial tourists stepped foot onto the coldest, driest, and windiest place on earth in the 1960s, and in the decades since, tourism has ballooned, with numbers recently topping 100,000.
As journeys to Earth’s emptiest continent become easier and more affordable, tourism numbers will surely grow. However, just because we can visit Antarctica, does it mean that we should?
In the 2022/23 tourism season, over 100,000 people visited Antarctica, and in 2024, this number was surpassed by another 20,000. The milestone has prompted a wave of discussion about the ethics, future, and sustainability of Antarctic tourism. Is it ethical to visit Antarctica? Can tourism really be environmentally sustainable? How many tourists are too many? Is the continent becoming yet another playground for rich and privileged tourists from the Global North?
Antarctic tourism in the 2020s
Most tourists to Antarctica hail, unsurprisingly, from the world’s wealthiest regions. Visitors from North America, China, Australia, the UK, and Western Europe account for more than 85% of Antarctic tourism. As the world deals with the effects of climate change, which are felt most harshly in the Global South, tourism, particularly Antarctic tourism, is a rising contributor. The carbon emissions generated by each Antarctic tourist are estimated at 3.5 – 4 tonnes, the equivalent of what an individual generates in a year. That’s one year’s worth of emissions squeezed into a week or two of sightseeing. In a world that is rapidly warming, is that ethical, justifiable? And at 100,000 tourists per year, is it sustainable? On top of carbon emissions, Antarctic cruise ships, carrying up to 500 people at a time, dispose of large amounts of wastewater on their journeys. This wastewater is dumped into the Southern Ocean abodes of marine life and contains pollutants such as microplastics, pharmaceuticals, and caffeine. It is yet another destructive activity that is unavoidable with mass numbers of tourists. The effects of this wastewater dumping remain, at this stage, relatively unknown. A further environmental study estimates that for each Antarctic tourist, 80 tonnes of snow are melted, largely due to the black soot emitted by cruise ships. While tourism companies claim to be carbon neutral, such a significant loss of Antarctic snow is irreplaceable and irreversible, no matter how many trees are planted. Indeed, in 2023, Antarctic sea ice cover shrank for six months straight. Aside from the global impact on the world’s oceans, this loss is having a dramatic effect on the breeding of emperor penguin colonies, ironically, one of the continent’s biggest tourism attractions.
Glacier calving in Neko Harbour, Antarctica
As the number of tourists to Antarctica grows, without regulation or restriction, so too does the number of landing sites. As the human footprint in Antarctica increases, so too does the risk to the continent’s flora and fauna. The threat of invasive species is ever present in Antarctica. Mass tourism, despite its positive intentions and best efforts, has been unable to ‘leave no trace’ during and after tours. Indeed, the mere presence of large numbers of humans can be stressful to Antarctic birds during nesting, with some breeds abandoning sites near landing points. A control program led by Islands of Antarctica vacuumed the pockets of tourists, sucking out seeds from their jackets, pants, and luggage. The results were startling, with all major weed species from North America and Europe found. One of the most prolific invaders, bluegrass, has since established itself in Antarctica and is spreading uncontrolled, impeding the growth of native species. As the numbers of tourists grow, so too do the risks of more invasive species, rubbish, accidental damage, and disease. Up until 2023, Antarctica was one of the last places on earth free from avian flu. It has since been detected in sub-Antarctic islands, including South Georgia, where it has devastated elephant and fur seal populations. The impact of avian flu and other diseases on the Antarctic mainland would be unimaginable and likely irreversible.
Dead birds on Beak Island, Antarctica
A common retort to the environmental destruction of Antarctic cruise ships and land tours is that visitors will return as ambassadors for the continent. This is a viewpoint promoted by the International Association of Antarctica Tour Operators (IAATO), a voluntary association of tour operators that formed in 1991. It is argued that tourists to Antarctica, inspired by the otherworldly beauty they have witnessed, will become champions for the southern continent or some other environmental cause. While this belief is admirable, it is often nothing more than a leap of faith. Studies have shown that rather than becoming environmental advocates, Antarctic tourists often encourage further tourism or return believing that climate change is not as urgent as they once believed. By encouraging more tourism to Antarctica, returning visitors act in the opposite way believed and perpetuate the cycle of damage on its fragile and unspoiled environment.
Understanding the environmental impact of an Antarctic tour makes it difficult to justify a trip there. Yet, despite this, tourism shows no sign of slowing. Travel, by its nature, is an extractive activity. Tourists extract experiences and consume resources of the places they visit. However, in other destinations, tourism provides flow on benefits. It provides income for communities and small businesses, there are opportunities for cultural exchange and a greater understanding of different ways of life, and perhaps a tourist can also volunteer as part of their trip. In Antarctica, none of these benefits exist. So, why go?
The view from an Antarctic cruise ship
For some, Antarctica is a trophy, and they can boast about having visited all seven continents. This is perhaps the most shallow and trivial reason for visiting. For others, the ‘last chance’ mindset is a driving factor. However, to visit a place ‘before it changes,’ or ‘before it’s gone,’ is to play a part in accelerating its demise. It is an attitude that prioritises personal gain and fulfilment over the broader damage that a trip causes. Perhaps the strangest motivation, though, is to link an Antarctic tour to an environmental ethos. To visit Antarctica to experience its untouched nature is contradictory when considering the actual and potential damage caused by tourism. While there is nowhere else on earth like Antarctica, there are many other places around the world to experience and learn about snow, ice, glaciers, and marine life. Indeed, there are many ways to learn about Antarctica without ever setting foot there.
Antarctica is a place that I will likely never visit. As a traveller, this does not diminish me in any way. Antarctica is not a trophy I need, nor is it one I desire. The environmental impact of Antarctic tourism is too large a cost. Moreover, there are places on Earth that are sacred, and they should remain unblemished from human touch. Antarctica, as a tourist destination, as a playground for the rich and privileged, is one of these places. Around the world, there are holy mountains that remain unclimbed, lakes where gods reside, and sacred sites where spirits dwell. There are places where boys go and emerge as men, and where girls grow into women. The acceptance of these places as off limits is not contested, and Antarctica should be viewed similarly. The southern continent is, by all accounts, one of the most stunning places on Earth. Long should it remain so. Mass tourism will change this, and not for the better. The best way to appreciate and love Antarctica is to stay away. ‘We abuse land because we see it as a commodity belonging to us,’ wrote the American philosopher Aldo Leopold. ‘When we see land as a community to which we belong, we may begin to use it with love and respect.’
