I both love and hate flying. I’ve always always been a window seat flyer. Regardless of how many people I have to disturb on my way to the loo, and the feeling of being trapped that make some people opt for the aisle, I have always chosen a window seat. The absolute best part of flying is the view out of the window. I hate with a passion the requirement, which has grown more prevalent over time, to keep the shades down on long haul flights. To miss the sunrise over exotic landscapes seems criminal to me, but the reflected light on screens disturbs the movie watchers and the crew prefer us to be happily distracted or asleep.

Our wonderful homecoming begins as we expect, with Jeremy and Emma driving our car, in addition to their own, out to the airport, and placing the keys on the bonnet so we can drive ourselves home. We keep a suitably awkward distance from each other in our hello’s. Once home, neighbours welcome us, waving from across the road as we hop out of the car, and the kids disappear around the back as we unload our bags.

The rest takes us by surprise.

The pilot has a sense of humour, suggesting that he will be working from home today, but that they’ve preset the flight. There is a slight delay as they unload a bag from a passenger that is not onboard, and he acknowledges our keenness to get home. There is an additional sentence tacked on to the usual welcome, assuring us how safe it is to fly.

I haven’t been this excited to fly in a long time. And not just because it is an old Dash 8-400 with a propeller and wheels that you can see lift off the ground and retract on take-off, which makes you really feel like you are flying.  We are on our way home.

On each consecutive flight we have sent the kids photos of us once we had boarded, as evidence that the plan was working. The photos from Montivideo and Santiago are shockers, we look tired and stressed. Today’s photo, as we settle into our seats, is a big improvement.

We can be optimistic. The piece of paper outlining our release from mandatory quarantine slid under the door at 10.45pm for our late night digestion. The news was both positive, anxiety provoking and supremely irrritating. And it really made us feel like we are exiting!

“The next flight to Perth is on April 24th, that’s 18 days away”. I pause, not knowing quite what to say to the Qantas operator who has just delivered this blow. I glance over my shoulder at Jode. It is day 11. We are due to come out of quarantine on Easter Sunday, April 12.

We’ve had our noses firmly pointed towards home for the last few days. This is not the news we want to hear.

We had a meeting of our Active Hope group on Saturday by zoom . As a group we’ve mostly been grappling with environmental and social justice concerns but this time we spent our time discussing how we are adapting to the COVID crisis. And our hopes for how we might emerge into a different and better place post COVID.

The Western Australian border closure announcement last night appeared to be yet another snag in our ongoing saga. We were dismayed by the come home by Saturday or you will be locked out pronouncement by the Premier. Yet another round of frantic calls and texts. Our panic was quickly allayed however when it became clear we would be exempt. Where was that statement found? On Facebook of course.

It is 4 am in Melbourne and of course the jet lag is kicking in. I crashed during the afternoon and am now wide awake but still tired. However there is not a huge incentive, apart from meals, to get into a regular timezone and so here I am sitting in the window of our room watching over a very quiet and dark Melbourne.

One hour to go, before we arrive in Melbourne, our point of entry into Oz and place of enforced quarantine. Jeremy has done the necessary cancellation of our onward flights and we’ve duly added to our accumulating Qantas credits.

We understand why the enforced quarantine is necessary.

I’m reading between the lines here about how ‘we’ are being portrayed. I know the ships finally accepted into Montevideo hit the news but I am not sure of the tenor of the news.

I know we are not refugees heading for detention. But for a moment it feels like that. I now realise that those images of the first uplift of Australians from Wuhan, behind the wire fences in the detention centre on Christmas Island has let its mark. Equanimity will return in due course but waking to the news of our forced quarantine on arrival in Melbourne hit hard. Leaving our safe community on the boat where we have been exceptionally well looked after, for an unknown destination, made our departure more poignant.

So we here we are on the bus complete with police escort and flashing lights. Speeding through the city. We catch glimpses of the waterfront esplanade, palm trees and the obligatory Macdonald’s.

Tonight will be our 18th night on the boat. Yes, we had planned to leave today but more changes to flights meant a delay. We leave tomorrow. Jeremy has a plan A and a plan B for tomorrow, so we are happy with the arrangements. But don’t uncross your fingers and toes yet.

We docked this morning at dawn. I was in shock. As the sun rose on the starboard side (apparently a beautiful sunrise no doubt colour enhanced by the air pollution) we were gazing out of the Portside window at a full working port and what is undoubtedly the arse end of the city. Once docked those on the starboard side gazed out onto a car park or similar under construction. It is hard to explain how jarring this return to reality and civilisation is after the stunning wildness of Antartica and the sea vista of the last week.

We’re allowing ourselves to get a bit excited about going, and being, home. It seems like the planets are aligning. The ship is zeroing in on Montevideo and will rendezvous with a pilot tonight to be guided into harbour. It seems we can be berthed for the 25th and 26th at least. That is the perfect window of opportunity for us, with our flight on the afternoon of the 26th. However it is all uncertain, but less uncertain, than before. Shades of uncertainty! And we are the lucky ones with a flight. 

Well out with the winter wardrobe and in with the summer one. We’ve re-found the sunscreen and sun hats last worn in Buenos Aires. Apart from our camping on deck experience last night, I think the long johns can now be declared obsolete. That is, if we don’t end up onboard to Vlissingen. We’ve transitioned from 5 layers in Antartica to T-shirts in under a week.

Plans for ‘Plancius has got talent’ are well underway. The mind boggles. Given some of the passengers onboard it could range from the wildly inappropriate to the truly talented.

To be honest I was not thrilled to wake up at sea today. A balmy 15 degrees, sun shining, calm seas, albatrosses flying outside my cabin window, in fact all the ingredients for a great cruising day did not lift my spirits. Neither did the non functioning webmail!. I had to do some breathing.....

The mood on the boat has shifted. Some are partying hard. Poker, card and board games continue well into the early hours. Breakfast was less well attended today than on even the most sea sick inducing day we had about a week ago.

Yesterday, in a preCOVID world was the day we would have disembarked in Ushuaia, at the southern tip of Argentina, a happy bunch of satisfied international voyagers, still revelling in all that we saw and experienced in Antartica. By today Jode and I would have been in Buenos Aires, preparing for our flight home early tomorrow. Instead some 115 passengers along with ship crew, ‘hotel’ staff and expedition staff, from 28 nationalities are motoring up the coast of Argentina. Disembarking from Ushuaia became impractical once Argentina grounded domestic travel, so the plan to disembark us a week later in Buenos Aires was met with more enthusiasm than the Expedition crew leader, Ian, anticipated.

At a meeting this morning we have been advised that the boat is not docking in Ushuaia, Argentina (southernmost tip of Argentina) which is where we departed from and had expected to return to tomorrow. We are now headed for Buenos Aires. So to back up a bit, we have known for a few days that domestic flights were cancelled from 20-25, so we had no way of getting up to Buenos Aires anyway to connect with some of the last commercial flights available.

We have had our last landing on the Shetland Islands (Yankee Harbour, last dot on map) and have turned our bow to the Drake Passage for what the expedition leader Ian is predicting to be a very rough “Drake shake”. The captain is trying to stay ahead of a typhoon (60+ knots) that is moving down the coast of Chile but is still expecting up to 40 knot winds. We have our seasickness patches on......here we go!

Firstly we have been having a fantastic time on the boat and for the first 4 or 5 days had a total holiday from media. We initially didn’t bother to set up the webmail on offer or buy a wifi package. However this disconnect is no longer possible. We have been advised by Oceanwide that Argentina has closed its borders for 30 days. It is very unclear if flying out of the country will be possible.