From El Chaltén, Argentina
Rushing rivers, tall waterfalls, thick woodland, alpine meadows and chiseled granite mountains, half covered in snow and glaciers. This was the Patagonia I'd come for. In the end, the seven-mile hike to Laguna Torre took us nearly five hours, one longer than expected - mainly due to my inability to stop taking photos.
Even on the way back I caught myself aiming the camera towards the same bit of Patagonia that I'd captured on the way out.
From El Calafate, Argentina
Watching the glacier is like experiencing a thunderstorm. But instead of a great bolt of lightning, followed by furious thunder, the rumble comes first. The difficult thing is swivelling the camera to capture the great chunks of calving ice before it all disappears into the lake.
In the end I had to do something I seldom do; take my finger off the shutter and just watch. That’s about the best compliment I can pay the glacier.
From Torres del Paine, Chile
One cold evening I went out to brush my teeth, standing on the lakeshore. I remember the sound of the water lapping. And I remember looking up to see the most extraordinary blanket of stars in the unusually clear night sky.
The Milky Way was a clear brush stroke sweeping across the sky above. It is the only time in my life that I have actually ducked my head looking at stars - I thought I was going to be squashed.
From Torres del Paine, Chile
The first rays of direct sunlight hit the top of the towers, turning them the most exquisite rich orange-pink colour. It was not that the sky became bright, rather the mountains were being set alight.
Bit by bit the light flowed down the sheer rock face until all of the towers glowed, then the snow field at the foot of the cliffs, then the surrounding peaks. It just kept on coming, each precious, privileged minute adding to the one before.
From a makeshift campsite, Antarctica
Should you find yourself down on the most inhospitable continent on the planet, and someone suggests you might like to go and sleep outside, you may well question their sanity. If you agree, you'll almost certainly question your own.
But I was rewarded with the greatest dawn I'll probably ever see. Crisp Antarctic air filled my lungs, the sun inched over the snowy mountains, and I felt like the first human to ever set foot here.
From Half Moon Island, Antartica
On Half Moon Island, I very nearly disgraced myself by tripping over a nursing Weddell Seal cub. After my near miss, I was more attentive on the walk over to the chinstraps. I burrowed down into the snow in order to capture a male in the heat of his passion.
It is worth noting that the crisp black and white cleanliness of this picture contrasts with the powerful smell of your average penguin colony.
From the Southern Ocean, Antarctica
I’m past the age where I need to prove my fortitude to my peers. But not past the age where I won’t rise to the provocation of, ‘I’ll do it if you do it.’
Thus I found myself on the beach in my boxers, toes curling in the volcanic sand. Seconds later, we ran into the Southern Ocean. How could water be this cold and not be ice?! Later, a lovely feeling of satisfaction warms me, as does the brandy my nemesis kindly buys me.
From the upper deck, Antarctica
A barbecue in Antarctica? Utterly bonkers. Bonkers, but delicious. With the aroma of grilled meats in the air, we sat on the deck and watched the sun slip slowly away between two white mountains, throwing a pink glow across the snowy banks to the stern of the ship.
The fact we were, quite literally, wrapped up in gear for Antarctica just means that this alfresco dinner was a quite surreal, rather tasty end to another incredible day.