Awayday to Antarctica

We could have been any 747-load of passengers milling around Sydney Airport that midsummer Sunday morning - a handful looking stylish in "smart casual" and a few dressed far, far down, in shorts and T-shirts. So far, so normal. But this was a little surreal: short sleeves and all, we were about to leave for Antarctica. For the day.

It was the last of the 2001-2002 season of Antarctica flights - a programme run by Melbourne based Croydon Travel for the past eight summers. Our chartered 747 would take us to Antarctica, circle at low altitude (from 2,500ft to 10,000ft) over hundreds of square miles of the ice cap, and land back in Sydney twelve-and-a-half hours later. Polar exploration for the time-starved? The perfect polar solution for those who don't like the cold? How different would it be, I wondered, from getting a glimpse of Greenland on the northerly trans-Atlantic route? Very, as it turned out.

Rather than anodyne entertainment, we got in-flight education: from videos we learned about weather, wildlife and the oceans; from the experts on board - first speaking over the PA, then wandering among the passengers to answer questions - we learned what it was like to live down there. And for those who wanted to dress up in a real ice-suit, there was a photo-op in the aisles.

The atmosphere on board was anything but the bored resignation of a scheduled flight, as people wandered about the cabin swapping stories and drinking champagne. As well as those on special-occasion treats, there were some who already knew Antarctica: one had sailed there on an historical ship, a doctor had worked at one of the bases. They wanted to see how it looked from above. A businessman in first class wanted to see if it would be worth committing the time for a long land/sea visit next year. (The answer turned out to be "yes".)

Just south of Tasmania we got the first hint that we were venturing into a wild part of the planet, with 20 minutes of violent, frightening, yet exhilarating turbulence as we crossed the Roaring Forties. The light outside became piercingly intense as we saw our first icebergs, then, after crossing Antarctica's official boundary at 60 degrees south, we passed over the magnetic pole. Dozens of passengers (better prepared than I) whipped out their hand-held compasses and watched the needles swing wildly. There was a palpable sense of excitement.

Dropping to 10,000 feet, we flew over huge, tennis-courtflat, tabular icebergs, appreciating their scale only when told that their sheer sides were 30 metres high, their length 5km: enough to land our 747 on, if we had chosen to. Then, suddenly, we were over the ice cap, circling at less than 5,000ft above the French base at Dumont d'Urville, picking out astonishing detail in the pure light - the buildings, the fuel depot, a line of Snowcats parked on the ice, a colony of emperor penguins.

We turned east, following the edge of the ice cap then, as low cloud gathered, turned back in the opposite direction. With a choice of 11 flight paths, there was no problem finding clear sky. By now most people were on their feet. "From the left of the aircraft you'll see ..." prompted a mini-stampede to that side: "On your right ..." the reverse. For four magical hours the captain flew a series of long, low figures-of-eight to give everybody a view - although, with the party mood, nobody minded if you leaned across their seat for a better look.

And what a view it was. I had never seen so many shades of blue - countless variations, from the vivid sapphire of the ocean to the aquamarine glow of the ice cliffs and the pale Wedgwood of the sky - all intensified by the reflection off the snow and the sun's low angle. I had never imagined so many textures of white - perfect meringue icebergs, glaciers like massive, rumpled duvets, vast plains of cracked and wind-blown crust, "beaches" of smooth, shiny ice. It was astoundingly beautiful and - in its vastness - deeply humbling.

As we landed back in Sydney that evening I realised that an awayday to Calais would seem very tame from now on. Like the businessman in first class, I was longing to go back to Antarctica at sea level. Flying back to London through Buenos Aires, it was a simple matter of turning right for Ushuaia.

Sandra Lane flew to Sydney with Aerolineas Argentinas (020 7494 1001), returns from £931. She stayed at the Observatory Hotel (UK reservations 0800

181123), singles/doubles from £240, room only. A day flight over Antarctica with Croydon Travel (0061 39 725 8555, www.AntarcticaFlights. com.au) costs from $899 (£342); bookings are now being taken for 31 December 2002 and 9 February 2003; 19 January from Melbourne.