How I Shot a Flipped Iceberg in Antarctica
Capturing an incredibly rare sight at the bottom of the world
From a distance it looked like rock. Up close it looked like Superman’s Fortress of Solitude — an emerald anomaly floating in a sea of white. It sounded equally strange, fizzing through cracks in its surface as pockets of compressed air, water and ice did battle within.
What, I asked myself, is that?
It was, of course, an iceberg, but in a highly unusual state. This one had recently flipped over, revealing a pure jade underside for a brief, wondrous window of time. This is the story of how we found it.
I’d arrived in Antarctica via the Drake Passage, aboard the National Geographic Explorer, to find that the region isn’t actually that cold; in late December the average temperature is 2°C. Which means you’re positively sweltering if your duffel was packed under the influence of books and movies and you’re bundled up like a newborn on a Christmas walk.
Almost everything here is blinding white: sun, snow, icebergs, the bellies of penguins. Go outside without sunglasses just for a few seconds and you’re a bat for the rest of the day. Photographing this blown-out landscape is a challenge: Perpetual daylight and surface reflection make for difficult lighting conditions; biting wind discourages casual lens swapping; and the abundance of epic cliffs, meteor-sized icebergs, and bumbling birds make choosing your subjects a constant scramble.
I pointed my Canon 5DMKII everywhere, shooting almost 200GB of raw images. (On Zodiac cruises, I’d bring a backup camera in case things got splashy, as well as a 16–35mm lens to capture the scale of these megaliths up close.)
On our third day, we set off to explore Cierva Cove, a small inlet near the top of the Peninsula.
A note on terminology: Very small pieces of floating ice, say around 20 square meters, are called growlers. When they get a little bigger, around ten times that size, they’re referred to as bergy bits (a technical term!). Then come the stadium-sized behemoths, sublime and intimidating. One of the largest on record, at a reported 11,000 square miles, would have dwarfed the entire island of Jamaica.
Cierva Cove was filled with icebergs that day. All extraordinary, but all similar-looking. As our Zodiac skimmed across the water, though, we spotted something dark and unusual in the distance. It looked like rock but, as we got closer, it became clear that this was a berg — though not like any I had ever seen, even in photos. (And that’s saying something these days).
Many icebergs appear blueish, especially along the water’s surface, but this one was blue through and through. The scientist on board got visibly excited as we approached; this was a rare sight. I fired shot after shot, hoping for the best and trying to simultaneously enjoy the moment. We circled slowly, observing the endless, intricate facets of this prize specimen. (We couldn’t get too close, as there is always a danger of an iceberg flipping back over.) I shot what I could, and we moved on.
The actual photographs are special solely because of the subject matter. I was lucky to be there to capture them, but they required no special talent to acquire, and indicate no remarkable ability on my part. You could have pointed an iPad at this thing and come away with some great images. Of course getting there, with the right gear, is something; but I’m just the messenger, and it’s been exciting to share these with a large audience.
The photos have been on the Today Show, in the Washington Post, Smithsonian, and many more. I was interviewed on the Weather Channel. My website views, which typically number a couple hundred a day, reached the millions once the pictures were released. What’s amazing to me is that these are photographs of nature. No grumpy cats or exploding rainbows; just a piece of ice sitting in the water. It’s really exciting to me that we can still be captivated by something so simple.
Watch the video of how I processed the photos here:
My name is Alex Cornell and I usually describe myself as a designer/filmmaker. I have a creative studio called Moonbase and we traffic in peculiar mischief, usually of the filmic variety. I like far away places and shoot experimental travel logs when I can.
The Autograph Collection is part of the Marriott International group.
