So we arrived in Port Lockroy on Sunday morning, and the ship moored in an ice-free bay while 60 of us at a time were landed on the small island, and visited the museum, and the shop, and posted cards, and watched gentoo penguins in their colonies there. The plan then was to cross to the other side of the strait for the next landing, while our two 10 seater cruise RIBs took off down the clear channel behind the island. We were about half way to the next spot when they announced there was too much ice at the next planned stop, so we would turn and go back, and in fact free our two cruise boats which were now stuck in the ice.

This was a slow and ponderous operation, as the clear pool off Port Lockroy was fast filling with pack ice. Fram went dead slow, then heaved sideways, left and right, using her powerful bow thrusters, until there was a pool big enough for the two RIBs to break free. They sped off, and we then went off in a southerly direction, very slowly and noisily, through pack ice, with some clear patches.

Eventually we were just north of Lemaire Channel, which we were looking forward to, but again the story was that it was too full of ice to allow the ship through, so instead we held position and sll of the ship's seven boats, including the recovered RIBs, were put to use to give us all a cruise through the icebergs. That was great fun, and we got really close to a crabeater seal balancing on a flat floe.

We had had an early dinner, as we were one of the last groups to go on the cruise, so we retired to the cabin and settled down to a nice bottle of Malbec we had saved from the dinner table. After that I decided I was very tired and wanted to go to sleep, Ju on the other hand was bouncing around with enthusiasm, gazing out the window at huge bright shiny icebergs that glimmered in the sunlight, however late it got. Not long before eleven there was an announcement that the ship's route had changed again. We were going back to Port Lockroy.

This was an emergency, as another cruise ship had offloaded passengers into Port Lockroy using ten RIBs, but the ice had tightened up there so much that they were now stranded there, some in RIBs and some on the island.

I hurriedly got dressed and went up to the Panorama lounge on deck 7 to watch this unfold. Suddenly I was infused with loads of energy, but Ju was flagging, and went off to bed quite soon afterwards. I however decided that I wanted to watch this, even if it took a while.

The ship travelled painfully slowly through tightly packed brash ice, back up the channel we had earlier come down. The ice had thickened markedly, and there were bigger bergs around too. There was plenty of daylight however and that helped a lot. The ship edged closer to Port Lockroy, and finally we saw the problem. Four RIBs with around ten people in each, circling slowly round a small clear pool in the bay, unable to exit to the island or towards their ship. As we watched, another fifty or so people filed out of the museum building we had visited earlier in the day, towards the shore.

At first it was not clear what was going to happen, but then the Fram pushed and pulled the ice until there was space for the RIBs to come alongside. Meantime the Fram crew had lowered the landing platform, so one by one the people climbed aboard, where they were ushered up to deck 7 and the tea and coffee and hot chocolate machines, but above all the toilets!

Then the empty RIBs ferried the other people from the island, and the Fram headed back down to where their ship was waiting, with ten RIBs following close behind the ship before the ice closed up again.

By this time it was 3am, the sun, not having set, was now rising again, and I decided it was time to go to bed. I couldn't help wondering whether this massive detour would have an effect on the Fram's planned programme for the rest of the day.

I woke up for breakfast, and realised that I needn't have been concerned, as the next stop, on Cuverville Island, was only about half an hour late.

Yesterday however was a red letter day in two respects. The anniversary of Amundsen reaching the pole, and our first footfall on the actual genuine totally connected to the rest of the continent Antarctic Peninsula. All our other landings have been on islands. Ju told me that one of our experts had said in the middle of a geology lecture that, strictly speaking, if you took away all the permanent snow and ice here, there would only be a string of islands. Nonsense, say I, this is the peninsula, and that's final!

There was much hilarity as the 18 people who won the lottery out of around fifty applicants landed on the shore clutching their tents, wearing their bulky fleecy onesies, ready for the overnight camping experience on Antarctica. Right beside a gentoo colony, which never sleeps, cackles all the time and produces the most phenomenal amount of penguin poo imaginable. The smell is unforgettable, and I don't mean that in a good way! Conjecture flew around the bystanders as to how they would cope with the portapotty arrangement they had to use. Men were apparently told they had to kneel or sit to use it. Strict rules on this continent as part of the Treaty forbids the creation of any waste, so the campers all had dinner before they got off the ship, and were ferried aboard for breakfast in the morning. Leave nothing but footprints, and fill them in too in case a penguin falls down one and gets stuck! Our big rubber boots make huge holes in the soft snow.

We have also been trained to give right of way to penguins, as they go up and down their little highways between nest and sea. They have little well trodden paths so they can get up and down easily. The presence of multiple humans puts them off a bit sometimes.

The next morning, 15 December, we picked up the campers and headed for Danco Island, to see yet more gentoos, but this time 'flying' up out of the water to land on the ice.

Cameras at the ready, we went ashore only to realise how hot it was. There was no wind, so off came the jackets, and the life jackets were very handy as seats to insulate us from the cold snow as we staked out the swimming penguins. Ju cracked the getting up again problem by planting her feet deep into the snow, up to her knees. Then she said it was like sitting in a chair.

Our last landfall, as we set off back across the Drake Passage tonight to Ushuaia. Days at sea ahead. More anon.

This is now Thursday, 17 December, one week to Christmas, and I'm sitting here in the lounge on deck 7 peering ahead of the ship, to where we should see Cape Horn by 5.30pm. But it is still morning, and I am catching up with this blog before today's activities begin.

This has been everything I thought it might be, and a heck of a lot more. We have led a charmed life as to the weather for sightings and landings. One of the expedition crew told us yesterday that their last cruise like this had not seen the sun once. We had unprecedented sunshine for three days on South Georgia, and for all of the Antarctic Islands. One short blizzard of pinhead snow during the landing on Half Moon Island, but that was it! Our photographs are all bright and clear, blue skies, snowy peaks, white icebergs.

On the wildlife front we have seen all the penguins we could, apart from no Emperor. But we have seen Gentoo, Adelie, Macaroni, Magellanic and King. Half a million King penguins all at once! The wandering albatross has not been there for me, but Ju has seen it. There goes a black browed albatross now across the bows of the ship. And Cape Petrels, and Storm Petrels, and loads of others I don't know.

Fur, Weddell, Elephant and Leopard seals have all been in evidence, as well as humpback and minke whales.

Yesterday we spotted two huge fishing vessels, and the general reaction to that among passengers was dismay, and puzzlement. Wasn't there a bit in the Atlantic Treaty saying that fishing here was banned. The crew went out of their way to reassure us that these two Norwegian vessels were acting within the law, by only taking 1% of the Antarctic's krill each year. That is a paltry 100,000 tonnes, apparently. None of us were convinced. We have been learning for two weeks about how most of the wildlife we see lives on krill, or on creatures that eat krill. So basically general opinion aboard is that we should leave the krill to the whales and seals and penguins and terns and so on. I got the feeling they were a bit embarrassed that we had seen the ships at all.

The part of the peninsula that we have been cruising for the last few days is I think the part most cruise ships visit, so as to leave the rest to science and the wildlife. Certainly we have been aware of a queuing system for the various landing spots, as no two ships can use any of them at the same time, so a lot of communication and coordination goes on among the captains.

The weather gods are still smiling as I write this. We are half way across the formidable waters of the Drake Passage, in a flat sea and Force 2 wind, maybe even Force 1. Grey sky, steel-grey sea, but noone will need their seasick pills today. So far! It could change in a minute.

We dock early tomorrow at Ushuaia and Ju and I are then off on a bus trip to Escondido Lake before boarding our flight to Buenos Aires. TV this morning showed us that Argentina has revalued the peso, or cut out the blue rate of exchange. We will have to wait and see what that does