I braced myself against the railings as the deck of the ship rose and fell beneath my feet. Binoculars held firmly in place, I gazed intently at the horizon as the last rays of sun stretched towards me over the rolling swell.  All day we had been making our way through open water, pack ice behind us now. Throughout the morning these Antarctic waters shone cobalt-blue beneath clear skies broken only by the occasional elliptical cloud that hung over the horizon, hinting at the presence of a hidden landfall. Later these clouds seemed to coalesce as we steamed into waters now as grey as beaten pewter.

The sliver of sky above the horizon narrowed and finally succumbed as the sun melted into the water and spread towards us in a burning pool. I pressed the binoculars tight against my forehead so as not to miss a single moment of its passing. The colours deepened as the golden glow became orange and then red, and finally, as I held my breath ‘There!’ a burning emerald on the horizon, a celestial green, more vivid than any earthly hue. For a moment it danced and shone brighter as though fighting to re-ignite. No gentle passage into twilight, but a raging, burning struggle for the skies. As it sank lower it flamed and fought in one final, defiant flare. No longer green, but blue. Ice burned on the horizon and was gone. The sea before us lay grey and scorched. Here and there it reflected the glow of smouldering clouds, which one by one surrendered to the evening that settled softly upon us as though comforting the sea.