Kayaking next to icebergs in Antarctica is both thrilling and humbling. The sheer size of these ice giants is hard to comprehend until you're gliding alongside them in a tiny kayak. Towering over me, one particular iceberg looked like a skyscraper rising out of the water, stretching for the clouds. Even after 15 minutes of steady paddling, my group still hadn’t circled the entire thing. I’d guess this iceberg was at least half a mile long, a quarter of a mile wide, and fifty feet tall above the surface. When you're surrounded by Antarctica's vast, empty wilderness, distances and sizes play tricks on your mind.
Out here, even the smallest iceberg in the distance can be miles away, and the largest ones make our expedition ship look like a toy. Then there are the growlers—small chunks of ice that have broken off. We sometimes approached these little icebergs, playfully nudging them with our paddles. That childlike curiosity never seemed to go away.
Making eye contact with a leopard seal sleeping on an iceberg in Antarctica. Photo by Dalton Johnson
Wildlife Encounters On Icebergs
My favorite moments kayaking in Antarctica involved seals or penguins lounging on icebergs. There’s something about seeing a penguin snoozing on top of a drifting ice platform that always made me smile. I remember paddling closer (at a safe distance, of course) and watching the seals barely notice us, as if we were part of the icy landscape. Those quiet, calm encounters with wildlife felt surreal, like stepping into a documentary where there was real danger.
Can you see the three kayak boats just below the iceberg? Photo by Dalton Johnson
The Hidden Danger of Icebergs
While Antarctica’s beauty is captivating, it’s important to respect its power—especially when kayaking near icebergs. A critical safety rule I learned was to keep a healthy distance from these icy behemoths. Icebergs are unpredictable. If they flip, they can create waves strong enough to capsize a kayak. A good rule of thumb: stay at least three times the iceberg’s height away. So, if an iceberg stands 20 feet tall, you should be at least 60 feet away.
I experienced a couple of iceberg flips while kayaking, and let me tell you, my heart was racing both times. Fortunately, they were small flips, but the experience was intense. When an iceberg shifts, it happens quickly—a deep groan, a splash, and a wave rolling toward you. I had to correct my kayak quickly and paddle straight into the wave to avoid tipping over. This maneuver became second nature, but the initial adrenaline spike was unforgettable.
Breaking the Rules
I probably shouldn’t admit this, but one day, while kayaking solo, I touched an iceberg. I know—it’s risky and generally discouraged—but I couldn’t resist. The moment felt so personal, as if I had connected with this ancient block of ice that had been drifting for centuries. It felt wrong, but I loved it. Honestly, if I could go back, I’d probably do it again.
Coming in all shapes and sizes, this iceberg arch was one I will never forget when kayaking in Antarctica. Photo by Dalton Johnson
Witnessing Glacier Calving
One of the most intense parts of kayaking in Antarctica is being near glaciers that calve into the water. Calving is when a chunk of ice breaks off a glacier and crashes into the sea, often creating several new icebergs. The sound is deafening—like thunder—and the impact sends ripples across the water. It’s both awe-inspiring and humbling, a reminder of how alive Antarctica’s landscape is.
On one outing, I saw the aftermath of a recent calving. The water was dotted with freshly-formed icebergs, some of them a stunning blue. That’s the magic of Antarctica: when icebergs flip or break apart, the underside often reveals a brilliant, glowing blue. It’s unlike anything I’ve seen before—a color so pure it’s mesmerizing.
Kayaking around an island in Antarctica, among the small icebergs, looking for a penguin colony. Photo by Dalton Johnson
The Thrill of It All
Kayaking around icebergs and glaciers in Antarctica is frightening, exhilarating, and deeply rewarding. It’s a constant balance of wonder and respect. The scale of everything—the ice, the wildlife, the landscape—makes you feel small but also incredibly alive. Whether you’re paddling next to seals, watching icebergs drift, or holding your breath as one flips, it’s an experience that stays with you forever.
If you ever get the chance to kayak in Antarctica, take it. Just remember: keep your distance, respect the ice, and savor every moment—even the ones that make your heart race.
