"During the expedition's first ten days, the ship navigated a strong storm, with ocean swells reaching two to three metres. Still, the sights were remarkable. "Lot of good remote birds!" the scientist texted friends. Then one of them sent him a link to a news story about an outbreak of a hantavirus, a potentially deadly pathogen traditionally carried by rodents, which had been reported on a cruise ship. "Please tell me you're not on this ship," the friend wrote."
"The Hondius was now in a different kind of storm-an ordeal reminiscent of the early days of the COVID-19 pandemic, with passengers mysteriously falling ill, health workers wearing hazmat suits, and governments imposing quarantines. As the crisis unfolded, I began trading WhatsApp messages with the scientist multiple times a day. (I agreed to omit identifying details because he was concerned about being subjected to a media frenzy.)"
"On May 8th, we spoke for almost five and a half hours. At one point, he told me about photographs that he took while waiting to board the ship. "I'm looking at these photos of people in line who were s"
A scientist boarded the M.V. Hondius in Ushuaia for a remote polar expedition to South Georgia, Gough Island, Tristan da Cunha, Inaccessible Island, and St. Helena. During the first ten days the ship faced strong storms but also produced sightings of remote birds. After a friend alerted him to a reported hantavirus outbreak on a cruise ship, the Hondius became part of a similar crisis. Passengers began falling ill, health workers used hazmat suits, and governments imposed quarantines. Communication with the scientist continued as the situation developed, including long conversations and references to photos taken while waiting to board the ship.
Read at The New Yorker
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