On the weekend before last, Neptune gave us all a good talking to. Shortly before the Kerguelen, the teacups were robbed of their saucers, wetting the tablecloths. Following from the 7 meter waves came first matters resulting from gravity and irregular acceleration of the ship. The stabilizers were taken out for a spin, the ship's speed reduced, its course held steady. It takes a bit of effort to get the rice pudding all the way from the plate to the mouth without it taking a detour and landing on the carpet. Unfortunately, the weather is not conducive to sediment coring. Thus we trouble ourselves with our bimodal distribution of mental and physical training- each according to their age. One plugs away on cruise reports or works already on the first samples and if the younger goats don't know what to do with their excess energy, they find themselves on the sports equipment in the fitness room. Exertion through rowing, running, or bike riding certainly produces sweat, but doesn't get you anywhere; for entertainment an iPod with headphones in their ears is recommended.

The geophysicists stow things away, blue overalls now faded, the last geological station, shortly after the Crozet Islands, fails, falling victim to a lack of sediments below and excessive swells above. The last chance to break our coring record rocked to pieces and washed away. The "Roaring Forties" are not shy. Consequently the geologists can also pack their equipment and give everything in their lab a clinical scrub down. Only one group toils still. The trunk in the moon pool delivers, via a pump, a continuous steam of sample, water from a hand's breadth under the keel. The seawater will be separated from its ingredients and what remains on the silter will enjoy itself in the modern labs of the AWI. The oceanographic residue goes directly back to Neptune. And at the moment he is in a considerably bad mood. Nonetheless, he delivers his best wishes for the captain's birthday, his tafoni directing themselves in a row of illustrious gifts, primed with a serenade of scientists with guitar accompaniment: "Wir lagen vor Kerguelen und hatten den Stefan an Bord …

On the homeward leg bathymetry soundings can be taken for the duration of the entire cruise: directly under us the echo sounder delineates two seamounts previously unknown from the oceans floor; one stretches with its crater area from 2900 to 1750 m water depth, at 1350 meters, an imposing height for an undersea volcano, breaking up the order of the deep sea on our course on the 4th of April 2007 at 10:30 in the morning. It lies on the homeward leg of a polar research ship, a ship that returns from an 18 month long expedition just as IPY begins - one good reason to baptize this new ocean peak the IPY-Seamount. At home later this name will be officially applied for.

It is dark. The moist breath of the sea hangs over the helideck. The unbaptized infants chained together in packs of two shiver through their initial washing down. Torfrock sings, " it is so lovely to be baptized..." The hangar door lifts itself. Glistening light, resounding booms. Admiral Triton steps forward in nausea green, accompanied by his hunchbacked assistants, pale white with wet eczema. (Absolutely!- the adjective "aesthetic" is inapplicable to a polar baptism.) Triton announces the arrival of the lord of the oceans. His bottle of schnapps is stolen. The infants to be baptized are many and well organized. The basic washing from two C-pipes and a fire-extinguishing water cannon ends in a waterfight. That one entire horde falls directly on the ship's doctor is unwise...

The next day brings repentance, truth, purity, and a baptismal name. Whoever forgets must again go through the steeplechase of torture: branding, purging, hair-cutting, photographing, and dunking... Here the guests turn themselves over with horror; we spare the northern hemisphere further details of the high south. All have survived and can, in the evening, take firm nourishment again in the form of suckling pig and Kerguelen lamb.

Now we pack up and clean the laboratories during what is left of the cruise. The cruise reports must be handed in before Cape Town or you don't get your airline ticket. A flier announcing the time of the last email exchange of the cruise has gone up. Easter will be jointly observed with a closing fest - table icebergs broad behind us, Table Mountain lurking ahead.

The cruise leader and the scientists heartily thank the captain and crew for the considerable support throughout this remarkable expedition. Every participant sends greetings home in joyful expectation of reunion and the telling of all those stories that didn't make the weekly reports.

Prof. Dr. H.-W. Hubberten (Chief Scientist), Dr. Hannes Grobe, and the participants of the expedition

(Translation: Christina de la Rocha)