“You’d see massive glacier calvings, and you’d just want to cry. But all the guests would be cheering. And you’d be like … ‘can you not put two and two together?’”
Those are the words of a former Antarctic tour guide we interviewed. For anyone interested in nature, few jobs sound more enviable. You spend months among penguins, orcas and glaciers, helping visitors experience one of the world’s most extraordinary and unspoilt places.
But for some guides, like those we quote in this article, that privilege slowly became impossible to reconcile with their beliefs. Watching climate change unfold while helping thousands more visitors reach the continent eventually led them to leave the jobs they had once dreamed of.
Antarctic tourism is growing rapidly, with more than 120,000 visits recorded in the 2025–26 season and up to 450,000 expected each summer within the next decade. Our new study reveals how Antarctic tour guides grapple with the dilemma at the heart of their work – bringing increasing numbers of visitors to an ecologically vulnerable region while contributing to some of the highest CO₂ emissions of any form of tourism.
“I was down there on the hottest day ever recorded in 2020. Hiking up a glacier in my T-shirt, driving boats without gloves. It was really sad. The impacts of climate change absolutely hit you in the face.”
We interviewed 25 former Antarctic guides who decided to leave their jobs. All quotations have been anonymised. These guides could no longer reconcile their values with the effects of tourism they witnessed day after day.
“Very often, for long periods of time, the penguins had maybe a few hours’ break during the night. Otherwise there were hundreds of people walking through the colonies non-stop.”
While tour operators often argue that visiting Antarctica increases awareness of environmental issues, many former guides said they were struck by visitors’ lack of understanding of human impacts.
None of the guides resigned overnight. Their decisions emerged after years of reflection, uncertainty and moral conflict.
“We are always in conflict in our minds with two parts; the excitement to go to Antarctica to work in remote places we like, and being complicit in tourism industry development.”
“I can’t work in the farce of climate change cruise tourism anymore. It’s just, how can I go there, tell people about climate change and not do anything about it?”
The experiences of these former Antarctic tour guides suggest that meaningful change is often a gradual and painful process rather than a single dramatic moment. For many, acting against their values for years affected their wellbeing.
“I think what it comes down to for me is, you know, if I think about being on my deathbed and trying to look my kids in the eyes and saying, ‘I tried.’ I don’t know if I could have done that if I kept doing what I was doing.”
The stories of guides who left one of the world’s most extraordinary tourism jobs illustrate that stepping away from an unsustainable lifestyle can come with significant personal costs.
“To this day, Antarctica … stays in the forefront of my head as the most incredibly raw environment that deserves all the care and protection. And I just think tourism and us being there was doing the opposite of that completely.”
Many of the participants still felt deeply connected to Antarctica and admitted they sometimes regretted leaving. Their experiences show that mixed emotions and uncertainty are often part of decisions made out of concern and care for others, including remote environments.
“Do I wish I was getting on a flight and heading to the floe edge to take people out on the ice? Yes, there’s a big part of me that wishes I was doing that right now. And I also know that I would feel like shit after doing it.”
Loving and leaving
For the people we interviewed, caring about Antarctica ultimately meant walking away from Antarctic tourism. The interviews suggest that distance does not necessarily weaken responsibility. For these former tour guides, protecting Antarctica meant leaving it, and many said they felt better after making that decision. Sometimes, the best way to protect a place you love is simply to leave it untouched.
“I was working very much against what I knew wasn’t right, and I think that was coming out in my body as well. And then when I made that decision to walk away, I just felt so much better. It was like I could breathe again.”
If you have ever questioned whether your work aligns with your values, these former Antarctic tour guides offer a thoughtful perspective on balancing career, wellbeing and environmental responsibility. Their stories may also inspire a deeper appreciation of protecting Antarctica by leaving it untouched.
