'Antarctica has no government as such'

W. Herzog about filming Encounters at the End of the World

The film benefited greatly from the spirit of the Antarctic Treaty, which came into force in 1961 and which I consider to be one of the finest documents of the civilised world. It banned military activity on the continent and established the area as a scientific preserve, committing an entire landmass to the principles of peace and knowledge. There is also an unequivocal ban on nuclear testing or dumping of radioactive waste. The treaty is one of the most potent manifestations of civilised behaviour among nations in modern history. I remember a time when at least a dozen countries claimed segments of the continent as their national territory, but Antarctica has no government as such; it belongs to no one, and while making the film I was witness to the extraordinary international co-operation you find there.
[...]
The vast landscape of the continent is unique, but Encounters at the End of the World is more about the inhabitants of Antarctica than  anything else. There is a significant science being done there, which attracts a certain kind of person, and behind every door at McMurdo is an extraordinary character. With no indigenous population, no one there has anything in common other than a shared attraction to this immense, unspoilt and untouched area of the earth. Someone told me that everybody who isn't tied down falls to the bottom of the globe.
Werner Herzog, A Guide for the Perplexed, Conversations with Paul Cronin, p385-386 (Faber & Faber 2014)

snowed in & a thread of stories

One thing that my mother once told me was that I fell quite ill when I was five or six. We could not call an ambulance because even if we did manage to get hold of one, we were too deeply snowed in. So my mother wrapped me in blankets, tied me on a sled and pulled me all night to Aschau where I was admitted to hospital. She visited me eight days later, coming on foot through deep snow. I do not remember this, but she was so amazed that I was absolutely without complaint. Apparently I had pulled a single piece of thread from my blanket on the bed and for eight days had played with it. I was not bored: this thread was full of stories and fantasies for me.
Werner Herzog, A Guide for the Perplexed, Conversations with Paul Cronin, p12-13 (Faber & Faber 2014)

The Importance of Traveling on Foot

For two long we have been estranged from essential nomadic life. Humans aren't made to sit in front of computer screens or travel by aeroplane; nature intended something different for us. Walking great distances has never been extreme behaviour to me. It has forever helped me regain my equilibrium, and I would always rather do the existentially important things in my life on foot. If you want to propose marriage to your girlfriend and you live in England and she is in Sicily, do the decent thing and walk down there. Travelling by car or aeroplane wouldn't be right at such a moment. Making a journey like that on foot has nothing to do with being a tourist; you won't find many of them carrying binoculars, a canteen, a compass and a penknife but no camera on their travels. In fact, the dignity and identity of cultures around the world are being stripped to the bone by tourism. I have a dictum that connected me instantly with Bruce Chatwin: "Tourism is sin and travel by foot is virtue."
Werner Herzog, A Guide for the Perplexed, Conversations with Paul Cronin, p254 (Faber & Faber 2014)
More on traveling on foot [link to g-book]

connectivity

[...] Permanent connectivity isn’t my thing; I have always needed moments of quiet solitude for myself. There’s a Chinese poem from the Tang dynasty about someone describing a boat journey along the Yellow River and leaving his friend behind, a monk on a mountain, in the knowledge that they probably won’t see each other or have any contact for years. This man’s return, decades later, has an indescribable substance and depth. Compare this to standing in line at the airport, chatting on your cellphone to your loved one, who is waiting in the car park. [...]

[...] As for "social networks", mine has forever been my kitchen table, where I cook for no more than four or five friends.
Werner Herzog, A Guide for the Perplexed, Conversations with Paul Cronin, p251 (Faber & Faber 2014)