It was one of the most memorable days of my life.   

January, 2010. We’d been out most of the day on assignment, leaving Scott Base early in the morning and flying by helicopter across McMurdo Sound to a research team at the McMurdo Dry Valleys, the largest ice-free area in Antarctica.

Having filmed for a few hours, we took off again and tracked the edge of Ross Island, flying low to watch the frenzy of activity on the edge of the continent below. Penguins, seals, whales, feeding in the summer thaw.  

At Cape Bird we used another battery or two and a tape, filming with the tens of thousands of mating pairs at the Adelie penguin colony. So many birds! So much bird shit. We flew home, skirting around the base of Mt Erebus, epic and stark.   

I was in a daze. But as the helicopter wound down and we unloaded our gear at Scott Base, the staff on the ground were in a flutter. 

“You’re not going to believe who’s visiting for dinner,” someone said.  

He was standing in the Scott Base bar, holding court. I remember him being surrounded by a half-dozen people, hanging on each word. I meekly approached his producer and cleared my throat. 

“I’m really sorry to bother you...” I said.  

“My name’s Jack Tame and I’m a reporter with Television New Zealand... I just wondered if it might be possible, if it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience, if Sir David might consider maybe doing an interview with us while he’s here?”  

“I dunno...” said the producer. 

“Just ask him yourself.”  

I clumsily reached out my hand and repeated my speech.   

“If it’s not too much trouble... if I’m not asking too much...”  

“I’d be happy to,” said Sir David Attenborough.   

“...on one condition.”  

“Of course.” 

“We bring this bottle of wine.”  

And so it came to be that after what had already been maybe the single most special day of my journalistic career, I found myself sitting in the Scott Base lounge, with a bottle of red wine, musing over the miracle of life with Sir David Attenborough.  

Just outside the base windows, whales broke through the melting sea ice and puffed through their blowholes as we cycled through subjects: Filmmaking. Climate science. The existence of God.   

I can think of no single person, ever, who has done more to shape our understanding of the natural world. No person who has done more to foster our sense of wonder. Across his 100 years, his broadcasts and storytelling have reached and affected billions of people across the planet.  

How many broadcasters, filmmakers, biologists, ecologists, marine and climate scientists were inspired to pursue their passion because of Sir David Attenborough? His is the voice of the natural world.   

And as the world celebrates his yet another achievement, 100 years, I gratefully reflect on that late afternoon in Antarctica.  

For one of us, it was extraordinary encounter in an otherwise pretty unremarkable life. For the other, it was an unremarkable encounter in an undoubtedly extraordinary life. The extraordinary life.  

And as I wrapped our filming and he headed off to find his spot for dinner, I shook Sir David’s hand and spoke the truest words I could.   

Thank you, I said. For everything, I said. Thank you.