Wildlife Worldwide: An Arctic Dream
- Elle Kaye
- Jun 30
- 5 min read
Visiting the Arctic is always one of those, top of the list, “once in my lifetime” trips. To have had the opportunity to fulfil this, is truly an enormous privilege, of which I owe my gratitude to Wildlife Worldwide.
With every thermal layer I folded into my case I felt as if I was wrapping up my excitement within the folds of fabric. Each item held this invisible weight that became carefully transported to the check in desk ahead of my London departure.
From Oslo to Tromsø, and Tromsø to Longyearbyen, each mile I crept a little closer to this special destination, before finally, I was walking down the dock and stepping onto the gangway to MS Stockholm.
A small, ice-strengthened ship, originally built in 1953 and refitted for polar expeditions, particularly in the Svalbard Archipelago, is known for its size, accommodating just 12 passengers. What it may have lacked in size was made up by its exclusive ability to reach remote areas inaccessible to larger ships; this is exactly why the Stockholm is so suited to wildlife cruises and photography expeditions. Inside, the ship is charming, with cozy twin cabins, brass details and wooden decks. The pantry has an endless supply of caffeine and cocoa, and the bar – a perfectly apt wooden chest – promises to yield enough treasure to keep you warm.
In our introductory briefing, expedition leader Christian noted that though it was hard to describe, “there is something about the Stockholm” and that we would hopefully feel it by the end of the trip. I felt it within moments, and somehow we all just knew exactly what he meant.
When one imagines the landscape of the Arctic, you have expectations. Dramatic, sweeping glaciers blanketed in white and rolling expanses as far as the eye, and mind, can imagine. The Arctic isn’t just what you expect, it is that experience, but even more profound, more powerful.
The landscape is so vast, and so beautiful, and despite being seemingly the same, texture, colour and life bursts in every direction: the scale and geology of the glaciers, the batons and shards of ice crunching in the swell, the aquamarine hues blended at the surface of the ocean, and the lilac sparking of the top dusting of snow. Standing on the deck of the ship, surrounded by sea ice, the hum of the engine and the crack of the reinforced steel bow, carving its way forward in one of the most northerly parts of the world I’ll probably ever visit, is so formative, so life-altering, I know that this trip has changed me forever.
Our days were centered on wildlife sightings, against a backdrop of a luxurious twenty-four hours of daylight. This meant that at any time of day or night, your hot chocolate might be abandoned for a pod of 20-40 belugas, bobbing past the edge of the ice sheet, their creamish contours rising and falling gently with the waves. It meant that for us, one night, a polite knock on our cabin door at 3:30am meant suits on and get on deck fast for a female Polar bear and her two playful cubs. We all had our pyjamas under our weatherproofed suits and my bed socks fit snugly inside my rubber deck boots.
From being rocked into a deep sleep by the gentle undulating of the waves, to being stood on deck in -15 degrees (with an icy wind), to being within 1km of a Polar Bear, is like being in some strange, adventurous dream. We stood there for almost two hours, sometimes photographing, mostly admiring, as these bears moved gracefully across the snow. I kept lifting my binoculars up to my eyes, and then away again, almost with this sense of disbelief. There really were Polar bears right in front of me; in the wild, in their home. Time feels like it stands still, and when they finally became no longer visible, we all unanimously let out huge exhales; relief, bewilderment, overwhelm and emotion. There were smiles, and even a few hugs. It’s quite incredible how much emotion these sightings can carry. I’ll admit, I’ve never quite had a wildlife encounter that embodied so strongly my feeling that we are visitors in their space, as this did. It gives you this incredible sense of perspective, like you’re the ensemble waiting in the wings, to this impactful and incomparable show.
With birds being one of my special interests, I was overwhelmed with the diversity of birdlife in the Arctic. Fulmars hung onto our air wake as we sailed, Atlantic puffins bobbed at the surface of the water, King Eiders darted past, Long-tailed ducks hurried by, and Ivory Gulls and Kittiwakes perched weightlessly on precarious ice drifts. One of the standout moments of the trip for me, was heading into the Hinlopen Strait on the Zodiacs – not usually visited so early in the season, but southerly winds in our favour pushed the ice a little further north – allowing us access to 100m high bird cliffs peppered with Guillemots. The sky, the cliffs and the water’s edge were utterly covered – it was breathtaking. Between the sounds of the birds calling and camera clicks, was my excitable breathing, and beneath that, a very fast heart-rate that took some time to come back down.
As photography was the focus of our trip, our guide, Bret Charman, was on hand for any advice we might have needed. As part of the on-board lecture series provided by Bret, Beau and Christian (our expedition guides) - ranging from Polar Bears, Walrus, and Ice - we were given a thorough run-down of composition, lighting, and detailed setting suggestions. As a beginner photographer, throwing herself in the deep-end somewhat, this was invaluable. As we cruised gently to the ice on Zodiacs one morning, two Arctic foxes were on the hunt at the water’s edge. With Bret’s voice in my head, it was the perfect chance to execute some of my learning. Cropped in against the gnarled, rough edges of the rock, this fluffy white shape was contrasted to perfection. Once you start looking for it, the Arctic reveals such a rich blanket of texture, contrast and detail: a photographer’s dream.
The days drifted by, sometimes slowly, but ultimately still too fast. From coasting past ice floes captained by sleeping Walrus, Sandpipers foraging through snow-littered sand and sea kelp, to the unmistakable sickle-shaped dorsal of Minke whale peeping between the swell, to Bearded seals curiously popping up by our Zodiacs and an overwhelming number of Polar bear sightings (15 for the trip!), this trip was so abundant and diverse; just such an oxymoron of thought against the starkness of the Arctic landscape.
This journey reminded me why I do what I do—why telling these stories matters. It’s easy to feel disconnected from nature in the busy hum of daily life, but in the Arctic, it’s just you and nature. It demands your full attention whilst simultaneously needing nothing from us in that moment. What it needs is much greater; it needs security, and protection. The raw, untouched beauty of the Arctic has a way of stripping life back to its essence. I returned with memory cards bursting at the seams, but somehow this couldn’t compare to the fullness I felt,—grateful for the chance to witness this Arctic wild, and more determined than ever to share and protect it.
For more information on this trip, see the below links:
Watch a recap of my trip to the Arctic here:
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