Your cart is currently empty
Sable Island 2019 Adventure
A group of photographers visit Sable Island National Park with Kattuk Expeditions and Debra Garside Photography.
A group of photographers visit Sable Island National Park with Kattuk Expeditions and Debra Garside Photography.
Polar Bears are the largest land predator in the world. According to researchers their population will likely decline to half by 2020. This is why they are the poster children for climate change. There are 19 polar bear populations globally and 8 of them are in decline. Only one shows an increase, and the others lack information. It is for this any many other reasons that when a last minute opportunity arises to go to Wapusk National Park, Manitoba for polar bear cubs, I seize the moment.
The invitation is due to a very rare and last minute cancellation of another photographer. In order to make the trip worthwhile photographically, I have 48 hours to secure the right gear, namely an 800mm lens. A call to Nikon Pro Services in Toronto yields just what I need and the courier delivers a loaner to me the next morning. It comes in a metal strong box with locks. Rightly so, the item is valued at $20,000. I have never used a lens this big and the 10 lbs of glass is cumbersome, but at the same time, entirely necessary. I book my last minute Westjet flight to Winnipeg and now I am loaded for bear!
7am flight from Winnipeg to Churchill, landed in Churchill to -41C. I have all day to acclimatize before the Via Rail train leaves tonight for Chesnaye. The town of Churchill is located just under the 59th parallel and sits just a few miles from the Nunavut border. The buildings here all look the same, covered in sheet metal, and little character can be afforded. We visit Home Depot for supplies and I spend several hours in the equipment rental store, trying on extreme weather clothing. I settle on Baffin boots (good for -100C) and goose down pants and parka. My friend knows where there are some Arctic Hares so we take a walk to try out gear. I am warm except for my hands and face, and realize that even though we are out for a short time, I should have been fully prepared with my battery heated gloves and face protection.
We find an Arctic hare near the edge of town. So beautiful, white against white, with her little black eyes and ear tips in contrast to the snow. After only 20 minutes my fingers and lens are frozen and I can no longer see out of my glasses. The hood of my parka is fringed with frost and my lips are already beginning to blister from the cold. How I am going to stand outside in this all day when we find bears?
By the end of day the train arrives to take us on our two hour journey to Chesnaye, which is really nothing other than a designated drop/pick up spot for the back country lodge. The chaos of the last 48 hours and the extreme heat inside the train put me instantly to sleep. I wake up at 9:30pm when the conductor comes through and announces 10 minutes to drop off point. I have not had time to organize the kind of bags I would like for my gear and have been struggling with two big backpacks. As I step off the train in the black of night, my size 9 boots (2 sizes larger than normal) punch into a snow drift and I am stuck, weighted down by my bags, as the other guests rush to meet the waiting track vans. I am last to get there puffing and struggling under the weight of my 800mm lens and 40 lbs of other assorted camera gear. I have a sick feeling that no one will know to wait for me and I will be abandoned, left on the tundra in the dark and blizzard conditions with nothing but my precious gear.
I climb into the van behind my gear and fight back tears of relief. Sitting in the back seat I resist car sickness as the tracked vehicle bounces along the primitive and temporary snow track, up and over snow drifts, up and over snow drifts, with nothing to break the night landscape except for a few, one-sided, spindly black spruce trees. For half an hour I try to focus my eyes on the imaginary horizon, searching in the dark for the lights of the lodge. Finally they appear and the rustic structure which houses us comes into full view. The yard is littered with machinery, water tanks and caribou antlers.
Inside I can see the warm glow of lights and guests milling about in the great room. Hockey Night in Canada is on TV and the Ottawa Senators are taking a beating by the Calgary Flames. How Canadian is that, eh? But the cliental is hardly Canadian at all. It is a small but international group of photographers from the USA, Japan, China, Germany and Switzerland. No one notices my arrival and I enter and knock the snow off my Baffins. I am shown my room, where I will stay with three other women, dorm style bunk beds – my accommodation for the next week.
The lodge is run by three Cree Nation brothers. One is manager and he tells us that his brother (a tracker) has found a female bear with two cubs in the area and that we will look for her tomorrow. After an hour of sorting and repacking I retire to a restless sleep, and dream of gear failures and frostbite.
We all bale out of the van and are instructed by the guides where we are permitted to stand. We are warned that we must react immediately if the guides say to abandon shooting and get back in van. Though I have been extremely close to black and grizzlies in the past, I know that this is a completely different situation. Black and grizzly bears are 20% carnivorous, while polar bears are 100% carnivorous!
This however, is the least of my worries. I scramble to get my gear set up fighting against a 60km gusting wind that threatens to blow away various pieces of clothing and equipment. I finally get my lens hood on the lens, tighten the down jacket around it with a bungie cord and get my tripod the right length and balanced in the snow. By now everyone else has been shooting for 5 minutes and I am still fumbling around trying to get the new snow out of my lens hood. Nothing like this is possible with mitts on so I am down to a single layer of thin gloves that I can feel my gear with, but pretty soon I cannot feel my fingers so it is not much good anyway. Finally I get myself sorted out but the bears have stopped playing and are now quiet.
I am surprised, actually, at how close we are. Well not that close, but it seems like it through 800mm. The sleeping bears fill my frame easily and I take a couple of test shots and all is well. We wait with great anticipation for the bears to awake. They have been out of the den for a while, but still need frequent naps. And we wait, and we wait. We entertain ourselves by taking photos of one another with our second cameras. Our goose down gear protects us well, but we are hardly recognizable as only our eyes are visible peeking through the layers.
Finally the cubs begin to stir and with great excitement I return to my tripod, camera and 800mm lens. I press the shutter and it fails to work. Instead of a click, a squeaky whining noise emits from my Nikon D4. I check the battery and it reads as full. A few more attempts and the shutter begins to work, but no images are recorded. Digging through 5 layers of clothes, I locate my back up battery in a warm inner pocket in layer number 2. Every little movement is a struggle and also requires the removal of two layers of gloves in order to grasp anything larger than a tripod. The backup battery gives the needed boost and the camera begins to record images, but no other functions are available. I cannot change my exposure compensation, switch to video, or review images. I have to trust that the electronics will do their job.
The cubs are lively for only a few more minutes and now my opportunity for cute cub shots is again past. And so I wait some more. Another hour goes by and now the wind is even stronger and I am forced to stand sideways to the wind in order to tolerate it. Since we are facing the wind I cannot remove my lens hood to reduce shake or my lens will be covered in snow. When the bears finally stir again, I am shaking with cold. The shutter is so stiff that I can only work it if I take my hand out of the mitts which is extremely painful and frostbite becomes a real concern. I try to pull my immense parka hood over the camera so that I am not facing directly into the wind, crack open two more packs of hand warmers and I survive for another half an hour. My camera view-finder fogs up each time I put my balaclava-covered face up to it. And eventually the entire back of my LCD screen is covered in ice from my breath.
The sun is now low in the sky and the snow picks up the darker blues and purples of the evening light. The bears are in the shadow of the snow drifts and willows, so getting clear shots is almost impossible, but I have to keep trying. As the day draws to a close she organizes the cubs and wanders off across the tundra, with the cubs playing along behind. I have never been so glad to see the back end of a bear!
Frozen and spent, I pull my batteries and cards out and put my gear into plastic bags to prevent icing and condensation and climb into the van for the bumpy two hour journey back to the lodge. As I undo my goose parka I realize that my D750 is still hanging around my neck. Too late! The cold camera is covered in frost instantly and who knows how much damage is done.
At the lodge wood stoves are burning and dinner is being prepared. This hardly seems relevant to me, as I peel off some layers, grab my laptop and review the few images I was able to get. About half of them have the shutter through the middle, the rest are okay, but not great. It could be worse – at least I have a few images and only a small amount of frostbite on the tip of my nose.
I store my bagged and frozen camera gear under the bed in a cool spot, to be left to thaw until morning. The clothes and boots are pulled apart and hung above and around the wood stove for drying. Tomorrow is another day.
The days begins exactly the same. We have a collection of good luck charms now sitting on the dash – anything to get the universe to bring bears! I have a penguin charm and my friends have polar bear stuffies. I am now beginning to worry that I will be one of those unlucky ones that spends a week out here and has little or nothing to show for it. I begin to doubt if anyone is really trying to find bears. Depression sets in, but then when I see someone that has been here for 15 days with only a minor bear siting, I guess that I should be grateful.
I have now resigned myself to the waiting, and to the low percentage of chance to getting good bear shots on this trip. The bumpy ride out is the same, and I tune out the conversations in favour of reading a book. FYI I am reading “The Nymph & the Lamp” an amazing old novel written by and based on the life of Thomas Raddall, a telegraph operator on Sable Island. I dream of being there. I glance out of the window every few minutes, but the landscape offers little interest. The sky is blue however, which somehow lightens the mood. I notice a single cloud in the northern sky. It is undoubtedly the shape of a running dog. I take it as a visit from my white dog. He is free on the other side of the rainbow bridge and has shown me a sign. I hear him saying “it took me a while to find you!”
Lunch time comes and goes in the usual way. At 2pm Morris the scout checks in. “How you doing out there?” he says on the two-way radio. It is the same daily greeting as always but our driver reads much more into the message. “They have found something!”
“How do you know Frankie?”
“I can tell by the tone of his voice”. He knows his brother well.
Days of monotony are now followed by a hyper sense of excitement. The mad panic ensues to put back on layers of gear, add new hand and feet warmers to gloves and socks. Check settings on camera. There is a mother and cubs quite close and the scouts instruct us to follow behind their ski-doos. They lead us to mother and cubs that are resting in the lee of a handful of stunted black spruce trees.
We bail out of the van in a rush to set up in a good location. Luckily the bears lay in a clear area, unobstructed by trees or bushes and shooting is relatively unblemished by distractions. Tripod set, camera and lens mounted, lens protector off, lens hood flipped, adjust ISO, take a test shot. And wait. The bears are sleeping and nothing happens for an hour or more. It is the usual hurry up and wait.
Finally the cubs begin to stir. They are so small and fragile looking. I don’t know why, but my sense is that they are brother and sister, as one seems a bit smaller and more feminine. They are shy and stick very close to mother, and she keeps them well protected by wrapping her huge front legs around them as they nurse and occasionally poke their noses out to sniff the air. It seems this may be their first day out of the den. The world is new and a little scary.
I am overwhelmed with a feeling of awe and gratitude towards these bears. The possibility that they may become extinct in the wild within my lifetime is a somber thought. I begin to tear up at the thought and my eyes start to freeze shut. No more crying.
As the afternoon light begins to fade momma becomes restless, sniffing the air for danger. She gathers the cubs and strolls off towards the forest for the night. Since this bear has been out and will likely stay around for a few days, I make the decision to extend my stay until the next train out on Tuesday. This is a big decision because it will add another $2700 to the trip. In for a penny – in for a pound!
To top off the day the northern lights were spectacular and we kept shooting well into the night.
A morning of beautiful light adds to the optimism of another attempt to find bears. Winds are high and airborne ice crystals act to defuse the bright sunlight like a soft filter. If only the bears will come! We wait all day near a den opening in a snow drift, hoping for an appearance, but none is made.
We abandon the den-watching by late afternoon in favour of some sunset and ice photos on the frozen lake. The ice and snow are incredible pastel colours of purple, pinks and gold with the setting sun. But, alas, my landscape lens is still fogged up and my shots are of little value.
We no sooner arrive back at the lodge for dinner when we find the northern lights are coming on strong. I wolf down a potentially delicious roast turkey dinner in about 5 minutes and rush outside for the spectacle. The sky is breathlessly dancing with light and I stand in awe with my wide angle shooting on an interval timer every 10 seconds. I continue shooting until after midnight, and while there is more to see, I know that I must retire and save some energy for the next day.
It is my last chance to see bears today. The light is nice, sunny with some high cloud and not too much wind, but still -37C. The scouts report that a bear with two cubs has been spotted and they are just waiting for her to settle in a spot before taking us to her. An hour later they come for us and show us the way. She is sleeping in a fairly open area near a small stand of black spruce. The excitement is palpable and we all line up and stake our claim on a spot to shoot from.
Because of the location, the placement of the horizon for a pleasing composition means shooting from a very low angle. I lower my tripod to be able to set my camera and lens about 2 feet off the ground and prepare to spend the rest of my day on my knees in the snow. And as is always the case, the sleeping bear and cubs stay still for about 40 minutes. The cubs start to fidget and bother mother to nurse and finally she sits up and invites the cubs to suckle. It seems they are never full, so she pushes them away and paws herself another resting spot. The cubs are ready to roll now that they have had their feed. It is the same pair that we saw last week, but now they have been out in the world and are playful and great fun to watch. The female polar bear is both nursery and gymnasium. The cubs climb all over her, bite and pull her fur, attack each other and then run into the trees to tussle. She keeps one eye on us and the other on her cubs, but she seems to know we are not a threat.
This is the best opportunity one could hope for in terms of location and behaviour. The cubs are really active now and perform for several hours. At last, they settle in for a nap, which allows me to change batteries, cards, grab a hot chocolate, replace hand and foot warmers, and peel off six layers of clothes for the dreaded Arctic bathroom break. Ladies, you can only image what that is like in this weather with only your parka for privacy. Replacing all the layers with frozen fingers is yet another challenge.
The cubs rebound in less than an hour and are back nursing and playing again. Mother is more cautious now as another female with single cub can be seen by our scouts with binoculars. Her sense of smell is so acute she can tell from miles the approach of another bear. She sniffs the wind constantly checking and re-checking the location of the other bear. The cubs give us another amazing show and I continue to tough out the bitter cold on my knees.
By now my feet have fallen asleep and my body is shaking from the cold. Fingers are numb despite best efforts to keep shutter hand covered and my face protection is wet and frosted to my face. The lashes on my non-viewfinder eye have frozen together. Like clockwork, by 5:30pm she takes the cubs back to the forest. Fumbling to properly break down the gear and put into sealed bags is a daunting challenge that is somewhat tolerable because of the thrill of wonderful images ready to be downloaded.
We ride home to a beautiful purple sunset which transitions into northern lights, but we are too worn out to capture them and just enjoy the lightshow from the warmth of the indoors.Morning comes with pink and purple hues. We travel once more across the desolate landscape to our pick up point and the train rolls in for the long ride back to Churchill. Until next time, goodbye bears!
Six months later I have been awarded a very coveted “Highly Honoured” prize from Nature’s Best Photography for my image Peer Amid (below). We are off to Washington DC for the presentations and to see our polar bear images hanging in the Smithsonian Natural History Museum.
“Warm Embrace” chosen for the Natural History Museum (UK) Wildlife Photographer of the Year Exhibit! Off to London…
Having an image in the Natural History Museum (UK) Wildlife Photographer of the Year Exhibit is the photographer’s equivalent of being nominated for an Oscar. Formerly known as the BBC WPOY Contest, this exhibit travels the globe each year with 100+ images from the best of the year in wildlife and nature photos. My bear image “Warm Embrace” was selected in the People’s Choice category and is up for voting by YOU! Unlike other People’s Choice voting, you can only vote one time (thank goodness). This is undoubtedly the most coveted recognition I have ever received and it really is true that just being nominated feels like a win.
Bears: One of the most beautiful, mysterious and feared creatures on earth. Highly intelligent and curious, they command respect wherever they roam. The Kermode Bear, otherwise known as the Spirit Bear moves through the dark, dripping landscape of the Great Bear Rainforest with such elusive elegance, it does indeed seem like an apparition.
First Nations legend tells us that Raven (the great creator) bestowed the bear with a white coat, deigning it to be ‘pure’. Some scientists say the white gene is a recessive mutation that goes back to the Ice Age, where white may have been the common colour of camouflage for a bear in glacial habitat.
The Great Bear Rainforest is one of the largest remaining tracts of unspoiled temperate rainforest left in the world. White fur occurs in only one of every 40 to 100 black bears on the British Columbia mainland coast, but the trait is especially pronounced on certain islands in the Great Bear Rainforest*. The island I am about to visit holds a high percentage of nearly one third white bears possibly because of the lack of grizzlies, the senior and more dominant ursine cousin.
The Spirit Bear walks in a pristine wilderness, the tenuous existence of which is constantly threatened by logging, pipelines, oil spills and poachers. The salmon that form a vital link to their survival are also on the precipice of having their unique life cycle disturbed by humankind. In an effort to preserve this ecological wonderland, certain First Nations and Conservation groups have bought up as many of the ‘hunting leases’ as possible in a large area of Rainforest where they now allow the Spirit Bears to be hunted only by those of us whose intrepid nature and endless patience will allow us to shoot with our cameras not our guns.
Getting off the boat and onto shore is the first challenge. As the boat kicks and bucks in the choppy ocean I must climb around the cabin on the narrow gunnel, crawl out to the bow and then time my jump to shore, doing my best not to misstep and fall on the jagged, barnacle encrusted rocks. I hold my breath as the backpack containing $20K plus in camera gear is handed out of the bow hatch. Once I am safely ashore my guide takes the boat out to the middle of the cove, throws the anchor, then launches his red kayak and paddles back over.
Warnings are given about the hike in. We are on a bear trail. Bears have the right of way – this is their home. If one happens to be asleep on the trail we must wait and not disturb it. The trail is slippery – do not step on any roots or you will fall. My last experience hiking in the Ancient Forest on Vancouver Island produced two very bad falls, one through a rotten log and one on the slippery rocks of Botanical Beach resulting in the barnacles tearing great holes in my waders. Hence the many patches of Shoo-Goo on my pants. It is always about ‘save the camera gear’ and bruise the body. And so one of my goals is to get through my five-day expedition with no serious wipe-outs.
The big boulders of the rocky shore transition to seaweed covered stones, themselves a challenge to keeping upright. My backpack is heavy and amplifies any small loss of balance. I am using my tripod as a hiking pole and this helps. At the mouth of the river, we find the bear trail which runs more or less parallel to it and enter the dark forest domain. As the name would imply the Great Bear Rainforest is at all times at the least damp and at most utterly saturated. Today is warmly humid which encourages the biting insects to attack in full force. I pull my bug-net over my face and proceed through the low green canopy of cedar, hemlock and yew. After a short distance along the muddy trail the unpleasant aroma of rotting fish wafts over me and stays.
The narrow trail is a roller coaster of slippery banks and fallen trees. Nothing is done to ‘improve’ the trail for humans, as this goes against nature. At times I must toss my gear up a slope and then climb on all fours (we call this 4-wheel drive), pulling myself up with tree roots. The down slopes are even harder to find a foothold so the best method is to sit down on my butt and slide through the mud feet first. With every new log obstacle it seems apparent that ‘nature’ has strategically place the log just a little too low to crawl under with a backpack, and a little too high for short-legged humans to navigate with any grace.
Small creeks are crossed and even here a few salmon struggle with their upstream spawning journey. As the hike continues, I try to pause briefly to take in the amazing flora, but quickly bring my focus back to placing my feet in the safest places. When we reach our destination, a butt-slide down the river bank brings us to a widening in the river. To my left is a series of waterfalls and the dark pools below it are dark red and teeming with salmon. The shore is strewn with half-eaten fish.
Now we wait. I get a chance to take in the incredible variety of plant-life. The low hanging branches of old growth trees are ornamented with delicate mosses. Shafts of light illuminate small patches of ferns, devil’s club and salmon berries. The continuous roar of the river drowns out any subtle sounds, aside from the occasional voice of the stellar jay and raven.
My guide smiles and points down stream. Amid the hanging branches a small patch of ivory coloured fur can be seen. She is making her way towards us, slowly, taking salmon carcasses from the quieter pools under the river banks and roots. Heart racing, I try to be patient. Finally she steps out into the open river and her two black cubs toddle after her. It is my first Spirit Bear, and she is known as ‘the Queen’. Her beauty is mesmerizing, and I almost forget to shoot.
There is no fear in me, only awe and respect. I can see she is comfortable with me and the other odd two-legged creatures that are terrible at fishing and make strange clicking sounds as the bears pass. The ursine family walks past us on the south bank and in a language that is discernable only to bears, she instructs her cubs to stay close and she takes her fishing skills to the falls. I quickly discover that this is the most challenging light that I have ever shot in. Between the darkness of the forest, and shafts of light coming through, it was almost impossible to expose properly to get detail in both the black and white bears at the same time.
Within a few moments a large black male bear appears on the scene. Her distain for him is obvious as she pins her ears in warning, and a reluctance to share her favourite fishing spot. As the alpha female of the river, she garners much respect, and soon he grudgingly creeps off into the forest. As the afternoon wears on she continues to gorge on salmon, choosing only the female fish that are full of roe, and discarding the others. The cubs scavenge dead fish while they wait for mom to provide a fresher meal. The larger cub, more independent that his sibling, romps around the shoreline, while the other more timid cub shadows her mother. She tries to nurse several times and mother bear finally cuffs her aside in a gesture of tough love. She would nurse when the time was right.
Eventually she got her wish and ‘the Queen’ crawled up the south bank and laid on her back allowing the cubs to nurse. We could just see a little through the thick brush, as they all laid down for a nap. A satisfying ending to our first day in the Great Bear Rainforest.
We are on the same trail as yesterday but heavy rains during the night have made the slippery trail even more treacherous. By the time we arrive at our shooting location, I am covered in mud. Marvin chooses a spot for us just downstream from the falls where the bear trail runs right along the creek bank. Three other photographers in our group pounce on the optimum shooting spots and I stand there trying to choose the best spot of what is left over. I am quietly chastising myself for being too polite, but at the same time I know that the bears can come from anywhere, and quietly accept the last spot. I am the furthest downstream and my view to the right is obstructed to the right by a large fallen tree, but I tell myself it will be okay.
I struggle with my gear into an awkward position on the riverbank. I slither down into the stream and soon all the mud is washed away as I plant myself in three feet of water. The salmon scatter away from me, as I momentarily disturb their journey, but soon my legs become just another obstacle that they swim around. I can feel their lithe bodies brush against me. I organize my tripod with two legs on the bank and third leg in the stream. My pack is open and balanced on a root ledge, accessible if I might need to switch lenses. I pull out my miniature GoPro and mount it on the lens hood so that I can video at the same time as I am taking photos. I am ready, let the bears come.
By now it is 9am, but it is still quite dark. The cloud cover is heavy and the air is laden with moisture. I take some practice shots to see how high I can press my ISO (film speed) to compensate for the lack of light, but the results are poor. I am shooting with the Nikon D4 which is great in low light, but still there is nothing that can be done to improve the situation until the sky clears out a little. So again I wait. A young black female bear appears from around the bend. She looks my way, and walks towards me. I look at the guide for reassurance and he nods that this bear is ok. She comes about 3 meters from me, huffs in a derisive fashion, turns and leaves. Small but feisty – I like that! I had the feeling perhaps I was standing in one of her favourite fishing spots and she was not amused.
Minutes and then hours go by with no more bears, but the light improves as the morning passes. My body is getting stiff and cold, so I decide to move. Unhooking my camera and lens, I leave the tripod to hold my spot, crawl up the bank on all fours and peer over the fallen tree. I am face to face with the Queen. She stops in mid-step and looks at me as her cubs come up from behind and stop too. We stare at each other for a few seconds, though it seems like much longer.
By now the others have noticed that I am shooting, but I am wedged between the tree and the river bank, and there is no room for anyone else. I am secretly chuckling, as I think “who has the best spot now?” The Queen nonchalantly steps down into the stream and the cubs follow, mimicking her every move. She crosses the stream, stopping occasionally to snorkel for fish eggs. The cubs splash along behind playfully until they reach the other side and then disappear into the forest. I turn around from my perch and realize that the rest of the group are log jammed on the trail trying to see what I had seen. They look disappointed. I smile, shrug and slide back in to my spot in the stream, no longer stiff or cold.
The adrenaline rush has made me hungry. I wolf down a sandwich and a Cliff Bar while thumbing through my LCD screen at the morning’s images. The sun was coming out now and burning off some of the moisture. The warmth is welcome and I begin to relax. I chat quietly with a friend next to me and take shots of the sun on the foliage across the stream from us. The play of sun and shadow, old growth against new, is suddenly fascinating. As the moments pass the light changes, revealing new micro landscapes amid the layers of green. The raindrops glistened from every leaf, needle and mossy strand like the most precious jewels on earth.
Entranced in our micro-world we are slow to notice the large dark form in the shadows. Two eyes open, and a brown nose is raised to sniff the air. A black bear has been sleeping there the whole time. She half sits up, and then lies back down again and watches us. It feels like she is staring right into my lens. I signal to the others who are within earshot of my whistle and point towards the bear. Gradually she arises from her slumber and steps out of the shadows, peers around the tree looking upstream and then down. A few steps further and a shaft of light illuminates her outline and her breath is caught in swirls of mist around her face. She inhales the scents on the air, and then retreats back to her resting place.
Someone else whistles and our attention is redirected up stream. A large male spirit bear has emerged from the forest and is heading our way. He is not interested in fish. He sniffs with his nose high in the air as he walks, as if some other more urgent matter is at hand. He is directly across from me now and he stops. He is less than 20 feet from the black female, but he cannot see her. He sniffs the air again and takes two very slow steps in her direction. Instantly the black female charges from her bed taking the Spirit Bear by surprise. Lightning fast, she is upon him in a few strides and he bolts downstream and out of sight. Her charge is brief but effective. She returns to the nursery tree and signals to her two black cubs that it is now safe to come down from the tree. The cubs eye us curiously but are not frightened. After all they have been watching us for hours from their treetop sanctuary. They are probably heading off for an evening meal and a nice sleep in their bear beds. Sounds like a good idea to me.
http://youtu.be/b2kjIMAZru4
The same trek, over the same terrain as the last few days, seems like a routine now. Parts of the trail that seemed difficult the first day are now done as a matter of fact, and on to the next obstacle without hesitation. I am at the head of the group, with only Marvin in front of me. Today I will be first to choose my shooting location. We pass several bears between the trail and the river, and it seems that the cooler temperature is more to their liking. A rustle in the bush above us, and Marvin stops, raising his hand to indicate we all should stop and be quiet. The Queen is watching us. She is 20 feet above and looking down on us. I could swear she was smiling. Then she disappears again.
With the weather in question Marvin chooses to take us to the falls, as there is easy shelter close by where we can find dry ground beneath the old growth forest canopy. We had barely set up, when on cue, the Queen appeared. She had treed the cubs farther back on the trail and decided to join us at the river. She had been following us. My impression was that she was as curious about us as we were of her. She nonchalantly walked around and among us, across her favourite log, did a body shake, half-heartedly pawed for some salmon and then headed back down stream. She looked back as if to say “Are you coming?” We waited a few moments and then Marvin motioned for us to follow. As we rounded the bend in the river, there was the Queen stretched out on the riverbank lounging underneath the cub’s tree. I thought of a lounging Cleopatra who was accepting visitors.
At times like this it is easy to imagine the bear as a soft, kind creature and it is easy to forget the other side of their nature. As we leave the sleeping queen Marvin gives us another warning. Just around the next bend is a dead black bear. As we walk past the carcass, slumped over a rock in the river, we are told that the Queen had chased it down and killed it a few days ago.
The light drizzle is getting stronger so we move on to our next shooting spot. Just then the skies open up and we retreat to the shelter of the overhanging old growth. Towels, rain ponchos, and plastic covers come out. We do our best to protect the gear and ourselves, but there is no stopping the 100% humidity from permeating it all. We are socked in and can only wait it out.
Even though there were no bears, and the conditions thoroughly unpleasant, I tried to use the time productively taking videos of raindrops in shallow pools and water dripping from the forest canopy. I took out my B&W Infrared camera and shot intimate forest landscapes, even though the light was not conducive. It is times like these when you are pushed to experiment that you sometimes learn the most.
Out of boredom we make up a little competition to see who can get the best shot of a stellar jay in flight, an almost impossible task given the low drizzly light and lightning fast speed of the unpredictable birds. We take thousands of shots with little to show for it, but it helps to pass the time. The wind picks up and pelts the rain even harder and we retreat back to the cave-like forest overhang. I wonder about Marvin’s small boat anchored in the cove, and hope all is well.
Six long hours later the bears were back. The first to emerge was the young black female. She meandered upstream fishing along the way. She stopped about 5 metres from me – staring. Then she turned and walked towards me, stopped, huffed at me and proceeded upstream. Some things never change.
The light improved incrementally and the Queen returned with cubs in tow. She ignored us completely and went about the business of snorkelling for roe. The female cub stuck close to her mother, both with their faces submerged and licking eggs from the river bottom. We are jolted out of the peaceful scene when the Queen grabs her cub by the neck and growling, thrusts her under the water. The soaked cub pops up a few seconds later looking very submissive. The snorkelling resumes as before. I do not completely understand the upbringing of cubs, but learning respect is definitely part of it and I am left wondering about the nuances of bear communication.
Marvin whistles to direct our attention upstream. A huge black male is approaching and his authoritative presence changes the energy around us. The Queen ushers her cubs efficiently across the river and up a tree. She lingers momentarily at the base to confirm his approach and then climbs the tree herself, moving the cubs even higher into the tree top. Even as the alpha female, she will give ground to this massive male.
Before reaching us, he diverts his path into the forest and disappears. We all (bears and humans alike) breathe a sigh of relief. Queen and cubs stay treed for quite a while, and it is clear they want to be sure this enormous male is well clear before they come down. Eventually, the spirit bear brings her cubs back to ground and they too disappear into the forest.
With evening drawing close, the weather is finally clearing. We receive word that earlier this afternoon a guide has fallen into the water while trying to help someone onboard during rough conditions. It is the first time this has happened. He has the dubious distinction of being the only person (on a Spirit Bear trip) to hit the drink in this most undignified fashion. His ego and camera gear suffered, but he was not hurt. It was his last day of guiding after many years in the Great Bear Rainforest and one I am sure he will never forget.
The decision is made to head back to the beach to try our luck there and get a reprieve from our saturated environment. After being muddy and cold all day it was indeed a treat to emerge from the confines of the rainforest. Though I was raised on the west coast, my tolerance for dark and damp only goes so far, and I am relieved to step out of it and into the sunlight streaking through broken clouds. The welcome rays warm my face and chase off the damp chill from my bones. I find a sunny spot on the rocks to sit, peel off my rain gear, and open my camera bag to air out my gear. The respite is short-lived, however, as the crepuscular rays of the setting sun over the ocean provide another photographic gem.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b7SxG3HXd5Q
For our last day we returned to the falls again. Much to my relief the weather had improved substantially, but it is a double-edged sword. Sunny skies above means mottled lighting below, a most difficult condition for shooting black and white bears. We find the Queen fishing at the falls, her cubs safely treed a short distance away. It is another opportunity for me to try to perfect getting a shot with silky water and the bear in focus. Since this requires shooting at 1/10 second or slower I must wait for her stand still, something a bear seldom does while constantly scanning the white water for a perspective catch. It is a matter of luck and good timing (and many, many failures) before a good result is achieved.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rSz72SxPlMo
The huge black male has appeared on the scene. He is now between the Queen and the forest where her cubs are treed. Immediately, she runs in front of him, putting herself in severe danger. She is dwarfed by this ominous dark shape, almost twice her size and I fear terribly for her and the cubs. As she crosses in front of him he attacks. She is pinned between him and a large fallen tree, but defiantly returns the attack. The entanglement is ferocious but brief and after whatever was exchanged, again in a language to which I have no conception, they part and go separate ways. The Queen returns to her cubs and the forest.
A while later, I decide to take a ‘nature break’ and tell the guide I will be back shortly. Once relieved, I scan my surroundings enjoying the solitude. A movement catches my eye and a lithe little brown creature freezes on a fallen log. It reminds me of an otter, but its ears are too large and foxlike. A pine marten! With no camera in hand, I make the choice to just observe. Normally, the pine marten is very shy and I am surprised when this one does not flee. I walk back and grab my big lens, and I am just in time to catch him scampering through the grass.
Soon, the Queen reappeared along with her cubs. I have seen many instances with the grizzlies in Alaska, where the female bears will often hang out with photographers, as a safe haven against aggressive male bears. Perhaps this was also the mindset of the Queen, as she brought her family in for some close-up interactions. A young freelance videographer with guiding experience was with us that day. He is set up alongside the river bank when the Queen presents her cubs to us. The cubs immediately go to Troy, and tuck in behind his legs. Mother bear, stands quietly observing, making soft huffs as if to say ‘be careful’, but then goes about her fishing duties leaving Troy to babysit. What an honour!
With mid-day upon us, the bears keep to their usual routine, retreat and leave us for a lunch break. After several hours with no bears, we become complacent and less attentive, chatting amongst ourselves of the days’ events. Then, with ghost-like stealth, the Queen apparates just metres away and behind the person I am chatting to. We quickly regain our composure, faces pressed into our cameras as if at her beck and call.
Two more black bears join in the entourage and they are all just metres away. I do not know which way to shoot, as so many splendid portraits are within my grasp. I have found the perfect location -except for one small detail. I find that I am perched upon a pile of dead and decaying fish and the unpleasant and constantly present stench is somehow amplified to a degree that I must breathe through my mouth and resist the urge to vomit. For those of you that think the life of a nature photographer is somehow romantic, please rejoice in the moment with me, as I fight to keep my lunch down, scratching the many now-infected bug bites, whilst standing in mud-covered rain gear overtop of rotting fish parts.
Not to diminish the incredible smorgasbord of photo ops before me… I took full advantage until the inevitable and unpredictable rhythms of black and Spirit Bear habits soon had them slip away again into their forest lairs. It was time for me to leave as well.
Our final shoot with the Spirit Bears was almost poetic. We arrived at the landing beach just as the ‘golden hour’ of setting sun had cast a warm glow over the cove. A male bear, having just finished his tideline foray, walked along the rocky shore. He paused to look back over his shoulder, and as we bid him farewell, the rim lighting caused his coat to glow.
I was happy that I managed to negotiate the challenging bear trails and slippery river beds without a fall during the whole trip. On the morning of our last day, we spent time in the village photographing the local people and scenery. It was a foggy morning (my favourite) and I walked out along the float plane pier and down to the dock. I carefully edged my way down the ramp and when I hit the bottom both feet slipped out from under me and I found myself flat on my butt, camera still in hand. I looked up from my involuntary sitting position and noticed the sun coming through the fog and a nice composition of fish nets and ropes in the foreground. I spent the next 20 minutes shooting from this position and being thankful for it. Ah, the romantic life of the nature photographer!
I was happy that I managed to negotiate the challenging bear trails and slippery river beds without a fall during the whole trip. On the morning of our last day, we spent time in the village photographing the local people and scenery. It was a foggy morning (my favourite) and I walked out along the float plane pier and down to the dock. I carefully edged my way down the ramp and when I hit the bottom both feet slipped out from under me and I found myself flat on my butt, camera still in hand. I looked up from my involuntary sitting position and noticed the sun coming through the fog and a nice composition of fish nets and ropes in the foreground. I spent the next 20 minutes shooting from this position and being thankful for it. Ah, the romantic life of the nature photographer!
Nature photographers often say that in order to really connect with a place you must experience and photograph it three times. As if like an ocean mist a sense of familiarity creeps in, and the scene becomes personal and the animals like family. This is an account of my third expedition to Sable Island.
At Peggy’s Cove they have a saying: “The fog comes and goes at will. You should not begrudge it for this, but only wish that you could be as free.”
A brief reconnaissance from the high dunes suggests that there are more horses to the west. The first individual I see is far in the distance, alone and moving slowly. Horses seldom travel alone, so I am thinking there must be more nearby. As I approach, the reason becomes clearer. This horse is injured, his right knee badly swollen and he is having difficulty traveling. It is the liver stallion ‘Spook’ and he is in bad shape and has lost his herd. He keeps looking into the distance as if to detect the slightest indication of other horses. An immediate reminder that life on Sable is not easy, and that help is not near. I wonder at this point if he will survive his injury, as I know many have not.
The light is typically flat and grey and I struggle to come up with something that will work photographically, but am grateful it is not raining. I come across several small bands including the silver foal from 2010, now a rambunctious two year old and doing really well. A yearling colt, looking shaggy and unkempt is doing his best to lose his furry foal coat in lieu of a smooth adult one. He is overtly friendly, crossing the line to nuisance and I have to push him away.Day 2: 4:30am comes much too early, but I know that I must press forward when the weather permits. No part of a sunrise today, 98% humidity and more greyness. Just east of main station I see a small group and begin to approach. The band stallion comes to meet me and I am thrilled to see this new young stallion. Caramel in colour with platinum mane and tail, I have to wonder if he is a son of “Flaxen”.
Continuing south, it seemed that for an instant the sun would appear but it struggled and gave up. I spied two horses far, far out on the sand plains, past the landing zone. It was miles away but worth the effort, if I could get there before the horses took off. About half way across the plains, the two boys spotted me and after a flurry of activity they decided to come and check me out. The came trotting right up, a matching pair of black stallions, and as soon as they realized I was human, not horse, they took off at a full gallop in tandem across the plains. Shooting at 2000 ISO I have just enough light to shoot the action. Then, within minutes the fog and wind pick up and I make the decision to return to base. The fog coats everything in a wet layer of salt and sand. Ahhh, the joys of Sable Island!
The afternoon shoot was exhausting. After three hours of hiking in deep sand I had not seen a single horse. This has never happened before. I am concerned and wondering if it has something to do with the ponds being low, or perhaps they had a difficult winter. Finally I found one of the families from this morning and was able to catch them in a moment of action.
Day 3: First alarm = fog. Second alarm = fog. I checked the weather radar report and it looked like an opening in the fog around 8am. I headed out and picked up a small band of bachelor stallions west of base and followed them along the ponds and out towards the south beach. What followed was one of those rare moments in photography (or life) where everything seems to line up th
e right way and something really amazing happens… The stallions went out on the beach, where the tide was up and big waves were crashing in. They were searching for small chunks of peat that had washed up on the shoreline. Apparently a delicacy! The four boys started sharing their ‘mineral lick’ but this quickly turned into proprietary behaviour over who should get the most. The morning sun burst through the haze just as two of the stallions started to perform. I switched from video to still camera and began to shoot. 
The bay and black stallions were rearing, striking and spinning down the beach, kicked up sand as they went. At one point they engaged in such boisterous knee-biting that they both ended up with their legs folded underneath almost laying in the sand. They carried on this behaviour down the beach to where the grey seals were hauled out. As quickly as it started, the action stopped and they quietly walked away. The fog rolled back in as if the curtain had just come down on a wonderful act. I sat down on a piece of driftwood and poured some tea from my thermos. My hands were shaking as I scrolled through my shots, praying for sharp images. Yes!!
Day 4: After yesterday’s shoot with the bachelors on the beach in perfect light, I had to force myself to get out first thing into the fog again. I decided to try for better shots of ‘Platinum’ and I headed west, soon to find him just east of the station. I was again impressed with this young stallion. He really had what we call ‘presence’ in the show horse world. He exemplified youth and strength and apparently rugged life on the island had not yet taken its toll. He was vibrant in his coat and his mane was extraordinary. Now that I was able to observe him more, I was sure he was the son of Flaxen. Yes, they had the same mannerisms and shyness. His only mare, a dark brown, had a sorrel foal that looked like him. Interestingly her feet were some of the worst I had seen on Sable. They curled right up and it was amazing that she moved around so easily and did not appear lame.
The morning sun started to come through and sparkle on the ponds. I noticed the irises were in full bloom. It would have been such an idyllic scene if not for the constant and abrasive screech of the Arctic Terns. They were nesting by the thousands near the main station and were very protective of their sites. The terns were not well-liked by the island staff or visitors because of their propensity for diving at people’s heads and pooping on them regularly. The only real fans the terns had were the ornithologists, a group of six researchers currently working on the island. They referred to themselves as the ‘bird nerds’. One of the girls showed me how they made little bird harnesses out of fishing line, in order to attach transmitters to the Ipswich Sparrow.
This afternoon the fog returned. That is ok though, with soft light I can focus on getting some good portraits and today the fog will be my friend. It provided a wonderful soft white background creating a sense of space around my subjects.
One of my goals for this trip had been to capture more action shots. As I set out on my afternoon hike I was pleased to see there lots of horses around and they were very active. It proved to be a great time of year to be here – lots of babies, lots of stallion behaviour and horses on the beach all the time. I had to really be on my toes… the horses would be standing peacefully or walking quietly along and then all of a sudden would take off at a full gallop. What a wonderful opportunity to depict a typical Sable island morning – fog, surf and horses galloping on the beach!
I traversed back and forth across the island several times, following various groups, but I was especially interested in a flaxen stallion with a particularly long mane. He was really playful and appeared to be vying for leadership with an older black stallion, so there was frequent ‘discussions’ going on. He became a major character to be known as “Rockstar”.
By this time the fog was closing in again, and I wanted to head back to the pick-up point early as it was hard to tell how far west I had gone. Over the course of the last few hours I had crossed the island several times while meandering continuously west. I decided to hit the tideline for easier walking. After 40 minutes of hiking I sat on a log for a snack and pondered how few people have been to Sable Island, and how fewer still have had the privilege of viewing the west end. I was also wishing I had a GPS.
The low dunes looked slightly different, but somehow the fog always plays tricks and I could not be sure. No sooner had this thought occurred when the fog lifted and the sun came out. I cannot describe how sick I felt as I realized that the sun was on the opposite side of the island to where I expected it to be. In other words I had hiked farther west instead of back east to the station. I was now sitting at the extreme end of the west spit. This is the place I had always wanted to see, where the currents converge and many a ship has been run aground.
I wondered if sub-consciously I had made this choice to ‘be lost’. My body was exhausted from already hiking 8 hours, but somehow the adrenaline rush of being ‘lost’ kicked my body into a new gear. I now had twice as far to hike back and it was getting late. Off I went in high gear. Unfortunately I passed by many photographic opportunities. However, one shot I could not resist was taken when I came across one of my favourite stallions who I had not seen since 2009 when I had found him near main station. He was much older looking and grayer, with only one mare and foal in his family. It was a beautiful moment.
Suffice it to say I made it back safe and sound, albeit very late. Though I was thoroughly embarrassed at having been tricked by the fog, I was then regaled with many stories from the Sable staff who had achieved the same fate! Ah, yes a rite of passage!
I woke up in the night to torrential rains, thunder and lightning. Tropical storm Debby had pushed some weather our way. I grabbed my D3s and tripod and sat in the dark, videoing from the veranda of the staff quarters. The sound of the storm beating against the big windows was deafening. Every time a sheet of lightening lit up the sky, eerie shapes appeared in the foggy downpour and then were gone. It mesmerized me for hours as I imagined the fates of early seafarers run aground here. In the centuries before modern navigation thousands of souls were lost here. Before the life-saving station was established in 1801 any castaways would have found a deserted island with no shelter and precious little to eat. Often they would be stranded for years before anyone would find them.
The afternoon was dedicated to some macro shooting and enjoying some of the smaller wonders underfoot. One of the fascinations of Sable Island is the diversity of vegetation including six species or orchids. I also took the time to make some videos which I had hoped to do more of, but realized that my priority had to be with the still shots.
The evening brought clearing skies and I decided to walk down to the west light research cabin and visit the group of seal biologists that had recently arrived. Among them was my friend and colleague Damian Lidgard who is also an author and photographer. The group invited me for dinner and we had a wonderful evening exchanging adventure stories and compared our notes on all things Sable. I am envious of this group that spends several months of the year on the island. Later, I walked back to main station enjoying the pure darkness and the incredibly bright stars. Far on the distant horizon the lights of the Exxon Mobile drilling platform also sparkled, a reminder of other Atlantic activities nearby.
Day 8: I felt rejuvenated and ready to go. Today I wanted to get a better look at the dune landscape further east, beyond the first Bald Dune. I started out walking the tideline and soon came across a group of bachelors. They were out this morning to have fun! They played in the surf, rolling and pawing. Together they pawed and dug a hole (drinking trough) and slurped sea water from it. Then a wave would crash in, filling the hole, and they would splash in it again. Amazing.
I cut inland with the intent to find the 2nd Bald Dune. I followed miles of horse trails heading east. The rain-soaked vegetation glistened and the moisture enhanced all the wonderful colours of the heathlands and grasses that cover these sand hills. I saw only few horses and it was still a little foggy when I sat down top of one of the hills to relax for a lunch break.
Suddenly the quietness was broken by the sound of thundering hooves. I scrambled to my feet, peering out across the valley. A group of stallions flew out of the mist running full out. At first I was not sure what caused such a rush, and then out of the greyness appeared another much larger stallion running full tilt behind them, giving chase. He pursued the bachelor group across the valley and over the next hill until they were out of site. As if in a movie, he stopped on the skyline, spun around and screamed. He had successfully chased off the challengers, but in the process had left his mares unattended. He took off again, this time even faster, bolting back across the valley to reclaim his herd. I was so engrossed in the scene that I only captured the final moments on camera.
Sunshine!!! The day quickly changed to a beautiful sunny afternoon and I had new-found enthusiasm for hiking. The landscape eventually became more desolate and I entered an area known as second bald dune and further along, third bald dune. It now resembled a lunar landscape. Here the winds and rain had shifted massive amounts of sand, and over time created remarkable and other-worldly sand shapes. Expectedly there were fewer horses here and I wondered why any of them would choose this location over the more lush areas of the island. My excursion to 3nd Bald Dune was a success and it only served to whet my appetite to come back tomorrow. I felt that I was getting fit and if the weather co-operated, I might be able to make it all the way to East Light!Day 8: I felt rejuvenated and ready to go. Today I wanted to get a better look at the dune landscape further east, beyond the first Bald Dune. I started out walking the tideline and soon came across a group of bachelors. They were out this morning to have fun! They played in the surf, rolling and pawing. Together they pawed and dug a hole (drinking trough) and slurped sea water from it. Then a wave would crash in, filling the hole, and they would splash in it again. Amazing.
I cut inland with the intent to find the 2nd Bald Dune. I followed miles of horse trails heading east. The rain-soaked vegetation glistened and the moisture enhanced all the wonderful colours of the heathlands and grasses that cover these sand hills. I saw only few horses and it was still a little foggy when I sat down top of one of the hills to relax for a lunch break.
Suddenly the quietness was broken by the sound of thundering hooves. I scrambled to my feet, peering out across the valley. A group of stallions flew out of the mist running full out. At first I was not sure what caused such a rush, and then out of the greyness appeared another much larger stallion running full tilt behind them, giving chase. He pursued the bachelor group across the valley and over the next hill until they were out of site. As if in a movie, he stopped on the skyline, spun around and screamed. He had successfully chased off the challengers, but in the process had left his mares unattended. He took off again, this time even faster, bolting back across the valley to reclaim his herd. I was so engrossed in the scene that I only captured the final moments on camera.
Sunshine!!! The day quickly changed to a beautiful sunny afternoon and I had new-found enthusiasm for hiking. The landscape eventually became more desolate and I entered an area known as second bald dune and further along, third bald dune. It now resembled a lunar landscape. Here the winds and rain had shifted massive amounts of sand, and over time created remarkable and other-worldly sand shapes. Expectedly there were fewer horses here and I wondered why any of them would choose this location over the more lush areas of the island. My excursion to 3nd Bald Dune was a success and it only served to whet my appetite to come back tomorrow. I felt that I was getting fit and if the weather co-operated, I might be able to make it all the way to East Light!
Day 10: I awoke to the brilliant amber light of sunrise coming through my window. Time for one quick excursion before the plane arrives. I hiked the north side ridge and surveyed the incredible panorama in front of me. In the distance I spotted the lone stallion from the first day and went to him. His knee was recovering nicely. He was able to travel quite easily now and I felt reassured that someday soon he would regain his band.
I waited out on the sandy plains for the pilot to land her Briton-Norman Islander on the beach. Her incoming cargo was Zoe Lucas, Gerry Forbes and all their supplies for the summer. Zoe explained that she had been much involved in meetings with Parks Canada, and that the transition towards their stewardship of the island was going very well. I was disappointed that Zoe was not here during my stay, but on the other hand, for just a little while, I imagined myself to be the Sable horses’ only companion.
*PS: a month after my trip I was exhibiting my work at Spruce Meadows when a tall, grey-haired gentlemen paid me a visit. Jim turned out to be the last keeper of the old east light and caretaker of over 80 domesticated Sable Island horses in the 1950’s. I think we have a few stories to catch up on!
Yesterday was spent indoors with little complaint. The 70km wind, rain and sleet continued all day and through the night. As morning arrived the winds subsided and I decided to venture out to the north beach. As I headed towards the trail I was shocked at the change in landscape. Throughout the storm massive amounts of sand were shifted by the wind and the landscape on the north side was completely remodeled The waves had come to within inches of breaching the dune barrier that protects the center of the island and the coast guard complex. The typical beach litter of bottles, plastic, seaweed and more had washed up to the base of the dunes. Things were there that were not, and items there before were now gone.
By early afternoon conditions were excellent and I decided to try riding a bike on the tideline to see if it was faster than hiking. This proved to be moderately successful if I carried no weight (camera gear), so off I went with only one camera and my 18-70mm lens. After what seemed like peddling forever I stopped and hiked up to a high dune to get my bearings. To my dismay I was not very far at all from the station. As I rested, a small family group appeared over the next dune and looked like they might head for the beach. I slowly backed out of the way and allowed them to pass, then closed in behind them to follow. Two thoughts occurred, one: HORSES on the BEACH!!! and two: keep away from my bicycle! Horses have an intense curiosity about anything new an I had visions of a horse with its foot through my spokes. Luckily there interest lay more on the new items that appeared on the tideline. As I started taking images a bad scraping sound came from my lens. The dreaded sand! My 18-70mm now appeared to be a 50-70mm and I would have to make do. The mare, stallion and foal were sniffing amongst the detritus on the beach and between all the junk and several seal skeletons they found a patch of seaweed.
This proved to be a delicacy full of protein but not so easy to eat. They toyed with the long ropes of kelp, sometimes two pulling at opposite ends. It was another amazing display of how these animals adapt to their environment. When it was time to head back I took the bike and carted it over the sand dunes to the south side of the island, with hopes of returning home via the shore of Lake Wallace. As I reached the southern most dune I looked out to where the lake should be and saw nothing but puddles! Where yesterday a the flood plain was covered it was now almost dry! A small family group, walking in single file like a caravan passed by me as I looked down from a high dune. I tried riding along the lake bottom and soon realized it was impossible. So, carting the bike back to north shore I headed back to home base, exhausted.
Gerry dropped me off seven miles out from home base promising to be back in the area by early afternoon. I left him one of my two way radios and turned for Bald Dune. It was raining lightly as I watched him drive away. I pondered about how lucky I had been in the past with the great weather I had enjoyed on all of my wilderness shoots. It was about time that I learned how to cope with some miserable conditions. I was wearing my waders and had placed a rain cover over my backpack and camera gear. My 18-70mm lens had recovered for the time being but I was determined not to damage any more equipment. One of the resident technicians, whose hobby is photography, told me that he had wrecked $4000 in camera gear this winter due to blowing sand and ‘precipitation that arrives horizontally’. I adjusted my tripod and zoom lens over my shoulder and started the trek up towards the highest dune.
It felt ‘right’ to have to experience adverse conditions on Sable. I imagined what it was like for the horses who survived through hardships much more severe than anything I would volunteer to be exposed to. As I made my way up to the high dune the winds became stronger, buffeting me about like a drunken sailor. Along with the wind came vast amounts of sand, abrading everything in its path. Spa day on Sable – derm abrasion no charge.
Photo Credit: Ali Darvish
I spent the next few hours heading west via horse trails through a variety of dune-scapes, some reminiscent of the moon. When it was really windy, I would walk the heathlands – low lying boggy areas dotted with small ponds. Occasionally I would come across small family groups ranging in number from 3 to 12. Some of the horses I recognized from last summer and others were new acquaintances. As I trekked from valley to valley I also came across the remains of several horses and through the wandering my appreciation and respect for the landscape and its animals continued to grow.
The rain had stopped but the relentless buffeting and light rain continued. The crashing of the surf and the calls of the seabirds circling overhead were all but drowned out by the howling wind. Sometimes I thought I could hear a voice calling to me. I would check my two-way radio and no one would be there. It must be the gulls whose voices were distorted by the wind.
I came across a complete horse skeleton and was able to examine the skull in some detail. I was particularly interested in the wearing effects of sand on the molars and could see from this sample that the three back molars were particularly damaged. It seemed likely that this was a typical case.
Walking on the lee of the south dunes I heard the familiar squeal of horses interacting. I hurried over the dunes towards the sound and discovered two horses. A young stallion, fat and in his prime stood in the middle of the dry maram grass. Behind him on the beach stood another stallion and I went to him. It is difficult to describe what I saw. This horse at one time must have been magnificent. He was tall and dark brown with a beautiful eye. But he was the thinnest horse I had ever seen standing. He had lost all his muscle mass and his hips and ribs could not be disguised by his long winter coat and flowing mane. His walk was weak and he measured his steps, nibbling at little bits of grass through the sand. I wondered about his relationship to the other stallion. Bachelors, father and son, a guardian? At first I thought it was too sad to photograph. Then I considered that someone should remember this horse, and that if I took his picture, he would somehow live on. His eye and his expression were still full of life, but his body was slowing disintegrating. I could not tell if he would live much longer but he had made it through a brutal winter and I hoped that the spring and summer would be kind to him. We talked for a while, I wished him well and continued on.
By mid afternoon the light had not improved, so I radioed Gerry and he made a detour from runway duty to transport me home. We drove back along the southern shore, huge waves crashing against the steep beach, hundreds of grey seals dashing into the water at the sound of the vehicle. We paused and he allowed me to photograph an old wooden mast with metal fittings, the remains of a long ago shipwreck, laying stubbornly in the way of the blowing sand. Since the advent of modern navigation there had only been a handful of ships lost to the ‘Graveyard of the Atlantic’. There had not been a wreck of any significance in nearly 70 years. Before that upwards of 300. While most of the metal ships that wrecked near Sable were towed back to Halifax and salvaged, the old wooden vessels broke up and were lost. Occasionally the sea would toss forth a remnant of those days and leave it on the beach as if to remind us of other times and the lives lost.
It is 11pm and my stomach is in knots. I am scheduled to leave tomorrow and I really, really do not want to go. It is a process that takes place on all of my wilderness excursions. Today I had finally found the flaxen stallion. I was way out on the beach, having returned to the location of the ancient mast when I looked up on the hill and saw him grazing. He was standing high above a group of seven horses. This stallion has the most amazing copper coloured coat and light blonde, or flaxen, mane and tail. It is a stunning colour and I was determined to spend whatever time was necessary to get a good shot of him. I knew from last summer that he was very shy so I took my time approaching. I had nothing but time for him today. What soon became apparent is that he was now a bachelor. He paid no attention to the herd below him which now appeared to be led by a young dark brown stallion. “Flaxen” was a shadow of his former self. He was expectedly thin, as many of the stallions are at this time of year, but there was something lost about his being. His eye lacked its former life spark and he seemed depressed. Though I followed him for hours, he kept his tail turned towards me most of the time and never picked his head up from the ground. I returned to the herd that had once been his and admired a yearling colt. He had the same deep copper with flaxen mane and tail and he carried himself with confidence. I was pleased to see that Flaxen’s line would.
My departure was scheduled for 2pm and as the skies cleared to a bright blue it was obvious the flight would arrive without delay. I took the video camera and went west to spend the last morning with two family groups near the west ponds. It is always the same when you come to Sable… the best weather is the day you arrive and the day you leave.
As I loaded my gear on the truck destined for the runway, Zoe Lucas appeared carrying a cardboard box. She opened the lid and showed me my parting gift. Two horse skulls to show at my next exhibit! Surprised and elated, it made the goodbyes just a little easier. As we lifted off from the south beach I marvelled at the site below me. The slightest hint of green was beginning to appear on the dune tops, seals played in the crystal blue water and the white breakers glinted in the sun. I scanned the extreme tips of the island as we flew by and made mental notes of where I would go for expedition number three.
– Photo Credit: Ali Darvish –
Afterword:
During this expedition Debra captured over 10,000 images on Sable Island. She has selected the top 25 images which will be revealed for the first time at the Okotoks Art Gallery. You are invited to the opening reception Wednesday June 30 7-9pm, 2010. The exhibit will continue until September 6, 2010.
I have only been home for two weeks from my camping trip in Alaska and it seems rather decadent to be embarking on my next journey so soon. Unlike the Katmai trip, this excursion was planned almost one year in advance. After finally succumbing to the fact that horses would continue to thrive in every aspect of my life, I had decided that I would like to photograph horses in the wild. I had heard of several possible wild horse trips in places like Colorado, the famous Chincotigue/Assasotigue ponies and even the ‘local’ Alberta mustangs, but my research indicated that the horses in these areas were either too wild to get good close-up shots, or they were actually ‘managed’ herds that were not truly wild.
Then I discovered the Sable Island Horses.
Sable Island is a small windswept crescent of sand dunes and meadows about 160km off the coast of Nova Scotia. It has been historically called the ‘Graveyard of the Atlantic’ due to its infamy as a place of shipwrecks. Its dangerous sandbars and shoals reaching as far as 14km from shore were the fate of thousands of sailors, their cargo and vessels. From 1801 to 1958 a ‘humane establishment’ was placed there, a small community whose sole purpose was to rescue these unfortunate seafarers. Over time the establishment was lost and what is left today are only remnants of the old settlements and a herd of wild horses whose ancestors farmed the land and assisted in rescue operations. They survive today in small herds whose total number has reached close to 400.
In the fall of 2008, after making the decision that Sable filled my list of ideal requirements, I set about the task of figuring out how to get there. The first obstacle was to gain permission from Environment Canada and the Sable Island Coast Guard Station to visit the island. Since there are no other accommodations or camping on the island, the only place to stay is in the coast guard station itself, where they have a small area equipped with bunk beds and a common kitchen. It is $150/night and you bring your own food and bedding. Fair enough. I sent an email to Gerry Forbes, station manager and he granted permission for a small group to visit for one week in August 2009. Because of its limitations for landing by sea vessel, the only practical way to get to the island was to fly by charter with Maritime Air Charters. That meant a $10,000 plane ride with a maximum weight of 1400 pounds, including passengers and gear, along with a $500 landing fee to pay the station manager to check the beach for debris (and seals) so that we have a safe landing strip.
Rescue Boat |
Breeches Buoy |
Foggy Coast
Peggy’s Cove Coast
Sea Caves
Maritime Air
Chebucto Head
Old Farm
Blomidon Tide
Carrot Crop
Pitcher Plant
Lotus
Fishing
Deb Working, Photo Credit: Darren Reeves
Aerial Horses
Aerial Sable
Co-Pilot
Main Station
Gerry Forbes |
Sable Clouds |
Arrival
Morning Light Pond |
Three on Beach |
Feet
Galloping Herd
Grumpy |
Beachcomber |
Bachelor Pair
Flaxen
South Beach Sunset |
Three Grey Seals |
Seal 25
Lake Wallace Sunrise Panoramic
Checking Deb
Free Spirit
Foal Scratch
Liver Stallion
White Blaze
Liver Stallion 2
Beachcomber |
Foal Resting |
North Beach Sunset
Foal & Tripod
Scary Tripod
Bren Gun Carrier
Mare in Water |
Water Baby |
Iris & Dunes
Washed Up
One Ear |
Sniffing Heather |
Meadow Stallion
Storm at Bald Dune
Grey Seals
Shedding Out |
Relics |
Newborn
Red Bay Stallion
Peaceful Mornings
Wildrose and Heather
Sexy Seal |
Deb & Snippy |
Laughing Mare |
Rolling |
Followers |
Two on the Beach |
They always followed us as far as long a we stayed in sight of the beach. At last we came upon a chestnut and a dark brown stallion. The air was getting cooler in the evening and we hoped that would produce a little more activity, as the horses had been pretty laid back all day. After a few minutes the pair started walking past us, just about when Beachcomber and his herd came down between the dunes and onto the beach. The brown stallion took one look at Beachcomber and spun on his heals, closely followed by the chestnut. The way Darren and I were positioned on the beach meant they had to go between us to get back to their home range. They took off at a gallop right along the edge of the surf! Darren was lucky enough to have the angle and the light and captured them beautifully! I had to be content with a smaller silouetted version, but was happy nonetheless.
Foggy View
Black Stallion
Sable Island Morning Panoramic
For those of you that have not seen the Sable Island docufilm “Chasing Wild Horses”, the BRAVO special by fashion photographer Roberto Dutusco, I highly recommend it. For anyone that has already seen it you should know that the horse in the movie that appears to be very lame (in fact has a broken leg) is still alive and well four years after the film was made. Although Roberto is not a ‘horse person’ per se, he certainly captures the mood of the horses and their environment, and his passion for the animals really comes through.
Reflecting back on my short time with the Sable Horses, I too have fallen under their spell. Their remote and amazing environment should be protected at all costs. I was prepared for the worst on coming to the island. Visions of starved and lame horses in all states of condition crossed my mind. Nothing could have been more opposite. The horses were in excellent health, sound and managing beautifully without human interference. Certainly, there were exceptions and I did see the occasional skeleton, but in context, life and death in the wild can often be much more brutal than on Sable Island. In fact I will remember the Sable horses and their fascinating environment as a place of peace and prosperity. As with such special places on earth, we can only hope that its pristine nature is preserved for generations to come. I hope to return to the Sable horses, perhaps in winter, to continue their extraordinary story. You should join me…
There are times when I ask myself “why?” with all the beauty that abounds close to home, that I feel compelled to wander far afield. After all I have my own little piece of paradise, a small acreage in the foothills of the Rockies, just a stone’s throw from Kananaskis country.
With stunning mountain vistas and exciting weather systems constantly birthing from the eastern slopes and in the heart of the historic ranchlands – what more could you ask for? I have spent the winter renovating a 950 square foot farm house circa 1946. With only a few landscaping jobs left to do it represents a sense of accomplishment, but also of scaling down from the hectic pace of running a full time equestrian center. It is peaceful there. My two young horses Overtone and Anicca seem content here, well , now that they have concurred that a wire fence IS indeed a real fence.
With stunning mountain vistas and exciting weather systems constantly birthing from the eastern slopes and in the heart of the historic ranchlands – what more could you ask for? I have spent the winter renovating a 950 square foot farm house circa 1946. With only a few landscaping jobs left to do it represents a sense of accomplishment, but also of scaling down from the hectic pace of running a full time equestrian center. It is peaceful there. My two young horses Overtone and Anicca seem content here, well , now that they have concurred that a wire fence IS indeed a real fence.
I had thoughts of returning to Katmai even before I had left it last year. It certainly was not my intention to return so soon, but after enquiring about trips with photographer/guide Kent Fredriksson, if became clear that this would have to be the year. Kent has been camping in Katmai for 14 summers and this might be his last. He hopes his mission there, a photography book and story of the Katmai Bears, will be completed.
On my last trip Kent was our guide for one evening of photography and it was clear to me that to capture the wildlife at the best times and with the best light, it meant camping in the park. None of the comforts and 5-star meals on the Katmai Coastal Tours ship like last time. My backpack is now loaded with food for 10 days of camping – weight and USA border restrictions determines that it is mostly freeze dried and probably horrible. It is sustenance and nothing more.
I am a little frightened. I think it is better to be a bit on edge than complacent of the hazards of the wilderness. My first concern is the weather. There will be no security of vehicle or roof-top tent to keep me from the elements. I am not sure if I have the right gear, enough rain-proof clothing, a warm enough sleeping bag. And then there are the bears. Yes, they are the main reason for the trip, but they generate in me an awesome sense of fear coupled with an intense curiosity. I have fallen into the abyss of bear-addict like many before me. I am heading back to get my fix.
My alarm went off at 2:30am and that meant exactly two hours of sleep and time to head to the airport. Extreme thunder and lightning continued through the morning hours punctuating the sky and spotlighting the towering cumulus clouds above Calgary. Fortunately by the time my flight left at 6:30am the sky was calm and clear. I was flying on Alaska Airlines, from Calgary to Seattle, to Anchorage, then to Kodiak. After landing in Kodiak I was shuttled over to Andrews Airlines. After making a few last minute phone calls to say good bye to family and friends, I located my pilot waiting on the pier. He introduced himself as ‘Willy’ and loaded my gear into the old orange Beaver de Havilland. “You’re travelling light!” he said, and I thought he was being sarcastic. When I realized that he was serious I thought about all the small comforts that I had left behind, thinking at the time that I had overpacked. I laughed when the pilot told me the plane was made in 1958, “it must have been a good year I said, so was I”.
We took off in the Beaver, I being the only passenger, from a small lake covered in blooming lily pads. Within minutes I lost any sense of doubt about why I was on this journey. The vibrant green mountains reminiscent of the hills of Ireland in their emerald colour, were dotted with the remains of the winter snowfall. As we passed closely by these spectacular cliffs a small herd of mountain goats stood sillouetted atop the highest ridge with the backdrop of Shelikov Strait. With the sound of the plane’s engine the goats quickly disappeared over the sharp ridge. The pilot quickly banked the plane in a way that only bush pilots can manage, and we popped up through a valley and found the goats on a near vertical cliff on the other side. Amazing in their agility, even the babies were so sure-footed they seemed to stick to the mountainside as if on Velcro.
Katmai Coast
This scene was quickly followed by the meeting of an enormous fog bank flowing down Shelikov Strait. Behind that was my destination, Hallo Bay and the Hallo Glacier. We flew a loop above the glacier so that I could get a bird’s eye view. The de Havilland is capable of flying as slow as 60mph so we were able cruise past the glacier and view the incredible moraine and icefields. It was only later that day that I would be told that my pilot was Willy Fulton, a major figure in the Werner Herzog movie “Grizzly Man”, the documentary about the ill-fated Timothy Treadwell. He was the pilot that transported Timothy regularly and was the one that was supposed to pick him up on the last day of his 2003 expedition, only to find that he and his girlfriend had been eaten by a bear. This attack had taken place about 20 miles north in Kaflia Bay, but much of the documentary took place here in Hallo Bay – the ‘Grizzly Sanctuary’.
Hallo Glacier
Willy set the float plane down next to the Kittiwake, a crab ship formerly called the Time Bandit of Deadliest Catch fame and owned by Katmai Coastal Tours’ operator John Rogers. Here was told to rest for a few hours while the crew organized departing passengers and gear. I was back in bear heaven, and this time the weather looked to be in my favour.
Kittiwake (Rob, Brad, John)
In typical Katmai fashion ‘rest for a few hours’ turned into a call half hour later for ‘plans have changed, get your gear in the skiff’. I was given two bear proof containers for my food and a small argument ensued between two guides as to whether it is best to keep the containers within the camp’s electric fence or outside the perimeter. One theory is that if the bears can actually test out the containers and cant get in them that they then never bother. Another suggests, why give them the chance just keep the food inside the fence near the tents and then there is never any temptation. The discussion is not resolved.
A brief ride in the skiff, on with the hip waders (I am trying out my new NEOS hip height pull over boots) and alas I arrived on the tidal flats in Hallo Bay. Kent waded out to help me unload my gear and escorted me back to camp. Our camp is situated below a small bluff in a mossy meadow full of lupines, chocolate lilies and irises. Here I meet ‘Suzie’ a middle-aged woman doing research on the bears and I am somewhat relieved that I am not the only female in the camp. However, I am told for the next 4 days that I will be the only one in this tenting area. Kent is camped a few minutes away and another group is about 200 meters to my west and Suzie is doing a ‘walkabout’ of sorts on her own.
Chocolate Lily
I was given a few minutes to organize my gear in the spacious Hillebrand tent, and after a brief snack we grabbed our camera gear and headed towards the meadow where the bears were feeding on grass. By now the evening light was just beginning to improve and it was nearly 8pm. A group of ‘day-trippers’ had flown in and were observing the small group of 4 bears. Before long they left and Kent said “Ok now we can ‘do our thing’”. We walked to the edge of the grassy flat and set up our gear just as the evening light turned to golden perfection. A female bear was grazing close to us and gradually ate her way over to where we were seated. My bear flare was ready, but I quickly had to drop that in favour of my wide-angle lens. My heart was pounding as I tried to remain calm. This was a much closer encounter than any in my previous trip and it took all my courage (and maybe a few meditation skills) to keep my breathing slow and take advantage of this amazing photo session. I am a confirmed bear junkie.
Kent & Bear
It was nearly 11pm and still light when I climbed into my sleeping bag. I thought I may not be able to sleep from the excitement of the bear shoot, but the days travel caught up with me and I slept like a rock until 5:30am the next morning.
The morning dawned with a thick fog. I began with a hot cup of decaf and a bowl of spicy cardboard (aka reconstituted Huevos Rancheros) and waited for Kent to arrive with the day’s plan. Fog can be a double edged sword, you are either socked in for hours – even days, or you will have a spectacular shoot as the fog begins to lift its veil. We decided to head out and be in position with hopes for the best. Today the veil revealed a stunning panorama of the Aluetian Mountains, part of the Alaska Range, and in particular the Devil’s Desk (6700 ft) so named because it appears to be the source of extreme weather. Just to the north of it lies the pyramid shaped Kukak Volcano.
Misty Pond Panorama
Once the best of the morning light had past, we set up on a grassy bank with hopes of seeing the female bear and her two cubs that Kent had seen a few days before. Eventually we spotted her in a meadow about ½ mile away and began hiking towards her. She stood up to see who was approaching and when she saw it was ‘just us’, she went back go nursing her cubs. She lay on her back and the two little ones climbed all over her for their lunch. Unfortunately by the time I got close enough for a photo the event was past. Still, what a magical moment to view. Despite the harsh light of mid-day I managed to get a few nice shots of this family.
The day had started with fog so dense you could almost call it rain, and by mid afternoon is had to be in the high 20’s Celsius. Luckily I had worn layers and was down to shorts and T-shirt by the time we returned to camp for some rest and a late lunch. Time to regenerate for the evening excursion.
Melissa Standing
It would have been nice to have a nap, but the tent was like an oven and the mosquitos and horse flies were ravenous around the camp. I opted for a walk on the beach where a cool breeze and no bugs enticed me. Who could have thought that in Hallo Bay Alaska I would be putting on shorts and sandals and taking a walk on the beach with a bottle of ice tea in one hand and bear flare in the other.
Camp at Hallo
We started out again at around 8pm in search of the cubs and ½ hour along the trail (the entire area is a grid map of intersecting bear trails) we met Katmai Coastal Tours owner John Rogers and his 9 year old son James. They had just dropped off a film crew at the south meadow and apparently this is where the sow and her cubs were feeding. We soon caught up with the crew, introductions were made and we all knelt in the muddy flats to watch the show. The cubs are about 7 months old, probably born in January and may have left their den sometime in April. They seem so small and fragile, it is no wonder only about half of all cubs survive to adulthood. Their mother was constantly on high alert, not for humans, but for the danger of other bears. She was very relaxed around us, but the moment another bear would enter the area, she would stand up on her hind legs and snort warnings, calling the cubs over to her and clacking her jaws in agitation. She is one of the most spectacular bears I have ever seen both in size and stature as well has her thick and shiny coat.
We photographed the young family for about two hours. It was mesmerizing watching the cubs tumble and play fight with each other, or pick up a piece of bark or seaweed and toss it around like a toy. Finally the sun went down behind Kukak Volanco and at about 11pm we began the 40 minute hike back to camp. Along the way I found an amazing wolf track in the mud and marked the spot as a candidate for a plaster cast for tomorrow.
Melissa and Cubs
As we were returning to camp, walking along the bear trail in the dusk, with high grasses on either side, we passed 6 other bears coming in for the night. All of a sudden there was a frenzied rustle in the grass behind me and an animal darted past me about one meter away and then stopped just ahead of Kent on the trail. A lovely multi-coloured cross fox was out for her evening hunting! Exhausted and with light almost gone, I kept trudging along the trail, too tired to get my camera out of the backpack.
It had been a long and rewarding day of shooting. Kent assured me that in all his years in Katmai, this had been one of the best he had had, calling it a ‘precious day’ of imagery.
Starving and tired, I fired up the stove and cooked a batch of ‘Sidekicks’ (thanks for the idea Brenda!) and crashed for the night. It was 1am.
Sundown
6am came early. As I lay in bed, I thought about a lecture I had heard from a female mountain climber talking about her summit attempt of Mount Everest. I remembered how she said she became quite adept at peeing in a bottle from the horizontal position in her sleeping bag, so that she did not have to go out in the cold. I was envying this skill. It had gotten quite cold and damp in the night and I had slept in long underwear and a down sweater. But now, the sun was just coming up over the water casting a pink glow on the mountains and glaciers behind me. We had been told by John that if the forecasted wind kicked up that they would have to drop off the film crew and head for more sheltered water. Since I was ‘borrowing’ their camp I was hoping that the wind would hold off. I was really enjoying the solitude of have my own camping area. I made a breakfast of instant oatmeal, grabbed my coffee and headed down to the beach to have breakfast and enjoy the sunrise. All was quiet and calm for now.
Our main goal for the morning was to find the sow and cubs. Knowing that they would not be far from the ‘Nursery Hill’ a small ridge about 45 minutes from camp, we heading directly there and found them grazing. Again the cubs were performing, one minute wrestling each other, the next stuffing their faces with the protein rich sedge grass. The most wonderful moment occurred when mother called her two babies over and proceeded to play with them, cuffing them aside gently with her huge paws and wrapping her enormous jaws around them. I felt as though I was looking into someone’s living room, and indeed I was.
Melissa and Cubs
From time to time Kent and I would catch sight of Suzie, content on her walkabout, journal in hand. She made no effort to meet up with us and we respected her space. I located the big wolf track I had discovered the day before and was thrilled with the way my plaster cast came out. I hoped I could make copies to display at my art show in August.
Bill Simms
Later in the morning, a Cessna aircraft with tundra tires landed on the beach just to our southeast. Kent recognized the plane as belonging to Bill Simms, owner of a prestigious wilderness lodge 96 miles north of Hallo Bay. We decided to wander over and say Hi, with hopes of being invited for lunch. Bill was there entertaining a couple of fishing buddies and they were just preparing a lunch on the beach. As Kent predicted, we were invited to join in. We were treated to a delicious meal of seafood jambalaya, fresh cherries and Dr. Pepper. Bill graciously gave us a doggy bag, and I wondered about the wisdom of carrying around a bag of seafood in what might as well be grand central for bears. I decided that Kent knew what he was doing and jambalaya for dinner instead of freeze dried lasagna sounded pretty good. Since we did not need to return to camp for lunch we opted to stay at the south end of the bay and take a break for the afternoon, since having good light again would be a few hours away. Kent went directly asleep in the shade while I combed the beach for some big boar tracks to make casts of. That accomplished, I took the spare time to do some macro photography, as the knoll we were paused at was literally covered in lupines and irises. It was also a fabulous viewpoint to observe the bears traveling all around, from the tidal flats to the streams, through the meadows and into the forest. I also observed a large tan coloured wolf in the meadow where the sow and cubs were grazing. I managed a quick nap, but with so much going on it was difficult to stay down for long. Both because of the abundant activity to be seen and captured, but also I was not as comfortable as Kent about sleeping in the bear’s bed.
Iris
By early evening we decided to visit with the sow and cubs again. The evening light and the yellow-green grass provided the perfect setting. One of the cubs was in quite an antagonistic mood and managed to draw her sibling into a little fight. One of them let out a yelp of panic, and mother, who had been grazing with her back to them about 30 feet away, spun a 180 and within a blink she was on top of them breaking it up. Her sheer power and speed was breathtaking. Kent remarked that he had never seen such an alert, protective mother. All I could think about was the seafood jambalaya laying next to me in the grass, and hope she wasn’t hungry too! This was a bit of a turning point for me. For the first time I really felt uncomfortable (afraid?) and was praying that they would wander off away from us. It was at that point that the more outgoing of the two cubs started sniffing the air and heading our direction. This was a real test for me. Knowing that to move at this moment might cause alarm to the sow, but fearing that should the cub stray any closer, we might be in trouble anyway. We both took the safeties off our flares and kept shooting. It really didn’t help that at this moment Kent decided to relay to me some of his stories of closest calls with sows charging at him. At the end of the day it was all fine, but inwardly I was really hoping that tomorrow we could just go for a stroll on the beach or maybe photograph the ravens and eagles for a change….
Cubs Biting
Back in my tent I reviewed the day’s images on my netbook, and decided it had all been worthwhile!
I awoke at 4:30am ready for the day’s adventures. I stepped out of my tent and went to hop over the two strand electric fence when I realized that the top wire was now waist high. Obviously Kent had adjusted it after I retired for the night. A thought occurred to me about keeping clients in as well as bears out…. I had to take a running leap to get over it (turning it off would have been too easy). As I landed on the other side I looked up toward the beach and there was a grey wolf sitting in the tall grass on the skyline perhaps 20 meters from me. We both looked at each other in surprise and then he disappeared towards the water.
I began to make breakfast, the usual concoction of instant oatmeal with a handful of dried bananas, granola and some peanut butter thrown in for taste. Just as I sat down to enjoy it I could hear the distinctive sound of grass being uprooted, and it was very close. In the next moment I looked up and saw a female bear munching away right where the wolf had been. How long had she been there? The grass here is waste high and when the bears are laying down grazing you cant see them at all. It was an auspicious start to the day!
Grass and Bear
Our plan for the day was to catch sunrise mountain reflections in the middle pond. Unfortunately a forest fire somewhere in northern Alaska had created a hazy sky, which is almost never good photographically, especially for landscapes. We opted for sunrise over the ocean and a walk down the beach to see the fledgling ravens on the cliff. We then noticed the film crew out on the flats filming two bears in the water and decided to head their way. The bears had caught two sockeye salmon this morning which meant that the salmon run was starting very early this year. This time of year most of the bears fed on the sedge grass or dug for clams. It was interesting to watch them sniff for clams and then dig down into the sand, pull the clam out and eat the whole thing, shell and all.
Clam Digger
Today was the day to shift camps so that the film crews could have the large camp. It was far too hot and bright out for decent photography, so it was a good chance to clean up and get moved. In the late afternoon we decided to catch a ride in the skiff back to the Kittiwake to see if we could scrounge some ‘real’ food. We just had enough time to wolf down some sandwiches and cake before the skiff was heading back out with the videographers. The film crew was pumped, and they told us about their morning successes as they had captured a sub-adult bear swimming across to the puffin island. The crew took their gear over to the island and filmed the bear get out of the water, go directly to the puffin rookery and proceed to dig into their dens. Bears will sometimes go for the puffin’s eggs but this time the bear came out of the hole with an adult puffin in his mouth. They also found another sow with two cubs. It was unclear how they would have got to Inagiak Island. Some thought she may have hibernated there but it did not seem cold enough. Others said the only possibility is that she took her cubs there on a very low tide, which meant she either piggy backed them or they swam the best part of a mile in the ocean. I guess we will never know.
Rob Englehardt Captures Reflection
I felt somewhat refreshed from a good meal on the ship, but the last 3 days of hiking with heavy camera gear while wearing hip waders was taking its toll on me. The Neos were great for crossing rivers and standing in the ocean, but were terrible to hike in and I started calling them the ‘boots from hell’. The days had been great photographically, but we had been on the go from dawn till dusk every day. My steps were getting heavier and slower and Kent was getting farther ahead of me on the trail as the miles went by. This was a little disconcerting but I could not force me legs to work any better. We walked past the clay with the good bear tracks in it and I poured another plaster cast. Then we took off too find the sow and cubs. Finally located them down by the river so we set up and started shooting. Another guide with three photographers in tow appeared and set up about 10 meters behind us. For some reason they did not sit down in the crouch position but rather chose to shoot standing up with tripods fully extended. You could tell that this made the sow rather nervous as she looked more agitated than usual. My sense was that she was agitated enough to set some boundaries so I had the safety off my flare. The sow told her cubs to stay put in the long grass and she moved forward to check us out. As Kent and I were closest she arrived to us first and came to within 5 meters. We sat very low and Kent talked to her calmly. The other photographers however, began to retreat in fear – not a good move in this situation. They were not listening to their guide as he told them to stay still and keep together. I thought for sure the sow was going to charge them, but after a while she seemed satisfied that they meant no danger to her cubs and she turned around and gathered up her children and headed over the berm and out of sight.
Bear Tracks
We decided to pack it in for the day, as it was still a good hour hike back to camp. On the way back we passed the film crew and spoke with their guide Brad Josephs. He expressed concern about the sow and thought from her behavior that she could charge someone if she feels pressured by too many other bears. The guides were all in agreement that she meant no harm to people, but if a boar arrived on the scene and things got hectic we could be in the way. I resolved that for the next couple of days that I needed shots of fishing bears instead.
Back at the new camp by 11pm and too tired to make any food, I took a chased a couple of Advil with the last Dr. Pepper from Bill Simms and crashed for the night.
For the next few days the film crew from Koas Entertainment would be guided by Kent. They had taken over my old campsite (now dubbed Camp Koas) and I had moved to a camp slightly north. Everyone was interested in shooting bears fishing, and as the occasional sockeye was making its way back and forth, it seemed that the bears had picked up their interest in their favorite food source. As we left camp Kent turned on his old transistor radio which picked up an odd music/weather station from Homer. He said the bears did not like Barry Manilow and it kept them away. I laughed when the station started playing a Celine Dion song, and I knew for sure the camp would be safe. I was happy to be going out to shoot bears fishing, it was fun with a lot of action and it was a situation I was both familiar and comfortable with.
Waiting Game
There were several bears out fishing and Kent positioned the film crew to catch the action. We needed to be away from the camera men so that the sound of our camera shutters did not disturb their footage. Kent parked us quite a ways out in the shallow water of the braided flats. I thought we were too far away from the bears, especially since I was only shooting with a 70-200mm lens with 1.7X converter. No sooner had this thought crossed my mind when I spotted a sockeye swimming towards me. I thought ‘oh great here will be some action’ but at first the bears did not react. The fish swam closer, into the shallow water and ran aground about 10 meters from me and started flopping in the sand. “oh shit” I said out loud. Not because I was afraid of the bears coming that close, but because I knew that it would be only a matter of seconds before the bears would come after it, not enough time to switch to my short lens!
Fish Chase
Sure enough the big female came thundering through the water and galloped right up and grabbed the fish. As if showing off she laid down facing us with her catch between her enormous paws and proceeded to devour it. I cant begin to describe the sound of a bear tearing apart a fish. The rip of flesh and crunch of bones, fish eggs squirting out, is quite the event. Minutes later another fish ran aground and we were again thrilled with close up action. The film producer was thrilled with the footage, it looks like they plan to use the piece with the bears starting at one end of the flats and charging right in front of the two photographers. It was an awesome morning shoot!
Salmon Roll
We arrived back at camp around noon and Kent took me for a short hike up on Bear View Bluff. The panoramic scene was breathtaking, looking down on the low tide. It was curious to see how many bear beds were situated at the top of the bluff. Little beds were dug in the most precarious places, all with the most amazing views.
Bear View Bluff
Exhausted, we took a much needed mid-day siesta. I slept well for two hours and then spent some time changing my packs around. I was having a tough time with my camera bag and my back was starting to spasm. I had to come up with a better way to lug all this gear around. I pulled all my clothes out of my MEC backpack and reloaded it with camera gear. I figured, worst case scenario, the pressure points would just be in different places. It turned out to be much better. I also changed to carrying my tripod and big lens on my hip. Totally not cool but at that point I really just needed to be more comfortable with my load and didn’t care if I looked like an amateur in front of all these pros.
The fun part about shooting with the film crew was hearing about how they were composing their shots, their story lines and sequences. They were all experienced and well known photographers and between Kent’s advice and eaves dropping on the crew I was picking up great information. The name of the project was “Grizzlyland” and it was going to be a series of 8 shows.
We headed out again around 6pm which seemed to be just about the time it got cool enough to work and the light was less severe. It was turning into a record breaking summer for high temperatures in Alaska. The haze from the fires was starting to dissipate and some nice clouds were starting to appear. Finally some interesting skies were coming our way.
The evening shoot was back to the fishing area. When we arrived only one bear was out on the flats. Then, as if someone had rung the dinner bell, 4 bears appeared over the burm and the action was on! Not only were they catching fish but several arguments ensued. Loud roaring and much posturing took place as the bears reinforced the pecking order and defined their space. Bandit, a bear I had seen fishing last year, was there, the rest were older females. They were having no part of his antics of trying to steel fish and he was forced to fend for himself. The light was phenomenal and we shot until the sun went down, about 11pm.
On Location
It had been planned the day before that we should all try to find the wolf on the beach in the morning. I was up at 4am, dressed fed and geared up by 5am and down at the beach. No wolf appeared but the morning light on the Devil’s Desk was too good to pass up. We bailed on wolf waiting and took off for the reflecting ponds in the middle meadow. It was our best day yet for shooting the mountains, with fairly clear skies and some interesting clouds and reflections.
The film crew wanted to get some wildflower shots back by Kent’s old campground, and it was a great opportunity for me to retrieve my bears paw cast. Unfortunately the plaster was a mess. Either I poured it too dry or the tides damaged the material, as it was just a crumbled mess when I found it. Oh well something to look forward to doing next year.
Off we went to the fishing grounds again. Only 3 bears fishing this time, it seemed they were not so keen. We waited for about two hours but the salmon just didn’t seem to be moving much so we called it a morning and headed back for our routine afternoon nap.
Praying For Fish
We headed out in the afternoon towards Nursery Bluff so that the producer could get some Point of View shots there. At this point we split up and I opted to go with Suzie and Steve, one of the other cameramen, to find the sow and her cubs. Steve told me that they decided to call the cubs Scrappy and Hope for the movie. The guides had called the sow Melissa for several years. But her name would probably change for the series. Steve is also highly experienced with bears and he assured me that she was safe to be around and that the worst case scenario is that she might knock us down trying to charge a bear that would appear behind us. I felt so much better. Steve is an outstanding photographer in his own right, and was very willing to give advice on shooting techniques. I told him I was having trouble getting sharp images with animals running directly towards me. He was eager to share his knowledge and the value of being in such an elite group was becoming more and more evident. I was learning new skills and getting good advice every day.
We found Melissa and the cubs a little farther away from their regular area. She was slowly expanding her range and getting more comfortable with certain bears being within her perimeter. She was certainly comfortable with us today, so we set up close to her and were again entertained by the cubs and their antics. They crossed over the shallow creek and once on the other side the cubs went ballistic.
Her Reflection
They bolted like two colts on a lunge line running flat out in 10m circles around their mum. She was getting quite perturbed and huffed at them a few times but they were defiant and kept on circling at full speed. Mum spun around and around trying to keep an eye on them and finally she put a stop to it by blocking off their circle. She got them back in line and they wandered away into the tall grass.
Half Lotus
Kent and the rest of the film crew caught up with us and we headed down to the flats, where the tide had just gone out again. The bears were doing their daily migration to the beach and they were coming in larger numbers now. Word was out that the salmon were coming. With each low tide they were catching more fish and this time the eagles had decided to join in. Tonight there were just as many bald eagles as there were bears. The fishing was great and just as the light started to fade the bears began to head back to the meadow. It was like they were punching out for the day. Kent had gone over to speak with the producer on the other side of a small rivulet. One of the female bears decided to make a bee line between them and me which did not leave much room. Because the light had faded I had pulled out my little point and shoot camera and was using it to video the bears walking past. I captured this female walking between the guys and me, only 3-4 meters away! It was absolutely exhilarating. One of the other guides standing farther up the beach caught the whole scene with his camera. Thanks Dave! We headed back to camp, fully satisfied with the day’s shoot. I lingered back to catch the last reflection of Kukak volcano in the waning light.
I had a sleepless night. My joints were aching, a sign that the weather was changing. Sure enough when dawn arrived the fog was so thick the condensation was like rain on my tent. I went out at 5am just to see if the wolf was there and check how socked in we were. There would be no photos for a few hours at least. I made breakfast, worked on my journal and organized my gear for a wet day.
The bears were out on the beach but fishing was minimal and most were just sleeping on the sandbars. The fog was lifting slowly and it seemed the best idea was to visit Melissa and the cubs. Better to shoot bears in poor light than sit in a drippy camp. We found her grazing in a meadow right in front of Hallo Glacier. The cubs played and she was even more comfortable with our presence than ever. She was quite happy to turn her back on us and let the cubs get closer. Scrappy, the precocious one sniffed the air and walked directly over to us. He clearly wanted to check us out and was just about close enough to sniff the camera tripod. The cameraman kept trying to shoo him away with his foot but he was extremely curious. Melissa looked up nonchalantly and went back to grazing. The only real danger in this situation is if another bear especially male were to suddenly appear. Then things could get a little hectic.
As fate would have it a young ‘teenage’ bear crossed the river and sent the whole scene into a flurry. Melissa huffed a warning to her cubs and they ran back to her (oh thank god) and climbed all over her for security. She repeatedly stood on her hind legs to see what the other bear was about and to intimidate him. She hustled the cubs away and kept looking back to make sure the boar was not following. He did not pursue her, but rather took an interest in what we were up to. These teenage bears swagger and get quite arrogant but are really not that brave. This guy thought he would waltz right into our group, but Kent would have no part of it. From years of experience he recognized that this bear was showing fake bravado. Much to our surprise Kent got up with unlit flare in hand and charged at the bear. The expression on the bears face was of total shock and he spun on his heels and ran. Kent did not retreat until the bear was well on his way. I was too mesmerized by the activity to keep shooting, but the film crew caught it all on tape. They now call Kent the ‘Mad Swede’ and promise to give him a credit in the movie.
Teenager Checking Us Out
We gave Melissa a chance to get comfortable again in the next meadow and then repositioned ourselves for the next act. By now the fog had lifted considerably and the surrounding mountains were becoming visible. She and the cubs went for a drink at the stream and then she came back up and lay down in front of us and nursed the cubs. The babies sounded like two lawn mowers, their purring so loud as they suckled. Then everyone (including the film crew) laid down for a 20 minute nap. They told me to keep watch and let them know if she moved. I said sure but I want a credit too for being on nap patrol! It was testament to Melissa’s trust in us that she went to sleep on the stream bank with her back to us and her eyes on the stream ahead of her. After their nap the cubs played some more and then the family crossed the stream and headed for the woods. We made the long trek back to camp completely elated with the morning shoot.
Lunch Break
The film crew was running low on batteries, and since the Kittiwake was back in Hallo Bay, we were ferried on board for a brief stay. Time enough just to shower, build a sandwich, charge batteries and download images, then back to shore for the evening shoot.
Ballerina
At about 9pm the action started in earnest with 6 bears out on the flats fishing. Well actually Bandit was sleeping and the girls were fishing. Paula was very active and I managed to capture her standing up and doing a quarter turn on one leg – like an 800 pound ballerina! Since the low tide was getting later each night it meant a shorter time for shooting and it wasn’t long before the light was gone. The guys busied themselves talking shop, but I wandered around the sand bars looking for the right place to shoot the setting sun. The sun had just gone behind Kukak Volcano and I found a quiet little reflecting pool with fascinating patterns in the sand. The only way to compose the shot was to get down into the muck on my belly. I lay flat out in the puddle on and started shooting, confident that I had the best scenic shot of the week.
Sunset Sandlines
More fog! I checked the beach at 5:30am, then 7am and then went back to bed. By 9am it looked slightly less foggy so Kent and I headed out to find cubs. Another guide had taken over with the film crew so we were free to follow our own agenda. Predictably Melissa, Scrappy and Hope were near the middle river. The cubs were having fun again, and it occurred to me what a delicate balance this was and how quickly their lives could take a turn. But for now they could play their innocent cub games, wrestling, face-slapping and biting each other for hours on end. Another guide David and his two guests from Italy came and sat with us. It is less for the bear to deal with when everyone sticks together and I was more comfortable with a group of 5 rather than two. Clearly though the sow was getting really relaxed around people and was now allowing most female bears into her zone. We sat in the grass taking photos and they grazed closer and closer, the cubs playing and eating and playing some more. Melissa came so close to me I was able to zoom right in on her face. I was getting more comfortable trusting her behavior too, which meant I had the mind to be more creative with my shots. I heard a rustling noise to my right and noticed that the one Italian fellow had put on his backpack to protect himself and was curled up hiding behind Kent. When the bears finally headed away from us again, he almost collapsed in relief. I was more comfortable with each bear experience, but in a way that allows you to be on high alert but at the same time functional. It is a complete adrenaline rush, unlike anything else I have experienced.
The fog was coming and going, but it seemed like our little meadow was perfectly lit with soft light while the rest of the bay remained enshrouded in fog. Melissa and the cubs continued to provide frame after frame of outstanding moments. She lay down on her back and nursed by the riverbank and then rolled over on her belly and tried to relax. The cubs climbed all over her and I wondered if she ever got any peace. It was my best day of shooting to date and I finished the mid-day shoot with over 350 images. Exhausted we opted to nap in the bear beds at the top of a small knoll. I counted 11 bears around me and went to sleep with my camera bag as a pillow and the flare in my hand. I have no idea how long I slept or what time it was, but was awoken by the sound of two male bears crossing the river. The fog was getting thicker and it looked pretty obvious that there would be no evening shooting. As I got up out of the bear bed I wondered if someone would be coming home to find the scent of a human in their sleeping spot – kind of like the fairy tale The Three Bears, but in reverse!
Bless This Earth
We had gotten word from the Kittiwake that, weather permitting, Kent, myself, Suzie and Rob (Koas producer) were being moved over to Inugiak Island! I tried not to get my hopes up, knowing that plans change by the minute and are always dependent on the weather. I spent the evening repacking my gear and praying to the weather gods.
Again the fog was so think it was like rain. The drip, drip of water from the trees on my tent did not inspire me to get dressed and check out the beach. But I did my usual early morning scan of animals and weather and it looked to be a slow day. We were hauling out today and reorganizing for Inugiak. I was wishing for a couple of extra days, but knowing that I had to be in Kodiak by the 15th my time was running out.
With visibility at a minimum I entertained myself using my macro lens and flash to reshoot all the flowers in soft light with water droplets all over them. Kent took off to look for a September campsite near Nursery Hill. Shooting flowers just did not provide the same interest as going for bears so before the hour was up I changed gear and headed out on the flats. Suzie walked with me for a while and told me about her thesis on bears and asked if I would be willing to provide photos for some articles she was planning to write. It sounded like a fine collaboration to me.
Driftwood and Bear
I hung out for a while with a group shooting on the flats but since the fishing boats had shown up yesterday the bears were not getting any fish. I was hoping for some boar shots and we literally stumbled upon one sleeping between the logs high up on the beach. We then spotted Rex, the alpha boar of the range and followed him out to the meadow. He looks like a true warrior with one ear flopped over, a huge scar on his scalp, multiple scars on this neck and numerous open wounds on his body. I would hate to see the condition of his last opponent. He or she is likely dead. Just before I arrived in Katmai the film crew had been watching a different sow and cubs. After the first day they did not see her again, only the cubs wandering by themselves. She had to have been killed and the cubs would not last long without her. It is such a sad thing that only 50% of cubs survive. The guides tell me that first-time mothers almost always lose their cubs to the fate of other bears. Top of the food chain or not, life is a constant struggle.
Rex Battle Scarred
When you walk alone with bears, it really does ground you and make you aware of where you stand in the food chain and within nature. You become ultra aware of your surroundings and something rather primal takes over.
Deb at Hallo
As I walked the long hike back to camp alone, I was torn between wanting to have my first face-off alone with a bear, and getting back without incident. No bears crossed my path, so initiation would have to wait for another day. For now I would just have to busy myself for the afternoon packing up camp in preparation for our high tide pick up in the skiff.
Kittiwake Fogbound
Back on board the Kittiwake and the weather was starting to turn for the worse. The decision was made that I would have to leave the next morning (après fog) otherwise I may be fogged in for days. I would miss the excursion to Inagiak. It was tempting to try to stay but back in the real world I had an exhibit starting in two weeks, barely enough time to process my best images and get them printed.
Melissa
Once the decision was made to leave on the next morning flight, I began to look forward to getting home. At the same time it felt like I was leaving in the middle of a great movie. I wanted to find out what happened with Melissa and her cubs, see her teach them how to fish, and watch the big bears compete for space on the flats once the salmon began their big runs. I wanted to see the Scrappy and Hope stick their heads up in the fireweed and grow their heavy coats for winter. I was confident that Melissa would protect them well. I said my silent farewells to the bears and was surprised at how emotional my departure was. For the time being my work here was done but I knew that I would return again soon to the bears beneath the Devil’s Desk.
