Svalbard, a remote archipelago situated between Norway and the North Pole, is a place where the boundaries between land and sea blur. Time seems to stretch on endlessly.

Known for its rugged mountains, expansive glaciers, and deep fjords, Svalbard is one of the world’s northernmost inhabited areas; Longyearbyen is the northernmost inhabited city. Over 60% of this land is cloaked in glaciers, shaping a landscape as formidable as it is breathtaking. This isolation has preserved its wild beauty and has made it a haven for polar bears, walruses, a multitude of seal species, and Arctic seabirds. To have guided here amongst friends old and new was a wonderful thing and something I had long dreamed of doing.

The MS Virgo, our vessel for both trips, is designed specifically for navigating Arctic waters. It was more than just a ship; it was a lifeline connecting us to the different islands. With its reinforced hull, the Virgo slowly carved through waters and smaller floes of ice that dominated the seas here, allowing us to journey deeper into the heart of this wilderness. Both of our voyages into Svalbard’s fjords and ice fields felt like a step back in time, where the stories of past explorers echoed in the frigid air of a climate that has kept this place largely untouched. These stories have left a mark on the region and imbue it with a sense of timelessness.

For us photographers, Svalbard offers an unparalleled opportunity to document wildlife and landscapes that are found in very few places on our planet. It’s a place where nature reigns supreme and the modern world feels far away; the main exception here was our connection to family and friends back home via Starlink, which admittedly, was a nice contemporary touch on a more adventurous trip (it’s a major modern convenience to be sure). But, more importantly, this type of expedition is about coming to understand and foster in others a deep sense of appreciation for a place both deeply beautiful and inherently delicate. We took to the seas to experience what it had to offer and to nurture this understanding. And, of course, to create a few photographs. Our local guides Jonas and Yves, with Virgo’s exceptional captain and crew, would be our friends and companions along the way.

Each workshop began with the MS Virgo pushing away from the docks in Longyearbyen and into the fjords of the northwest. A transit that is long but easy on the eyes. Here, towering cliffs rise from the water like the ramparts of some forgotten kingdom. The fjords are both cradle and fortress sheltering a world abundant with life. At Smeerenburg Glacier, the grandeur of the Arctic was on full display. The interplay of light and shadow with glacier ice and Arctic birds provided a wonderfully serene introduction to the area. During our time in the fjord ice would calve from the glacial front and float to the bow of the boat. Kittiwakes would dive to the water’s surface to feed on the abundance of organisms upwelled from the depths of that below as seals lounged on far off floes. For both trips the introduction mirrored that of a honeymoon, but our stops here were brief. The lore of the pack ice further north called to us.

The journey to 83º North was thrilling yet uneventful. A paradox I know, but one can still be excited (maybe even more so) without the heavy turbulence of the sea. As the MS Virgo pathed its way through frigid waters, we found ourselves crossing into a realm where the ocean meets the sky. The air grew colder, sharper, and the sense of isolation deepened with every nautical mile.

Eventually, we settled into the pack ice for the night, the ship gently nudged by subtlety shifting ice floes. The silence was profound, broken only by the occasional creak of the ice or the distant call of an Arctic bird. These were nights where time felt suspended. The thought of being this far north, embedded in the Arctic’s icy embrace, was both daunting and exhilarating—a reminder of just how small and fragile we are in the face of such immense natural power.

Both expeditions spent two full days in the sea ice. Jonas and Yves, our guides on the ground, searched timelessly for signs of life: polar bears, seals, whales, birds. In this space both groups had encounters with three of those four animals, but neither would come to see a bear here. Jonas helped to put this into perspective, sharing that out of his thirty-plus trips to the pack ice he had only encountered a handful of polar bears. It’s a high-risk, high-reward environment that simply didn’t pan out this time around. Nonetheless, we enjoyed our time immensely, taking in the light and soft sounds of such a wild and remote part of the world.

From the pack ice, the MS Virgo turned east, then south, tracing a path along the imposing banks of Austfonna, the second-largest ice cap in the northern hemisphere. The ship moved slowly as it followed the midnight sun. At this time of year, it simply hovered at the horizon, simultaneously falling and rising. To our right a sheer wall of ice extended hundreds of miles to the other side of the archipelago.

As we approached Brasvellbreen Glacier, the scene was nothing short of surreal—waterfalls cascaded from the glacier’s edge and tumbled into the sea with a quiet grace. An evening sun bathed the landscape in a soft, ethereal light, turning the glacier’s ice into a shimmering tapestry of blues and whites. This part of the journey felt like stepping into a world where the line between reality and dream blurred and the only constant was the slow, rhythmic pulse of the ocean against the ice and the water falling away from it. Gripped with what was in front of us we didn’t want to leave but needed to continue onward.

From the southern tip of Austfonna we moved north through Hinlopen Strait. This narrow passage flanked by rolling tundra hills and towering cliffs was alive with the sights and sounds of the Arctic. We encountered a group of walruses, sprawled out on a narrow spit of land, their massive bodies blending into the earthy tones of the shoreline. During the second tour, these walruses banded together as the heat from their collective bodies dissipated into the air above. The light was soft and filtered while the air was filled with the sounds of the walruses. We approached cautiously, Virgo easing to a stop at a safe distance. The walruses, unbothered by our presence, continued their slow, languid movements, occasionally lifting their massive heads to gaze at us with dark and watery eyes. Their tusks long and curved gleamed against the backdrop of the cold, gray sea. Capturing these animals in such a natural setting was a joy and it was a privilege to see them teeming with such energy. From the Hinlopen, we moved back into the fjords of Northwest waters.

During a quiet, overcast morning we spotted him—a young male polar bear sitting alongside the coastline in Fugelfjorden. We readied the zodiacs and quietly crept towards the bear. As we made our way to him, he slipped into the water and began swimming amongst the glacier ice. His coat, slick with water, caught muted light as he paddled gracefully between floes. His movements were powerful yet elegant. There was something both heartbreaking and beautiful in his solitary journey. He was a lone predator navigating a world in constant flux. Then, for a moment, he paused, his breath visible in the cold air. We watched, cameras in hand, capturing not just a photograph of a polar bear but documenting a small window into the livelihood of one of the most beautiful animals on the planet.

As we moved through the fjords towards the end of our journey, the cliffs became alive with the flutter of wings. Puffins, with their colorful beaks and comical expressions, darted through the air. After time in flight, they would return to their nests on steep rock outcroppings. Their swift, erratic flight patterns made them a challenging subject to photograph, but the reward was worth the effort. In a nearby valley, a lone reindeer grazed, its silhouette backlit by the late morning sun. The light created a halo effect around its antlers, highlighting the delicate contours of its body against the rugged terrain. It was a moment of quiet beauty.

As the MS Virgo turned southward for the final leg of our journey, the memories of these places—each fjord, each glacier, each encounter with the Arctic’s wild inhabitants—began to settle into our minds like the silt at the bottom of a glacial stream.

The Arctic is not just a place on the map; it is a place of the soul. It’s a landscape that challenges and humbles, that demands respect and rewards those who seek to capture its true essence. Leading photography workshops here is not just about teaching the technical skills of the craft or talking about composition, but about guiding others to see and feel the spirit of the Arctic. It is a journey of discovery, both of the world and of oneself, where the true beauty lies not just in the photographs captured but in the experiences lived and shared.

Thank you to Trevor, Grant, Jonas, Yves, all of the crew of the M.S. Virgo, and to our guests for making the experience one to remember. Here’s to this chapter in the Backcountry Journeys Arctic book, and to that coming up next year.

– Alex Joseph