One of the reasons I'm in love with wildlife photography is that it leads you to incredible places. Whether I found myself under two meters of ice on Lake Baikal, on board a nuclear icebreaker heading to the North Pole, in the sands of Namibia, the fjords of Northern Norway, or many other amazing places, I always thought: I probably would never have been here if not for photography. Sometimes it was tough, sometimes cold or hot, but I never stopped being thankful to fate for somehow randomly finding my true passion, a path that takes you where few have been, and you have the opportunity to show people unique corners of the natural world through your lens.
And - sooner or later - this path was bound to lead me to South Georgia, there was no doubt about it. This island has been the subject of numerous films I grew up on, the wildlife density here is among the highest in the world, and frankly - mention these two words to any wildlife photographer - "South Georgia", and they'll immediately tell you it's their personal Mecca.
The island, only 170 kilometers long, is located quite close to Antarctica, which means that getting there is difficult and, most importantly, expensive.
So I was thrilled when Poseidon Expeditions offered me to work as a guide on a photo tour to South Georgia - I asked several times to make sure - they would actually pay me, instead?
But believe me, the bread of a polar guide is not easily earned. To get on the expedition ship, I had to pass an exam with more questions than my university entrance exam, fill out countless forms, undergo a medical examination, obtain a license for a Zodiac (an inflatable boat with a motor for landing on shore), and prepare several lectures for the passengers. I even had to validate my modest drone piloting skills to get permission for flights over South Georgia.
By the way, to launch a drone and take these photos, you need to notify the bridge, have a team observer nearby, and the drone must be equipped with special floats that interfere with shooting. But it's worth it!
In general, South Georgia has very strict rules. You can't sit on the grass. You can't kneel when taking photos. You can't put a backpack on the ground. And much more. Under no circumstances can you - even accidentally - bring plant seeds from the mainland on your clothing. The rules also apply to interactions with wildlife - you must always maintain a minimum distance, which varies for different animals, because you might scare a penguin, but an elephant seal might scare you. These rules are quite difficult to follow, especially for a photographer. And a guide needs to watch not only themselves but everyone else, and also set an example with their behavior. I tried my best, thinking that all these restrictions have a good cause - to minimize any external impact on the island's unique ecosystem.
Every morning we looked for a place to land on shore. And, as you can see, it wasn't that simple, the beaches of South Georgia are quite crowded. Each of these "sausages" is an elephant seal, weighing up to several tons, and they're not always happy about people showing up.
Elephant seals in South Georgia were once on the brink of extinction due to overhunting. By the early 20th century, their numbers had fallen drastically. However, the tide turned with conservation efforts and the introduction of protective measures in the latter half of the century. Hunting was banned, and South Georgia became a sanctuary for these giants. As a result, elephant seal populations have rebounded, filling the beaches with thriving colonies, showcasing the success of conservation and nature's resilience.
Elephant seals leisurely roll from side to side, snore loudly in their sleep, blow bubbles in puddles with their noses submerged, amusing themselves as best as they can. But suddenly the air is filled with a deafening sound - a massive male, emitting clouds of steam from his mouth, lets out a mighty roar - this is at once a territorial claim, a bid for dominance, and a way to impress the numerous females who, if he's fortunate, will join his harem. Only the largest and most brutish males are believed to reproduce, and to earn the title of beachmaster - the chief harem owner on this beach, a mere roar is often not enough. Two huge, fat-layered elephants - at this moment, it feels wrong to call them seals - rise several meters into the air in threatening stances.
First comes a war of stares and sounds, and often that's where it ends - the defeated flee in fear. But if neither is willing to back down, a bloody fight begins. With a powerful, muffled thud, bodies slam into each other, and long fangs repeatedly pierce the neck folds, leaving deep, bloody wounds. By the number of these wounds, one can later identify the beachmaster, starkly demonstrating that success comes with its challenges.
But even the roar of the elephant seals can sometimes be drowned out by the cacophonous hum of the island's other inhabitants - the King penguins.
King penguin colonies in South Georgia are some of the largest and most impressive gatherings of wildlife on the planet.
Densely populated: They contain hundreds of thousands to over a million breeding pairs. This makes them one of the most densely populated penguin species in the world.
Ever-changing: The colonies can vary in size from year to year, depending on factors such as food availability and environmental conditions. Some colonies may grow larger during particularly favorable seasons.
Shoulder to shoulder: The penguins in these colonies are known to be densely packed, often standing shoulder to shoulder. The combination of their numbers and the confined nesting spaces creates a mesmerizing sight.
With penguins, it's all clear, but you might ask, what are those brown dots? And I will answer. King penguin chicks indeed look so distinct from adults that they were once thought to be a separate species - the woolly penguin. Their brown color comes from their thick, woolly plumage, which acts as a protective adaptation. This fluffy down keeps them insulated and warm in the harsh sub-Antarctic environment. As the chicks grow, they shed their brown down in a molting process, and it's slowly replaced with the adult's sleek, waterproof feathers.
The lives of King penguins alternate between the colony and the ocean, where orderly rows of impossibly beautiful birds waddle from one foot to the other, venturing out occasionally to catch some krill for lunch.
Penguins emerging from the water is no less spectacular - more precisely, they burst out of it, meeting the salty spray on the windy beaches of South Georgia.
Who said they can't fly?
The weather on the island typically ranges from bad to very bad and shifts rapidly. However, there are occasional - truly magical - days of calm. On one such tranquil early morning, we landed at St Andrews Bay. It was utterly still, and the water's surface turned into a natural mirror, reflecting the majestic mountains and, of course, the bay's residents - the penguins.
Standing amidst St Andrews Bay, frozen in awe, I was unaware that this place, along with several other sites, would soon be closed for landings due to a sudden outbreak of avian influenza. Avian flu is an extremely pathogenic virus with a high mortality rate, spreading rapidly among animals. Despite its name, it affects not only birds but also mammals, including humans, and this virus recently caused significant harm in South America, killing thousands of seals. The isolation of South Georgia has historically protected its wildlife from many diseases. But this time, likely along with migratory birds, avian flu has made its way to the island. Given the high density of wildlife in South Georgia, the virus poses a huge threat to the ecosystem. Scientists on the island are now faced with the challenge of containing the outbreak to prevent it from devastating the animal population.
The more you engage in wildlife photography, the more you care about the planet, there's no other option. Unfortunately, we witnessed the distressing scenes of infected and dying animals. However, I want to conclude this story with a photograph of beautiful and healthy penguins on the shore of the river in St Andrews Bay.
I sincerely hope that the danger will soon pass and nothing more will threaten them.