Photographing the Arctic during a climate crisis

Nori Jemil

January 31, 2022

Given our current climate context, is it even ethical to visit the Arctic for photography’s sake? For Nori Jemil, travel photographer and author of The Travel Photographer’s Way, it’s about more than just getting a good photograph—it’s triggering an emotional response in the viewer.

A place of snowy dominions and extreme cold, the north is resonant of big, icy tundra, wolves, and the magical aurora borealis. And given the stark beauty of the backdrop to activities like alpine skiing or wildlife watching, it’s hard for photographers not to become mesmerized by the notion of ‘traveling north’.

And the islands and archipelagos outside the Arctic Circle are no less impressive than the lands within parallel 66.5 degrees north. Iceland and its frozen waterfalls and ice caves are easily reached via its ring road—a boon for the equipment-laden photographer—while the remote and windswept Faroe and Shetland Islands have some of those lush yet rugged landscapes redolent of the ancient Icelandic Sagas or The Game of Thrones.

Yet the great compulsion driving me toward the Arctic on my first ever visit was the growing threat that the ice was receding and that polar bears might become extinct within this century. It’s difficult not to fear for Earth’s great wilderness areas—and for all of humanity too, especially in the face of recent extreme, catastrophic weather events.

Channels of water break through ice, creating a brown and white landscape. — “If we can train our lens on the bigger picture, we might discover an altruistic purpose that works in tandem with our own, understandable, visceral desire to experience and record the earth’s magnificence,” writes Nori Jemil. Photo credit: Nori Jemil

When I was younger, my friends and I listened with alarm to stories of climate change, poaching and pollution from organizations like Greenpeace and the World Wildlife Fund. As we enter 2022, the planet is even more imperilled, the danger of extinction to many species even greater.

But not all is lost if we make an immediate, concerted global effort. Quite rightly, that might cause one to question whether it’s ethical to even consider traveling halfway around the world simply to photograph wild places.

Marine life in the Arctic North. — In 2021, we’re at a tipping point where over-tourism, industrialization and the exponential cravings of capitalism threaten to take away all that we hold dear, says Nori Jemil. Photos: Nori Jemil

A moody scene of dark sky, cliffs and waters edge. — In 2021, we’re at a tipping point where over-tourism, industrialization and the exponential cravings of capitalism threaten to take away all that we hold dear, says Nori Jemil. Photos: Nori Jemil

Perhaps though, we can use our practice for recording more than just beauty—like the collective of photographers at SeaLegacy and the UK’s Explorers Against Extinction—and in so doing, provoke thought and create emotional connections that might make change more imminent.

Despite the warnings, almost all the Arctic territory countries continue to mine for oil, gas and coal.

National Geographic photographer Brian Skerry says, “When I began, I just wanted to make pretty pictures…” But as time went on, he saw the devastation in the oceans and his work took on an urgency that was more like war photography.

Icy water leads to icebergs in the distance. — As the WWF puts it, “ice melt is a feedback loop”—as the ice disappears, less of the sun’s energy is reflected away, causing even more warming. Photo: Nori Jemil

In 2022, we’re at a tipping point where over-tourism, industrialization and the exponential cravings of capitalism threaten to take away all that we hold dear. Using our skills as photographers, we might just be able to remind those who dismiss the science behind global warming that there are some things worth protecting beyond growth and greed.

What’s more, if we can go further, training our lens on the bigger picture, we might discover an altruistic purpose that works in tandem with our own, understandable, visceral desire to experience and record the earth’s magnificence.

The sun is low in the sky casting a warm light over a vast expanse of ice. — There are solutions in place, but the Arctic cannot wait for a net-zero emissions target of 2050. As the WWF puts it, there’s no negotiating the melting point of ice. Photos: Nori Jemil

The silhouette of a person walks, surrounded by ice. — There are solutions in place, but the Arctic cannot wait for a net-zero emissions target of 2050. As the WWF puts it, there’s no negotiating the melting point of ice. Photos: Nori Jemil

In 2017, SeaLegacy’s Paul Nicklen famously shared “soul-crushing” images of a polar bear so emaciated it was on the point of death. Many photographers wrestle with the idea of communicating truthful depictions of what we see, especially if it’s going to cause distress.

No-one can say that global warming caused that particular bear’s death, but we do know that the Arctic is warming almost three times as fast as anywhere else on the planet. With receding sea ice year on year, it’s harder for polar bears to hunt, with longer distances to swim between floes and land.

Whether amplifying the beauty of the high north or depicting its threats, a picture is still worth a thousand words.

And while there’s a high level of threat to all the Arctic’s species, it isn’t just the bears, caribou and narwhal that are going to suffer. As the WWF puts it, “ice melt is a feedback loop”—as the ice disappears, less of the sun’s energy is reflected away, causing even more warming, thereby exacerbating the global problem as temperatures and sea levels rise.

Still waters lap brown shores while barren hills can be seen further away. — Depending on the season, if photographing in the high north, you’ll be met by vistas such as permafrost, rolling green fields, waterfalls and mountainous terrain, says Nori. The usual landscape rules apply—a good composition, small aperture and perfect exposure to avoid overly bright skies. Photo: Nori Jemil

Guiding a photography trip on the Svalbard archipelago in 2018, my group and I had first-hand experience of how volatile Arctic weather can be.

Crunching our way through snow to photograph Longyearbyen’s colorful waterside houses, ramshackle old mining structures and free-roaming reindeer, the next day was a completely different story.

Norwegian television journalists were there to cover the 20th anniversary of the Svalbard Global Seed Vault, built into the permafrost as a repository for all the planet’s plants and crops in the event of global disaster. But that February day, they were instead reporting that Spitsbergen was warmer than Oslo; the hottest place in all of Norway.

Shocking as it was, that statistic has been repeated since. After that particular melt the overnight temperature dropped again, causing the roads to reform into treacherous ice rinks. In 2016, a similar melt had caused the entrance to the seed vault to flood then refreeze like an impenetrable glacier. Scientists admit that the permafrost into which the vault is built is no longer ‘fail-safe’.

A white polar bear looks up while standing in snow. — “The great compulsion driving me toward the Arctic on my first ever visit was the growing threat that the ice was receding and that polar bears might become extinct within this century,” says photographer Nori Jemil. Photos: Nori Jemil

Two people can be seen walking along a snowy path toward an orange sky. — “The great compulsion driving me toward the Arctic on my first ever visit was the growing threat that the ice was receding and that polar bears might become extinct within this century,” says photographer Nori Jemil. Photos: Nori Jemil

There are solutions in place, but the Arctic cannot wait for a net-zero emissions target of 2050. As the WWF puts it, there’s no negotiating the melting point of ice. Despite the warnings, almost all the Arctic territory countries continue to mine for oil, gas and coal.

The photographers with me were moved by the physical experience of witnessing the sudden melt, as I was in seeing shockingly thin bears on an Arctic expedition cruise a few years prior. But taking our photos and experiences home to our respective countries, we hopefully become heralds and climate advocates.

It’s one of the main arguments for travel being a force for good—that people power can put pressure on apathetic governments. By paying for seats on expedition cruises, we’re also sometimes funding places for scientists—and although some operators ‘greenwash’ their sustainability policies, Certified B Corps companies are signed up to balance purpose with profit.

The green lights of the auroras at night. — Excellent stabilization, fast wide-angle lenses and a shutter release are required for auroras and other astrophotography. The main thing to bear in mind is the length of the exposure—both for the image and the photographer. Photo: Nori Jemil

Despite the obvious issues with travel’s carbon footprint, maybe there’s a crucial role for those of us prepared to contribute to SeaLegacy, or to travel to take our own photos. Whether amplifying the beauty of the high north or depicting its threats, a picture is still worth a thousand words.

SeaLegacy’s Cristina Mittermeier says that the idea to use photography to rally for conservation is not a new one; it was “born in the 1800s when photographers went out to Yellowstone and brought back images to Washington DC”. Those images gave rise to none other than the USA’s national parks programme.

As she says, “Photography has that kind of power”. This, and only this, might prove to be the purest justification for any of us to adventure to wild zones in the future.

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Nori Jemil’s practical photography book, The Travel Photographer’s Way, was published by Bradt in 2021. It looks at not just how to get better images, but also why and when to take them, guiding you to becoming a more confident and reflective travel photographer, as well as covering the technical know-how needed.

Read on to get a more tips from Nori Jemil’s book on photographing in the High North

Photographer Nori is seen photographing icebergs. — As animals can appear at any side of the ship, you’ll still need to be ready to move. You’re unlikely to get as close as say in Africa or even Antarctica. Photos: Nori Jemil

Arctic Summer — As animals can appear at any side of the ship, you’ll still need to be ready to move. You’re unlikely to get as close as say in Africa or even Antarctica. Photos: Nori Jemil

Wildlife: Even more so than on other types of safari, ship-based Arctic wildlife photography involves spotting animals at a great distance. You’re unlikely to get as close as say in Africa or even Antarctica.

Many photographers hire 600mm prime lenses for Arctic adventures, waiting out on deck with tripods, lens hoods and neutral density or polarising filters to cut out glare—especially helpful when picking out camouflaged bears and foxes.

As animals can appear at any side of the ship, you’ll still need to be ready to move. And remember, on Zodiacs, it won’t be possible to use a tripod so pack a monopod or compact camera set-up for all eventualities.

Auroras: Excellent stabilization, fast wide-angle lenses and a shutter release are required for auroras and other astrophotography. The main thing to bear in mind is the length of the exposure—both for the image and the photographer.

Longer exposures allow you to include the movement of the lights, but with very dramatic activity you may opt for a shorter shutter time. You’ll want to record something of the colors and shapes, but to keep stars pin sharp.

Given that aurora activity is often late at night too, you’ll need to be properly kitted out in warm layers to withstand the wait—with a head torch and safety measures in place.

Epic landscapes: Depending on the season, if photographing in the high north, you’ll be met by vistas such as permafrost, rolling green fields, waterfalls and mountainous terrain. The usual landscape rules apply—a good composition, small aperture and perfect exposure to avoid overly bright skies.

And though a snow-covered domain can be pleasing to the eye, it adds another layer of difficulty, from finding foreground action and picking out key details to capturing an accurate white balance. It’s easier with the heavenly, soft light of summer when the midnight sun hovers along the horizon, bestowing a divine sheen on everything.

If aboard a ship, walk around for different perspectives, looking ahead to steal a march on constantly shifting compositions.

While adventure travel is off the cards for most of us right now, we can continue to hone our photography skills with subjects such as back garden wildlife and rugged, local landscapes. Photographing the night sky is good practice for auroras, and taking the time to know your camera now means if you do one day have the good fortune to find yourself in the far north, you’ll be fully prepared to make the most of those dramatic vistas.

Nori Jemil

Award-winning photographer and travel writer Nori Jemil lives between London and Perth, Australia. She writes for numerous publications including Rough Guides and National Geographic Traveller UK, teaches travel photography courses, and is the author of 'The Travel Photographer's Way', published by Bradt in 2021.