As the light broke its way through patches of clearness in the sky, the odd orca was seen here and there. Scouts, patrolling for herring. So early it was, that even several humpbacks were spotted, sleeping at the surface like large logs.

As pink patches of light shone through, our intrepid expedition leader, Christian, decided to launch the Zodiacs. It was calm enough for a Zodiac cruise, as some pods of scouting orca were seen nearby. Perhaps curious enough to approach the Zodiacs.

As the two Zodiacs headed out in tandem, a frenzy of gulls was spotted in the distance, above a boiling mess of orca fins.

A feeding frenzy was taking place. As we approached cautiously, it was clear the orcas had herded the herring into a tight bait ball and were just now feeding on the small fish. So were the gulls and sea eagles.

Orcas swam left, right, and center of the Zodiacs, ingesting a percentage of the 70-kilogram daily average of herring needed to sustain such a large mass of brain and brawn.

Then the humpbacks showed up. Swimming directly into the frenzy of feeding orcas, the humpbacks swallowed the whole herring bait ball in a matter of minutes, right before our very eyes. The daily requirement of herring for a humpback whale is measured in tons, not kilograms.

As quickly as it had started, the frenzy ended.The Orcas swam off, scouting for more herring to herd. The only traces left behind were pieces of herring intestine floating at the now calm surface. A grim reminder of the darkness that lurks below.

As we sailed deep into the Øksfjorden, nearing its end, the landscape remained empty. Turning back at the midway point, a sense of anticipation gave way to excitement as a series of blows finally appeared—Humpback whales!

Not one, not two, not even five. A horde of over 25 strong Humpback whales circled around, feeding upon the throngs of helpless herring congregating in the fjord. The herring thought they were safe, far to the east of Kvænangen, the traditional hunting grounds of the savage humpbacks.

But no. As the herring moved further eastwards, so did the predators.

But it wasn't just the spectacle of hungry humpbacks, ripping and tearing through flesh and bone, that captivated our audience. A young Humpback, accompanied by his mother, decided that enough wasn't actually enough. He breached. Again and again, sometimes with his mother alongside, he would soar out of the water and into the air, desperately trying to speed up evolution and turn himself into a graceful soaring eagle. Alas, it wasn't meant to be. Evolution takes time, young one.

The Breacher, as he was known to his friends, or Breachy Boy as his sometimes overly affectionate mother called him, would leap into the air, twisting and turning as he perfected his aeronautical acrobatics. And they say whales can't fly.

The weather in September was a bit different from my previous trip in May. The first part of the trip was characterised by snowfall and fog, while the second half provided us with splendid weather and an extraordinary encounter with Arctic foxes.

On my first trip in May, we unfortunately couldn't head north because of the wind. This time however we had the opportynity to explore the Northern regions and and with an extra three days at our disposal, we ventured as far as Bråsvellbreen. The north has a lot to offer. There are large colonies of walruses here and the landscape is more varied than in the south. Nevertheless, travelling in May has another advantage. It is the time when the birds arrive in Svalbard, filling up the steep bird cliffs.

M/S Stockholm is a 70-year-old ship, designed for only 12 passengers, in excellent condition. Magnus, the owner and captain, as well as his crew made our stay very pleasant. M/S Stockholm not only benefits from its compact size, allowing access to places other ships can't reach, but also has exclusive nautical charts. Additionally, the guides and captain consistently found solutions that prioritized both safety and the opportunity to see wild animals. Whenever possible, the ship was manoeuvred into a position that allowed the best photographic perspective.

The Arctic remains a worthwhile destination in September. Following the initial snowfall, the landscape becomes exceptionally beautiful and serene, with light that is undeniably exceptional – a delicate balance between the stark and the soft. While we had to be patient for animal sightings, the second day in Smeerenburg brought us our first glimpse of walruses. After that, we were blessed with everything one could hope for: seals, whales, dolphins, and, not least of all, polar bears.

Although the majority of birds had already migrated away from Svalbard, we still had the opportunity to encounter a few species. My newfound favorite is the petite sandpiper, an incredibly unshy bird. You can approach it from as close as about 2 meters, which allows for capturing stunning photographs. Moreover, there were a variety of gull species, including the Arctic tern.

Finally, on the last day of our trip, we had an incredibly beautiful encounter with young Arctic foxes at Alkhornet. The guides were aware that foxes in this area give birth during the summer, increasing the likelihood of encountering them. However, in the wilderness, outcomes can be unpredictable. After approximately 20 minutes, we observed an Arctic fox feeding on a deceased bird. We approached cautiously, and as it noticed us, it grew curious and came closer. It snatched our guide's glove that was lying nearby, buried it, and playfully inspected us. But the excitement didn't end there. Shortly thereafter, a second Arctic fox joined our company. We spent approximately 1.5 hours with both of them before they decided to depart.

The encounters with polar bears and Arctic foxes will remain in my memory forever, not to mention the incredible light. Each season has its unique charm. In spring, the first bird colonies populate the cliffs, while in September, the first fresh snow provides an opportunity to search for tracks.

Text and photos: Michael Guthmann

Please note: We always follow strict wildlife guidelines to ensure that we do not cause any disturbance.

Tired from a busy day of whale watching, everyone remained awake and focused, captivated by the fascinating whale lecture delivered by our expedition leader and whale expert, Christian. The lecture continued until it was interrupted by the long-awaited cry: Northern Lights!

Spotted by the ever-watchful Canadian guide, Beau Bear, everyone scrambled out of the lounge and onto the pier, vying for a dark spot to catch a glimpse, nay, a snapshot of the elusive dancing ladies in the sky.

Colorful bursts of red, pink, purple, and green lit up the sky.

Stretching across as far as the eye could see, the lights shimmered and danced, from the far Arctic north to the warm reaches of southern Italy.

A Corona opened up directly in the center, like the eye of the mighty god Thor himself, peering down at the puny mortal souls below.

A solar storm of unfathomable strength struck the Earth with such intensity that it created a frenzy of Northern lights rarely seen across the entire northern hemisphere— the blood red Aurora.

An event to be remembered for centuries to come.

Tired eyes scanned the horizon in search of the orcas. Our expedition leader quickly spotted a mass gathering of predatory gulls on the horizon.

As we neared the spectacle, sleek blackfins — a formidable species — emerged amidst the chaos of birds and fish.

Orcas. Not a hundred, not two hundred, not even three hundred. Four hundred battle-hardened orcas were spread out across the horizon, with humpback whales and fin whales dancing in between — a feeding frenzy of biblical proportions.