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straightened her front legs and used them like a hammer
to smash through the thick ice. Her rear legs went up
in the air as her body plunged through the ice. Seconds
later she was buoyed up in a big gush of water, holding
a seal tightly in her powerful jaws. The circle of life was
complete. The seal would provide the nutrition for the
bear and her cubs, and, thanks to Einar, we
were there as silent witnesses.
My obsession with polar bears likewise led
me to the water. Eleven years ago I went in
search of a diving adventure in the High Arctic,
eager for an opportunity to dive with a polar
bear. Upon spotting a bear, I planned to hang
motionless in the frigid water at 30 feet, along
with a safety diver, and wait for the bear to
come toward us. At least that’s how I thought it
might work out.
Instead, I entered the water to find the bear was already
making its way toward me. Looking behind me for my
safety diver, I discovered he was not there. Smart of him!
When I turned back, the bear was only 10 feet away from
me. At that point, my best move seemed to be to descend,
but every time I looked up, the bear paws above my head
loomed nearer. Cold fear entered my mind, but with each
breath I took comfort in knowing I still lived.
We dived together, the bear and me, in a deadly race
to the depths. I equalized as well as I could and purged
all the air from my drysuit. A quick glance at my gauge
told me I was at 80 feet, and that’s when the bear finally
leveled off and began to ascend. I would survive to try to
photograph a polar bear underwater another day, but the
experience was terrifying. Back on the boat I discovered
my safety diver had an equipment malfunction and had to
abort. Would the polar bear have been so aggressive with
two divers in the water? I’ll never know.
In August 2015 I finally had a chance to redeem
myself with another attempt at the underwater polar
bear encounter of my fantasies.
As luck would have it, a brilliant photographer and
filmmaker from Israel, Yonatan Nir, had decided to
produce a movie about my life and career in the company
of ocean giants. He was aware of how important it was to
me to get that underwater polar bear photo, for there are
few such images in the world, and I had yet to get mine.
We trekked back to the High Arctic accompanied by
remarkably talented Arctic filmmaker and longtime friend
Adam Ravetch and his team of Inuit guides.
We were finally able to set out to sea on the third
day of our expedition; the first two days had been
far too windy to safely be out in our boat. Our quest
was to document a mother and her cubs swimming.
We saw a single bear at first, but I passed on that
option, thinking of my
previous misadventure.
A few hours later we
spotted a female and
her two one-year-old
cubs climbing onto
a small island. Our
guides expected them
to traverse the island
and swim to the mainland. By the time we motored
around the island, the family of three was already in
the water.
We moved along slowly, 300 yards from the bears,
trying to determine what direction they were headed.
When it appeared their course was firmly set, Adam
and I dressed for an in-water encounter, waiting until
the last minute to splash to be sure we were in the
bears’ path.
We stayed in place, treading water on the surface. As
long as we could see the bears and they could see us,
all was well. We remained where we were, and the trio
continued swimming in our direction. So far, so good.
When the bear family got within 25 feet of us, we
exchanged a thumbs-down signal and started our
descent to 20 feet. We had 50-foot visibility and 40°F
water (pretty good conditions, all things considered).
During my slow descent I kept my eyes on the
approaching bears, preparing to dive to safety if needed
but hopeful to capture iconic images instead. Happily,
the bear family swam peacefully over our heads. While
Adam filmed and I photographed the passing bears,
one of the cubs couldn’t resist diving down toward me
for a closer look. It came within 3 feet, looked at me
and left me in its wake to follow its mom and brother.
I hovered in the water, transfixed by the realization
of what had just, finally, happened to me. The pursuit
of this image had been more about the quest than the
photo. My sense of what an in-water encounter with
polar bears could be had been recalibrated. My personal
mythology of the polar bear had a new dimension. I
found myself considering our mutual vulnerability and
envisioned a world in which the future of polar bears,
Inuit culture and the pristine wilderness of the High
Arctic could survive — even flourish.
AD
40
|
SPRING 2016
LIFE AQUATIC
POLAR BEARS
There is very
little conventional
wisdom about how
polar bears will
interact with scuba
divers because few
have actually dived
with them.Based
on at least one
of the encounters
Nachoum has
had, considerable
caution is prudent.