The Offshore Voyaging Reference Site

Arctic Solitaire: A Boat, A Bay, and the Quest for the Perfect Bear

I have been uneasy about Paul Souders’s book Arctic Solitaire: A Boat, A Bay, and the Quest for the Perfect Bear ever since I finished reading it a few months ago.

But before I go on to talk more about my discomfort, I want first to congratulate Paul on his achievement. His photographs are amazing and the book is beautifully designed and laid-out. His story is gripping and he writes exceptionally well. I really wish I could be unequivocally positive about his book, but I can’t.

Risky Adventuring

And, at first glance, it is easy to understand why I would be uncomfortable, since he does the classic thing that we discourage here at AAC: buys an unsuitable boat, and then heads north with little experience in ice and spends a number of seasons beating up the boat and himself, almost dying numerous times.

And I have to admit that this aspect of his story did cause me a lot of stress. Though I’ve never sailed in Hudson Bay (Kangiqsualuk ilua in Inuktituk), I have spent a good bit of time in the Arctic, usually in a state of hyper-vigilance, very conscious that we were on our own in a remote hostile environment and vulnerable to the consequences of any negligence or mishaps.

Paul, on the other hand, took numerous risks, anchoring in open roadsteads or passaging in weather too heavy for his 22-foot motorboat, entering ice too thick for a fibreglass non-ice-strengthened boat, and approaching polar bears and other wildlife too closely (not only risking his own safety but also potentially causing stress to the animal), on a quest to make

…the best polar bear images ever shot in the 150-year history of photography.

And it does seem that our society loves this sort of “adventurous” behaviour, way more than the research-based, safety-oriented approach that we apply to boating here at AAC. You only have to look at the number of people who follow YouTube videos of newbie mariners crashing around the Caribbean (usually scantily clad and young and beautiful) compared to the number who subscribe to AAC or Practical Sailor. It’s disheartening, to say the least (and not only because I know I can’t compete in the scantily clad and young and beautiful stakes!).

Entitled Voyaging…

But there’s a more complicated aspect to my discomfort with Paul’s book that was clarified just recently, when I read “Where Not to Travel in 2019, or Ever” by Kate Harris, in the March 2019 edition of The Walrus.

In the article, Kate, an adventurer herself, reacts to the story of John Allen Chau, who approached an isolated Indigenous tribe despite their protestations that they didn’t want contact. When he wouldn’t leave, they killed him.

But, instead of treating Chau’s actions as a crime (the willful introduction of harmful germs into a population without the antibodies to fight them is a crime), many voices in the adventuring community lauded him as the epitome of a “true adventurer”.

Kate reacts to that interpretation of Chau’s actions by writing,

…what is…missing from this scenario is consent. In its place is a sense of entitlement as extreme as it is commonplace…he was just another person who believed that the world was his to do whatever he wanted in and with…

She continues on to suggest that, instead of approaching travel with a sense of entitlement and the belief that we should be able to go where we want when we want,

…how can we foster an ethic of restraint and reverence and the sort of curiosity not secretly convinced of its own superiority?

And this is what resonated for me in regards to Paul’s story, though, let me hasten to add, I don’t in any way want to suggest that Paul acted as egregiously as Chau did.

…Or Respectful Pilgrimage

The area north of Churchill, where Paul spent most of the time chronicled in his book, is populated by Inuit, who hunt and trap, and whose lifestyle has been repeatedly attacked by Greenpeace and other such anti-hunting groups.

Since Paul didn’t introduce himself to the local hunter’s association or any other officials, and he was running around in their hunting grounds in a small boat taking pictures and flying drones, a number of Inuit assumed that his

…motoring around the Bay these last few years was clearly part of a secret anti-hunting campaign to frighten off the seals, belugas, and narwhals with underwater sonar…

and they expressed their displeasure.

And, though Paul does make an attempt to see the situation from the Inuit’s perspective, overall, in my opinion, his writeup was a justification of his right to “do whatever he wanted” and not an apology for mishandling his foray into their place. In fact, he remained in the hunting grounds and continued with his previous activities after this tense altercation.

And so I can only wonder, if Paul had visited with the goal of making a “respectful pilgrimage”, as Kate calls it, instead of with the goal to make the best polar bear photographs, though that could still be one aim of the voyage, would things have turned out differently?

Crossing Lines

At the end of his last season in Kangiqsualuk ilua, feeling that he had not achieved what he hoped to, despite the risks he took, Paul quotes Robert Browning to console himself,

A man’s reach should exceed his grasp, Or what’s a heaven for?

As Kate Harris writes in response to this quotation,

…[h]eaven, in this case, symbolizes noble striving at best or tragic overreaching at worst, and history is full of…casual tourists crossing lines they shouldn’t have crossed to reach it [heaven] themselves or to impose it on others.

But exactly where are those lines Kate writes about? Paul feels that his actions are justified in that he

…did my best to tell the story of one of the last wild places on Earth, a difficult land that I had grown to love.

The Inuit, though I can’t speak for them, may very well feel that they should be the ones to tell the story of their place, or at least to be consulted when someone else attempts to do so.

What About Us?

And, closer to home, what lines have John and I crossed in our voyaging? It’s hard to know. We have tried to be respectful of the cultures where we travel, but the damaging truth about entitlement is that its consequences are usually invisible to those who exhibit it.

Thank You

A sincere thank you, Paul, for giving us a copy of your book (sorry I was so harsh). And thank you, Kate, for your advice on how to voyage more responsibly.

Comments

Has anyone else read Paul’s book? Please share what you thought in a comment. I would also be interested to read what you have to say about responsible voyaging.

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Paul Padyk

I haven’t read the book yet but I believe a curious mind and a gracious, gentle presence soften the impact and risks of cultural meetings. Without travel, we’d be doomed to forever wallow within the echo chambers of our own beliefs. In my opinion, travel is a fabulous freedom with a greater responsibility to not impress ourselves upon the people we meet or the Earth we traverse.

Dick Stevenson

Hi Phyllis,
Very good thoughts to bring to our attention and certainly a necessary area to consider for those who wander farther afield.
For those interested in polar bears: A very good example of “non-intrusive” video of wild animals was of Polar Bears in Svalbard. Robots (think R2D2 and about as cute) followed polar bears from hibernation w/cubs for long periods. The pics/video is amazing and a great deal of fun to watch. I saw it years ago and the closest url I could now find now is: https://wildtech.mongabay.com/2015/11/personalizing-climate-change-spy-cameras-document-polar-bear-behaviors-on-and-off-sea-ice/.
The polar bears treated the robots as a curiosity and eventually their curiosity destroyed the one of the camera robots (there were a number: for snow, ice, water). You really get a feel for how these bears live and the narration does a pretty good job of describing their life and struggles.
Well recommended, Dick Stevenson, s/v Alchemy

Dick Stevenson

Hi Phyllis,
I know one of the guiding head-sets in Ginger’s and my travels is that, wherever we go, we are ambassadors, if you will, and certainly representatives, for the cruising community and that our actions and choices make a difference for all the cruisers that follow. We are also aware of the same “representative” status for our nationality as we all must fly an ensign for all to see.
My best, Dick Stevenson, s/v Alchemy

Marc Dacey

A very good moral compass by which we hope also to travel in remote places…to a degree. We are strangers and have one shot at first impressions. We hope not to make them ones of arrogance, destructiveness or ignorance.

Dick Stevenson

Hi Phyllis,
On another note, part of what you are addressing is in the realm of what I consider “stunts” (many of which are dangerous, show poor judgment, and should not be given display where others may experience them as representative). These “stunts”, by their very nature, are designed, at least from my observation, in part or in whole, for an audience (as opposed to someone doing something, say, for one’s own curiosity, although that motivation can also over-step good traveler judgment).
And, unfortunately, the media provides the vehicle for the audience. I cringe when I see headlines along the lines of “Youngest person ever leaves to sail around the world non-stop in smallest boat!”: and “follow daily reports and video” and wish the media would not give this person/family an audience. I believe there would be far fewer “stunts” if there were no audience.
My best, Dick Stevenson, s/v Alchemy

Steve D

I have not read the book, I’d like to but I’m not sure I want to patronize bad behavior.

We see the sexy, sensationalism selling all too often, how many times do stories about foolhardy, would-be cruisers who have to be rescued from themselves making the headlines? The two women and their dogs drifting in the Pacific, aboard a vessel that appeared to have a functioning mast and sails, comes to mind, but there are countless others. While stories of epic passages that include adventure, made in safety without incident aren’t worthy of mainstream media’s attention. As a result, the general public’s view of us is often skewed at best.

Having spent time in high latitudes, including Antarctica, Greenland, Iceland, Norway and Svalbard, and in close proximity to polar bears and other wildlife, I’m an avid bird photographer and these areas are a paradise for this pursuit, this story struck a chord.

As a photographer I constantly have to balance the goal of getting the perfect image with not stressing the animal. A couple of years ago, I had the opportunity to see and photograph a polar bear swimming across a fjord mouth, and then ambling up the shore, onto a patch of snow, where he promptly rolled over like a dog and stuck all four paws skyward while rubbing his back. I felt privileged to be there, and to have the opportunity to photograph it from a small boat, and doing so without intruding on his space made it all the more enjoyable. Conversely, last year I was in Mexico on a project and I watched a (professional?) photographer filming pelicans feeding while he was in the water, using an UW camera, sadly he exhibited all the wrong behavior, he had a mate dropping bait into the water on a line that he quickly pulled away from the birds repeatedly to get his shot. It went on for about 10 minutes before I yelled over to him, “what are you doing?” as if I didn’t know. I kept yelling questions, distracting them, drawing attention, making them as uncomfortable as I could until they finally stopped. It was appalling. I watched a Dutch tourist, an amateur photographer festooned with gear he clearly didn’t know how to use, stomp into the middle of an Arctic tern nesting area, and stand there for some time taking photos, with a strobe no less, as the birds dive-bombed and finally drove him off.

If nothing else, these examples of poor animal interaction give photographers a bad name.
Every wildlife photographer gets too close to a subject at one time or another, in the heat of the moment, when photographing a subject. I did it recently while photographing Mikado pheasant in Taiwan, and then I caught myself and stopped, and stepped back. There’s a big difference between that and intentionally setting out to put yourself in an animal’s (or foreign culture’s) personal space over and over again. If you see people doing this, remind them it’s not right, and if necessary shame them into stopping.

Dick Stevenson

Hi Steve,
Agreed and all very nicely put.
It is indeed distressing to watch the manipulation of wild animals for our enjoyment and for profit making. Whether it is dive ops inducing manta rays or those surface ops chumming for sharks, these profit making tourist attraction activities are sometimes dangerous (sharks learn that outboard engine noise = food) and never in the best interest of the animals.
I would not think it unwise to take the position that the feeding of any wild animal should be discouraged/banned: I can think of few instances where it is the animal species best interests to be fed by humans (an emergency food drop to starving reindeer trapped in unusual snow conditions might be one example).
I applaud those cities that have banned the feeding of pigeons and might easily go so far as to suggest that the commonly seen bird feeders outside homes are unwise as well (if the homeowners want to see birds, they can make the effort to go for a bird walk).
My best, Dick Stevenson, s/v Alchemy