Baffin is a land where beauty and brutality surround you in equal measure. Its towering granite slopes are a constant brooding presence, dominating the winter landscape, seemingly pulling you in and enveloping you as you explore the island’s fjords and waterways that lay motionless at their feet. Silently they sit, scratching the sky with jagged fingers whilst the season does its best to soften their dominance. Ice and snow flow over them like cream poured slowly over a large dessert, running along each crack and precipice to the frozen water below. The effect is nothing other than startling, covering these island monoliths in a winter sauce, and yet always leaving enough of the main dessert showing through to tantalise.

In between the desserts, lays the desert; the frozen inlets and straits that make up the rest of the region for up to eight months of the year. They fill in the gaps with a perfection afforded normally only to a master painter, and spill all the way to the horizon in the form of sea ice. Punctuating their uniformity are the pressure ridges that throw up a myriad other-worldly ice formations and an armada of icebergs. Oh yes, the icebergs. These hulking mountains of glacial water sit trapped within the sea ice, waiting for the few brief months of summer, when they will be free again and able to continue their southerly quest. For now, though, they rest, exposing just a fraction of their might as glistening mountains of blue-streaked ice.

I had travelled to Baffin to immerse myself in this wonderful landscape, and seek out its most iconic resident: the polar bear. However, this was to be no ordinary search. Coming in the depths of winter would normally be termed as, well, barmy. But, here I was, bouncing across the sea ice in a Kumatik pulled by skidoo, to a basic, remote cabin, perched in a frozen inlet, some four hours away from the nearest other human settlement, Qikitarjuaq.

The reason? Simple. To not just come face to face with the King and Queen of the Arctic on foot, on their terms, but also to witness that most precious of sightings…newborn polar bear cubs. To see these young bundles of inquisitive, perfect white fur is a rare occurrence, and one that only the dedicated should undertake. However, when the chance was presented to me by Arctic Kingdom to explore such a possibility in the high arctic, I jumped at the chance.

My base, along with five other hardy photographers, was a simple wooden cabin, which afforded basic, yet ample, end of day comfort, warmth and, most importantly, weight-changing dinners! From here our days involved us being out searching this barren landscape for signs of bears from early morning to early evening in a small flotilla of skidoos and sleds to transport our gear. Led by expert local guides, we seized on every opportunity to follow fresh tracks across the pristine snow: everywhere mothers and cubs and arctic foxes left their traces for us to see, their routes and paths exposed to us as they searched this bitter environment for food. All the while we were surrounded by the majesty of Baffin too; it’s mountains and ‘bergs a constant reminder of our true place in the grand scheme of things.

But it was the bears that ruled supreme. Over the course of our stay, we tracked down seven separate families, four of which had new, three-month-old cubs in tow whilst the others were accompanied by yearlings. The setting, of course, completed the picture. Not only did the bears belong here, the fact that they worked their routes from iceberg to iceberg in search of seals, meant that we were able to catch up with them and observe them in a way that you would have to question could be bettered anywhere. Bears posed and played, shutters hammered, memory cards filled and smiles broadened beneath facemasks and goggles.

After a brutal day, scouring the ice from 830a.m. to 7pm in temperatures between -30 and -45, we still managed to muster enough energy to be back out from the cabin throughout the night as the Aurora Borealis painted the inky skies above us in swathes of green and purple.

This was truly an unique place, and the encounters nothing short of breathtaking. Indeed, Arctic Kingdom has created what is arguably going to become one of the most significant, yet exclusive, polar bear cub viewing locations for years to come, with access only to a very few.

When the trip was over, and we left the cabin for the last time, there was no doubting that everyone looked over their shoulder as our basic wooden home became a diminishing dot on the horizon, with just one thought in mind….”I’ll be back”.

Now that I have down the hard work 😉 and gone through the pain and strain of this remotest, and arguably ultimate, polar bear cub location, you could well have the chance to join me there next year. If you would like to consider experiencing the high arctic, and have the stamina and willpower to do it, then get in touch…the experience will change you forever.