In the heart of the planet's most inaccessible lands, where ice meets seemingly infinite skies, Margot Sib has established herself as a visual scout, armed with her camera. For the past ten years, this photojournalist and naturalist guide aboard Ponant expedition boats has been exploring the frontiers of the wild world. She captures the raw, fragile beauty of the poles, from floating icebergs to unforgettable encounters with wildlife. Her mission? She explains in this 3rd installment: to immortalize the emotion and metamorphoses of these territories with their shifting frontiers, where adventure is played out at every moment.
The Far North and Antarctica are demanding territories. What are the biggest challenges you face as a photographer on these expeditions?
The cold! Waiting in the cold, sometimes in the semi-rigid, when you're feeling below 10, below 15, and you're not very well equipped. It's not easy, but it's especially complicated for the extremities. Because I don't have any dexterity when I've got my gloves on, and I can't shoot. So I'm bare-handed. And I remember the terrible suffering, the pain in my fingertips. But we're well equipped at Ponant. We have Helly Hansen Regatta jackets. Just recently, we got some very watertight Musto jackets, the best possible that even navigation officers have.
On the other hand, you're the one who has to buy the underlayer. I buy merino wool; everything that's good for extreme cold. We have special boots too. I've already had cold ears, it's hell. You need a good scarf. The advantage is that we have a hospital on board, with an emergency doctor and a nurse who take care of us immediately. At the slightest symptom of an injury that could worsen, we don't take any risks: we go to the hospital, get treated and stop as long as necessary. We're very well looked after, both medically and in terms of safety.
I don't remember ever getting frostbite. I once fell into the water in Antarctica. It was an accident. A bad passage between two RIBs. There was a swell, a badly placed wave. As I was transferring from one boat to the other, the swell pushed the two boats apart and I fell in. It wasn't pleasant. What's surprising is that, with all the layers of clothing and equipment, the water seeps in slowly. It's not a brutal shock, but a gradual penetration that gives the impression that it's seeping into your bones. I was really scared. Not of the cold, because adrenalin prevents you from feeling it immediately. Anyway, when you involuntarily fall into the water, fear and adrenaline take over. What really scared me was the risk of the two RIBs closing in on me. Fortunately, the officer reacted quickly: one moved aside while the other came closer and pulled me quickly out of the water. An unforgettable memory. Then it was off to the hospital. Luckily, I was close to the marina. I was taken care of immediately by the nurse. In the end, nothing serious, just a temporary chill... and a good scare. Today, it's become a good anecdote!
What fascinates you so much about polar sailing? Are you addicted to exploring the ends of the earth?
Yes, that's what we call catching the polar virus. I'm really a product of the South, I like it hot; I love the heat. And yet, I've never photographed anything more beautiful than what I've seen at the poles. In fact, it's true that it's addictive; I didn't believe in it at all at first. I was suspicious and I said to myself: '' They're scientists. In any case, what makes glaciologists think there's anything more beautiful than ice? Of course they're going to tell me that the polar regions are the most beautiful in the world, aren't they? "And really, no. It's so fascinating.
You have access to a luxuriant fauna that lives its own little life. We come to observe wildlife that isn't afraid of us, that doesn't run away from us. That's what made me feel so good, because that's not at all what you find, for example, in our forests in France. For the first time in my life, I didn't feel like I was a danger to animals. And that feels good. There is such a thing as being able to coexist with wildlife.
I feel very uneasy about the fact that mankind is constantly destroying the environment at the expense of wildlife. In France, we've seen it with the bear and the wolf. In Antarctica, we've met killer whales and sea leopards, which are major predators. Despite this, we manage to travel in harmony with them. When we get close to them with the RIB, there are always safety distances to be respected, which are very well defined and imposed, and which we respect. They do their thing, we do ours. There's a great respect for nature in the way we travel in these areas, especially in the Arctic, where we encounter one of the world's biggest predators, the polar bear.
How would you describe the silence of the ice floe? Is it a void, or on the contrary, a space full of sounds and vibrations imperceptible elsewhere?
Actually, no, Antarctica is very noisy. First of all, when you go there, it's summer, so the glaciers are in full swing. They're constantly on the move, rumbling and calving, making crashing noises out of nowhere! The icebergs that turn over also make noise; you have to keep your distance on the water, because there's no warning. When you're sailing in the ice with the RIB, you can also hear rattling noises. I love the sound of ice. It's quite a relaxing sound.
You should also know that when you get close to the penguins, they communicate and make a lot of noise. They gossip. Oh yes, a lot of chatter!
What we offer our passengers to avoid the engine noise in the RIBs are kayak trips. And that's much quieter, because all you hear is the sound of the ice. So sometimes we have days when there's not much wind. We're a long way from the coves, and it's incredibly quiet. That's exceptional, it can give you the shivers.
What are your most vivid memories?
The best part is when it comes to breeding and nesting. We're just waiting to see how they evolve. As we often return to the same sites, we see them pair up, lay their first egg, sometimes even two. Then we see the chicks hatch, grow, fatten up, or sometimes die. And at the end of the season, we see them off to sea. They're like my babies, I've seen them from the very beginning!
At the end of my season in Antarctica, I also saw some incredible images. A whale came to meet us. The passengers were so stressed when it passed under the kayaks! Then it reappeared just behind us. It was amazing - it looked like it was coming right at us. We thought: '' When are we going to turn around ?'' Obviously, they're very delicate animals and she just turned around. A true gift of nature.
The Far North is a mythical land, marked by the exploits of explorers and navigators who pushed back the limits of what was possible. As you plied these icy waters, did you feel the imprint of the great expeditions that shaped nautical history?
In the first part of my work, no, not at all. I'm really focused on capturing a beautiful image, a beautiful moment, and putting it into a picture. I knew that explorers had left their mark on these places, but it was more the wildlife that fascinated me. Penguins, whales and seals were my focus. When we started arriving at the whaling stations, it became a little more complicated not to think about them. But that didn't stop me from thinking about them.
Since last year, I've become a naturalist guide and have been on the great American lakes. As a result, I've become more interested in history. At the end of 2025, I'll be a naturalist guide in Antarctica, and then I'll really have to work on transcribing the journeys and speeches of these explorers. I'm really going to have to immerse myself in it, because my job will no longer be to make beautiful images, but to retranscribe the story and explain it to the passengers so that they understand and remember what happened here. I'll have to prepare lectures on whaling stations, whalers and some of the Antarctic explorers. The naturalist guides we go with are generally people with incredible knowledge and culture. And you can sense that they also have a passion for passing on their knowledge.
In the final instalment of our report, Margot Sib talks about her artistic approach through her photographs of polar landscapes. Aboard the boats on which she embarks on the vast icy expanses of the Far North and Antarctica, each image becomes a call to action and a testimony to a changing world, highlighting the environmental urgency that guides her expeditions.
