In the Presence of wolves and Bears

A Photo Journey to Kuhmo Bear Centre, August 2024

By Sanne Rosenmay

Eastern Finland — August 2024

There are places where silence does not feel empty.
It feels alive.

The forests around Kuhmo, close to the Russian border, are one of those places.
Here, the mornings smell of wet moss and pine needles, ravens call across still lakes, and somewhere beyond the tree line, bears and wolves move through the landscape like shadows.

In August 2024, I travelled alone to Finland to spend several nights in small photo hides deep in the wilderness. The goal was simple: to photograph wild bears, wolverines and — if luck was with me — wolves.

What I didn’t expect was how much the silence itself would stay with me.

First Morning at Bear Centre

The first morning arrived early.
Of course I woke at 5.30 — just like I always do — and walked down to the small lake near the lodge. The air was cold and damp after a night of rain, and the entire place felt impossibly quiet.

Not evening quiet, or even countryside quiet.

-Wild quiet.

For a brief moment I caught a scent in the air that reminded me of wet fur, and my mind immediately started wandering. Somewhere out there, hidden between the trees, were animals I had only dreamed of seeing this close.

Breakfast was served at eight.
Coffee never tastes better than it does in places like this.

I also quickly discovered that my power strip didn’t fit the outlet in my room — slightly unfortunate when travelling with cameras, batteries, memory cards and enough charging equipment to power a small spaceship. Luckily, a few seasoned gentlemen on the trip fixed the problem with multitools and quiet confidence.

The rest of the day was spent in briefings, camera talk and preparation.
At 15.00 we had dinner.
At 16.00 we walked to our assigned hides.

And then came the part I had both looked forward to and feared:

I would spend the night alone.

Inside photohide - ready for sleepover

The First Night in the Hide

Celebrating my first photo of the brown bear

The hide itself was tiny.
Maybe one and a half by two metres.
A narrow wooden box in the middle of the Finnish wilderness that I was not allowed to leave under any circumstances until morning.

After unpacking my sleeping bag and setting up the camera, all there was left to do was wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Three hours later, movement exploded out of nowhere.

A dark shape came sprinting across the landscape.

Wolverine.

I was far too slow.
The animal was pure muscle and speed, and I honestly have no idea if I managed a single sharp frame.

But shortly after, a female bear appeared with her cub.
This time I was ready.

Watching them move quietly through the forest edge, completely unaware of me sitting hidden behind glass and camouflage, felt almost unreal. The cub followed its mother closely while the evening light softened around them.

For the rest of the evening there was steady activity — more wolverines, a few male bears, distant movement in the trees.
Then, around nine o’clock, the light slowly disappeared.

Unfortunately the sky stayed covered in clouds, so there would be no dramatic sunset or glowing sunrise.

At 22.00 I climbed into my sleeping bag.
Did I sleep?
Not really.

The hide was unbearably warm, my body refused to settle properly, and every little sound outside felt amplified in the darkness.

I set my alarm for 04.00.

Morning remained quiet.
Until five minutes before I had to leave.

Then the wolverine returned.

Between Forest and Silence

Enjoying a well deserved breakfast

At 07.30 I left the hide and walked back to the lodge.
Only afterwards did it occur to me that the wolverine had literally been there moments earlier.

Back at Bear Centre, mornings quickly found their own rhythm:
coffee,
image reviews,
technical talks about low-light photography,
and conversations with people who understood exactly why someone would willingly spend an entire night inside a wooden box hoping for a glimpse of fur moving through the trees.

Internet connection out there was almost nonexistent.
The outside world slowly faded away.
And honestly, that felt surprisingly good.

The Lake Hide

The second hide was pure luxury by wilderness standards.

It sat right beside a small lake with forest stretching endlessly beyond the opposite shore. This hide had openings for cameras on three different sides, but choosing where to place myself was easy.

The lake.
Always the lake.

Our travel group had a Messenger chat running during the evenings where everyone updated each other on sightings.
Suddenly the messages started pouring in:

Wolf seen.

My stomach dropped a little.

Seeing a wolf had been a dream for years.
The wolves here travel across enormous distances and are rarely seen, so the chat practically exploded with excitement.

I had already started accepting that maybe this would not be my moment.

And then it happened.

Out of nowhere, the wolf came running out of the forest.

A beautiful male.

There are moments in wildlife photography where everything technical disappears.
Camera settings.
Composition.
Sharpness.
All of it.

Because suddenly you are simply a human being witnessing something ancient and wild.

The wolf moved effortlessly through the landscape, completely at home in a world most people only ever experience through documentaries.

Not long after, a young male bear appeared.
And it quickly became clear that the wolf and the bear strongly disagreed about ownership of the food scattered in the area.

The wolf repeatedly chased the poor bear around, stealing food and burying it elsewhere.
Reading everyone’s live reactions in the group chat while watching the drama unfold outside the hide was honestly hilarious.

Morning Mist

That night I stayed awake for a while hoping for northern lights.
They never came.

Instead, I slept.
Really slept.

So deeply that I completely missed my 04.00 alarm.

When I woke at five, the sun had already risen and a thick layer of mist floated across the lake.
It was unbelievably beautiful.

All it needed was a small bear walking silently through the fog.

But wildlife photography doesn’t hand out cinematic moments on command.
That is part of what makes it special.

Still, I felt incredibly lucky.
Even without the perfect image.

The Final Night

The last hide faced north toward another small lake.
Across the water, only around 150 metres away, I could see the markings of the Russian border.

The weather forecast promised clear skies in the evening, rain during the night and clearing again by morning.

The evening began slowly.
Our group chat kept everyone entertained while we waited.
Then, around 18.30, the wolf appeared once more.
Fast.
Focused.
Gone again within minutes.

An hour later the young male bear arrived.
He seemed nervous this evening, constantly alert.
Perhaps an older male was nearby.
Eventually he disappeared back toward the Russian side and did not return.

Later the larger male bear entered the area.
Unlike the younger one, he moved with complete confidence.
His biggest problem was the flock of crows constantly trying to steal pieces of whatever he found.

As darkness settled over the landscape, the camera eventually struggled to keep up with the fading light.
But by then it no longer mattered.

Sitting alone in a hide deep in the wilderness does something to your thoughts.

When there were no animals outside, there was finally space inside my own head.
No noise.
No interruptions.
No expectations.

Just silence.

And somewhere in that Finnish darkness, I made several decisions about my life and what truly matters.

It turns out wilderness photography is not only about photographing animals.
Sometimes it is also about meeting yourself.

Leaving Finland

During the night it apparently rained heavily.
The others talked about the storm the next morning.
I had heard absolutely nothing.

I slept deeply in my sleeping bag while rain hammered the forest outside.

Walking back to the lodge that final morning felt strangely emotional.
I missed Kim and the boys enormously.
But leaving this place was difficult.

After breakfast we spent our last hours together in the small squirrel and bird hide, talking about everything we had experienced before leaving for the airport.

After an incredibly long journey home, I finally walked through my front door at 04.58 in the morning.

With roughly 5,000 photographs waiting to be sorted.

And a mind still somewhere in the Finnish forest.