Behind the Shot: Iceberg Season Begins

Iceberg season is here.

Yesterday, April 19, 2026, I made the trip out to Bonavista, and sitting way offshore was an absolute monster of an iceberg. My first of the season, and a good one to start things off.

Icebergs are one of my favourite subjects to photograph. They’re constantly changing, almost like something alive. No two are ever the same, and even the same iceberg can look completely different depending on when and how you’re shooting it.

Every situation brings its own challenges and rewards. You might be photographing from shore or from a boat. You could be working in thick fog, under harsh midday sun, or in that perfect light at sunrise or sunset. Each condition forces you to adjust your approach, and each one gives you a completely different result.

One thing a lot of people don’t realize is that icebergs are never guaranteed here. We’re well positioned along the coast to see them, but currents, prevailing winds, and weather patterns all play a role. Some years you get a steady stream of massive bergs drifting by. Other years, nothing.

I’ve seen both, and trust me, the preference is definitely for the bumper seasons.

This iceberg yesterday was a long way offshore. Even shooting with a 150–600 on my R5, I had to crop in quite a bit just to make the image work. It’s one of those situations where you take what you can get, knowing the conditions aren’t ideal but the moment still matters.

That’s part of the fun early in the season. The first sighting of any iceberg is exciting, no matter the distance or limitations.

As the season progresses, everything changes.

Once the bergs start grounding closer to shore, or when we’re able to get out on the water in a zodiac, your whole approach shifts. You’re no longer just documenting from a distance, you’re working angles, looking for details, and playing with scale.

Some of my favourite conditions are sunrise and sunset. The way light interacts with the ice is something else entirely. Blues deepen, textures come alive, and the whole scene takes on a completely different feel.

And then there’s being out there, up close.

Hearing the ice creak and groan, the sharp cracks as it starts to split and shift. It’s equal parts magical and unsettling. You’re watching something massive and ancient slowly break apart right in front of you.

It’s hard to describe unless you’ve experienced it, but it’s something that keeps me coming back every season.

That’s what makes this time of year so exciting.

This first sighting is just the beginning. Every season is different, and there’s no way to predict what’s coming next. Maybe it’s a year of distant sightings and tough conditions, or maybe we get lucky with a run of giants grounding close to shore.

Either way, I’ll be out there.

I’m looking forward to getting back on the water, chasing light at sunrise and sunset, and spending time around these incredible pieces of ice as they move through our coastline.

I’ll be sharing more of those experiences here as the season unfolds.

To wrap this one up, here are a few favourites from last season. A reminder of what’s possible when conditions line up just right.