In January of 2026, I ran an all-new Snow Leopard workshop in far northwestern Mongolia. This workshop ran from the 13th of January until the 23rd of January and took us into an all-new region in the Hungai mountains. This location is lower in altitude than the previous location we had been using and has significantly less hiking (although the climbing is still considerable and not for the faint of heart). Like my Pallas Cat of Eastern Mongolia Report, this trip report will be a little different to the norm and includes a number of daily video updates from the field. Due to my heavy travel schedule, I will come back later in the year and update this post with still photographs from the trip as time permits.

Our journey to the snow leopard began in the capital city of Ulanbataar, with a two-hour flight to Khovd in Mongolia’s northwestern region. From here, we then drove seven hours to our remote camp nestled amongst the Margaz mountains (a smaller area of the Hungai mountains) – our cozy home away from home for the duration of the workshop. Each Gyr, or Yurt, is equipped with a coal-fired stove for warmth, a bed, a wash basin, lighting and even wifi. Our base served as the perfect location to search the vast mountainous landscape for the snow leopard.

As fortune would have it, we never even made it to camp before our first encounter with a snow leopard. With our spotters and trackers already in the field, we took a short detour not far from camp to see a mother with two cubs our trackers had found high on a rocky mountain just prior to sunset. Although sunset was upon us and it was too late in the day to begin an arduous climb to attempt to photograph them, we still relished the experience. To find and see a wild Snow Leopard with her two cubs so early in our trip was an absolute blessing. The cherry on the cake was several Ibex that posed, silhouetted for us high on the precipitous mountain tops.

Finding and photographing the snow leopard is one of wildlife photography’s greatest challenges, demanding extraordinary patience, endurance, and respect for the harsh environments these elusive cats call home. Often referred to as the “ghost of the mountains,” snow leopards blend seamlessly into vast alpine landscapes, making even a single sighting feel like an extraordinary gift. Days can pass scanning ridgelines and valleys in biting cold and thin air, with no guarantee of success, which only deepens the emotional impact when a snow leopard finally reveals itself. Each encounter is a true privilege—a fleeting moment of connection with one of the planet’s most secretive predators that serves as a powerful reminder of both the fragility and the wonder of the wild. Every encounter is an absolute gift and is never to be taken for granted.

Over the course of the next eight days, we made daily sunrise and afternoon sojourns into the field in search of leopards. From our camp location, we were ringed by mountains, all of which had potential for leopard sightings (as well as Corsak fox and Ibex). Using our team of expert local trackers, we had multiple encounters with snow leopards during our trip. As luck would have it, the very best of these encounters was with a mother and three first-year cubs. We were able to spend most of the day photographing the cubs high on the mountainside with superb results. An encounter such as this is an absolute gift and very much a once-in-a-lifetime experience. In addition to snow leopards, we also photographed Golden Eagle and Little Owl.

Temperatures throughout our workshop were extremely cold, with lows consistently around -40ºC and highs in the afternoon often only rising to -25ºC. It was below -35º Celsius many mornings when we departed in search of the ghost of the mountains. This necessitated proper equipment and dressing to ensure protection against the cold. As we traversed the landscape in 4-wheel-drive vehicles, we stayed warm while searching for wildlife.

At the conclusion of our workshop, we packed up and drove roughly four hours to the nearest town for return flights to Ulanbataar and concluded our workshop in the evening of the 23rd of February.

Photographing Snow Leopard with us offers a rare opportunity to encounter one of the world’s most enigmatic wild cats in an ethical, immersive, and deeply rewarding way. Success with snow leopards is never guaranteed, and it is well worth remembering that even a fleeting sighting can be hard-won, making every potential encounter a very special gift. This is a carefully curated workshop built around our local guides’ intimate knowledge of the landscape, respectful fieldcraft, and small-group experiences that maximise both photographic opportunities and meaningful wildlife encounters. In the vast mountain environments where Snow Leopards live, we prioritise patience, conservation awareness, and time in the field—allowing photographers to move beyond fleeting sightings to genuine observation. The result is not just exceptional imagery of a seldom-seen species, but a richer understanding of its behaviour, habitat, and fragility, making the experience as emotionally powerful as it is creatively inspiring.

Who is this Workshop For? This workshop is designed for photographers who have a deep love of wildlife and a genuine passion for capturing it thoughtfully and artisically in the field. It is ideally suited to those who value time, patience, and observation over crowds and hurried encounters, and who thrive in a small-group environment where individual attention and shared experience matter. Whether you are refining your craft or seeking a more meaningful connection with the natural world, this workshop appeals to photographers who are inspired by rare species, remote landscapes, and the emotional power of storytelling through images, and who appreciate learning in an intimate setting alongside like-minded people who share the same respect for wildlife.

If you would like to photograph this incredible wildcat, please get in touch via email. We limit the workshop to a maximum of five photographers to ensure each has their own private room and to ensure we offer the best possible photographic experience. Groups larger than five are far from ideal for this experience if high-quality results are your goal. Our next planned workshop for the Snow Leopard is in 2028.

This year’s Wild Wolves of the Taiga Workshop promised something different from our usual Arctic expeditions (Read our Trip Reports). In northern Finland, near the Russian border, we sought not polar bears against ice or penguins against snow, but wolves in the dense, shadowed Boreal forests of the north. Alongside them, the mighty brown bear, an apex predator in its own right, roamed this land of lakes, moss, and towering spruce. There is a quietness and tranquillity that hangs in the air in this part of northern Finland, different from the austere, white silence of the polar regions. The forest in this part of Finland is thick with life, an ancient hush, the breath of a primordial forest older than memory. This is a forest that still feels untouched by humans, where wild animals roam, and it is the perfect place to photograph wolves and bears.

The small group of photographers who joined us this year were seasoned travellers and photographers, each hungry for Nature and that blend of patience, anticipation, and wild reward that defines this craft of Wildlife photography. Our base for this workshop was rustic, yet comfortable. A series of wooden lodges tucked into the forest edge by the side of a beautiful lake. After long sessions in the hides, it was a pleasure to return to the lodge, to peel off warm layers, and share a drink and stories into the evening.

Most afternoons began the same. After an early lunch, we packed our gear, prepared thermoses of coffee, and made our way quietly into the forest. The hides are simple wooden structures, each carefully chosen with background in mind, and each with narrow viewing slits just wide enough for a lens and viewing. The hides are not heated, but this time of year, the temperatures have not yet dropped below freezing, and a few warm layers are all that is required to stay comfortable during a hide session. Many of the hides have additional low-angle viewing and photography ports that allow for low-angle shooting at eye level (a preference of mine whenever possible).

From early afternoon until the fall of night, we sat in silence, our cameras ready, long glass poised—500mm and 600mm lenses dominating the lineup at most of the hide locations, with shorter lenses preferred at the lake hides. Typically, wolves are notoriously shy and long lenses are usually chosen to capture images as they move through the Autumn grasses. Patience is the lifeblood of hide photography. Hours pass with only the sound of wind in the branches or the distant call of a raven. Yet within that stillness, a strange transformation occurs: one begins to hear the forest’s subtler voice, and in those moments, we come closer to Nature. It is a reminder that as Nature photographers we should define the success of our day by how we interact with our environment more so than the success of an individual photograph.

The sun never gets truly high in the sky this far north in Finland at this time of year, and days are frequently overcast, providing a natural softbox of light for the wildlife. Autumn colours were also at their peak the week of our workshop, providing the ideal backdrop to photograph both the wolves and bears. It was on the first evening that we saw our first wolf. At first, it was only a shape, an outline moving low among the yellow grasses. Then, slowly, a wolf emerged. Its presence was electric. In the silence, every photographer held their breath. The wolf paused, ears high, eyes alert, framed by the Autumn forest and the soft yellow grasses. These are the moments we live for as wildlife photographers.

In that moment, the forest was no longer merely a backdrop. It was alive, primordial, a cathedral of colour in which this animal was both priest and ghost. The wolf lingered only a minute, perhaps two, before slipping back into shadow. But it was enough. That encounter imprinted itself on all of us, and we thirsted for me. As fate would have it, we would not have to wait long before a second wolf would grace the stage in front of our cameras.

If the wolf is shadow and mystery, the bear is weight and presence. Several evenings, we were graced by the appearance of European brown bears, their hulking frames pushing through the underbrush. The approach of a bear is almost never heard. Their giant weight is carried on huge paws that enable them to tread silently through the forest. This time of the year, the bears are preparing to hibernate and are at their fattest and most hulking.

Photographing them required equal patience and speed. Bears often moved with surprising silence, and when they appeared, it was crucial to react quickly. The 500mm and 600mm lenses gave us reach, isolating the animals against the soft tapestry of forest and mist. At one point, three young bears appeared by one of the lake hides. The young bears were cautious, climbing a nearby tree while foraging on the lake shore. The scene was tender, primal, and moving. To witness such a moment—protective, raw, and timeless—was worth every hour of waiting.

Although the hides were positioned in known territories for wolves, bears, and wolverines, we did not see the latter this year. Wolverines are elusive at the best of times, shadows within shadows, and their absence reminded us of the unpredictability of true wilderness. Some may count it as disappointment. I do not. For me, the wolverine’s absence underscores the authenticity of the experience. This is not a zoo. It is not staged. The forest offers what it will, and we come not with demands but with reverence and thanks for every encounter.

If the wolves and bears were our subjects, then the forest itself was our stage and sometimes, our main character. There were evenings when the mist rolled in, making it seem as though the trees were floating islands, suspended in an ocean of pale grey. In such moments, even without wildlife, there was profound beauty. At other times, the golden light of late afternoon filtered through the canopy, igniting the grasses with a fiery brilliance. To photograph a wolf or bear in such light was almost transcendent—the animal bathed in an atmosphere that seemed half-real, half-myth.

This interplay between animal and environment is where authentic wildlife photography resides, not in the portrait alone, but in the story of creature and place, bound together by light and moment. Background is critical to the simplicity, but must also tell the story of the environment. No one wants a photograph that looks like it was taken in the zoo. Hide photography is not glamorous. It is hours of stillness, cramped legs, whispers, and waiting. Yet it is in this waiting that something rare is found: a kind of meditation. The modern world rarely allows us to sit for four, five, or six hours with no distractions, no noise, but only the wind and the beating of our own heart. In the hide, time stretches. Senses sharpen in anticipation. When the wildlife does appear, the scene comes alive.

The variety of photographs captured on this workshop is always astonishing. Some photographers pursue close portraits with their 600mm primes, filling the frame with piercing eyes and powerful musculature. Others leaned into wider perspectives, showing animals as small figures dwarfed by the immensity of the forest. Both approaches spoke to the diversity of vision that such a place inspires. Running two cameras in an environment such as this is often a good idea, as it can significantly enhance diversity in a portfolio. For me personally, one frame lingers. A wolf, mid-step, crossing a clearing as fog draped around the forest floor. The background is a soft blur of spruce, with a muted palette of greens and greys. Minimal. Poetic. A distillation of the primal soul of this land.

The 2025 Wild Wolves of the Taiga Workshop reaffirmed something I hold dear: Wildlife photography is not only about animals. It is about the connection between us and Nature, between patience and reward, between what is seen and what is deeply felt. The Taiga forest, vast and breathing, reminded us that wilderness is both fragile and unyielding. There are only a few places left on this earth that still feel untouched by man, and that makes this part of Finland exceptionally special. We are returning again next year 2026, and 2027 to this magical forest realm for the Wolves and Bears, and full details are now available on the website at www.jholko.com/workshops. Please contact me for any details.

As some of you may be aware, I was also working on a new short film project during this visit to the Taiga forest in Finland with my good friend Chris Nemes from White Space Films. We wrapped filming earlier this month (September) and hope to release the film before Christmas this year, 2025. This short film is a journey into the mind of what it takes to produce a great wildlife photograph. Teaser poster below: