Wildmere
Wildmere
we're visitors here. act accordingly.
wildlife & nature
SOME PLACES REMIND YOU THAT YOU'RE NOT THE MAIN CHARACTER.
There's something humbling about watching a whale surface in open water.
Or standing beneath trees that were here long before you and, with any luck, will still be here long after you're gone.
Maybe it's a bear moving along an Alaskan shoreline. Puffins nesting on a cliff above the North Atlantic. Monkeys raising hell somewhere in a Costa Rican rainforest. Or an orca appearing beside a quiet island when you've been staring at seemingly empty water for twenty minutes.
None of it is performing for you.
And that's kind of the fucking point.
Wildlife and nature travel isn't about getting as close as possible, checking an animal off a list, or manufacturing the perfect photo.
It's about going somewhere wild enough that you remember you're part of the world, not the center of it.
At Wildmere, that means seeking out experiences that respect the places we're visiting and the creatures who actually live there - while still leaving plenty of room for the completely unreasonable excitement of someone yelling:
"HOLY SHIT, WHALE!"
Because respect and absolute childlike wonder can, in fact, coexist.
And we highly recommend both.
what calls you wild?
Not everybody goes into nature looking for the same thing.
Some of us are waiting for the dorsal fin.
Some want the forest.
Some want to stand at the edge of a glacier and feel very, very fucking small.
Some will happily wake up at an ungodly hour because somebody said "the turtles are nesting."
And some of us want all of it.
Good news. It's a big planet.
wild waters:
the ocean has its own plans
into the wild:
look up. look down. and probably behind you.
Whales surfacing where there was nothing but water a second ago. Orcas cutting through the Salish Sea. Sea turtles drifting beneath you in impossibly clear Caribbean water.
Maybe you're watching from the deck of a small expedition ship. Maybe you're snorkeling over a reef. Maybe you're standing on shore with binoculars and somebody suddenly yells "WHALE!" and every grown adult within earshot completely loses her shit.
As she should.
The ocean doesn't promise you anything.
That's what makes it fucking incredible when it does.
Rainforests aren't particularly interested in making wildlife easy to find.
Something rustles overhead. Something else disappears into the leaves before you're entirely sure you saw it. A monkey starts screaming from somewhere you cant see, and apparently the sloth you've been searching for has been hanging twelve feet above your head for the last twenty minutes.
Bears along an Alaskan shoreline. Penguins waddling across a beach. Puffins nesting on impossible cliffs. Kangaroos appearing because apparently Australia decided normal wildlife wasn't interesting enough.
Sometimes you go looking for the wild.
Sometimes you realize it's been watching you the whole fucking time.
wild places:
go somwhere that makes you feel small
after dark:
The wild doesn't clock out at sunset
there are places where the sheer scale of everything rearranges your perspective a little.
Glaciers stretching farther than you can see. Mountains disappearing into clouds. Volcanoes rumbling beneath landscapes that look almost prehistoric. Ancient forests where the trees are so fucking enormous you eventually give up trying to fit them into one photo.
Alaska. Patagonia. Iceland. New Zealand. The Pacific Northwest. Places where nature didn't bother making itself convenient for us.
Stand there long enough and whatever seemed incredibly important back home starts feeling...
considerably less fucking important.
Sometimes feeling tiny is exactly what you needed.
When the last light disappears, an entirely different world shows up.
Stars where you forgot stars existed. The Milky Way stretching across a genuinely dark sky. Northern or Southern lights moving overhead if the universe decides to cooperate. Bioluminescent water glowing around you. Night sounds coming from creatures you're probably happier not being able to see.
Maybe you're bundled up beneath an absurd number of layers staring at the aurora.
Maybe you're barefoot on a beach watching the water sparkle.
Maybe you're standing somewhere so dark and quiet that looking up makes you forget to say anything at all.
Stay up.
The universe has been putting on this show for a few billion years.
You can miss bedtime once.
wild doesn't mean untouchable
wild places aren't simply ours because we traveled far enough to reach them.
The whale doesn't owe us a breach. The bear doesn't need to move closer for the photo. A nesting turtle doesn't care that this is the only night we're here. And a reef certainly doesn't exist so we can stand on it for a better view.
Wildmere seeks out experiences that let us get close to the natural world without asking it to perform for us.
That means choosing responsible wildlife operators. Keeping our distance when distance matters. Following the people who actually know the animals and ecosystems we're visiting. And whenever possible, supporting the researchers, conservation organizations and local communities already doing the work to protect them.
Sometimes that might mean joining an established conservation experience.
Sometimes it means learning from the people in the field.
Sometimes it means donating, participating in citizen science, helping clean a shoreline, or simply spending our travel dollars with people doing things the right way.
Because seeing something extraordinary is only half the priviledge.
The other half is making damn sure somebody else gets to see it someday too.
a brief word about not being an asshole
THE WILDERNESS HAS RULES. MOST OF THEM ARE PRETTY FUCKING REASONABLE.
Wildlife encounters can be incredible. They can also make otherwise sensible adults temporarily forget that the animal in front of them is not a prop, performer, or particularly interested in their Instagram feed.
So, a few things.
Give them space.
If the guide says we're close enough, we're close enough. You're camera has a zoom for a reason.
Don't feed anything.
Yes, even if it's adorable. Especially if it's adorable and has figured out exactly which facial expression makes tourists hand over snacks.
Don't touch, chase, corner, call, whistle at, or otherwise harass the wildlife.
We're there to watch what they naturally do - not convince them to do something more entertaining.
Listen to the people who know the place.
Naturalists, researchers, conservationists, park staff, local guides - they know these animals and ecosystems better than we do. We follow their lead.
Leave the damn place alone.
Shells, coral, plants, rocks, nests and everything else belong where we found them. Photos come home. The landscape stays put.
And please, for the love of whales, don't try to manufacture the perfect photo.
Sometimes the whale is far away. Sometimes the sloth turns its ass toward you. Sometimes the bear never shows up at all.
That's wildlife.
And honestly?
The fact that we don't get to control it is half the fucking magic.
DON'T MAKE ME ADD ANOTHER RULE
Wildmere journeys are built around respect for wildlife, wild places, and the communities protecting them.
We're going to have an absolutely ridiculous amount of fun while we're there.
But the animals come first.
Their space. Their safety. Their home. Their rules.
Be curious. Be excited, Lose your entire fucking mind when the whale surfaces.
Just don't be the reason I have to add another rule.
where the wild still rules
there are still places where nature hasn't gotten the memo that humans think we're in charge.
Places where whales decide whether they'll show up. Where monkeys crash through the trees overhead, marine iguanas look vaguely prehistoric, and entire landscapes seem determined to remind you just how small you actually are.
From the cold waters of the Salish Sea to the rainforest of Costa Rica, the strange wildness of the Galapagos to the enormous landscapes of Patagonia, these are places where we're the visitors.
And that's exactly how it should be.
Come curious. Come ready to be surprised. And leave a little room in the plan for the wild to do whatever the hell it wants.
There is still so much wild left in this world. Go see it. Stand in awe of it. And help make damn sure it stays that way.
wild doesn't have to mean roughing it
You can spend the morning watching whales, hike beneath trees older than anyone you know, paddle through mangroves, or stand somewhere so remote the rest of the world feels very far away.
And then?
Come back to a hot shower, a beautiful meal, a good glass of wine, and an actual fucking bed.
Wildmere isn't about proving how uncomfortable you can be in the name of adventure.
It's about getting close enough to the wild to feel something - without needing to suffer for it.
Sometimes that means a beautiful lodge tucked into the rainforest. Sometimes it's a small expedition ship carrying you into places roads simply don't reach. A quiet coastal inn. A safari camp with considerably nicer sheets than the word camp has any right to imply. Or somewhere warm and lovely waiting at the end of a long day outside.
Because you can be adventurous and appreciate creature comforts.
You can spend the day getting muddy and still want someone else to cook dinner.
And you can absolutely lose your shit over a whale at 10am and be holding a glass of wine by 7.
Around here, we consider that balance.
go where the wild things are
You don't have to climb Everest, sleep on the ground, or spend three weeks without a hot shower to have an adventure that changes the way you see the world.
Maybe yours begins with the sound of a whale spouting somewhere across the water.
Maybe it's a landscape so enormous it shuts your brain up for a minute, or something wild appearing exactly when - and where - you weren't expecting it.
Whatever calls you out there, we'll build the journey around seeing more, rushing less, and leaving the wild exactly where it belongs: wild.
Ready to see what's out there?