Original subtitles

The end of the Arctic summer and the sun hasn't set for

three months. It's hard to imagine the bitter cold will soon

return.

Some will welcome the chills of autumn, but for most, time

is running out before they will have to retreat to the

south.

Early autumn in the Canadian Arctic, and polar bears are

gathering on the coastal strip, waiting for the sea to

freeze.

But a life spent alone on the sea ice is no preparation for

a crowded beach. Such close contact with other bears must be

stressful. Surely tempers will flare.

Over half a ton of bear slams into the other.

Polar bears will fight to the death over mates, but not in

autumn. Now, these fearsome predators display a surprisingly

tolerant side to their natures. Being marooned on land means

the bears no longer have access to the seals they usually

hunt, and they have to scrape by on whatever they can find.

But the bears are still looking for food. Like bears the

world over, they're not choosy feeders. They even turn

vegetarian, delicately picking out berries from between the

thorns.

There are plenty to go around, so there's no need to squabble over them.

Any fighting is just for fun.

The bears select spawning partners who are well-matched, and

they always pull their punches. No-one wants to get hurt in

a play fight. No-one

wants to get hurt in a play fight. Perhaps these bouts are

a way of testing rivals in case they ever meet again out on

the sea ice.

One thing's for sure, the famous loners are

revealing a social, playful side we rarely see.

It's all just boisterous fun, but with so many big males

around, the females keep their cubs at a safe distance.

The wary mother will lead her young to a quieter beach

along the coast while she waits for the ocean to freeze.

The sea ice is now at its minimum extent. In the Canadian

Arctic, vast stretches of coastline are now unlocked and

ready to receive visitors.

Belugas, the white whales of the north. They're

relying on open water to reach an ancient rendezvous.

It's a journey they make every year along traditional routes.

It's a journey they make every year along traditional

routes. It's a journey they make every year along

traditional routes. Baby belugas ride piggyback, pulled

along by their mother's slipstream. This one is only a month

old and won't turn white for another five years.

Thousands of belugas are being drawn to one special estuary in the Canadian Arctic.

It isn't food that brings them here.

Curiously, it's personal hygiene.

When the tide is low, they swim into the

shallows and flail around with great enthusiasm.

They're after a body scrub.

The gravel acts as a loofah, and thrashing their

bodies across it helps to get rid of their old skin.

Presumably, the treatment keeps them clean and

streamlined, but it also appears to feel good.

This is the skin of a beluga. The water in the estuary is

warmer and less salty, and that seems to soften the skin,

making the scrub more effective.

This secluded estuary is only a temporary whale spa. The

ocean will soon freeze again, forcing the whales to travel

south.

Vast seabird colonies are the jewels of the Arctic.

Brunell guillemots have spent the summer months packed

together on vertical cliffs beyond the reach of predators.

They are among the most numerous seabirds in the Northern

Hemisphere, the most common species of bird species in the

Arctic. This colony alone contains 100,000 birds, and

there are many more like it all along the Arctic coastline.

In just a few weeks, these cliffs will empty, but before

the guillemots can leave, their chicks must fledge. Their

feathers are now fully formed, but their stubby wings are

still too short for them to fly properly. This will be a

challenge.

It's a 150-metre drop, and they need to make it all the way to the sea. Here goes.

He falls short and survives the crash landing.

The chicks are manna from heaven for an arctic fox.

The next chick is accompanied by a parent.

Veiled by the gullet, they land again.

This looks better.

Success.

Aquatic landings are certainly gentler, and foxes can't reach you out here.

The chicks will stay in their parents' care for another month.

The guillemots are not the only ones preparing to leave. All

across the Arctic, millions of summer visitors are beginning

to return south.

The guillemot chicks can't fly yet, so they and their

families must swim to their winter feeding grounds. It's a

journey that will take them 1,000 miles south to

the open ocean and away from the approaching ice.

The breeding season is over, and silence returns to the Arctic.

But as the first storms of autumn sweep through the deserted

nesting grounds, they bring an unexpected bonanza for the

few that remain.

The discovery doesn't remain secret for long.

The gullet is a bit too small for them to reach.

It's a huge fin-whale carcass. The polar bears have been

drawn from several miles away, guided by their extraordinary

sense of smell.

Bears are arriving all the time, but there's plenty of room

at this 18-meter-long dining table. The gullet is a bit too

small for them to reach,

but they're surprisingly relaxed. But with

enough for everyone, there's no need to argue.

The tastiest morsels are often underwater.

Others prefer some greens with their dinner.

After a well-balanced meal, there's nothing better than some good company.

Despite their reputation as loners, it's

surprising just how sociable polar bears can be.

The gullet is a bit too small for them to reach,

but there's plenty of room at this 18-meter-long dining

table. All across the Arctic, the temperature is now

dropping, and the sea is beginning to freeze. Every day,

over 20,000 square miles of ocean turn to ice as the cold

spreads south.

At first, a thin, greasy film appears on the surface.

Next, pancakes of ice start to appear.

The pancakes lock together and form a continuous sheet.

The Arctic Ocean is freezing again.

At last, the bear family can return to the sea ice where they belong.

It's been six months since the cubs first emerged from the

den. They've survived the hazards of melting sea ice in

spring and lack of food in summer, and now, at last, they

are in their element again. The cubs are now back in the

den.

As the north of our planet turns away from the sun, the big chill travels south.

Temperatures on the tundra start to fall.

The shorter days and colder nights trigger a dramatic change

in the willows and blueberry bushes. They stop producing the

green pigment that harnesses the sun's energy and

red and yellow pigments build up in their leaves.

The tundra blazes with colour and the whole landscape is transformed.

A bull muskox marks his territory with scent from the glands

on his face. He's preparing for the breeding season. He

shadows his harem of females as they graze the last

of the summer grasses. The harem of the female harem,

he must be on his guard.

An outsider is arriving, a large male whose intentions soon become clear.

The newcomer circles the resident bull warily. The

resident must take up the intruder's challenge.

The harem of females This clash of polar titans

could easily become a fight to the death.

The impact is like a car crash at 30 miles an hour.

A heavy skull and a helmet of horn four inches thick

provides some protection for the muskox's brain.

Over the next half hour, the advantage ebbs and flows as

each tries to finish the duel. If one can turn the other and

gore its flank, the fight will be over.

The stakes rise as the risk of injury or even death increases.

The rival is outmaneuvered. And the champion returns to his females.

By now, most animals have migrated south, but the harem of

the female harem is still on the run. The muskoxen, with

their thick coats, will stay and face the approaching winter.

As autumn progresses, the moisture in the air

freezes and hoarfrost decorates the leaves.

Ice crystals grow like diamonds on every twig.

The harem of the female harem is still on the run.

All across the tundra, both the rivers and the ground freeze solid.

The harem of the female harem is still on the run. Glassy

cathedrals form as the remaining water becomes locked up as

ice.

Soon, even the largest waterfalls will be motionless.

The tundra has been transformed once again. It appears deserted.

Caribou on their migration. Unlike the muskox, caribou do

head south for the winter, but it's a long and difficult

journey. They use the frozen lakes as ice roads. These are

flat and firm, but it seems hooves and ice were never really

meant to go together.

The frisky males would be well advised to keep at

least one eye on the road as the mating season begins.

A cow is being closely guarded. By a mature bull with his much larger antlers.

The females are busy feeding up for the winter, but the bull

has other things on his mind. The cow is playing hard to

get. She heads off with her admirer in pursuit.

Several other bulls join in the chase.

She's out in front, but the amorous males are gaining on her.

The big bull breaks off his chase to deal with a rival.

But now he's fallen behind the other challengers.

The younger bulls with their lighter antlers keep up with

the cow more easily, but as the pace slows, the younger

bulls are getting closer. The older bull

catches up. Again, he has to stop and fight.

A decisive victory for the big male. He's earned the respect

of the vanquished bulls and they now trail in his wake. It's

now become a game of grandma's footsteps. One look from

the boss... and the young bloods freeze in their tracks.

The exhausted bull guards his prize, but he'll need to

recover before he's able to make the most of his victory.

And the herd continues its journey south to avoid the worst of the advancing cold.

From the ocean to the tundra, the north of our planet is now completely frozen.

The Antarctic. In the far south, autumn can be a

particularly savage season. It's a strange and unpredictable

time.

South Georgia is a splinter of rock in the middle of

the vast southern ocean. It's only 100 miles long and is

battered by the elements.

This ocean generates some of the largest waves on the

planet. They gain size and power as they travel around the

globe, uninterrupted by land, for 12,000 miles.

As they buffet south Georgia, they also bring food.

A seal carcass.

A prize worth braving the surf for. Giant petrels are the

vultures of Antarctica and are always the first to the

spoils.

The word is out and the hordes move in.

Like feathered dinosaurs, they lock beaks in battle.

Aargh! Arrgh!

Arrgh!

These butchers provide a service for some unlikely meat eaters.

With the carcasses now opened, pint-tailed ducks arrive for a meal.

There's plenty of good food here, and none of south

Georgia's inhabitants can afford to be fussy with winter

looming.

After the feast, it's time for a rinse and spin. Rinse and

spin. The breeding season is finally over, and the petrels

will soon be heading out to sea to avoid the worst of the

winter.

The snowstorm is an omen of things to come.

There is now little left to eat, and south Georgia's beaches

will soon be abandoned to the cold and ice. The snowstorm is

coming to an end.

It's time to go home. Further south still, and the

first storms are striking the continent of Antarctica.

The daily penguins must rear their half-grown chicks to

adulthood before winter hits in just a few weeks' time.

The chicks are only three weeks old. Their downy coats

aren't fully waterproof yet, and they cluster together for

warmth.

These creches are essential during bad weather, as most of

the adults are away at sea, fishing for their fast-growing

families.

When the parents return, their offspring quickly leave the comfort of their peers.

Both chicks are ravenously hungry.

But there may be only enough food for one. This race

could determine which chick has the better prospects.

Most of the daily pairs will only manage to raise a single chick each season.

And this may not be it.

At least number one is getting stronger by the day.

With one meal delivered, the parents must quickly find another.

To rear their chicks before the onset of

winter, the penguins must work round the clock.

The parents can travel over 100 miles to reach the best

fishing grounds and may be gone for several days at a time.

They return with a kilogram of fish and squid in their

bellies, feed their chicks, and then go off again to repeat

the process.

The job must be finished before the sea freezes over.

At seven weeks old, the chicks are losing the last of their

baby down and are now fully equipped to take the plunge.

Confidence is all that's lacking. Perhaps it'll help if the parents lead by example.

There. Effortless and as graceful as any fish.

It seems penguins are not born with a love of water.

Staying submerged is the next problem.

Buoyancy control is clearly a skill that needs practice.

Well, it's a start.

And at least they can now reach the ice floes.

Swimming is the first of many lessons. They must

next learn to recognise danger in all its forms.

A leopard seal.

Even high up on an ice floe, the penguins aren't safe.

They're not afraid of danger. Each year, leopard seals will

take 5,000 of them from this colony alone.

The Odalis that survive drift out into the Southern Ocean.

They will spend the next five months feeding at sea,

avoiding the great freeze that is about to envelop

Antarctica.

The edge of the sea ice advances by up to 2.5 miles a day.

Eventually, over 5 million square miles of ice will surround

the continent of Antarctica, effectively doubling its size.

The great white wilderness is empty. But not for long.

Bizarrely, it's now that the emperor penguins

arrive, just as all the other penguins have left.

They are now at their heaviest. They've been

feeding at sea all summer and can weigh 40 kilos.

They are now at their heaviest.

They are now at their heaviest. From the edge of the sea

ice, they head towards their colony. But an obstacle course

of jumbled ice blocks stands in their way.

This will be crucial for their survival in the months

ahead, but it doesn't make squeezing through narrow gaps any

easier.

With the worst behind them, they start a 20-mile march into

the freezer to breed. The only animals to do so. They are

now at their heaviest.

By tobogganing, they can travel at twice their

walking speed and it takes the weight off tired feet.

Their destination is the thicker ice closer to shore, which

will stay solid long enough for them to safely rear their

chicks throughout the months to come.

Their colony is in the lee of icebergs, trapped in the

frozen ocean, which will shelter them from the cold. They

will shelter them from the bitter Antarctic winds.

Newly formed pairs promenade together.

Quatship demands that both partners strike and hold a

variety of poses. It's an important process, as the bond

between the couple will have to be an exceptionally strong one.

The final act lacks the elegance of the prelude, but at least it's quick.

The egg is laid a few days later. It contains the females'

last reserves. The egg is laid a few days later. She now has

nothing more to give and must pass the egg to the male to incubate.

The couple must be quick. If the egg rests on the ice for too long, it'll freeze.

With their eggs safe in the care of the males, the

females start the long journey back to the sea.

The sun is also leaving and will be gone for many months.

The precious eggs, balanced on the males' feet,

will make the terrible ordeal ahead worthwhile.

The eggs are laid a few days later. With no food and only

each other for warmth, they will attempt to keep the next

generation alive while surviving in the most brutal conditions on Earth.

Not all of them will succeed.

At both ends of our planet, the sun sets for the last time

in autumn. A season of change comes to an end and one of

endless darkness and bitter cold begins.

THE EMPEROR PENGUINS The spectacular return of the Emperor

Penguins was a key event for the frozen planet team.

The crew will have to operate in the most dangerous of all

polar environments, the edge of the sea ice. They have to

fly in everything they'll need for a month of living on the frozen ocean.

On board are slow-motion cameraman John Acheson, underwater

cameraman Didier Noirot and director Chaddon Hunter.

With the plane gone, the team are on their own. This is home

for the next month, but it doesn't look like much right now.

Their tents should be secure on the permanent sea ice, but

they're still miles from the ocean where they hope to film.

The locals are keen to get acquainted with anything of a

familiar shape and size. The emperors are welcome neighbours

around the camp. But the team need to film them returning

from the water, and to do that, they face a daunting task.

They must find a path to the open sea through a shifting

landscape of jagged sea ice. Their first scouting trip

doesn't look promising. Neither MAPS nor SATNAV are any help

in this ever-changing environment. The only clue that the

ocean lies somewhere to the east is a steady procession of

penguins. Any suggestions, Didier? We must find our way.

Yes. And we will find our way. I like the attitude. Penguins

have found a way. It seems the emperors will be the key to

reaching the ice edge. OK, let's go. With their penguin

guides leading the way, snowmobiles are brought in to haul

500 kilograms of equipment through the icy maze. It's tough

going for film crew and penguins. When the ice ridges halt

progress, it's time for some backbreaking work.

The next three days are spent chiselling through mile after mile of broken sea ice.

Once finally clear of the ice boulders, they spot

their goal, a patch of open ocean with penguins.

John is first in position. He hopes to capture the most

striking images by using a computerised slow motion camera

but attempts to film the penguins underwater are halted

by an unwelcome visitor. We just saw the head of a massive

leopard seal. So we'll get closer to see what's going on. We

must be careful because those guys can come out very quickly

out of the hole and give a bite. But being red like that, we

should be quite protected, you know. Being dressed in red,

maybe Didier is not. It's not this idea of safety, but the

rest of the crew have a healthy respect for leopard seals.

They can be fiercely territorial and are not afraid to attack humans.

That's very exciting. That's the first time I've ever seen

a leopard seal in my life. And he's come straight out of the

hole and starts kind of walloping towards us. So a lot of

adrenaline. With the seal frightening the penguins away and

hassling the crew, it's time to try a new hole.

Oh, hello. Can you see him?

While the seal is around, there's little hope of filming

the penguins, but now a far greater threat is posed by the

changing weather. That dark headland in the distance is Cape

Washington. That's our last sign of mainland. We can't see

anything else. And once we lose sight of that mainland, that

means we're out here on our own on the sea ice. And this

visibility is getting lower and lower. It's started snowing

and this wind is just blowing offshore. So if all this ice

heads out, we don't want to be on it. So I

think we're going to can filming for the day.

All signs suggest that a big Antarctic storm is on its way.

Winds pick up to 70 miles an hour and everyone retreats to their tents.

High winds then turn to heavy snow. On the driest continent

on Earth, a big snowfall is rare. Whiteout conditions take

the penguins and the film crew by surprise.

Each day they must dig out their buried equipment. Filming has ground to a halt.

One week and a metre of snow later, the headland is visible

again and the team are raring to get back to the ice edge.

They follow their old route back through the frozen maze and

with no leopard seal in sight, it's time for another attempt

with the pole cam. It's cumbersome, but it allows the team

to capture underwater images without having to risk the icy

water themselves.

That is okay? That's perfect. They are coming, I can see

some. Oh, wow! Penguins coming in the hole, this is awesome,

this is great. The aim now is to film the penguins'

dramatic exit from the hole. The only problem, which hole?

These penguins keep outsmarting us. We tried to switch

holes to film them coming up and of course they all just

completely came up behind us. Whatever the crew try,

there's always someone who hasn't read the script.

John has been filming, but he can't view his slow-motion

shots until they're downloaded to a computer. While he

waits, Didier seizes his chance. Come, my friend, come. If

you can't beat them, join them. It's time to go scuba diving

in the coldest waters on the planet. I will see you on the other side.

The team are 300 miles from help and have only

a small hole as their lifeline to the surface.

A magical world opens up. For the first time, Didier now

shares the penguins' perspective from beneath the ice.

This is Antarctica at its most enchanting. For Chaddon,

after weeks of struggle, the sequence, quite literally,

falls into his lap.

Sorry. I think I'm in the way.

Oh, there's the blue coming from.

I think it was run over by a penguin. I think it worked.

It's very difficult to tell. John's camera is finally

capturing these super slow-motion images of the emperor's dramatic return.

With the penguins performing perfectly, it was all

falling into place. The team were finally able to capture

Antarctica's most spectacular belly flop.