The Arctic, Part III

Deborah Clague November 19, 2024

During the 20-minute drive from Churchill proper to the tundra buggy loading dock, we encountered a number of white pick-up trucks racing down side roads. “They are also searching for polar bears” announced the guide, although I wasn’t certain how successful they could possibly be. The noise and speed seemed counterintuitive to sneaking up on anything. Up above in the sky were endless helicopters doing the same thing. At first I thought they were there to monitor the landscape, tracking bears that were, perhaps, getting too close to the townsite. Nope. They were also full of tourists. The brief window of opportunity to see the world’s largest land predator in the wild was a calling card for many. Because of this, I would bet the population of Churchill was double the time I was there.

Tundra buggies are a unique form of transportation specific to Churchill, Manitoba. The first tundra buggy was actually invented by Frontiers North, the same tourism company I was traveling with. They are large and can fit roughly 40 passengers, each seat offering a great unimpeded view. There is also an outside deck. They have one washroom at the rear of the vehicle that can only be used when stopped. There are no barf bags offered on board. I highlight these last two details because I have never, ever, felt so nauseous as I did riding one.

Now I love amusement parks and other thrill-seeking activities. The higher and faster a rollercoaster, the better. This, however … this slow, bumpy ride just didn’t sit well with me. I felt sick and on the verge of losing my lunch the entire time we were moving. Considering I was one of the younger people on my tour, I couldn’t show this weakness though. The retirees would have laughed.

And despite being slow, the ride was jarring at times. We got semi-stuck in an icy half-frozen ditch, our driver having to hang his head out the window to ensure we were clearing it and could continue on our journey. At one point it felt like we were very close to tipping over and another passenger inquired if it had ever happened. The driver confirmed that a tundra buggy has never tipped over. They aren’t built that way. As they weren’t equipped with seatbelts, I trusted he was telling the truth.

At about thirty minutes in, another passenger excitingly called out a sighting of a bear. Everyone moved to the left-hand side of the vehicle straining to see where it was. Those with binoculars confirmed it was true. And then I saw it. Far (far) in the distance, I could see a creamish four legged creature slowly walking across the tundra, the gait very obviously of a bear. It felt amazing. Had I not seen anything else that day, I would have felt I got my money’s worth. Little did I know though, that the day was just beginning and I would have a first-class seat to the natural predation habits of the wild in the Arctic.

The Arctic, Part II

Deborah Clague November 13, 2024

For those fortunate to spot a bear in the wild, either grizzly or black, you will typically only see one. Perhaps you are really lucky and witness a mom rearing her cubs. Most of the bears I have encountered in the Rockies and the unspoiled wilderness of northern Saskatchewan have been solo males hanging out by the side of the road wandering in and out of a forest in search of food. Their territory clearly defined (and defended).

In Churchill, Manitoba, however, I did not just see one bear.

Or two. Or three.

At Polar Bear Point on the shores of Hudson’s Bay, I encountered more than a dozen bears some of which were within sightline of each other. More than a dozen of the largest land predator in the world all around me as I watched them safely from the observation deck of a tundra buggy. It was absolutely awe-inspiring. Had I been on the ground though, it would have been absolutely terrifying.

Growing up in Manitoba, the lore of Churchill was well known. I knew that they were the polar bear capital of the world. I knew there was a “jail” outfitted for wayward bears that frequented the townsite. I knew that Halloween was particularly harrowing, not just out of fear towards ghosts and goblins but the very real possibility that children would encounter a polar bear while trick-or-treating. Late October and early November are the time of year they encroach upon the townsite en masse while waiting for Hudson’s Bay to freeze over. This is where they continue their journey through the winter months in search of food (mainly seals). Some of this may scare people off from visiting the northern port town but I always had it on my bucket list.

I booked my tour in the Spring and embarked last week.

Landing in Churchill, I felt a sharp winter chill as soon as I disembarked the airplane. The northern tundra was very different from the prairie landscape I left behind. Trees, mostly black spruce, only flourished on one side, a result of the harsh wind and debris that blows inland from Hudson’s Bay resulting in a perfect visual of just how wild and untamed this part of the world is. The airport itself was quite small and I had a moment of surprise when I saw Manitoba license plates on all of the vehicles; it felt so different than any place I’d ever been that I momentarily forgot it was, in fact, the province I grew up in.

Boarding a bus, I made my way to the Frontiers North tundra buggy hub, a 20-minute excursion from Churchill proper. On the way, we passed the infamous polar bear “jail” (né holding facility), an abandoned ship named the MV Ithaca that had been sitting in the harbour since 1960, and I learned of the townsite’s history as a military base and testing site.

My adventure was just beginning.

Departing a North Caribou Air flight after landing in Churchill, Manitoba (©2024, Deborah Clague).

The boreal forest flourishes only on one side, a result of the harsh wind and debris blowing inland from Hudson’s Bay (©2024, Deborah Clague).

The Arctic, Part I

Deborah Clague November 9, 2024

Checked an item off my bucket list this week by visiting Churchill, Manitoba and experiencing a polar bear safari. It was an amazing, captivating, wondrous trip of a lifetime, the magic of which I’m not sure I will be able to properly articulate with words: