The Arctic, Part IV

Deborah Clague December 22, 2024

A few moments after squinting to see that far-off bear, there was another spotting. This bear though was closer and striding towards our tundra buggy. With much excitement I reached for my digital camera, a once high-end model that I had set aside for years in favour of the ease and convenience of my iPhone. But on a trip like this, a bucket list excursion, I felt I needed something better. I tested my camera for a week beforehand to ensure it still worked. Fully charged the battery and purchased a new SD card … only to have it crap out on the tundra buggy, my moment to capture the first close encounter of a polar bear fading away as I feebly tried to conduct repair. All of my photos were captured on my phone. Not bad but not great. Thankfully my mind has 4K memory.

Continuing along, we made our way to Polar Bear Point, probably the best location for observing the majestic creature. Frontiers North has a “lodge” at the location made up of several outfitted tundra buggies connected together that include sleeping quarters, a lounge, dining car, and a rooftop deck to observe the aurora borealis. You can literally fall asleep and wake up next to polar bears at your window:

The Frontiers North lodge at Polar Bear Point, Churchill, Manitoba (©2024, Deborah Clague).

Still on our tour though, I overheard our driver communicating with another.

“Einstein is on site” relayed the other tundra buddy driver. I figured it was slang terminology for various members of their team. I could see outside my window there were two workers inspecting a tire at the lodge. One had a shotgun slung over his shoulder. Our driver also noticed and informed us that it is mandatory at all times for workers to be partnered up, with one carrying a weapon. Polar bears were huge but also stealth; he relayed warning about how you may have one circling you, only to realize (too late) that each circle is winding closer and closer. I have also heard that if you see a polar bear at all, it may be fatal; for they have already been stalking you and will attack imminently.

Looking out at the Arctic panorama, it felt like I was in a National Geographic documentary. The beauty was otherworldly. All I could imagine were the epic adventures these shores of Hudson’s Bay have seen. And now here was mine. I could count a handful of polar bears around me. Some wandering. Some lazing by rocks. And then I learned who “Einstein” was.

A mother bear with her two cubs.

E = mother with cubs, squared.

A mother polar bear with two cubs at Hudson’s Bay, Churchill, Manitoba (©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:

At Hudson’s Bay, Manitoba (©2024, Deborah Clague).

Churchill Airport, Manitoba (©2024, Deborah Clague)

A warning for visitors, Churchill Airport, Manitoba (©2024, Deborah Clague)

Hitting the tundra (©2024, Deborah Clague).

One of the first of many bears spotted, Churchill, Manitoba (©2024, Deborah Clague).

A mom with her two cubs, Churchill, Manitoba (©2024, Deborah Clague)

Very (very) large paw prints are found all over the tundra at Polar Bear Point, Churchill, Manitoba (©2024, Deborah Clague).

The main routes of the Frontiers North tundra buggies, Churchill, Manitoba (©2024, Deborah Clague).

One of the most amazing experiences of my life was having lunch (not being lunch) with this dude, Churchill, Manitoba (©2024, Deborah Clague).

A mother polar bear with two cubs, Churchill, Manitoba (©2024, Deborah Clague).

Churchill, Manitoba (©2024, Deborah Clague).

Polar bear in Churchill, Manitoba (©2024, Deborah Clague).

Pacific sunset at 10,000ft (©Deborah Clague, 2022).

Deborah Clague October 16, 2022

A Fabled Tea House in the Sky

Deborah Clague July 14, 2022

I was 13.

It was July and my family was on our annual summer vacation that year in Banff National Park, Alberta. We strolled the shore of world-renowned Lake Louise; no matter how many times I’d seen it—and at that age, I’d already seen it a lot, as the Rockies were my father’s favourite travel destination—I always marvelled at how pristine the snow-capped peaks and aqua-green water were. In colour and scale, it was such a contrast from my home on the prairies. After some admiration, my father wanted to take my childhood dog, a loyal border collie named Pepper, for a longer walk while my mother and I window-shopped the boutiques in the hotel. We verbally agreed to meet in an hour or so.

The “or so” turned out to be half a day later. My father and Pepper went on a very long walk to a mountain-top tea house.

I always remembered his stories of this hike. His wonder at the vistas and of hearing an avalanche rumble in the distance. Also, the exertion required by him (and my dog) to complete the loop. I was never much into hiking in my youth but as an adult, immersion in the forest is a favoured pastime. So this year, a special year, I was determined to retrace his steps and also climb to that fabled tea house in the sky.

The aqua water of Lake Louise, Alberta, Canada (©2022, Deborah Clague).

We took a right (©2022, Deborah Clague).

Mirror Lake, Alberta (©2022, Deborah Clague).

The Beehive, near Lake Louise, Alberta (©2022, Deborah Clague).

In the pines, Lake Agnes hike near Lake Louise, Alberta (©2022, Deborah Clague).

Lake Agnes Tea House (©2022, Deborah Clague).

The crystal clear water at Lake Agnes, Alberta (©2022, Deborah Clague).

Bridal Veil Falls, Alberta (©2022, Deborah Clague).

The Badlands

Deborah Clague July 10, 2022

I must have been around three.

Or perhaps four.

At any rate, it was an age when memories start to stick and experiences shape the person you will eventually become. I was in my maternal grandparent’s basement. My mom was deep in conversation au Francais with my grandmother and I tried to distract myself by exploring the space as I waited for them to finish. There wasn’t much; an older, multi-unit dwelling, its basement was unfinished for the most part save a washer/dryer and a cracked concrete floor that I remember being cold on my feet. The lack of decor in the basement was actually in stark contrast to the rest of their technicolour home where I distinctly remember a forest green living room, Peptol-Bismol pink bathroom, and baby blue bedroom. Everything was completely colour-coordinated to precision with matching carpet, furniture and accessories.

But there was one thing I found in the basement that caught my attention: a miniature toy dinosaur.

I was riveted. At the time, no one had told me what a dinosaur was. I don’t even think I’d ever seen a picture of one. I took the small toy with me, constructing adventures in my head on the bus ride home about what it was and where it came from. I probably didn’t stop talking about it as my parent’s eventually got me more toys and some books about cretaceous creatures—I even remember my first one purchased at Woolco, which I’ve kept all these years. I’ve been fascinated ever since.

As he always did, my father cultivated my interests by introducing me to one of the best places to learn about dinosaurs in the world: Drumheller, Alberta, home of the badlands and world-renowned Royal Tyrrell Museum of Paleontology, which I visited this week … taking me back to those childhood days full of wonder and curiosity.

Royal Tyrrell Museum of Paleontology, Drumheller, Alberta (©2022, Deborah Clague).

Black Beauty, one of the most perfect skeletons of a tyrannosaurus-rex ever discovered, on display at Royal Tyrrell Museum of Paleontology, Drumheller, Alberta (©2022, Deborah Clague).

Black Beauty, Royal Tyrrell Museum of Paleontology, Drumheller, Alberta (©2022, Deborah Clague).

The evolution of the chasmosaurines, Royal Tyrrell Museum of Paleontology, Drumheller, Alberta (©2022, Deborah Clague).

Diorama of a wooly mammoth being attacked by sabre-toothed tigers, Royal Tyrrell Museum of Paleontology, Drumheller, Alberta (©2022, Deborah Clague).

Badlands near Drumheller, Alberta (©2022, Deborah Clague)

Andrew Farms grain tower, a relic on the prairies (©2022, Deborah Clague)

Places to Daydream About: Churchill, Canada

Deborah Clague June 28, 2020

Even though Covid-19 has changed the world for the foreseeable future, it has not diminished my love of adventure or desire to learn about—and hopefully visit—every corner of this wonderful planet we inhabit. There’s something about the ritual of travel, even certain stresses of it, that soothes me. For my previous excursions, I would spend upwards of almost a year researching a destination and planning the perfect itinerary. In the meantime though, I’ve been focusing on places to daydream about. Places that have captured my imagination in one way or another that are, thanks to Google Streetview, easy to explore from the comfort of one’s couch.

At the top of my virtual bucket list is a place in my home province that I have sadly not had the opportunity to visit yet - Churchill, Manitoba. Located on Hudson Bay and founded on the traditional territories of the Dene and Cree people, Churchill’s settler history is rooted in the establishment of the fur trade. Tourism now helps fuel economic development as the township has branded itself the “polar bear capital of the world”. The vulnerable species treks through civic limits as part of their annual migration. Regular alerts are issued upon sightings; a holding facility contains wayward bears until they can be safely released back into the wild.

Churchill’s tundra landscape offers welcome (or perhaps warning) to the great arctic beyond:

Landscape near Churchill, Manitoba (©Google).

Hudson Bay, Churchill, Manitoba (@Google)

Polar bear holding facility, Churchill, Manitoba (©Google)

Miss Piggy Plane Wreck, Churchill, Manitoba (©Google).

Considering the circumstances, this guy looks remarkably happy, Churchill Airport, Manitoba (©Google).

Polar bears are everywhere in Churchill, Manitoba (©Google)

April 15

Deborah Clague June 1, 2019

I awoke from what I thought was an hour long nap cursing because it was actually three. I would have slept even longer were it not for the near-constant sirens I heard outside. These are always part of the background noise in Paris. One becomes accustomed to them and their distinct tone. However, on this early evening, Monday, April 15, 2019, it felt escalated. From the bottom living quarters of my boat, I couldn’t see much save a few skateboarders near the dock looking and pointing eastward. It piqued my curiosity. After ascending to the upper level of my boat, I saw it all — a giant plume of smoke filled the air from the direction of Ile de la Cité.

My immediate thought was that a terrorist attack may have occurred. The central island houses the law courts for Paris, in addition to being a major tourist hub because of Notre-Dame Cathedral. I streamed my live line of vision on social media and almost immediately a stranger informed me that the world-renowned church was on fire. I grabbed my keys and joined the thousands of Parisians taking to the streets to observe and pray that it could be saved.

Construction on the Cathedral began over eight-hundred years ago in 1160 and was completed in 1260. It is known for being the finest example of French Gothic architecture in the world, with its iconic stained-glass windows frequently listed as an artistic zenith of human skill and spirit. Over twelve million people per year visit Notre-Dame, making it the most visited site in Paris (exceeding even the Eiffel Tower). Beyond being a bucket-list item to see though, it remains a place of worship in this dominantly Catholic country and is dearly beloved by Parisians as part of their history, part of their being.

Police barricades prevented the growing crowds from getting anywhere near the fire, but with its scale I could clearly see that it was major. The entire roof was engulfed in flames scaling upwards to the clouds and helicopters circling overhead. Some observers stood in shocked silence, others openly wept. Some sang choral hymns. I was acutely aware that this was something I would never forget for the rest of my life, a moment that would be recorded by history. I tried to take everything in: the multi-lingual conversation of strangers in shared shock, the changing hue of the sky as the sun started to set, the smell (and taste) of smoke. After observing for a few hours, I returned to my boat to try and sleep. I was a bit restless with worry as I didn’t know what the extent of damage would be … or even if Notre-Dame would survive the night.

The next day, framed with a sombre overcast sky, I returned to the scene. The crowds were even larger, now met with world media turning their cameras and headlines to what remained of the structure. From the exterior, damage was clearly visible (and extensive) to the back-end and roofing which was all but destroyed. But I feel there was enough of a skeleton still standing that a full reconstruction could be achieved (this would later be confirmed and priced at $5 billion, with $1 billion being donated by France’s elite within the first twenty-four hours of the fire leading to increased fury from the Yellow Vest Movement protesters).

One of the most memorable scenes I encountered took place as I walked the perimeter of Ile de la Cité. A crowd broke out in applause as several firefighters exited the area of Notre-Dame Cathedral making their way for much needed rest. Their task over and a new one about to begin.

View of Notre-Dame Cathedral fire from Passerelle Léopold-Sédar-Senghor, Paris (©Deborah Clague, 2019).

The Day After:

World media descends upon Notre-Dame Cathedral the day after the fire (©Deborah Clague, 2019).

Meeting my fan club at Bois des Vincennes, Paris (©Deborah Clague, 2019).

Playing With Pongo

Deborah Clague May 23, 2019

With clothing scattered across my bed and a sudden, uncharacteristic interest in fashion, my partner watched as I packed my suitcase prior to this trip.

“You are dressing to attract a French boyfriend.” he joked.

“You don’t understand,” I replied.

And he didn’t. People in Europe—France in particular—do not dress like they do in North America. Our casual, relaxed style doesn’t cut it on the streets of Paris (in fact, I’m pretty sure wearing sweatpants in public can get one arrested there). I needed to curate clothing for this trip because I didn’t want to stand out as a tourist. I needed to take the time to accessorize and (ugh!) bring make-up because I wanted to blend in with my surroundings. I don’t do any of this back home because fuck the patriarchy but for some reason I felt compelled to here. When in Paris, you need to bring your A-game.

My A-game required gold and more gold.

On the second day of my trip though, I relaxed this policy a bit because I knew I would get dirty.

For on the second day of my trip, I realized the life I was born to live - being a professional dog walker.

I was to meet my “tour guide”, Juliette, at Bois does Vincennes, a large park on the periphery of the City of Light known historically for being a royal hunting preserve but currently infamous as a haven for prostitution. I’d heard of this prior to visiting and immediately recognized the vans and motorhomes lining the roadways of the park as the mobile brothels where (mostly) African sex workers ply their trade, which is legal in France.

It was mid-morning and at our proposed meeting spot I observed other (more wholesome) activity, mostly joggers and other walkers enjoying a leisurely stroll with their off-leash pets. One man and his dog, a large mixed breed, reminded me of the symbiotic relationship between my late father and dog Reggie. At first all I heard was an older man yelling in a manner that indicated he was greatly annoyed but not angry. At something. I had no idea who he was talking to—or what he was even saying as it went beyond my own fluency—and then, bounding out of the bush, came the dog enjoying himself way too much to go home. The master would just have to adjust his schedule to accommodate these shenanigans. Classic Reg. I always love when vignettes of past events, scenes of a previous life, come back as sweet memory.

After a short wait, Juliette arrived and I saw what was in store for the day. I would be walking, or rather herding, nine dogs of various breed, size and energy level through the lush forests of this park. Most seemed well-behaved and chill but one pooch, a young yellow lab named Pongo, seemed to require extra attention. He wasn’t neutered and at the stage where his playfulness had crossed into a desire to exert dominance over all the other dogs. This didn’t always end well for him.

I asked Juliette about the highest number of dogs she’s walked. “Twenty-three”, she replied. I couldn’t imagine. That went beyond a pack to being an army of dogs. Of the nine we were walking, one dog in particular seemed to take a liking to me. A flat-coated retriever shadowed me for nearly the entire walk, occasionally bringing me gifts in the form of a stick with me offering thanks in the form of head and belly rubs. I have since forgotten his name - he didn’t require the obedience that Pongo needed - but he was a very good boy. 14/10.

This experience was one of the highlights of my trip and I wish I would have had more time to explore Bois des Vincennes as it really is a peaceful respite from the crowds in the city proper. Juliette was amazing. The dogs were a riot. Jet lag was starting to hit though, and after a few hours of dog-walking I had to make my way back to the houseboat for a much needed nap.

After I picked up a traditional baguette and eclair of course.

I had no idea that within a few hours I would bear witness to history.

To follow the adventures of Juliette and her army of dogs, follow @dogsdehors on Instagram.

Being a professional dog walker at Bois des Vincennes, Paris (©Deborah Clague, 2019).

The naughty (but nice) Pongo, at left (©Deborah Clague, 2019).

Of course I bought a baguette! Eating authentic French bread again was one of the top reasons I wanted to return to Paris (©Deborah Clague, 2019).

The first indulgence during my trip - a morello cherry eclair from La Maison du Chocolat. Absolutely delicious (©Deborah Clague, 2019).

France Gallery Updated

Deborah Clague April 26, 2019

The France Gallery has been updated with pictures of my most recent trip. Check it out in full here.

Notre-Dame Cathedral fire, Paris (©Deborah Clague, 2019).

The 7th Arrondissement, Paris (©Deborah Clague, 2019).

The Louvre at dusk, Paris (©Deborah Clague, 2019).

Yellow Vest Movement vandalism on the Champs Elysées, Paris (©Deborah Clague, 2019).

Back to Nature, Part V

Deborah Clague August 31, 2018

As a holiday winds down, the sadness of its impending end can temper the joy of the remaining days. Not having anything to look forward to can rob one of living in the moment of the experience. For this road trip, I wanted something to anticipate. I wanted to end on a "bang".

And I found it.

The Black Swan Inn in Pocatello, Idaho is one of the most amazing hotels I've ever stayed at. It is themed and the attention to detail in each unique suite is truly impressive. For our penultimate stay, we booked the Mayan Rainforest Room which included a walk-in shower in the base of a "tree trunk", the branches of which hid the second floor jacuzzi tub. Next to the leopard-print bed was a 15-ft waterfall with a live koi pond. Even the bathroom was painted in murals that made it seem like one was deep in the jungle. I cannot recommend this place enough and am definitely going to plan future roadtrips to navigate through the area so I can return. Whether one's stay is for a romantic evening or honeymoon, it is a gem.

Fun fact: Pocatello, Idaho, is also home to the Museum of Clean.

via GIPHY

Our final night was spent getting back to nature again - comfortably - in a deluxe cabin at another KOA campground in Great Falls, Montana, where we used our fleeting holiday time to wine and dine on a barbecue feast while watching the golden tones of sunset pour over the vista of prairie and mountain laid before us. I felt contentment in the moment. I felt renewed from the journey, despite its brevity. I was born to explore. To learn. To live. I am so thankful my father instilled this curiosity and love of travel within me. I thought of him often on this trip; in solitude I've shared the details with him, hoping my whisper carries on the air to wherever his spirit resides.

As the evening came to a close, I tried to enjoy the ambient noise of the whirring overhead fan while fighting the urge to turn on the television to catch up on world events. While my partner showered, I figured sneaking in ten minutes of numbing my brain wouldn't do too much damage and searched for the remote. The only channel with reception was showing a wrestling match but it wasn't WWE; in fact, I didn't recognize any of the characters on screen ... until I did.

"Holy shit", I said to myself.

Years (and years) ago, when I was a teenager, a colleague had taken me to watch her boyfriend wrestle in a local Winnipeg league called Top Rope Championship Wrestling (TRCW). Growing up with Hulk Hogan and the like on Saturday afternoons, I immediately got into it. The skill, the theatrics, the swagger all appealed to this shy girl who was looking to break free from her high school rep of being a wallflower. So when I was asked to valet their tag team, I took up the offer. It might not be a Toastmaster event, but the experience definitely instilled a confidence in me to command a crowd and not be so self-conscious. Anyway, there was one person who always stood out at TRCW. A curly-haired teenager armed with a steely resolve (and an apparent closet full of Hawaiian shirts) who could maneuver around the ring with technique that was lightyears beyond his older, more seasoned opponents. I recall even mentioning to others that if anyone could make it in the big leagues, it would be him.

So to my surprise and delight, there he was—on the tiny television in my cabin in Montana— Kenny Omega, Heavyweight Champion for New Japan Pro Wrestling and Sports Illustrated's tap for next big thing in sports entertainment.

One never knows where the journey in life will lead.

The awesome Mayan Rainforest suite at the Black Swan Inn, Pocatello, Idaho (©Deborah Clague, 2018).

Mayan Rainforest Suite at the Black Swan Inn, Pocatello, Idaho (©Deborah Clague, 2018).

15ft waterfall with koi pond at the Black Swan Inn, Pocatello, Idaho (©Deborah Clague, 2018).

Treehouse jacuzzi at the Black Swan Inn, Pocatello, Idaho (©Deborah Clague, 2018).

Shower in a tree trunk, Black Swan Inn, Pocatello, Idaho (©2018, Deborah Clague).

Tesla-charging stations in the middle of nowhere, Montana (©Deborah Clague, 2018).

"Roughing" it in Great Falls, Montana (©Deborah Clague, 2018).

Firing up the grill, Great Falls, Montana (©Deborah Clague, 2018).

BBQ, Great Falls, Montana (©Deborah Clague, 2018).

View from cabin in Great Falls, Montana (©Deborah Clague, 2018).

Top Rope Championship Wrestling, circa 2000 (©Deborah Clague).