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Belugas, Birds (and Bears)

Visit Canada’s polar bear capital in the summer, when the landscape is ablaze with exotic flowers and wildlife (and fewer tourists).

Hundreds of polar bears gather along the coast near Churchill every autumn, waiting for the ice to form so they can live and hunt on it for the winter. And thousands of tourists watch the bears at close range from the safety of large all-terrain tundra buggies. Without knocking the bear-watching industry, any business that pumps 15,000 tourists through a town as small as Churchill is going to acquire a certain degree of assembly-line efficiency. Recall being herded around on those grade school field trips and you get the idea. As a Manitoban who has travelled much of the province, I have to say I prefer Churchill in the summer.

The train ride from Winnipeg alone makes the trip worthwhile. I would never fly to Churchill unless the train was booked. The sleeper cars have large windows and during the night you fall asleep to the rocking of the train and the moon in the window. Daybreak reveals a wilderness of boreal forest. By now you’re beginning to recognize faces and meals in the dining car are punctuated by introductions to travellers from around the world. Here and there the train brakes in the middle of nowhere to pick up a trapper or drop off
a mail pouch. By nightfall you’ve crossed the line of permafrost and the train rolls like a ship at sea. That night, like a smart sailor, you jam yourself into your berth with pillows. In the morning, the sunrise floods across a vastness of tundra and tiny, flagged spruces (the winter northerlies so abrasive here that branches only grow on the downwind side). At breakfast you might be only halfway through your bacon and eggs when the whistle blows for Churchill. Out the window you see a great swath of purple, the Churchill River, and on a typical summer morning, those countless flecks of white rolling in the river won’t be whitecaps, they will be whales.

Canadians tend to forget that Manitoba is a maritime province, but Hudson Bay is nothing less than a pocket of the northern ocean, with seals, sharks, and brawny three-and-a-half-metre tides, and thousands of beluga whales migrating into the estuary of the Churchill River. Land lovers might choose to go out whale-watching in a large boat. Adventurous types take to the river in kayaks. The ultimate experience is swimming with the whales with mask and snorkel. (Buoyant dry suits mean little athleticism is required.)

Beluga whales don’t just tolerate boats—they enjoy them, and they often come rushing from a great distance to play with the swimmers. Zooming around and beneath the boat, the whales greet swimmers with a chorus of cheeps, honks and twitters. Belugas and narwhals are the only two whale species that can turn their heads, and swimmers are astonished the first time a 3,000-pound wild whale dashes up to them, rolls over, cocks it head, and flashes that trademark beluga smile. The best time to go swimming with the whales is low slack tide, when there’s no current and the whales aren’t preoccupied with feeding. Low slack occurs, of course, twice every 24 hours and about an hour later each day, so whale whisperers need to be flexible in their scheduling, which is easier when you’re visiting a place where it never really gets dark in the summer.

Churchill’s long days are an adjustment for anyone unaccustomed to broad daylight at three in the morning. (More than one tourist has groggily called the front desk to inquire if it’s 10 p.m. or 10 a.m.) But outdoor photographers appreciate the never-ending golden dusk. And you don’t have to go out on the river to see extraordinary wildlife. About 275 species of birds gather in the area, more than anywhere else in Canada. I watched a raven conduct a five-minute aerial dogfight with what for birders is a once-in-a lifetime sight: a white gyrfalcon. (The raven lost.)

One of the chores on my life list is to learn how to photograph small subjects, and macro photographers won’t find a richer environment. The so-called barrens explode to life in summer, with lichens of gold and green, rust and mauve, and the low bushes are speckled with flowers. There are tiny orchids too: violet butterworts that snare insects with sticky leaves and a miniature rose that grows along the shore.

For history buffs, there’s the ghostly stone battlement of Prince of Wales Fort, built by the Hudson’s Bay Company in 1717. And don’t miss the seaport. I stood on the dock and watched a massive grain freighter heading out with 44,000 tonnes of Manitoba wheat bound for Port Sudan. Having come this far north, I had to fight the urge to sneak aboard and keep right on going.

 

 

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