The Polar Bear Journals, Ch. 13, Living with Bears

Mike looked at the bedside clock and wondered what had awakened him at 3 AM.  Usually he slept through the night, so this was odd.  He lay in bed, listening for any clue, anything out of the ordinary noises in his home.

All seemed well.  No sirens, no smoke alarm, nothing.  He rolled over, facing the window, to go back to sleep.

Staring at him through thin, breakable glass was a huge polar bear.

Such is life in Churchill, Manitoba, on the western shore of Hudson Bay, where some 900 polar bears are known to live.  Changing weather has brought change for the great white bears.  The ice goes out sooner in summer and forms later in winter, leaving the bears increasingly shore-bound and without access to the ringed seals that are their primary diet.

It also gives them more opportunities to wander into town in search of food, which is not a good thing for the people who live in Churchill as the polar bear is the largest land-dwelling carnivore known to stalk humans.  Adult male bears can weigh three-quarters of a ton.

Mike’s story didn’t end with the bear strolling away from his bedroom window.  As does everyone in Churchill who encounters a bear, Mike immediately phoned the 24-hour hot line and reported a bear in town.  After convincing the responding officer that there really was a bear outside his house, Mike eventually went back to sleep, confident the patrol would chase the bear back onto to the tundra.

The next morning Mike stopped by the local café.

“Seen any more pink bears?” someone asked.  At first Mike thought they were teasing him about seeing “pink bears,” a Churchill equivalent to pink elephants.  Then he heard the rest of the story.

When the peeping bear left Mike’s, it wandered across town near the grain terminal.  Along the way, it wrenched a fire extinguisher off its wall mount, puncturing the hose in the process.  When conservation officers tracked the bear’s path, they came across the result—the wall where the extinguisher had been mounted was covered in the pink contents of the extinguisher, perfectly outlining the polar bear.

And pink tracks led revealed the bear’s route out of town.

“Mike” is Mike Goodyear, the executive director of the Churchill Northern Studies Centre located a few miles out of Churchill proper.  He is also a fine ambassador on behalf of the bears.  When asked if he isn’t concerned about running into bears when he jogs or bikes out of town, which is patrolled constantly for bears, Mike responds, “I’m more concerned about stroke and heart attack being the number one cause of death in men over 35.”

And so it is with people who live in bear country.  They are always aware of the possibility of sudden bear encounters.  They go about their lives as normally as anyone else, but always aware, always adapted to living with bears.

The last fatal bear encounter in Churchill was more than 25 years ago when a man walking home one night rummaged through the ruins of a hotel that had recently burned.  He found still edible meat in the restaurant’s freezers, and loaded up his pockets.

Shortly afterwards, his cries were heard and residents rushed out and killed the polar bear that was savaging the victim.  It was, unfortunately, not in time to save the man who had filled his pockets with meat.  The bear’s tracks showed it had stalked the man through town and then attacked.

For now, the people of Churchill have a tenuous working relationship with the bears.  They are, after all, what brings the influx of tourism to that part of the country, and tourism means jobs.  During the summer, the mouth of the Churchill River can be filled with thousands of beluga whales gathering there to calve, and the tundra is covered with wildflowers.

While spotting polar bears in the summer is “iffy” because they tend to roam far inland, it isn’t impossible to encounter the occasional bear.  It’s during late October and early to mid-November that the animals gather along the shore of Hudson Bay near Churchill, the place where ice usually forms first.

Arctic fox.

At these times, the tundra in the Wapusk National Park can seem like a vast wildlife theme park.  Snowy owls, white Arctic fox, caribou, game birds and birds of prey also live on the sparsely-treed land.  These creatures are perfectly suited for the harsh conditions of subsisting in the north, as are the bears.

Polar bear print cast.

Bear's hind foot.

Huge feet act like snowshoes, spreading the bear’s weight and enabling it to walk on barely frozen ice, the same ice that Mike attempted to walk on and found himself in cold water up to his knees.  Small ears prevent freezing, and the bears’ profiles are perfect for reaching into a seal’s breathing hole in thick ice and grabbing it.  

Powerful jaws kill the seal immediately and enable it to pull the fat, rotund seal through the small breathing hole.  So well insulating is the bear’s thick fur that infra-red monitoring of a bear picks up only the heat transferred to the surface where the bear stepped.  It cannot detect heat escaping from the rest of the bear.

This is fine when the bear is on the Arctic ice, yet with warming conditions forcing the bears onto land for longer periods, further stresses the animals.

But it takes only one look into the eyes of a hungry white bear to dispel any notions of Disneyland.  Cute, white, and fuzzy aside, these are hungry predators, with tourists and residents alike below them on the food chain.

The Polar Bear Journals, Ch. 6, "This Vehicle Stops for Polar Bears"

Rule Number One at the Churchill Northern Studies Centre:

If you hear a fire alarm, DO NOT RUN OUTSIDE!

Polar bears don't care how their dinner is--raw or well done, all the same to them, though they probably hate it when all the fat's been rendered out.

Assemble in the cafeteria, said Mike, or if that's too smoky, go to the opposite end of the building and stop in the enclosed (i.e., protected from bears) stairwell.  Wait for those .12 gauge shotguns to escort us from the burning building.

We had signed away our lives on multiple forms--to the Centre, the Tundra Buggy company, the helicopter outfit, and maybe to the dog sled company.  There were many and I've forgotten all of those I relieved of responsibility for my life and/or safety. 


I signed every form put in front of me, signed with impunity, didn't read the fine print.  For all I know, I could have relieved Wapusk General Store of liability for overweight luggage should I purchase too many polar bear tee shirts.  Or the town council should I encounter a polar bear while walking down Kelsey Street, the main drag in Churchill.

I came here to see polar bears and if taking full responsibility for my life was needed, so be it.  (You think I'm exaggerating, don't you?  Being melodramatic?  Building up tension?  Making a better story?  You just wait.)

A weak sun tried to penetrate the overcast.

Early on the morning of our first full day in Churchill, we boarded a bus for a short ride to the Tundra Buggy company's site.   This was the day we would travel onto the tundra in search of the great white carnivores. These all-terrain vehicles are custom manufactured in Churchill by Frontiers North Adventures.   The name Tundra Buggy is patented, which I why I'm capitalizing it.

Well, if those tires are 5.5 feet high, that makes me 6 feet tall instead of 5'2". 

The Buggy is built with tires "measuring 5.5 feet high and 3.6 feet wide, mounted on 25 inch rims," according to an internet report on the Tundra Buggies.  They allow the four wheel drive machine to maneuver the rough trails made by the US Army, which used this area for cold weather training and artillery practice during the Cold War.   They also provide more height and security for riders.

Boarding from a special platform, again providing security from bears.

At the rear of each Buggy is a viewing platform with chest high (on me) steel panels, not to prevent guests from falling off, but to prevent the bears from grabbing the guests.  Only when the Buggy is stopped are people allowed on the rear deck and the only food allowed there is you.  No peanut butter sandwiches or cookies and such allowed at any time, all in an effort to keep the bears from associating the Buggy with food.  (As if humans didn't give them their first clue.)

Interior of the Tundra Buggy, Marcus at the wheel.

The interior of the Buggy is utilitarian, but perfect for its intended use.  Rows of two-abreast seating line the windows and a wide corridor down the center allows for freedom of movement when stopped.  For safety reasons, no walking about is permitted while the Buggy is in motion.  It was difficult enough to take photos when the Buggy was in motion, and I couldn't imagine trying to walk around.

Marcus standing for better visibility while maneuvering through boulders.

Most of the time I sat with one foot braced against the stanchion that bolted the seat in front of me to the floor, and pushed my back against my own seat.  In this way, I could raise my short little self high enough to see out the windows around me.  I always let Julia have the window seat, despite her offers to switch.

I have learned that allowing my battered left shoulder freedom of movement prevents unnecessary discomfort.  My graciousness to Julia had nothing at all to do with the quick access to the viewing platform that sitting on the aisle allowed.  Nor did it have the least little bit to do with requesting the front seat in the up-coming helicopter ride.  Really.

The oil heater.

An oil-burning heater warmed the interior, except for those moments when windows were opened to view the bears, or the door to the viewing platform was opened and closed constantly.  There was also a "honey bucket" toilet.  At lunch time, a custom-cut piece of plywood covered two rows of rear seats and made a platform for coffee, water and hot chocolate makings.  And maybe cookies.

We had made our own lunches the night before at the Centre, packed them in brown bags on which we scribbled our names, and placed them in milk cartons to be stored in the Centre's refrigerators overnight.  If you didn't like your lunch, it was your own fault.  That self-responsibility thing again.

There are three polar bears (two are lying down) in this photo and three Tundra Buggies.  The vehicles in the background are part of the Tundra Buggy mobile camp at Cape Churchill.

Tundra Buggy camp at Cape Churchill with Tundra Buggy at left.

Barred doors to Tundra Buggy bunkhouse.

Barred viewing enclosure on Tundra Buggy camp.

Of the 18 permits allowing vehicles into Wapusk National Park, 12 are owned by Frontiers North Adventures.   Two companies are allowed mobile camps, Frontiers North and the Great White Bear Tours company, whose vehicles we saw frequently on the tundra trails.  The camps have all the necessary facilities for housing and feeding guests who want to stay "with" the bears.  The guests never set foot on ground during their brief stays.  When the viewing season ends, the camps are towed off the tundra and back to their parking sites close to town.

Polar bear near the competitor's camp.

Temperatures were in the freezing vicinity, but a persistent wind chill "froze" my Nikon P120 camera often, as well as made my fingers too cold to function well.  A light pair of glove liners solved that and allowed me to focus and push the shutter button. I also had a pocket-sized Nikon Coolpix camera that I could slip into my pants pocket to keep warm. 

Most people were wearing warm jackets and hats, but fleece pants and a thin long-sleeved fleece pullover was fine for me, even when outside.  Knowing I would be in a cold climate, I intentionally put off a much-needed haircut until after I returned home, all in the interest of warmth.

Off we go.  A Tundra Buggy and a bus from Great White Bear Tours start a day on the tundra.

(to be continued)

The Polar Bear Journals, Ch. 5, Dead Serious

The shotguns weren't for "local color."  They were dead serious, or rather, hopefully not-dead serious.

We needed no further proof of that than the dry erase board posted on the wall just inside the main entrance to CNSC.

When we assembled in the atrium for our walk around the grounds of the Churchill Northern Studies Centre.  Mike, the XO of the Centre, was armed with a .12 gauge shotgun.  In his pocket were six shells--three cracker shells that are timed to explode with a loud bang at 200 feet, and three shells with slugs.


If the bear hasn't been scared away with the cracker shells or stopped with three slugs, forget it.  It's all over.  On second thought, there is an alternative.  Alaskan Sourdoughs recommend leaving the last shot to use on yourself.  Probably works just as well when a 1500 lb. white carnivore is on you as it does when a 1200 lb. brown bear is munching on your arm.

Mike Goodyear

With the appropriate warning about not wandering astray, Mike led us outside.  I noticed his head swiveling from side to side as he exited, checking for bears.



The unusual terrain had caught my eye on the bus ride from the airport and Mike now explained that the Churchill area  is located at the juncture of three ecoregions:  the Arctic tundra on the north, the boreal forest on the south, and Hudson Bay on the east and north.

Glacier ice had once covered this area, he said, which accounted for the rounded smoothness and scratches on the boulders around us.

Underneath, the ground is locked in permafrost, thawing only a few feet down during the summer.  The scraggly Black Spruce were familiar to me, but not so the ice pruning--the lack of branches on one side of the tree caused by blowing snow from the almost constant northerly winds.

An ice-pruned Black Spruce.

They make perfect Christmas trees, explained Mike, if you want to put one in a corner.  You have to cut two and tie them together if you want a whole tree.  The base of each tree was surrounded with bushy branches that were buried in snow during the winter and protected from ice pruning.


Mike explained some of the scientific research programs that were on-going at the center, pointing out marking posts and antennae that were part of various projects.

Churchill Northern Studies Centre.

Some of us headed into the cafeteria for a hot beverage after our walk.  I had just finished my hot chocolate when Kathy rushed in and said there was a bear outside.  Julia and I led the stampede out of the cafeteria.

I reached the appropriate window in time to see a cracker shell explode and a white rump disappearing into the willows.  A staffer in a red Suburban had discouraged the bear from approaching closer.

The bear had approached as close as the barrel lying in the open.

I told Mike I was going to flatten the tires on the red Suburban.

"Don't worry," he said.  "You'll see lots of bears."

(to be continued)

The exterior viewing platform at one end of the Centre, used for viewing bears and the Aurora Borealis.

Notice the bars hanging below the windows of the science labs.  When the snow pack is deep enough, the bars swing upward to prevent bears from breaking into the building.

The staffer who brought up the rear of our walk preferred to keep her shotgun shells loose in her pocket for quicker access.

The Polar Bear Journals, Ch. 4, Getting There, Wherever "There" Is

For the first time in my life, I care about the weather in Churchill, a small town located in the Canadian province of Manitoba, north of Minnesota.  I went to Weather Underground to check on the temperature today and was pleased to see it was 1 degree F.

Further, the forecast for the next few days calls for temperatures hovering just above and below the zero mark.  Even better!  Also at WU's site was a satellite image, and that really made me happy.

That's land to the left of the vertical squiggly line and Hudson Bay to the right of it.  The horizontal line near the top marks the northern boundary of Manitoba.  Above that is the Territory of Nunavut.


The town of Churchill is situated on that peninsula that juts into Hudson Bay, between those two white images.  It's the white images that made me smile, because I think--and I'm pretty sure about this--they are ice.  Hudson Bay is finally freezing.  Sometime in these journals I'm going to tell you why I'm so interested in the freezing of Hudson Bay, but not just yet.

Until this month, the only thing I knew about Churchill was that tourists go there to see polar bears.  That's why I went, too, the first week in November.

To get to Churchill, I had to fly south to Seattle, southeast to Chicago, north to Winnepeg, and then farther north to Churchill.  It took me four travel days to wind up two degrees south of the same latitude as where I live, but three time zones east.

Approaching Winnepeg.

I met up with friends from California in Winnepeg, where we spent the night.  The next morning we boarded a small Calm Air prop jet for the leg to Churchill.

Sunrise over the plains of Winnipeg from the airplane.

 
This was where things got interesting.

There were no assigned seats on this plane.  Rather than boarding first class first and then filling the plane from the back like most airliners, we were asked to fill the front rows first and work back to the tail so the plane didn't get over-balanced and tip up onto its tail.   All this had to do with where the carefully weighed luggage was stored and the weight and balance of the plane.  And there was no first class anyway.

Once in the air, there was another surprise.  Free food.  I can't remember the last time I had a free meal on a domestic flight.  Yet, here came the sole flight attendant with beverages and a box containing a fruit cup and a bagel with cream cheese.

Gullible and Julia and the Center's bus.  Let the adventure begin!

Once we landed in Churchill, we were met by a representative form the Churchill Northern Studies Centre and bussed to the center itself, which is about seven miles from the town. 

The Centre is a research facility that not only hosts tourist groups, but also provides research support for scientists.  The lovely new building replaces the older facilities that had been in use for a long time.

Julia entering the main door of the Churchill Northern Studies Centre.  Note the barred windows.

Kathy, Donna, Julia, and I were assigned room 13, on the second floor at the far corner.  We settled in and had lunch in the cafeteria.

Julia making up her bunk.

Four bunkbeds in each room, with men and women separated.  You might be bunking with someone you don't know.

Exposed beams alongside a full width desk/counter.

We were to meet downstairs for a brief walk outside, led by Mike Goodyear, the executive director of CNSC and our Road Scholar leader for the next few days.

This is what we saw:

Welcome to the food chain, all you tourists.


(to be continued)