CANADA
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roam the plains. This sunny, frost-free
scene is not the kind of place you expect
to see polar bears, but see them you
do: bright-white against the verdant
spread of nature, hundreds can be
spotted dozing. You can’t miss them.
It’s not the only reason to be here
in August. Sure, come winter, this
polychromatic panorama transforms
into snow-bleached tundra, and
the azure bay freezes over.
It’s then that — after a long summer
stranded on land — thousands of
hungry polar bears finally step out onto
the ice shelf over the water to hunt
seals, and gorge themselves on blubber.
This is when most tourists arrive in
their droves. But what visitors don’t
appreciate is that bears are at their
most aggressive and elusive at this
time of year; witnesses are seeing only
one side to the polar bear. And during
winter, visitors only get to see polar
bears from articulated tundra buggies
— gargantuan, enclosed tour vehicles
that roll out of Churchill, while people
try to snap photos through windows
over their neighbour’s shoulder.
Against the lush backdrop of Hudson
Bay’s subarctic summer I get an
altogether more intimate insight into
the lives of these fluffy white bears.
There’s a reason they call this ‘their
waiting room’: with full tummies from a
winter season of hunting, this is where
they loll and laze in the undergrowth,
occasionally poking a nose above the
wild flowers, whiling away long days in
slumber until the bay freezes again.
This is why, during my stay at Nanuk,
we can approach bears on foot — even
enormous males with the power to
pulverise us. Perhaps more thrilling
still, we sneak up on mothers cuddling
their cubs. In each case, when they see
us creeping up on them, they either
take a few hesitant steps towards us
— to investigate the strange creatures
with telescopic noses that click and
whirr and whisper — before fleeing
the scene; or they roll over and nurse
their cubs, stretching out among tall
grasses and pawing the air. Sometimes
they simply go back to sleep. The
summer is a wonderful time to see these
creatures up close, when they’re in a
seasonal slump — like grandad after
lunch. It’s a rare privilege to be able to
stand on the same ground with them.
If you want to picture how this
once-in-a-lifetime experience actually
unfolds, imagine a safari, just a few
notches lower on the thermometer.
Everything about the experience — from
the short-hop flights in light aircraft, to
the 4WDs used to traverse sparse plains,
dense underbrush, river crossings and
swamplands — is redolent of a Kenyan
lion-hunt. And because it’s summer,
our vehicles are completely open to
the elements. Even the weather has its
own chilly charm. A dawn safari reveals
dew-bejewelled spiders’ webs and steam
rising from lakes with ethereal beauty;
at night, the diaphanous drapes of the
Aurora Borealis ripple through the sky.
The season offers up encounters
you could only dream of at other times
of year. Polar bears, I soon realise,
are easily startled and, back at my
accommodation, I even scare one off
myself. Big Momma, a well-fed female
bear, has been hanging around Nanuk
Lodge all summer. She can easily
be seen approaching through the
panoramic lounge windows, and guests
all bring their cameras to the table,
poised to dash to the terrace to take
pictures. One such lunchtime, on her
daily lolloping constitutional around
the perimeter, Big Momma emerges
from behind an outbuilding to find me
waiting with my camera on the other
side of the fence, just a metre or so
away. The majestic matriarch dwarfs
me, but the shock of seeing a human
sparks a comedic double-take, and
I’m bemused to watch her run away.
The bear that prompts Andy to get
his gun, however, isn’t budging, and
remains undeterred. I remember the
advice Rose, a tour rep who lives in
Churchill, gave me a few nights before.
If confronted with a bear, a) make
yourself look big, b) don’t turn your
back on it, and c) move away slowly.
‘Try to get into any building or car,’
Rose told me. Nobody locks anything
in Churchill, because they wouldn’t
want to deprive anyone of an escape
route. ‘I couldn’t even tell you where
the keys to my house are. I’ll go on
a two-week vacation and leave my
front door unlocked,’ she swears.worldtravellermagazine.com 57Opening pages: A polar bear
swimming in Hudson Bay
This page: Melting ice blocks
line the rocky pathway