Tag Archives: Canada

Tundra: birds are Go!

Tuesday 27 September 2022 – The plan for the day was simple – get out on a Tundra Buggy and find polar bears. So, bright-eyed, bushy-tailed and breakfasted, we got on the bus and Joe took us for a half-hour drive to the Buggy Dock

where number 15 was to be our chariot for the day.

We were a small group, so there was plenty of room to spread out in a nice warm cabin.

Our driver was “Buggy Bob”, a man of great experience in driving these great big things across terrain which is tricky, but not impossible; we would go along old tracks originally created by the military in the 1940s and not deviate from them in order to minimise disturbance to the local wildlife. This is Buggy Bob.

I reckon he looks a lot like Sean Connery in The Hunt For Red October, but Jane disagrees.

Anyhoo…

The ride in these great beasts is not the smoothest, as it’s over very rough terrain, including places where water has covered the trail.

I want to give you some idea of how ungentle the ride is, but unfortunately “buggy” also applied to the software for my stabilising gimbal which I use with my mobile phone. I couldn’t get the two to co-operate and so this is the best I could do under the circumstances. I will try to get you a better impression during tomorrow’s ride.

We covered about 25 miles in 6 hours, so progress is barely above walking pace. But it’s a good way of seeing the wildlife without the risk of attack from a disconcerted bear, and it’s warm (the temperature outside was about 4°C and the brisk wind was once again of the lazy variety, so it gets my vote).

The scenery is at times quite striking, with fall colours becoming more and more established.

We passed near the accommodation buggies of a tundra lodge offered by another tour company

and were near the Churchill River when an excited cry went up as someone spotted what might have been a Beluga Whale swimming along. So we stopped for a closer look. Many people were delighted to have seen these Belugas, but frankly I found it difficult to be greatly moved, as this was the scene.

The Belugas are the white flecks towards the middle of the picture. Even zoomed in, they don’t, to me, present a scene to get excited about.

There were apparently some Eider ducks to be seen, too.

If you zoom in, they are the little black dots just above where the waves are breaking.

There was more excitement as we saw bear footprints – an adult and a cub, apparently.

The next excitement was the sighting of a bald eagle.

Yes, there it is.

But then it flew away.

Jason, one of the tour leaders reckoned he saw a beaver.

It turned out to be a muskrat.

We passed a site where Frontiers North are establishing their own residential lodge in the midst of all this tundra.

This will be fully commissioned and operational within a couple of days to receive the first guests of this year’s Bear Season (basically October and November).

There was even more excitement as we saw a Tundra Swan – the second largest bird in North America behind the Trumpeter Swan, Mark tells us. In the end, we saw it was a family of two adults and four cygnets, who took one look at us and moved away, slowly and with dignity.

Mark diverted us for a while with an explanation of why these Spruce trees have grown the way they have – clumped together, bushy at the base and scraggy at the top.

The weather is the driver of this. Ice particles driven by the wind strip the upper branches back; snow covers the ground to a depth of two feet on average and stops this happening for the lower branches. The short growing season and the snow also prevents the normal conifer reproduction method of dropping cones with seeds in them. Instead, the branches grow round and back down to the ground and “sucker” new growth before themselves dying back. Apparently beneath the little “skirt” of branches the temperature can be up to 10°C warmer, helping the trees establish an underground network for spreading through the permafrost and providing a congenial microenvironment for small creatures.

We saw some snow geese. They heard us coming and flew away.

Later, we came across an unusual sight, which was a single snow goose, just wandering around seeking food.

Then someone saw a Ptarmigan.

Bob confirmed it as a Willow Ptarmigan. Excitement mounted as we saw there were several,

all with the distinctive cute feathery leggings.

The scenery continued to be striking at times.

In the photo above, you can see that the path leads in to water, and so we relied on Bob’s skill and experience to get us through safely.

And then it was 4pm and we were back at the Buggy Dock.

This was an opportunity for a group photo (to be published when I can get my hands on it). Notably, there was an armed Bear Guard on duty (shown here chatting to Bob) whilst we were outside the Buggy.

I can’t imagine why, because there weren’t any fucking bears anywhere around. To prove this, Joe took us on a drive round the back roads in the bus, past various locations such as the “golf balls”,

that once housed radar tracking technology for the rockets that were tested hereabouts, and the shipwreck,

the rotting remains of a ship called the Ithaca which ran into trouble in the 1950s when ice crushed the rudder into the propeller and has been abandoned there ever since.

But no bears.

I took a couple more pictures of the town of Churchill as we headed back to the hotel, which add to its strong identity as a frontier town.

But no bears.

And that was it for the day, for me at least. After dinner, Jane went to a talk given by a trapper, but I stayed behind to deal with the recalcitrant gimbal and to see what photographs could be rescued from a day which had, apart from the bird life, featured a bear minimum of activity. We go out in the buggy again tomorrow, with our fingers firmly crossed for the polar opposite of today’s searching. I hope you will come back to find out how we got on.

A Chur-chilly Reception

Monday 26 September 2022 – Last night’s briefing was, erm, brief and gave us one or two important bits of information and a chance to get a sense of the group of 12 people (mostly Australian) of which we will be part for most of the rest of this week (and also whether my ridiculously heavy backpack would be acceptable on a forthcoming flight).  As I said in my last entry, we had to be ready to leave the hotel at 0700, having breakfasted and tagged our bags so that Frontiers North, the organisation which will be shepherding us along, know what to do with them at the far end.

We trailed into the airport and checked in to flight MO144, scheduled to depart at 0900.  I had been advised that the best photo opportunities from the flight would be if I sat on the right hand side at the front.  Since it was open seating, I made jolly damn’ sure I was first on the plane, and selected my seat accordingly.

Photos from the plane shortly after take off emphasised how flat the Winnipeg landscape is.

We flew alongside lake Winnipeg

and this was pretty much the last even halfway decent picture I got until much later, for two reasons.  One is that the visibility (already visibly worsening in the photo above) didn’t improve; the other is that the bright sunshine, normally so welcome when trying for aerial shots, threw a distinct shadow on to my window through the aeroplane’s propellers.  This meant that I had a strobe effect in operation which conflicted with the shutter in my camera such that I had unwanted horizontal bars across any images I tried to capture.  I suppose it was a lesson learned, but actually I had no way of knowing that this would be a problem.  I amused myself by taking a photo of the aeroplane safety card, which was in no fewer than three languages.

The next opportunities I had for aerial photos came as the plane was on final approach.

when it became clear that the light yellowish/green things you can see on the landscape were actually trees.

Since these appear to be conifers but are changing colour this autumn, one can infer that they are larches.

Despite the captain’s warnings of a bumpy landing, we hit the deck quite smoothly and were soon in the terminal, awaiting our bags.

Not that we’re paranoid or anything, but I noticed that my bag was one of the last to come through, and the carousel stopped the instant Jane took her bag off it.  No matter – we handed them over to Frontiers North for them to deal with and went out into the biting cold wind  to the bus which was to be one of our main transports for the next three days.  The tour leader, Mark, carried on his briefing as we headed for downtown Churchill,

and our hotel, the Tundra Inn.

We had lunch at the associated Tundra Pub

with further briefing from Mark (right) with input from Jason (left) and driver Joe.

Joe then drove us around the area, giving us a chance to see some of the highlights of the Churchill area: a large scale inukshuk – an Inuit construction with a variety of possible meanings (landmark, signpost, waymark etc);

a Beluga Boat which has never actually been used for its intended purpose of watching Beluga whales but which is used by the locals as a gathering point for e.g. picnics;

the Complex – a 1976 construction which provides most of the municipal needs for this remote community – school, medical and dental facilities, kids playground, that kind of thing; the now unused grain elevator, which used to be a significant source of employment but is no longer economically viable for a variety of reasons;

and occasional reminders that Churchill is in Polar Bear territory, and the community needs to take care (the pickups are part of the Polar Bear Alert Program).

Yes, we’ve come here to see polar bears, but we want to do it in a planned way, rather than through an ad hoc encounter.  We were warned not to stray far from the bus and, if necessitated by an unexpected polar bear encounter, drop everything and make for the protection of the bus.  Frankly, it was so cold (just a couple of degrees above freezing) that the likelihood of straying far was limited anyway, but it’s a sobering thought that one could just walk around a corner here and be confronted by a polar bear.

The Churchill landscape is tundra, an environment where tree growth is hindered by frigid temperatures and short growing seasons.

Can you guess which way the prevailing wind blows?  Today’s wind was one of those lazy winds that doesn’t bother to go round you; it just goes straight through.  That said, we have been lucky in the timing of our visit, in that the rather scrubby vegetation here is changing into its fall colours.

The orange of the plants is matched by the orange of the lichen on the rocks, making for a richly coloured, if rather low-level, landscape.

Churchill is a frontier town, and its buildings show this very clearly. This is the high street, for example;

and the side roads show also very plain levels of construction.

It cannot be reached by road. The only ways in are by air or by rail; this is the train station building

which also houses the Parks Canada Visitor Centre.  The town has done a lot of work to brighten what might otherwise have been a very dull and workmanlike appearance with artworks, some commissioned from recognised artists.   Some artistic touches are light;

many are striking;

and some are wonderful large-scale adaptations of buildings.  For example, the town has a Polar Bear Holding  Facility, where bears that wander into the town, or are injured or become a nuisance are trapped

(on the left above is an old-fashioned type of trap) and held in separate rooms in this facility,

one end of which has been gloriously decorated by an artist specially invited for the task.

Another large-scale artwork was wrought on the wreckage of a cargo aeroplane which took off from the airport, but got into difficulties; the pilot crashed it safely (all the crew survived)

and, again, an invited artist has used it as a canvas.  The suspicion is that it was overloaded, hence it being called “Miss Piggy” – Too Fat To Fly?

There are stores, which tend to stock a wide variety of goods, from food to construction machinery;

there are churches and a post office and occasional other artworks;

and the whole place exudes a strong sense of community.  Fewer than 900 people call Churchill their home, but it’s clear from the number who have lived here for years that the town can exert a strong attraction.

It is home to Polar Bears International, a non-profit organisation dedicated to polar bear conservation.  Outside their building is a Tundra Buggy

another one of which will be taking us out to view the area’s wildlife over the next days.  Our final act of the day (dinner excepted) was to visit, and we were treated to an interesting and educational session from Kieran MacIver on the bears, their environment and the threat from climate change

which incidentally gave us a chance to understand how big a fully-grown male polar bear actually is.

Today has been our introduction to the area.  Tomorrow, we hope for an introduction to its polar bears (two of our group did a special helicopter flight and reported back that they saw bears in the area, so the prospects look good).  Will we get to see the bears we have come so far to seek?  Watch this space!

 

Windy Peg

Sunday 25 September 2022 – We might have done with Montréal, but Montréal (and fate) had not done with us. As I mentioned in my last entry, the itinerary we’re following has evolved over the course of three years and, as a result, has produced some wrinkles. The order of cities was one; the timing of this morning was another. We had grown rather alarmed at the prospect of an 0530 pickup at the hotel – particularly when we saw that the flight that this was to take us to was not at 0800 as originally specified, but 0855. So we had a bit of a back-and-forth with Discover Holidays, who are in charge of local details, and they agreed that an 0630 pickup was OK. 0630 is not good, but it’s a whole lot better than 0530.

0530, however, was, of course, the time we had to set the alarm for. Having done so, and heaved ourselves up to face the rigours of the day, a text arrived at 0553 from those nice people at Air Canada, telling us that our flight was delayed until 1045, “due to a technical problem with the aircraft”, and would be departing from Gate A9.

Hah.

It was too late to change the timing of the pickup, so we got ourselves ready and checked out before 0630. Unsurprisingly, we were alone in the hotel lobby, apart from the receptionist and a chap in a cap. Equally unsurprisingly, it turned out that he was our driver, André (an Italian-Canadian ex-truck driver with a New York accent), and he took us out to the car.

Perhaps a bit OTT for two people and two suitcases to go to the airport, but, hey,

it perks the day up a bit. So did the sunrise.

Our hopes that perhaps fate was making up for the mix-up with the early start were at first slightly lowered when the Air Canada machinery wouldn’t take our checked-in bags and then dashed when we headed for security.

You’ll remember (of course) that we were heading for an A gate, and you can just make an A out in the distance. When we got near it, though,

we saw that there was a huddled mass of humanity between us and it. This was Montréal, we thought, having the last laugh. Actually, it was only about a 35-minute queue and then we were free! Noticeboards were still talking about our flight leaving at 0855 from gate A1, but we smiled, knowing that Air Canada had given us the skinny of the new gate and time. So we sat at Gate A9, not worrying at all about our almost total isolation because We Knew The Score.

At about 40 minutes before the scheduled departure, though, we began to worry that We Didn’t After All Know The Score, so we hurried off to Gate A1, where AC371 (yes, our flight) was still showing as departing. A lady at an adjacent Air Canada desk saw us and the uncertainty we were radiating and shouted out that the flight was no longer going from Gate 1, but was just about to board at Gate 15. So nice of Air Canada to contribute to our exercise regime.

The rest of the journey was fine, involving as it did a decent but not excessive amount of gin and Pringles. It was a little bumpy towards the landing

due to a not insignificant wind. We arrived in Winnipeg (for that was the correct destination) at around midday; by the time we arrived at the carousel our bags had just appeared and we had just a short (but slightly puzzling) walk to our airport hotel, the sumptuously named Lakeview Signature by Wyndham (which is not sumptuous at all, and has a view only of the airfield, but otherwise appears to be perfectly workmanlike). Our room was ready, and the organisers of this next segment of our holiday were obviously on the ball, as there was a board in the hotel lobby telling us where we had to be and when for the introductions and briefing.

So. Why are we in Winnipeg, a westward step in our otherwise eastward progress, significant enough to warrant a change in time zone?? You’ll find out if you keep reading these pages.

In the meantime, we had some hours to kill, and Jane had spotted that Winnipeg airport is home to the Royal Aviation Museum of Western Canada. This seemed to be only a couple of minutes’ walk away, but the hotel reception virtually insisted that we take the hotel shuttle bus. I think this was to make the driver feel part of the team, because it was a ridiculously short drive. We were greeted by a charming lady called Hedie and welcomed to the museum.

Which was not huge, but really interesting.

Assembled here is a collection of those things that are significant in Canada’s aviation history, particularly in the development of the bush plane. For example, the first purpose-built example, the Fairchild AC71

had great capabilities for all those things that bush planes needed to do (e.g. land on and take off from water). It suffered a little from the fact that the pilot’s ability to see forwards was very limited because the cockpit was set so far back, so it never entered commercial production.

The museum also gave me a chance to show you another one of them Fokkers, in this case a Super Universal.

There are many curiosities on display: an example of a sesquiplane, something I’d never heard of before – a plane with one and a half wings;

a nuclear bomb, which I’m glad the organisers rendered inert before displaying;

a replica of the Avro Canada VZ-9 Avrocar, a top secret US Air Force funded attempt to create a supersonic fighter capable of vertical take off and landing (it was underpowered, unstable and cancelled, having never got more than a metre into the air);

the Froebe Helicopter, designed in 1937, built from salvaged truck parts and featuring design points that are still in use on today’s helicopters,

but underpowered and hence also not able to rise higher than one metre from the ground; the Vedette, the first attempt at a boat that could fly;

and – my favourite – the Canadair CL-84 Dynavert.

As soon as I saw this beast I thought “Bell Boeing Osprey” (for those of you not familiar with it, here’s a picture of one I took at Farnborough Air Show some years ago)

FIA 2012 - Bell Boeing Osprey

and, indeed, the Dynavert was a predecessor – well ahead of its time, having first flown in 1965, a quarter of a century before the Osprey (though it never found a buyer so was cancelled in 1974).

I particularly like the little helicopter rotors on the tail.

There were many other, more serious, exhibits as well, but I found these the most engaging and we spent a happy hour at the museum in one of those lovely bits of serendipity that contribute so much to life’s pleasure.

Rather than attempt to call up the hotel’s shuttle bus for a return journey, we dared the walk back unaided – the hotel is just under the control tower, so it wasn’t exactly a major expedition. So we stepped out – into an astonishing wind – and fought our way home against it. Apparently it’s been windy here all month.

And this brings you bang up to date. The sunset here is as interesting as the sunrise this morning back in Montreal

and we have about 90 minutes to wait until we get our briefing on the next few days. All we know is that we have to be up, packed, checked out and breakfasted in time to leave the hotel at 0700 tomorrow. So there’s no chance I will report back today about what we learned at the briefing and what we’re up to over the coming days – you’ll have to come back tomorrow to find out more. See you then!