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Experiencing the magic of winter at the edge of the Arctic

Kristina Disney

CHURCHILL :: MANITOBA, CANADA

Some people only visit Hudson Bay in summer, drawn by the surge of wildlife activity that characterizes the season: Polar bears roaming inland among wildflowers, beluga whales gathering in the Churchill River to feed and rear their calves, and millions of migratory birds—terns, swans, and eagles—resting here before their long journey south.

But as a guide, I love this region best after the birds have left, when the sounds of honking geese and scuttling shorebirds have gone silent, and even the caribou have retreated to faraway forests. That’s when the sound of snow crunching under paws travels through the frigid air as polar bears congregate along the shores to wait for the sea ice to form.

A fox lying down on the ground, looking up at photographer

At first glance, the subarctic—defined by permafrost and peatlands—might seem still or barren during the winter months. But those who know better understand that the lichen-covered tundra, thick with moss and sedge, teems with hidden biodiversity.

And while life here can be harsh for people and animals, it’s a place where compassion is distilled to its essence. You see it in the smiles of those who choose to stay beyond summer’s end—it glints at you from between frosted lashes. Living this close to the icy edge of survival isn’t for everyone, but some of us seek it out.

Years ago, like many other travelers chasing the northern lights and the midnight sun, I found my way here. When I arrived, a local told me, “You may have been born somewhere else, but if you belong to the north, it will claim you as its own.”

And it did. So when the north calls, I come back home to Churchill.