North to Churchill, Day Ten

Author: Phyllis Root
Photographer: Kelly Povo

July 10, 2018

Our last morning in Churchill, we awake to the endless light and our last views  out the window of sun over tundra and lakes.  We pack the bug shirts that have been essential to the trip, say our good-byes, head for the airport.  Walking across the tarmac to the plane we both tear up.

Our plane takes us nearly 300 miles farther north to Rankin Inlet before heading toward Winnipeg.  Out the plane window as we descend toward Rankin Inlet the water is patterned with patches of floating ice.  Not a tree in sight—we are above the tree line now, the farthest  north either of us has ever been.  During the layover we start to walk to the nearby town (no bear guard needed) but are captivated by a gravelly bit of ground where we can’t stop ourselves from identifying white mountain-avens, northern hedysarum, broad-leaved fireweed, alpine milk-vetch, lacerate dandelion, bog asphodel, cotton-grass, dry-ground cranberry, long-stalked stitchwort, mouse-eared chickweed, dwarf Labrador tea, flame-coloured lousewort, and one flower new to us, a beautiful little ball of tiny pink blossoms which we figure out from our book is thrift. We feel as though we have passed a final in our wildflower class.

I’ve been thinking about this class for ten years.  Learning about the loss of the tundra train to Churchill spurred me to come; we are worried about the future of a town with no access except plane and barge.  And we are so glad we came.  Churchill has changed us in ways we have yet to discover.

On the plane to Winnipeg we make a list of what we are grateful for:
Northern Studies Centre
Our amazing instructor Jackie, who endlessly pointed out flowers and answered our questions.
Our bear guard Evan, who kept us safe
Our program assistants Carrie and Beth
Sunrise
Wildflowers
Rainbow
Whales
Everyone who makes the Centre work for researchers and learners like us
All the people who live and work in Churchill

What a gift.

North to Churchill, Day Nine

Author: Phyllis Root
Photographer: Kelly Povo

July 9, 2018

Up so early I can see the sun actually rising, a long line of brilliant orange at the edge of sky, water, trees.  Turning the other direction, I’m surprised by a  streak of double rainbow in the sky.

Today is a winding-down day, the last full day of our class, Into the Wildflowers, at the Churchill Northern Studies Centre.  We visit greenhouses that grow tomatoes and greens here in the north.  We drive past many of the amazing murals of the Seawall Project last year in Churchill, eat lunch in town, visit the Eskimo museum, and take a boat out into the mouth of the Churchill River where beluga whales rise in graceful curves around us in the bay, white adult whales and adolescent gray ones who don’t turn white until they are fully grown.  When the guide drops a hydrophone into the water, we hear the whales calling and singing.  Magical.

We finish at Prince of Wales fort, where the guide lets us veer from the tour to see a rare flower, bluebell, that both the bear guard and our instructor remember from last year.  Even on a winding down day, this is at least the third new-to-us flower we’ve seen, along with Herriot’s sage and seaside lungwort.

In the evening we hear a Metis elder and her daughter talk about their life, culture, and art, then finish the day with a lovely sampling of traditional food–grilled char, bannock, and two kinds of jelly, cranberry, and fireweed.

It is hard to imagine leaving Churchill tomorrow.  We are already scheming a return.
#sustainthenorth, @phyllisiroot, #wildflowerwomen, #mnnativewildflowers

 

 

 

North to Churchill, Day Eight

Author: Phyllis Root
Photographer: Kelly Povo

July 8, 2018

Our days have been chock-full of wildflowers, and yet there are still more to see.  Down by the shore we watch three caribou graze on the tidal flat while our guard checks for bears.  Here in the rocks we find still more proof that life takes every foothold or roothold it can find–tiny Greenland primrose and tufted saxifrage appear to grow straight out of the rocks. By the place where the plane called Miss Piggy crashed, we see one rare white flax flower, which only blooms for a day and only in the middle of the day (although our days seem endlessly light, so how does it know?). When we stop to take a picture of the shore and the Krumholtz-effect spruce trees, we see yet another new-to-us flower, broad-leaved fireweed, blooming beautifully in the sand and gravel.

After lunch we head out again down the bouncy road to Twin Lakes, this time to  explore an area where a wildfire burned thirty years ago or more. The land is slowly recovering.  We don’t find the wet bog we are looking for, but a stop at a fen reveals more butterwort, more round-leaf orchids, Lapland rhododendron, and dwarf Labrador-tea among many others. In the last few minutes of the last stop of our last day of full-out wildflower searching, I lip my waders by stepping into water deeper than my boots are high.  Luckily I have only a short time to squelch in my socks before we arrive back at the Centre.

We spend the evening as a group going over the checklist of flowers (we have seen almost every one on the list excepting water plants) and identifying photos.  Churchill has over 500 vascular plants.  In a place where glaciers left scratches on the rocks and we scratch at the bites of persistent insects who found us in spite of our bug shirts, we have barely scratched the surface of what there is to see.

Tomorrow is not a designated wildflower day, but we are sure we will see them no matter where we look in this incredible and amazing place. #sustainthenorth