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

 

North to Churchill, Day Seven

Author: Phyllis Root
Photographer: Kelly Povo

July 7, 2018

Everything outside our window looks silver this morning—clouds, water, even the sky.  Rain is forecast, but the possibility doesn’t even slow us down.

We are on the edges here of so many things:  the northern boreal forest, the arctic tundra, the freshwater Churchill River, and the salt water of Hudson Bay.  Here some plants are at the northernmost edge of their range and some at their southernmost edge. Spruce trees near the bay have a Krumholtz effect, with  branches growing mostly on the downwind side of the trunk and only a few stunted branches on the side facing the bay.

Today we find flowers at edges.

Even a non-flower stop along the road  to see the barricade across the tundra train tracks and the sign that reads, “Hudson Bay Railway, No Trespassing, Violators will be Prosecuted,” becomes a stop full of wildflowers. Almost as soon as we step out of the van we see northern lady’s-slipper, also called sparrow’s-egg lady’s-slipper, round-leaved orchid and blunt-leaf orchid (we have seen so many orchids we have quit counting them), the seemingly ubiquitous butterwort, and many of the new-to-us flowers that we’ve been seeing since our first day in Churchill.

Along another railroad crossing we find elephant’s-head (a tall purple lousewort whose flowers look as though they have trunks), pink pyrola in bloom, and a lovely little gathering of  blunt-leaf orchid, large- flowered pyrola (sometimes called large-flowered wintergreen), and snow willow.  Our instructor calls us into the woods bordering the tracks, where round-leaved orchids carpet the moss. Here we find northern twayblade–an orchid rare enough that our instructor says she will report it to the Manitoba Conservation Data Center. What a find!

We eat lunch at the edge of the Churchill River where the breeze keeps the ever-present bugs at bay, and the beluga whales rise to breathe in half-moon curves.

Cape Merry, part of the Prince of Wales National Historic Site, is our last visit of the day. Our guide fills us in on natural and cultural history.  We are fascinated by the rocks (which we learn are greywacke), rising in graceful curves with cracks and dips filled with flowers.  This might be one of the most beautiful places we have ever been.

The forecasted rain waits until later in the evening, then crashes over us in a thunderous cloud.  We are safe inside the center, seeing it through windows and the aurora borealis viewing dome, where the edges of the sky meet the water and the land in every direction.