Marine Mammals
bulging at the sides, as they pass through the soup and before we disappear from view. The following day, another storm
and we’re grounded. We take the opportunity to visit the Eskimo Museum, walk the town beach, check out the shops, and as we do we learn about a possible future that could alter the town, the people and the wildlife of Churchill. Grain moves through the port now. However, there is a confrontation brewing with the plan for the port to become a transshipment hub for crude oil that would arrive by rail on tracks over the permafrost. Some former port employees have cautioned it’s impossible to deploy oil spill safety booms in these waters given the strong currents, and - further - that the gyre out across Hudson Bay will keep any pollution within its coastlines for decades. The people are concerned, not only for their safety and livelihood, but also for the wildlife because, you see, it’s all connected. The sun appears, the winds
46 Magazine
calm and turn southward, and we spend the morning hiking with Paul Ratson, a local fixture, hearing more about, well, everything. Paul tells us about the relationship that the town has had with scientists moving in and out, collecting samples, and disappearing back down south; about how important the tourism business is; and how proud he is that all of it is run by small family companies. He tells us about the future of the port as he shakes his head. There is a sad knowing in his eye. Paul has seen big business come and go in Churchill and he isn’t convinced that it is for the best. But the tide is rising in the afternoon, and we need to get ready for our first dive. Dwight takes us out to Cape
Merry at slack tide. We’re eager to get into the cool water. Visibility hovers around 6.5 feet (2m) but it’s enough to appreciate the life around us. During winter, the Hudson Bay freezes over almost completely. With rising and falling tides, the ice scours the rocks in the tidal zone, and the
as we have long passed slack tide and the river water is rushing out of the estuary
Diving becomes a bit more challenging
Access to Churchill,
pictured above, is by rail or air. Critters big
and small await
divers who make the trek north
life that still manages to eke out a life is stunted, twisted, and gnarled. And so we descend beyond 20 feet (6m), out of the tidal and ice range where life gets much bigger. The rocks are iced like gaudy birthday cakes with a thick layer of pink coralline algae and delicate algal tuille of deep green, brown and red. We don’t feel the cold, not because we’re distracted by the stark, yet stunning scenery, but because it just isn’t cold. Our temperature gauge reads 46°F (8°C). A sculpin gets our full attention as it lies on a rock, trusting its camouflage to go undetected. After several minutes, we’re nose to nose and I start to believe that I’m also well camouflaged. But in that moment its tail flicks and it’s off to hide under a rock where I am just too big to follow. Seastars of all sizes
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