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I\u2019d like to attribute my obsession with polar bears to a family tradition. My older cousins were given stuffed white Gund bears when they were born, and when I came out a decade later, the same polar bear was waiting for me in my crib. I named him Dee, and Dee came everywhere with me, so much so that he evolved into more of a noseless black bear over the years.<\/p>\n
My love for the bears wasn\u2019t just plush. A third grade science fair allowed me to spend every afternoon at Chicago\u2019s Lincoln Park Zoo, using a miniature clipboard to record polar bears\u2019 activity levels as the temperatures dropped. Every school animal report was about polar bears. In college, when I decided to get a dog, I picked a fluffy white Golden Retriever\u2014the closest I could come to a domesticated polar bear. <\/p>\n
So when I learned of polar bear safaris, which are pretty much what they sound like, I knew I had to go on one. Not just because I could see the long-time object of my adoration in its true home, but because I might not be able to forever. Climate change is ravaging the ecosystems that support polar bears. Largely thanks to declining levels of sea ice, which are central to polar bears’ hunting and breeding strategies, scientists project that two-thirds of the world’s population could be gone by midcentury, and that they could be locally extinct in many of the places that constitute their natural habitat today by 2100. If I wanted to make observations outside a zoo, a polar bear safari\u2014soon\u2014might be my only option. <\/p>\n
There\u2019s a name for this kind of trip: \u201cLast Chance Tourism.\u201d Tour operators have increasingly been putting together expeditions that allow people to experience endangered destinations, like diving the Great Barrier Reef before its corals die or seeing Venice before it floods. These trips are often expensive and exclusive\u2014and controversial for the strain they put on already-precarious environments. But seeing endangered animals is a rarer proposition, and my beloved polar bears are at the forefront of the trend.<\/p>\n
I decided to book a tour with a company called Natural Habitat Adventures<\/a>. For seven days, I would travel with a group of 15 to the Canadian Arctic town of Churchill, Manitoba. While in some towns you have the weekly coyote on your block or the monthly bobcat in your alley, in Churchill you have the daily polar bear. They walk down main street like anyone else. If there was a better place to understand what Last-Chance Tourism might mean for animals, I couldn\u2019t think of one: Of Churchill\u2019s population of 1,500 souls, only 870 are human. <\/p>\n In October, I set off. I flew from New York City, to Toronto, to Winnipeg, culminating in an evening welcome orientation, equal parts icebreakers and bear safety. The next morning, my tour group and I boarded a charter flight to Churchill. After two hours in the air, we landed at the town\u2019s barren airstrip and were shuffled from the charter plane directly onto a shuttle bus. With polar bears everywhere, it wasn\u2019t safe to walk.<\/p>\n We passed by the town\u2019s old grain port, where the Churchill River meets Hudson Bay, and drove down the one small strip that functions as the main street. We were told this is where we could walk during daylight hours when we had free time, perhaps to go to Dancing Bear Restaurant<\/a>, Lazy Bear Cafe<\/a>, or Bear Country Inn<\/a>. The key was to give a wide berth to any corner we rounded and never to pull out our phones\u2014even to check the time\u2014so that we could be alert and ready for a bear encounter. <\/p>\n These precautions might have seemed like overkill, but everyone, even the locals, heeded these kinds of rules. Especially the locals. Churchill resident Kevin Burke, a one-time polar rover driver who worked as a bear guard, monitoring high-traffic locations for bears and alerting people to their presence, told me that locals know they \u201chave to be \u2018on.\u2019\u201d Any time of day, a bear could show up. <\/p>\n The persistent presence of bears makes it dangerous to walk in most of Churchill.<\/p>\n Which was of course what we were hoping for.<\/p>\n After lunch, a visit to Churchill\u2019s antique museum, dinner at the Tundra Pub<\/a> (and a round of \u201cPolar Bear\u201d peppermint schnapps shots), I finally sank into my bed at the Aurora Inn<\/a>\u2014exhausted. I drifted off to the sound of fireworks crackling outside my window.<\/p>\n The next morning, there was a buzz at the table of tourists eating breakfast. As I heard what everyone was so excited about, I pieced something together: Those fireworks had actually been the sharp noises the town\u2019s patrol service uses to scare away bears. There had been a polar bear outside our hotel the night before\u2014outside my window, actually, watching over me while I slept. Just like Dee.<\/p>\n I missed my first chance to see a bear, but luckily, I had a full day of alert polar bear viewing ahead. After breakfast we loaded onto shuttle buses and left Churchill\u2019s main street behind, driving about 25 minutes outside of town to where our polar rovers awaited us. Also known as Tundra Buggies, they appeared to be the spawn of a monster truck and a coach bus, with an uncovered observation deck sticking out of its rear. We drove right up to the deck, and loaded directly onto its grate floors.<\/p>\n Everyone had a row of seats to themselves, and following a quick Buggy briefing, we set off onto the tundra in pursuit of bears. I couldn\u2019t believe it, but it was not snowy. Churchill rests at the intersection of three different ecosystems: the subarctic tundra, the boreal forest, and the arctic marine of the Hudson Bay. Until its first snowfall, usually late autumn, the Churchill Wildlife Management Area is 2,097,314 acres of grassy plain, filled with dwarf shrubs, grasses, trees, and the occasional kelp on the rocks near the coast. <\/p>\n Elevated on the rover\u2019s 5-foot tall monster truck wheels, we moved silently and studiously. We tracked every speck of blonde discoloration as far as our eyes could see. Yes, blonde, because polar bear fur is not white. Technically, it\u2019s translucent, composed of transparent, hollow fibers that scatter the light so that it appears white. But the only blonde we were seeing was Arctic foxes and hares, some flighty ptarmigans.<\/p>\n Then, finally, a polar bear. <\/p>\n The bear we saw was curled up on her emotional support rock, and her coat stood out against the muted, barren surroundings. You\u2019re not supposed to name the bears you encounter, but we named her Rocky. <\/p>\n Our group of polar bear obsessives whispered from about 100 feet away. We watched her clean her paws, stretch her neck, and tuck herself back into bed against the rock. I couldn\u2019t help but think how much she reminded me of my dog. She drifted into a slumber and we roved on.<\/p>\n Polar bears will make remarkably close approaches to the monster-truck-esque rovers used on polar bear safaris.<\/p>\n Less than an hour away, we came upon a mother with two cubs. You\u2019re lucky if you get to see cubs, and we spent about two hours capitalizing on our luck, watching their mother using her body to shield them from the winds and keep them safely tucked into the grasses. Eventually, we slowly peeled away, heading back on our monster bus to the launch site. <\/p>\n The next day, we went out again. We found Rocky in the same spot, but this time, she was awake. She paced around her rock and eventually started moving towards us, her big paws thumping the ground as she stalked over. From the observation deck, I waited, short, bated breaths swept into the brisk winds. She got closer and closer, and then she was underneath the deck, right below my feet. <\/p>\n We froze and locked eyes. A mirrored curiosity passed in our gazes. Then she gave one sniff, tilted her head, and moved on. <\/p>\n As Rocky walked away, a singular circuit of adrenaline coursed through me. I was left with a strong sensation. Even though I loved polar bears, I imagined a close encounter could be frightening. But it wasn\u2019t fear that filled me. It was a deep respect.<\/p>\n A funny thing happened after my encounter with Rocky. I found myself paying closer attention to Churchill itself, this strange former port town where people live alongside polar bears. Respect for the bears is a guiding principle in the town; bears are part of the community, and Churchill governs itself around the needs of its people and its bears. <\/p>\nOLIVIER MORIN\/\/Getty Images<\/p>\n
Education Images\/\/Getty Images<\/p>\n