It’s called the slow seduction of Churchill. It happens upon first arrival. You disembark, look around and ask yourself quietly, ‘This is it?’ It’s so big, and open, and sparse, and remote and vast it’s almost impossible to take it all in at once, yet there’s nothing at all to take in.
There aren’t polar bear wandering the streets, you can’t hear belugas singing and no one has offered to trade a fox pelt for your SLR camera. The only truth about Churchill you’ve experienced in your first 10 minutes is that you’ve already got six bug bites.
None of it makes sense. You’ve spent an incredible amount of time and money just getting here, the beginning of the Arctic, end of the train tracks and middle of nowhere. It’s impossible to imagine anything surviving, much less thriving.
Days later, after living history, kayaking with belugas or filling your SLR with polar bear shots, it is still a dingy little town on the edge of the Arctic. However, the seduction of culture and nature in an unlikely setting is too strong to ignore and can only be appreciated through having the experience first-hand.
Last updated: Sep 23, 2008
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