Walking with Polar Bears at Seal River Heritage Lodge

In early November, the western shore of Canada’s Hudson Bay is a beautiful blend of new ice and ancient boulders. Dusted with fresh snow, it presents a stunning contrast of black and white, enhanced by three playful Arctic foxes frolicking in front of Seal River Heritage Lodge.

Peering out of the lodge’s large windows, we find ourselves laughing at the foxes’ antics. However, our mood shifts dramatically when we spot one of the largest land carnivores in the world striding across the rocky beach on massive furry feet.

This is the reason for our visit: to see and walk with polar bears in Canada, which is home to about two-thirds of the estimated global population of 23,000 polar bears.

Initially, it’s a breathtaking shock to witness a polar bear in the wild approaching us. We watch in silent awe as she walks closer, standing just meters away. Even from behind the glass, her powerful presence and probing black eyes captivate us. She sniffs the ground where the foxes once frolicked, showcasing her curiosity without any sign of fear, before continuing her journey north. We collectively exhale in wonder.

How to Walk with Polar Bears

Polar bears thrive all over the Arctic, but Hudson Bay’s western shoreline boasts one of the highest concentrations, estimated between 800 and 900 bears. This phenomenon primarily results from wind directions and ice floes. Each late spring, wind and currents drive ice floes, carrying polar bears into the southwestern corner of the expansive bay. As the ice melts, these magnificent creatures are compelled to come ashore.

While they await the next freeze, polar bears wander north past Churchill — known as the ‘polar bear capital of the world’ — and three eco-lodges scattered along the coast. Churchill Wild offers guided walking tours with polar bears from July through November.

Norman, a Cree guide at Seal River Heritage Lodge, chuckles, “All my life I avoided polar bears. Coming here seemed crazy at first, but that’s exactly what we’ll do each day for four days.”

During an orientation session on the first day, lead guide Andy explains, “We won’t walk directly towards a bear. Instead, we’ll approach indirectly in a single file, creating the illusion of one long body.”

“We want to show the bear how large we are,” Andy adds, mirroring the behavior of a male bear who will turn sideways to display his size to another male.

The guides carry shotguns during our walks; however, in the 26 years since these polar bear tours were initiated, they have never had to use them. Andy recalls that he cannot remember the last time he employed bangers or screamers, which are often used in Churchill to deter bears.

Interestingly, the first line of defense here is simply to speak firmly to an overly curious bear. “It’s just like speaking to a dog,” says Andy, “I’ll raise my voice.”

That night, it’s the foxes that occupy my thoughts as I drift off to sleep. Before bed, I notice them playing under the outdoor lights, with falling snow swirling around them, resembling a scene from a giant snow globe. Their playful antics remind me of a cartoon chase, providing a comical end to the day.

Diverse Wildlife Watching in Hudson Bay

The following morning, temperatures have plunged to nearly minus-20°C. The foxes are nestled in a snowbank, sound asleep, their small black noses hidden beneath their bushy tails.

We gather outside, bundled in fur-trimmed parkas and insulated down jackets. With balaclavas cloaking our faces from the frigid air, it’s a challenge to identify one another among the group.

Our group consists of 15 guests: seven Americans, three Australians, a pair of Brits, two Israelis, and one Canadian. We span a range of ages, including two mothers with their adult sons. One elderly woman has opted to remain indoors, observing the world outside through the windows.

“Today we’ll explore the ridge and along the shoreline,” Andy informs us. “Bears prefer these areas for bedding, where they are shielded from the wind. We will take our time.”

During this excursion, our wildlife sightings are limited to a wandering wolverine and a flock of ptarmigan clad in their winter white plumage, nearly camouflaged against the snow. Subsequent walks reveal equally snowy Arctic hares and a variety of foxes, some red and others a mix of black and red. We take plenty of photos, yet none feature the elusive bears.

On our second-to-last day, I savor a bowl of steaming oatmeal in the dining room when Andy urges me to peer through his powerful scope. A mother bear can be seen about a kilometer away, curled up with her cub in what appears to be a nest of seaweed.

We quietly set off, the only sound being the crunch of snow beneath our heavy boots. Stopping about 70 meters from the resting bears, Andy whispers, “We don’t need to get any closer. She’s very relaxed right now.” The bears remain undisturbed for at least 15 minutes. My fingers and toes tingle from the cold as they eventually rise, stretching and yawning as if waking from a deep slumber. Despite being powerful predators, they appear remarkably harmless.

The next morning, we are packed and prepared for our short flight back to Churchill when, at least in spirit, the bears come to bid us farewell.

Outside the safety fence surrounding the lodge, the mother bear and cub that we observed the day before are now browsing in some nearby willows. Bathed in golden sunlight, they appear picture-perfect, offering even the most amateur photographers among us time to capture their beauty.

Consequently, they ambulate away, once again leaving us awestruck.