It was late July when I began my adventure to the subarctic community of Churchill, Manitoba, 650 miles due north of Winnipeg on the shore of Hudson Bay.

Arriving in Winnipeg, I decided to include the two-day Via Rail train ride into Churchill. My cabin was a compact, self-contained, four-foot by six-foot box. I sat in a comfy chair and viewed the passing countryside through an oversized window. For meals I dined with other passengers in a separate car. So relaxed was the gentle rocking and rhythm of the train, I found myself napping several times a day.

Once in Churchill, I located my friend, local resident and RCMP officer Rob Pritchett, who agreed to play tour guide, above and below the water. While I explored the town he was busy with a drug bust at one end of the train.

During summer from late June through August, the regular Churchill population of 1100 swells rapidly accommodating large numbers of tourists. Numerous sight-seeing companies, offer everything from aerial tours, to historical walks at the Prince of Wales Fort (north, across the Churchill River). Motels, restaurants, gift shops and two grocery stores provide the daily necessities.

After Rob finished with his police matter, we set out for a shore dive to the remote Cape Mary historical site. We loaded our gear into a small trailer and pulled it with a four-wheeler.

The town is on Hudson Bay. It is surrounded by smooth boulders, softened overtime from the weight of snow and ice. Hearty wildflowers set the landscape ablaze with vibrant colours and the fragrance scents of potpourri.

We entered the calm 37-degree (F) water to find a desolate underwater terrain down to nine meters (30-feet). Visibility was at least 14 meters (40-feet). Huge stones were as smooth as the ones above water. Where were the critters and vegetation? Later I discovered the barrenness was due to the depth and intensity of traveling pack ice. We felt a mild current as we found slightly deeper holes (40-feet) filled with life! Lampshells, burrowing sea cucumbers, shy little sculpins and sand anemones bunched together in a thriving oasis. Within 30 minutes I was too cold to continue.

Since there are no dive stores or equipment for rent in Churchill, everything must be brought in by train, plane or boat (Winnipeg had several dive stores). A small boat with operator can be chartered for boat dives or snorkeling from Sea North Tours.

Our next dive was north of the Churchill River, in Button Bay. Air temperature had risen to a balmy 80 degrees (F). Unfortunately I forgot about condensation, due to the extreme temperature changes (air and water), and my camera's dome port fogged up. My buddy and I sat on the bottom in 17 meters (55-feet) of water as a wall of Beluga whales swam by. I just took a deep breath and enjoyed the moment. They came within 6 meters (20-feet), just swimming circles around us over and over. Such an experience. Other underwater life included small patches of pink and white soft corals, starfish, mussels and more burrowing sea cucumbers. Resembling a lobster, an odd looking tank shrimp nuzzled into its habitat. Invertebrates, colorful anemones and a tiny nudibranch also decorated the area.

The next morning we were back. This time I prepared my cameras by immersing them in a large bucket of icy river water to prevent a repeat disaster. The whales stayed close to the surface to play so after our dive we used the Zodiac to interact with them in a game of "follow the leader". We hung over the side with our legs still in the boat and held onto a rope. With dry suits still on, we used our mask and snorkel to view the whales. As the boat slowly motored around, the Beluga followed, perhaps laughing at the funny faces in the water. They swam under the boat and turned onto their backs to peer up at us. A mother even brought her newborn gray calf in for a look.

Meeting up with a group of fellow travellers at the Bed & Breakfast, we decided to join forces and do some exploring and snorkelling. I have found over the years that I'm not one to ever turn away potential models.

Quickly we realized all the roads (mostly gravel) dead-ended within 32-kilometers (20-miles) or so of town. Our first stop was along the roadside, for a chance to see one of Churchill's two flowering orchids, delicate purple and white flowers the size of a thumbnail.

Leftover chunks of blue ice too small to be called ice bergs, provided a glimpse of what was only a month away. Wreckage from unfortunate ships also littered the beach.

There was still no sign of polar bears, but we were told of a mother and cub sighting the day before near the dump. So off to the dump we followed . Their tracks were everywhere indicating that they were searching for food. So intent on photographing them, I followed the group as they ventured from the safety of the vehicles to scan the beach and terrain. How vulnerable I felt, not to mention how stupid. These were killers with no fear of people. Later that day Rob told me the bears came too close to town so had to be tranquillized and moved to the polar bear jail, where they will remain until the ice returns in September. The suspense of not knowing where the bears were was enough to teach me the needed respect for extra-large critters with teeth.

Our excursions also included a visit to an old whaling station where a dried-up tail still hung. Climbing over a wrecked plane at the airport brought back memories of playground toys. While admiring a team of sled dogs in the distance a cute puppy greeted us. Not far away was the sled they had to pull.

My favourite attraction was the Ithaca, a huge rusting ghost ship, blown aground by a nasty windstorm in 1961, sitting high and dry (as the tide was out). Judging by the shape of its corroding skeleton, it had once hauled cargo. Keeping a close eye on the incoming tide (can be up to 30 feet!), I surveyed the outside of the hulk in awe. For safety Rob carried along his shotgun to scare away curious polar bears.

Enormous tundra buggies made us realize how Churchill survived during the winter by offering polar bears tours. Apparently they are booked well in advance. The Aurora Borealis, seen throughout the winter also draws the tourists in. Birding happens in June and nature walks go on in July and August, when the Beluga are plentiful.

Surviving the daily swarms of mosquitoes (I swear they can make headway against a five knot wind and know exactly when the bug repellent wears off!) we ended our unique journey with an evening meal of tender caribou stew.