Despite a couple rumours to the contrary, the cabin is still intact and somewhat boarded up. A bear did walk through and try to eat the barbeque but that was kind of expected and my prospector tents are still collapsed but that’s my fault not the bears. Anyway, the breaker is flipped and the baseboard heaters are warming up the cabin for a good woodstove night tonight.
And despite Churchill’s cold summer, there were still two strawberries in the strawberry patch – which is actually three plants near an old woodstove and willows – with another ten strawberries still unripened. Even frozen, soggy and dirt covered, they tasted pretty good.
Stopped by my neighbour’s cabin – he was back at Camp Nanuq winding down from a nine-day ‘adventure’ – and he just happened to be cooking up some moose stir-fry which for all his quirks, he still is a pretty damn good cook. On the other hand, moose stir fry, a pot of boiling moose meat and sunset probably wasn’t the best combination given that there was a young bear just across the lake – probably the same one that had raided Tundra Buggy’s garbage truck earlier that day. There were a few nailboards scattered on the deck but probably just enough to annoy any bear as the walked in the door as opposed to warding it away.
The sun sets around 7:30 these days so not much to do at the cabin without my gun and dogs but luckily there is live music in town just about every night this year, circulating between three lounges and the occasional Royal Canadian Legion open mic night. Last night, tourists and newly arrived bear season regulars crowded into Northern Nights Lounge (formerly known as ‘Northern Nightmare’) to watch Denis Funk’s mix of Prine, Cash and an Eaglesmith or two. Its a little lounge that hasn’t seen that many people for years now but used to be a regular hang out for buggy drivers and port workers. Things were still going strong when I snuck out, leaving the late night/early morning combos for the new wave of bear season staffers.
Not much like a midnight walk through Churchill in bear season. A few snowflakes still kicking around (the forecast calls for more throughout the week), streets are bereft of buses and parka’ed tourists or even any sound really. It keeps you on your toes with one eye scanning the back alleys and darkened nooks of Churchill, watching for late night, white-furred visitors; keeping the other eye out for the closest door, truck or anything to get in the way of a curious bear.