From the Arctic: The Sun Sets on the Bay

I thought the coffee room would be more sober this morning, but from the outside no one would have known it was our last day. We may just as easily have been heading into the woods to count seedlings instead of scattering to the winds back to our homes in the United States. Many have packed, checking corners for the forgotten item or misplaced flash drive. Phones, packed away 10 days ago as useless, have been placed within reach for the time when we can get service again.

The mood is a bit somber today, but bursts of laughter still ring out from pockets around the room. People are down to business, doing last minute sharing of documents or pictures.

Dr. Kershaw's final presentation from last night sticks with us. The picture that the data we collected presents is a snap shot that will help provide a baseline for assessing change. Many of the areas we surveyed show new seedlings moving into the ecotone, that boundary area between the tundra and the forest. Will these seedlings survive? Future studies of the area will be necessary; the connection of our data to climate change is for a future eye to decide.

We did learn that the ice on the bay is showing a trend of earlier break up. This is affecting the polar bear population of the Western Hudson Bay in a negative way. The bears must leave the ice sooner, and thus less well prepared for their fast on land. Trying to draw connections between these events is inevitable, but time is needed to draw any conclusions.

My group left Churchill behind, having seen no bears. We had held onto the hope of a sighting until the last minute, but it was not meant to be. Nature cannot be forced. Moments of circumstance and serendipity are special because of their unpredictable nature, treasured more because of it. The bear eluded us but provides us a reason to return to what has become our Arctic home over the days of our journey. I feel connected to this land in an unexpected way; it is somehow a part of me, or more likely, I am a part of it. The moments we did have, on the tundra, along the coast at sunset, on the floe ice, have made my adventure an experience of a lifetime.

And what of my friends? We will stay in touch, because of our bonding and passion. Those characteristics that brought us to Churchill will keep us connected. Promises of great lesson ideas will be followed up on, creating a network and exchange of the best across the United States. This was a concentrated time of professional development, a time to indulge in our chosen profession with the determination to soak up everything we could.

The flights home were uneventful, and fatigue began to set in. People separated at various points along the way, leaving me finally alone, as I started on a flight to Los Angeles from Denver. The sadness, yes sadness, of this adventure being over was squarely offset by the excitement of returning to my family and the knowledge that this is far from my last great adventure.

James Locke has been traveling as part of an Earthwatch Institute expedition to study climate change at the Arctic's edge. The above is the last post in a series of dispatches he filed for Manhattan Beach Patch during his trip.