IQALUIT, Nunavut - When you look over the railing of your cruise ship directly into the piercing black eyes of a polar bear, it suddenly doesn't matter that the cruise has no chocolate buffet or that the swimming pool is used as storage space.
The bear doesn't care about chocolate buffets, either. Since there's scant chance you'll become his entree, probably he would rather the ship move on so he can get back to hunting ringed seal, his preferred meal.
It's hard to fathom, but common tourists like you and me now have access to the waters of Canada's Arctic region. Not long ago this was the exclusive territory of research vessels, summer supply ships, and Canadian Coast Guard icebreakers. Nunavut, the largest and newest territory of Canada, officially separated from the Northwest Territories in 1999. It was from its capital, Iqaluit, to Kuujjuag, Nunavik (the designation for the northern third of Quebec) that we cruised out of Frobisher Bay and around the Hudson Strait.
The Inuit, the native people of these two regions, saw opportunity and have opened their land to visitors. They have shared it for thousands of years with the polar bear, ringed seal, musk ox, caribou, narwhal, and the penguin-like thick-billed murre. Now they share it with us.
When American tourists began flying huge distances to experience penguin colonies and icebergs near Antarctica, the Inuit undoubtedly watched with amusement. "Why," they must have wondered, "would people fly 15-plus hours from Boston to the bottom of the planet to see birds waddle and experience 20-plus hours of daylight? Don't they know there's much more visible wildlife and exotic human interaction just a 5-hour flight away . . . along with all the ice and sunlight they could ever hope to see?"
So an Inuit group invested a 75 percent stake in its own company, Cruise North Expeditions. They staffed the ship with several Inuit youth, allowing a remarkable touchpoint to the local culture. They then put out the welcome mat at some of the planet's remotest communities, allowing us to observe their gifted artisans, hike among caribou, and trek across tundra where yours might be the first footsteps. Ever.
Back to the polar bear. My informal poll of fellow passengers reveals that on a scale of 1-to-10, a polar bear sighting is required for the cruise to be a 10.
So, on the second night of the voyage, five lucky travelers can award a 10. It's a chance sighting, but that's the magic of this voyage: Everything is chance. I'm one of the few who happens to be on the ship's bow around 9:30 p.m. (in foggy daylight), lured from watching Al Gore's "An Inconvenient Truth" by the distinct crunching sound every time the ship hits a small iceberg.