arctic circle

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Midway Lake

We pull off the Dempster
at a cluster of tents
and shacks, by a lake
halfway to Eagle Plain,
where we'll camp. It
looks here like an
abandoned fishing village
but the rundown structures
are the remnants of a
recent outdoor country and
western music concert.
Must have been wild.



There is still the smell of burnt meat in the air, and barbequed
bones on the ground, various bits of clothing and mattresses
strewn about, but except for shiny bullet casings sparkling on
its rocky bottom, the lake is clean, crystal clear. The day is hot,
so are we, and we're coated in a fine dust thrown up from the back
wheels that somehow always finds its way into and onto everything
in the van.



Norah:   These Germans said I could go to Valencia and pick
         oranges or olives in October or November.

Nicolas: I'm in Guatemala then, or Quebec.

Norah:   I thought I had a tan. I was crusted in dirt, man, 
         totally dirty. 

Felix:   What? Wah, it's cold.

Norah:   When you get in past, uhm, well the first part, up
         to your waist, it's easy, man.

Felix:   But your heart could stop like this.

Norah:   It has already.

Norah:   I thought you wanted to go to Alaska?

Nicolas: Yes, with nothing.

Norah:   Man, I just can't see myself there.

Nicolas: I guess you go to the Okanagan, to the
         orchards then.

Nicolas: Nora, when are
         you there?

Norah:   I don't know.
         It depends when
         we get there.

Nicolas: You can come to
         Alaska with me?

Norah:   I already told you,
         that's not in my
         plans. I just can't
         see it.



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