Heading North, somewhere, an abstract destination, small town on the border to the NWT or Yukon, a small bar, filled with local characters and roughnecks, this is the jumping off point for the next leg of the journey, that will be a flight...

But we didn't bring money, or something, there's a small pawn shop filled with antiques and junk, where people have lightened their belongings to pay for their flight, nothing of interest, I check...

...So we fly back south, grab what we need, and set out to walk back to the town...up steep hills and paths worn into the bedrock, always up, a long lake, with a decrepit long red rusting riverboat beached on the side, tables and chairs scattered amongst the decks, it's in ruins, filled with ghosts, malevolence, evil, we are quick to walk through it, around it...

The sun is setting when we come once more to the village, high up, from here, looking South, it's as if the entire world is beneath us, it's not as far as I thought, this jumping off point, in the town bar we're waiting for the flight, it's filled with local characters talking about things I distantly remember, I vaguely recognize some of them, I meet my Son, surprised to see him here, him not to see me, we're talking, apparently he has some business up North as well, past the border and off of the roads...

(forgot many details, don't know who the other was in "we", should have written it down. I've lost the habit, time now to reacquire it...)