D4

D4

 

                A hypothermic slog through hellish headwinds gets us 14 k to a nice site.  I wish for northern lights.  The kids cook a bland pile of pasta and Murielle tells them it’s fine while I quietly drink haterade on the whole operation.  I know Stu, I’m a hate matrix.  At least they tried.  A trek up a burned and sparsely wooded sub-alpine looking hill reveals a breathtaking 

view of surrounding lakes.  Cranberries grow deliciously wild here.  I am too exhausted to recount more than this: bed time.