D8

D8

                We awake to an entirely blue sky.  This is a first. No hellish mad old man sky?  Cinnamon buns are sizzling over a dug-sand fire pit as we hear the engine of a plane, 20 minutes 

early.  We throw up a tarp, wave paddles, and paddle out with a tarp.  Anything to be visible.  I wave a paddle frantically in wide arcs from shore, and after a pass the pilot comes about and dips his wing to me.  He cruises back over the center of the lake in a sweeping bank, suggesting an 

approach.  He barrels at us like he is going to light us up with a round of strafing, and about 100 m offshore a small package pops out of the window and falls to the lake.  He circles twice comically as Murielle paddles frantically not to lose sight of the replacement PFD the same way 

the first one was lost.  The pilot buzzes to the horizon with a final wing dip after we retrieve the jettisoned freight: a $9.00 canadian tire PFD.  Or maybe walmart.  A souvenir from Lab City.  We paddle long and hard, under incredible skies, riddled with white sun, charcoal sky, and rainbows all colours in between.  An esker presents a viewing platform from which to enjoy the surrounding weather and landscape, and a group picture is taken.  30 k later 

we can see the mountains through which the Moisie runs.  Tomorrow we begin.  Vôila! C’est une bordelle.