Have just flown in from the Yukon, northern Canada, where I reconnected with school mates from forty years ago, having completed high-school at an alternative boarding school run by the Anglican Diocese of the Yukon back in the 1970s.

My journal entry records:

………..Punching across a windy arm in 20 knot winds, sailing a 26′ Macgregor, in the capable hands of my old school-mate, skipper Dick. Sheltered below deck, safe from the wind and waves, Dick at the helm with his steely face to the elements. Another three mates braved the swell in their full-body floatation suits to travel across the frigid lake by freighter-canoe to meet us at the trailhead. Hiked 6m km, following a creek, sometimes navigating knee-deep water, the trail inundated by the effects of substantial beaver dams, a constant battle for trail upkeep. Dan in the lead with a rifle over his shoulder, the dogs on the scent, barking, we spotted grizzly bear droppings, complete with half-digested moose calf hooves, a tasty meal for a bear somewhere just out of view. Geoff identified and picked mushrooms the size of a dinner-plate, a supplement for the lunch that was to come. Once at the lake, we paddled 2km by canoe to the site of a log cabin built by the bushmen forty years before. Here we watched as they unbolted the cabin’s bear-proof shutters from the windows and door, security against invasion of their shelter during a Canadian winter of forty below zero. We then collected pristine water from a nearby spring, returning to a plume of smoke rising from the chimney, with moose steaks and mushrooms frying in the pan on the wood stove……

Feet back on the ground and now focussing on another life story project, drawn once again from the land, this time a couple whose passions revolved around their dedication to the challenges and adventures of being stock and station agents in rural Australia.