We pulled up to the empty campsite on Knife Lake, just east of the Eddy Lake portage, and I hopped out of the canoe to check it. Mark and I were doing a sweep of the District during a week’s time, checking permits, people, campsites, picking up litter, digging new latrines and covering old ones, but mostly taking a long canoe trip and being paid for it. Earlier that day, we came upon a group of seven young women and an older man leading the trip. Mark said to the guy, “I want your job.” When the guy heard what we were doing, he said, “I want yours.”
I saw something on the site that I still vividly remember, nearly three decades later: a fire was burning well outside the fire grate, the flames high, fed by the wind, and about to reach the grassy area nearby. Fire inside the…
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