The hidden years in Canada 163, the furthest point

Door San-Daniel gepubliceerd op Saturday 05 September 13:59


The furthest point

The truck had to descent and climb a few times before we reached the camp where the black smoke came from. Bill led the combination to the middle of a loading square and I jumped out of the cabin to plug into the power pole. Moments later we were sitting at a lovely breakfast with lots of eggs and bacon and through the window of the shed buffet we saw how heavy pipes were being loaded on the deck by forklifts. ‘If you are here 'than you forget the road we’ve traveled, ‘ I laughed and Bill chuckled along. ‘So,’ he said, ‘we will go to Yellowknife with the cargo, a few hours before Yellowknife we’ll ​​unload the cargo and then drive a little longer to the happy moose to fill up.’ I thought that was a fine idea. Bill stuffed his mouth full again and picked up the tea mug in his hands, he really had little to no manners, I thought. ‘Then,’ Bill said, still with his mouth full, we have the first week already behind us.

That had gone by quickly on the one hand but on the other hand, it seemed to me that we were already centuries in the North. ‘Yes,’ Bill said, ‘we’ll have once again fresh moose for a change.’ That was less attractive but you can not complain when your food is paid for. We chewed and laughed and had extra coffee then came a bearded man towards us, ‘you can take  that truck away,’ he shouted, pointing to ours. Bill got up and just said to me, ‘the break is over.’ Moments later we were back in the cabin each with our own thoughts and we headed off towards the lake once more. ‘As if we have not been there,’ growled my boss. I understood him, we drove back in to the white time. That time was frozen and where you had to look on your trip odometer to know where you were. We drove into oblivion.


‘It goes like this,’ said Bill, ‘we’ll ride to the lake and I’ll take there the first few hours while you sleep, then I’ll put our friend on the side and we will swap places because we are heavily loaded up, and I will not be standing still on the ice'. ‘Okay,’ I said, for what else could I have said. At the edge of the lake, my boss stopped, ‘time to drill,’ he said. ‘Come on,’ I thought, ‘we have already come past here.’ ‘That is how folk drown,’ thought Bill, ‘because they feel their life is not worth half an hour of drilling, for laziness’ He was right, I knew, down to my toes, I began to drill reluctantly.

San Daniel 2015

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