Across Continents

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Through Lakes Country

Fort Fraser, she explained, had a population of over three thousand in the early 1900s. Railroad you see. But today, just a few hundred. I’d reached Fraser Lake late in the afternoon, making a short stop at the information centre to see what I could glean about the road ahead. I was sure the lady was trying to be helpful, but her knowledge seemed mostly historic.

Burns Lake had been uninspiring and I’d been glad to leave. Continuing east towards Prince George, a couple of days away. A few lakes along the highway, as might befit the Lakes Country. Pleasant woodlands. In the morning I’d met Russell and his fellow Jehovah’s Witnesses at a rest stop.

Then, as I’d pulled away, Simon and Clint. I’d done some filming with them for Tourism British Columbia a few days earlier. Heading back east as floods had taken out bridges and thwarted their plans.

There’d been little on the road between Burns Lake and Fraser Lake, bar a small pub at Endako. Inside a couple of women enjoying a late lunch. An elderly man wandered in. Regular I thought. Bar maid served him without asking what he wanted.

I’d been greeted into Fraser Lake by a wedding procession. Cars and trucks, led by the newlyweds, heading out of town, cacophony of horns. Two women wandering towards me along the shoulder, oblivious to my approach until I’d almost reached them. One smiled.

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