I used to be a firefighter during three consecutive summers, at the north tip of Lake Albanel, in northern Quebec. I had the chance to befriend an indian guy with whom I went to fish many times after work until late in the evening.

Just before leaving, Gunny (his nickname) looked briefly at the area map that was hanging on the wall of the dormitory and announced: "OK, tonight we go there", pointing a lake or a creek sitting left or right of the Temiscamie River and we jumped in the boat with our equipment - which included a couple of cold beers - and rushed on the river until Gunny decided to drift the boat toward the bank and land to what looked to me as a random spot to tie the boat up. We then walked about 30 minutes to reach the lake or the creek, in the middle of the bush, with no compass, no maps, no trail, no GPS!!!

Even if daylight time is quite longer than here up there, I started to become anxious to pack and get home when the sun was nearly touching the lake, around 9PM. I recall that Gunny calmed me down with a laughter, and we finally hit the bush and got safely back home at dark. And we never, ever got lost. With Gunny, I experienced so many things that I found it uneasy to tell my friends and family when I got back to my Montreal area home town at the end of the summer. Like if I came from an alien planet. I discovered hidden lakes, beaver dams, lost indian caverns, I saw indians hunt partridges with a fishing rod (you'd have to see it to understand!), eating bear meat, making beds with spruce limbs, and so on, and on...Wonderful summers to say the least!

In the last week of my stay, I had a more serious talk - a monologue - with Gunny. It was a wonderful end of August night, we were fishing at dawn in the middle of a beautiful oil-like lake, beavers tracing V-shaped ondulations on the lake, a loonie screeming in the far, ending summer fresh air making me shive a bit. I saw Gunny's father dead-drunk many times during my stay, his brother being beaten during a fight about the ownership of a case of beers, and one time, I also saw Gunny's house out in Mistassini reservation, surrounded by poverty, poor sanitary conditions, young chlidren wandering all around, etc... After casting my line away on the calm water, I asked my friend : "Why are you still here Gunny, you'll soon become and adult, you have a nice character, you're clever, ingenious, easy learning, why don't you come south to get a diploma, marry, rise your kids in the City, you would make a success, I'm sure... You don't want to quit this poverty your people is in? Gunny did not react. Without even giving me an eye, like if he had not listened to a single word of what I said, pointing his head towards the magical colours of the dying dusk he said: "Look at the view, my friend. Do you see the view!"

GLTA.

BaBe.