I attempt to visit every town along the narrow highway I find myself on, driving each street and alleyway. It's time-consuming. A constant reminder that the goal is not to be somewhere; it's searching for individuals who share their own version of curiosity. A scavenger hunt of sorts where the clues are not always obvious, sometimes wholly hidden. There was no reason to stop in Woodrow; you'd miss it changing the radio station. The trees provided camouflage and privacy for its few citizens. Making the turn, and from the driver's seat, I spotted a woman sitting on the front steps…

It was a hot day, my shirt sticking to my skin, and the only reprieve was driving with the window down. I left Hay River after a few memorable days and headed south, barely making it 30 minutes before hunger set in, and given the situation, I would've eaten my toe. I pulled into Enterprise, a hamlet outside Hay River. At first glance, I could only see a single gas station, a motel and a few dozen homes. I took the time to drive the few streets in case of a chance encounter; the place seemed like a ghost town. I settled for the motel parking lot, spotting a row of aspen trees adjacent to the building and parked in their shade; a tailgate lunch of mac & cheese was on today's menu, quick and simple…

On the outskirts of Hay River, I met a fisherman named Marius. Our introduction, like many others on this cross-Canada project, someone knows someone, who knows someone. I'm sitting at another stranger's kitchen table, my phone lying flat, ready to record…

I arrived before Sonny, and the diner was everything you would expect in a small town; brewed coffee in weathered medium-sized mugs, the smell of bacon, and a waitress pacing between tables, making her rounds, and referring to customers by their first names. The usual morning crowd gathered, and their banter filled the room. Sonny slowly walked in with a slight limp, cane in hand, refusing assistance from staff or myself. Sonny wasted no time, presenting a stack of albums he brought documenting his life's work and the memories they carried; he was excited to share. Sonny ordered eggs over easy, bacon, tomato and white toast and I, a meat-lover breakfast with tomato and hashbrowns…

We all know how the story goes. It starts with the dabbling, and before you know it, you're justifying spending large sums of money trying to convince yourself you need this tool, that specific ingredient, or time off to attend another workshop or Comicon. My dabbling was woodworking, specifically hand tools and the processes involved. So when I met Chris, this encounter may not have been by luck or chance. Instead, I like to think of it as inevitably delayed…

The day was warm, with a slight breeze in the air and thick clouds hovering below a bluebird sky like mashed potatoes. The route was simple, head North, towards the territories and once across the Hay River, head west. Unfortunately, forest fire season had arrived as I unexpectedly drove past a stretch of trees no more than a few hundred yards, hugging the highway embankment. The tree trunks were still smoking with fading orange embers and a crew of firefighters extinguishing the remnants of what I assume was an early morning alarm. I kept driving, the unnerving thought leaving as fast as it arrived…

I headed to A&W for a little breakfast and to see the dude gossip crew; there's one in every town. I ordered my food and found my seat keeping my back to the wall giving me a full view of the restaurant. Like clockwork, then men poured in, and the staff knew each by name. They found their table and would greet each other with a casual "Good morning," arriving within minutes of the first. I was always told it's rude to eavesdrop; however, in small towns, I feel it's encouraged. All it takes is a smile and hello. Before you know it, you're brought into the circle…

The road leading into the town was surrounded by a mix of farmland, and what I can only assume is a flood plain, where a variety of small ponds and lakes break up the landscape. The town of Olha sits at a three-way intersection with faded red stop signs and a lone general store on the corner…

I love Halloween. But, what I miss most is trick or treating, and if I could, I would go door knocking, but I can't take the humiliation where my age and maturity would come into question. Then, the disappointment that would follow being denied free candy from people my own age. So, to heal the wounds of Halloween activities I no longer participate in, I now create a photo each year about the things I miss…