The date is May 9, 2018. I spent the previous day packing the truck with enough camera gear in the event the wind decides not to play nice and have myself an unfortunate accident. The truck's cargo bed lined with camera equipment leaving just enough room for me to be the small spoon at night. The day was cloudy with a taste of rain in the air. My thoughts were filled with the cold nights ahead as the rain was imminent for the next few days after briefly looking at the forecast. I packed the goose-down jacket and an extra pair of wool layers for some reassurance before pulling out of the driveway.
The drive started out like they always do, anxious about possibly forgetting a vital piece of equipment, like a camera, even after making a list and doing a test pack. Once I was past the city limits, the nerves disappeared, and some sense of joy for the unexpected took over. This was followed by more difficult scenarios playing out in my mind. It's inevitable on every trip, and you deal with it when it happens. This particular leg of Back To The Land was significant because I would be starting a new province, and this marked the year four milestone. I have not explored Alberta compared to its neighbors on either side, and I had hoped to reach the Northwest Territories but was not adamant.
I headed North taking secondary highways and backroads, managing to stop in a few towns along the way for a couple supplies; a few quick phone photos like any other weekend road-tripper. At 5:00 pm, I found myself in the town of Winfield. Already tired from the drive and succumbing to the wet weather blues you can't shake, I climbed in the truck's cargo bed and made it an early night. The next morning, I traded breakfast for the road choosing to stop later in the day when hunger forced me too. It was still raining, and once I reached the town of Nampa, the sun finally showed its face. I like to stop in each small town I pass, and if there's a local cafe, I'll usually have my to-go mug replenished and a few baked items for the drive.
I passed through Peace River, Manning, and finally reaching the town of High Level late in the afternoon. Through a mutual friend, I had a contact here and decided to make the call. I pulled into the public library parking lot and dialed. We talked briefly on the phone, and she mentioned I should swing by her home later in the evening when she finished work. Her name was Jessi, and she became one of the kindest hosts I have encountered since starting Back To The Land.
Later that evening, I walked through the backyard gate and noticed a woman sitting in a lawn chair, enjoying a roaring fire in post-work sweatpants, and a glass of wine in hand. She looked my way, head cocked to the side, and with a curious smile said, "Jeremy?" I returned the same look and tone, "Jessi?". We chuckled, and I pulled up a chair. We were joined by Jessi's two roommates, and the four of us enjoyed a drink by the fire, where manners and pleasantries were soon replaced with cursing and gut-wrenching laughter. The northern lights were out in full force that night, and I knew this was some indication it was going to be a good trip.
Our glasses empty, and the time well past midnight, Jessi insisted I park my vehicle in front of her home for the remainder of my stay in High Level. I assumed this was out of pity, saving me the trouble of a window knocking by the cops at all hours of the night. Most campgrounds in the area were set up for motor homes only. I've been turned away on more than one occasion because I was not allowed to pitch a tent or use my vehicle as a means of slumber. Jessi, it turns out, has quite the story of her own, and one day I hope to take her portrait and include her in this series.
The next morning 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.
This is how I met Michael Edward Cardinal. An amiable man who would talk to anyone if given a chance. He was sporting a black cowboy hat and a well worn graphic T-shirt; I had no expectations. Michael is Métis and was born September 29, 1945, three weeks after the second world war ended as he made a point when mentioning his age. As we conversed, specific topics changed his demeanor, and one, in particular, was his career as a heavy equipment operator. His chest would slightly sink, and the tone in his words would drop an octave. The sound was not of anger but more disappointment and frustration. He expressed his concerns with what was happening around him, and he was conflicted, questioning the very industry and its environmental impacts that provided for him and his family.
The ambient noise of food being ordered continued at a faster pace than our conversation. Staff and customers were getting louder as the morning slipped past. Even random strangers started to join the circle. The topics ranged from politics, local gossip, and general opinions on how to fix things. Each time hunting was mentioned, Michael's disposition changed. His face would glow, the corners of his mouth ascended, and you could see and hear what brought him joy. "I love pickerel, I could live on pickerel, I like pike too. I've caught some 30lbs-ers; I hooked one 10lb walleye a long time ago"... "I like hunting moose, but I used to hunt bears when I was younger because of the hide. When you skin the bear, leave the fat on the hide, then you render the fat to make lard for baking."... "I also hunt beaver, and they're good eating. It's better than steak. You take the liver off and grill it, and that's why I'm still here today."
After two hours of stories, I finally asked him, "Do you mind if I take your photograph for a project I'm doing?". His response, "What do I have to do?" I replied, "Just stand there and smile." He replied, "Well, that sounds pretty good, just let me finish my coffee."
