North.

Northern Saskatchewan has a beauty. I hesitate to use the term “wild” as it’s so often overused when describing Indigenous territory or people, but when you can get lost in your own backyard, there is a certain assuredness in that word.

Yet it’s not “wild.” It’s not “untamed.” This land, this land is alive. It is breathing. It holds the stories of the Dene and Cree and Metis within it. With every boat ride, a new story emerges. With every net pulled and fish gutted, a memory is shared and laughter shared.

Over the course of four days, I travelled 1600 kilometre’s from Saskatoon to Beauval to Patuanak to Turnor Lake back to Buffalo Narrows then finally heading back to the city. I ate bologna sandwiches while watching the sunset. I snacked on seeds at the beach. I drank coffee while visiting my aunt and uncle in Turnor. I listened to country music from the 90’s turned way up high, and sang way off-key. I watched Aerie play on the banks of the Churchill from the community where her parents, grandparents and great-grandparents came from.

And it was good.