As the days grow long, the snowdrifts recede and the first hints of green appear in the trees, I let bird song wash over me, a spring baptism of sorts. We are on the same trajectory, these birds and I as we both prepare for our yearly pilgrimage to the Arctic.

As we settle into our fall routine in the North full of gear maintenance and gathering firewood I often find my mind returning to some of the sublime moments of seasons past. Those points in time where my senses were fully engaged and a point in time became seared in my mind; these are moments both profound and ordinary in the wilds of the Nahanni watershed.