In town it had rained overnight, but fresh powder had fallen on the mountains and conditions on the black diamonds were good. He skied hard and fast, muscles aching and face burning with the cold, until dusk began to settle and the lifts closed. He’d received an e-mail last night, inviting him to...
On their way to Dawson a year ago, as they’d travelled down the Yukon River from Lake Bennett in a boat hastily made of green logs, with a sail which the day before had been a tent, it had taken his breath away to see how completely empty — how vast — this land was. They’d stayed on the river, an...