I was lucky to have spent my early years in the bush at a time when the old-timers were still there. There were many of them bunked up in little cabins up and down the line: old men, many crippled by accidents, arthritis or age, fellows just waiting for the end. Yet they were still strong of spirit, content and pleased to share their story. They were all men with amplified personalities, which is what happens when you spend a lot of time alone in the wilderness. You grow distinct and singular, you don't care who sees it and make no attempt to bend to imposed conventions like city people do. You just can't and, best of all, out there you don't have to.

They were different.