The crowds dispersed when the baggage cars’ contents were picked from the platform. The canoeist gangs were full of energy as the last 50 miles of the rail ran close to the banks of the mildly turbulent Moose River. To boost the adrenaline rush of the river, stories were spread of misdirected polar bears walking the river’s edge in search of food. Those cute Coca-Cola creatures are nothing you want to encounter. They are apex predators that will eat each other if chemical signals, such as hunger, hits their brains. Humans to them would be seals standing on their rear fins exposing those tender organ meats. There’s a reason why you’ll never see them at a petting zoo and, in the wild, their fur is usually burgundy from the dried blood of their victims. Benny waited patiently for his host as he had signed up with a B&B service. With an hour to kill, he walked the downtown area close by and grabbed some food in the only supermarket in town. White dusted cars were everywhere as the maze of puddled gravel roads intertwined the 1500 residents. All of these were newer vehicles that showed monetary affluence from jumping on the tourism train. Benny was picked up in a 2-year-old, $70,000, 4×4 pickup by his host. The white limestone dust hid its opulence as they drove to the 30ish, Cree’s home. He had constructed a 1-bedroom efficiency apartment alongside his own residence to tap into the tourist coin. Henry was his adopted English name and speaking perfect English displayed the First Nation’s acceptance to play the white man’s game. When tourism shuts down in late fall, most revert to their traditional rituals and revive their ancient skills. Come spring, the white man facade is re-installed, and money is the new goal. Henry became a salesman for his brethren as he attempted to sell Mr. Lars on activities. Benny was polite and agreed to a run up the river to James Bay with a Cree guide for $75. The final tally was $150. Caucasian greed is most infectious. 

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