Dear Marguerite,
This has been the strangest, best week of my whole summer, and I have to tell you about it. For the past seven days I have worked as a cook's helper at Loon Narrows Lodge. It is a scatter of cabins on a lake an hour north of Kenora, and you can reach it only by float plane. I signed on for one simple reason: I wanted to do something as far from my usual bookkeeping desk as I could. The plan was not even mine to begin with. A neighbour let slip over the fence that the lodge was one cook short for the season. Once that seed was planted, I was quick to come up with far more reasons to go than to stay.
