For some men there is the true wilderness. They go quietly, and soon, after their gentle passing, the ripples from their paddle strokes are gone and the waters behind their silent craft fold together again, and all is still once more. They carry few of the trappings of their species. A few pounds of flour, sugar, tea, a small shelter and the basic tools of woodland living. A cast of hand-line into deep end waters brings supper, the campfire coals warm and comfort, the way ahead beckons enticingly, but discreetly; a promise always of new delights for those approaching unhurriedly in harmony with nature. Alone in the wilderness, man's biggest burden, time, is set aside. Few are the travellers who would count their paddle strokes across the lakes or their steps over the portage. The white waters of the rapids, the sweep of the forest, the rocky headlands, the call of the wild loon, the moose track on the beach - all these are for now and no clock can regulate or record their being to any effect. In Canada, the wilderness blessedly remains vast and for men like Bob Frisch there are voyages to be made along unmarked trails like those between Great Slave and Great Bear lakes in the Northwest Territories. Choosing a meandering route across the watersheds allows many weeks to be spent exploring small and big lakes, sweeping rivers and the primitive rises of land on either side. Progress is dependent on mood and weather, the holding power of one particularly spectacular campsite and the attraction of the horizon as seen from a lofty cliff edge. It was in this way that the early explorers saw the land. Much of it, away from the busy agricultural and industrial south, has not changed since first it was seen by man. Such an overwhelmingly valuable resource is indeed to be envied in the modern bustling world.