"I commonly frequent more southern climes, where God's paintbrush includes the brilliant
primaries of the flowers and the radiant mauves and purples of sunset. There are,
however, other locales where every trace of the serene is erased, and men cling
desperately to inhospitable shores.
Great North visits such a mountain vastness, where wild, brooding peaks loom above the
shores of an untamed spreading river. It is sunset, but, somehow, sunset has magnified
its grandeur in these northern skies, as gray wisps of clouds soar like eagles over the
curtain of pale gold.
Men embrace a tenuous existence along the shores of the mountain waters. Their homes are
mostly rough hewed shacks, cut from the abundant forests and erected to provide secure
shelter against the cold night wind and the driving sleet. Amidst the structures of the
camp we see a single native wigwam - a reminder that this epic landscape has long been
host to both diverse wildlife and diverse human cultures.
In Great North, we are reminded that all human achievement pales when compared to the
magnificence of God's creation."