After an afternoon alone on the road, I was finally ready to socialize, so I picked up Jeramie, a hitchhiker from the east. His beard was bigger than mine and I could admit that he was better than me at taking care of it. His sign said, “Every lift counts”. As we drove, we started talking - not to say "shouting" over the sound of the engine - about the places we had been and the things we had seen. We talked about our families, where we came from and how we saw life. He was traveling fairly light, but he still brought with him the 2 canes of maple syrup his mother had given him to remind him of his home.

Looking back, I'm in awe of Jeramie's ability to step forward and trust the unknown. He didn't know where his next lift was, or if the temperature was going to stay on his side. He believed in himself and in others. He is convinced that he lives like this, because he is not afraid of death.

We quickly became friends. I think it's hard not to connect with a person with such a passion for life. Everything is contagious with him. On our first night, we found a place to camp, close to a lake in northern British Columbia. It was nice to be able to chat in silence, without the diesel engine interrupting us. We were setting up camp on the water's edge when we saw the Northern Lights across the lake. We talked for hours, as streaks of green and purple light danced above our heads. I took a few photos, and they are in my favorite of the Northern Lights.