I don’t know, maybe Parks Canada employees train alongside the Disney people or something. Because these folks are happy.
The first time I drove to La Mauricie National Park, I was all alone and I thought I knew what sort of adventure I was setting myself up for.
Lakeside Apartments were already drowning. Hurricane Irene just held it under a minute to finish the job.
The drama played out in muffled sounds across the smooth black parking lot of the motel. Knocking first. Insistent. Hollow. Without echo.
We got more than we bargained for with our rented cottage, and a little less than we expected in the ghost town
I was following Jilly to the second storey when she said, in her way, “I like the stairs in this haunted house, Mum.” I stopped dead.