
North of the Border
Standing on the top of a hill, with a dense forest of green trees and undergrowth in front of you, and the massive expanse of water from the St. Lawrence river behind you, you’d be forgiven to think you were in paradise. But that quiet utopia is interrupted. At first it’s a distant rumble. Nothing to take note of. The birds continue chirping, the groundhogs go about their business. But that distant rumble turns to a deafening roar and the ground beneath you begins to shake as