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By Neel Anil Panicker
Over a 100 km of waterways to lose yourself in; charmingly small campsites hidden under pine forests, pristine beaches to bathe in sheer cold waters and stunning landscapes that are a visual fiesta.
The Notre-Dame-du-Laus at this time of the year is a hullabalooza of campers.
Larocque’s corner store is teeming with holidayers eager to buy themselves a day’s fishing permit.
But a seasonal permit?
Well people do buy them, especially the off campers, the ones who come all alone and love escaping the harsh summers wherever they come from; the quieter, serious loner types who’ve sacrificed themselves to the pleasures of forgetting and getting lost in the arms of Mother Nature.
But a double seasonal pass? That too advance payment? That was strange.
Alfred’s eyes went aglow.
He left his vantage point at Julie’s, and trailed the man as he thrust the stamped blue piece of paper into his baggy shorts and made his down the to the river front.
None would care if this man disappeared, he surmised.
©neelanilpanicker2017 #whatpegmansaw #fiction #170words