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David Adams was born in a small hospital on the not so small Canadian Prairies, gripping a crayon in his left hand and a map in his right. Just six days old, David channels tales of wonder along the edges of his crib and on every surface he can find. An impressive feat given that he can barely maneuver the crayon between both feet. Consternated by the streams of hieroglyphics etched into their family home, David’s parents late one September evening step into their long johns, winter parkas, fur-lined mukluks, gloves, and toques. They collect every remnant of crayon they can find, get in their pickup, and drive through blowing snow to a desolate access road. At the top of a fifteen-foot drift on the edge of the North Saskatchewan River, David’s parents cast the crayons off into the darkness. Up into the Prairie night the crayons fly. Into the hues of the northern lights the crayons disappear… and then they stop. And then.... time stops.... the crayons gaze up in awe. Then they fall. Hitting the river ice, the crayons splash across the surface until a mammoth-sized snow bank stops them dead in their tiny tracks. In May, the river melts and one by one the crayons plunge into the water. Silver Seal and Lumberjack Plaid are first to go. Theirs is a harrowing journey with whitefish and walleye nipping at their sides. After 33 days, they awash on a shore of Hudson Bay. Silver Seal and Lumberjack Plaid barely share exhale before a scrounging bear spots the two helpless crayons and…well it’s not a pretty sight. Vivacious Violet and Pinky would be two of the lucky ones. Finding themselves among the Sunflower joy of endless canola fields, they are soon sucked up into the water intake pipe for the City of Edmonton. Violet and Pinky survive the processing plant only to be spit out of a faucet at the Westmount Daycare Centre. Vivacious Violet and Pinky live out their days recounting tales of adventure to the children (and any adult who would listen) much to the envy of the smelly markers and finger paints. Sockeye and Cedar drop from the melting ice into the swiftest currents. Like two canoes, the crayons band together. At night, in front of their tiny campfire, they would share their stories. Beyond the bounds of necessity, the deepest of friendship grows. With shouts of triumph, Sockeye and Cedar finally reach the vast edge of Hudson Bay. On the earth, Cedar and Sockeye find the tiniest pieces of torn wrapper not unlike their own. In the blink of a moment they understand, and the frailty of life shivers through the deepest cells of their paraffin wax. Neither hears the polar bear behind them. In one bite, he swallows the crayons whole. Be it luck or providence, Sockeye and Cedar go straight down the beast's gigantic throat into his stinking gullet. For 1,967 days, they survive on berries and blubber as the bear swims around the Northwest Passage. Outside Tuktoyaktuk, the bear hears the call of nature and dumps Sockeye and Cedar along with some unmentionables on a patch of tundra. At the top of the world, Sockeye and Cedar soon realize they have only one direction to go: the crayons tuck into he motor block of a truck heading to Dawson City. With the heat of the engine keeping Sockeye and Cedar warm and happy, they journey to the Pacific Ocean. Amongst the food market, art shops, and kid stores of Vancouver’s Granville Island, Sockeye and Cedar find haven and home. David Adams would grow up with a misplaced desire to write and a fondness for the taste of Big Sky Blue crayons. Walking along Vancouver’s Kits beach, he would notice two crayons lying in the sand. If one didn’t know better, one would say they were sunbathing. An odd feeling of knowing overtakes David as he picks up the crayons and places them in his pocket. Reaching home, he feels compelled to pull them out and start writing. Soon after, Autobiography of a Voyageur is written. Sliding Sockeye and Cedar back in his pocket, David feels for the first time in decades complete.