He is standing on the main viewing platform at Kakabeka Falls – the same platform where the video of Kate was taken – waiting for a family of four blond, tanned, athletic-looking Midwesterners to compose themselves in front of the wooden railing. He has been at the falls for three hours and has already taken twelve similar pictures of people with their own cameras – mostly families and young couples, dressed in their provincial park best, shorts and T-shirts and sun hats, toting expensive cameras with multiple lenses. Walter likes tourists, especially these cross-country camping types – he respects their stick-to-it-ness, their relentless joviality in the face of mosquitoes, endless meals of hotdogs and hamburgers, poorly maintained restroom facilities, day after day of close quarters with family members. Regardless of their weeks of poor diet and questionable sleeping arrangements, when faced with an important landmark they smooth down their hair, take a deep breath, hand their expensive digital camera over to a complete stranger, and smile.

For this family, however, pulling it together is taking more effort. “Kylie, get your ass over here,” the father yells at the elder daughter, who has wandered off, her eyes glued to her phone.

“You shouldn’t talk to her like that, Steve,” the mother says. “She needs to be allowed to have some independence.”

“Well, you shouldn’t undermine me in front of the kids, Karen,” Steve shoots back.

Walter waits them out, wondering what has happened to the probably thousands of photos like this he has taken over the years. How many of them actually made it off the memory card and onto a computer or were uploaded to a website? Or even, heaven forbid, printed and framed? Most of them probably just stay on that memory card forever. He imagines a giant collage of all the pictures he has taken of people on Superior Tours – the families, the birdwatchers, the researchers, the journalists, the adventure sportists. No matter what their reasons for visiting, when they finally come face to face with one of the great masterpieces of nature, all of them just want a picture of themselves standing in front of it. I was here. I did this thing. I exist.

Walter isn’t judging; he has photos of himself in front of half the waterfalls in this region, most of the beaches, and the lake from all angles. He wants the world to know he exists, too.

Kylie has finally returned to the fold, reluctantly stuffing her phone into her pocket, when the younger boy starts crying. “Frank needs to be in the photo,” he wails. “I want Frank in the photo!”

“I’m sorry, Jayden, Frank can’t be in the photo,” Karen says.

Steve looks at Walter apologetically. “Frank is his…you know.” He gestures to his crotch. “He thinks it’s his pet.”

“Honey, stop,” says Karen as Jayden starts to unzip his pants.

“Gross, Jayden,” says Kylie.