billstephenson,

I do remember climbing some of those hills with sweat streaming into my eyes, but I don't ever remember thinking we were tough. If anything, we thought we weren't as tough as we shoulda been. The other thing was that we didn't have gears or thin tires or paniers in those days.

Yes, the run back to Rockaway was pretty scary. Is Sammy Lane's still the dock? I remember the next night we camped at the park at Powersite dam and caught a mess of bass. We had brought eggs, milk and cornmeal and some lard, and somehow it had survived. But frying fish in a thin aluminum pan over coals was something I found difficult.

I have heard that the trout fishing is now good. Is it as good as opening day at Roaring River?

And also yes, I remember well the wooden john boats. Heavy, really heavy, but perfectly adapted for floating the James. And yes, I've been caught hunkering against the bank at the top end of a sandbar while the cold rain lashed. But once it was done, it was gone as suddenly and unexpectedly as it came.

Thing is, at the time we simply accepted that that was the way things were and kept going. You're right, today I can't imagine taking one of those old bicycles and a pile of stuff across those hills, nor taking a canoe into flood waters in the dark. But after awhile, miraculously, they become good memories. Thanks.

best, jcp