This thread reminds me of a trip about 1952 or 1953.

My camping partner of those days and I bicycled from Springfield, Mo. to Rockaway Beach. We rented a canoe and headed up the White River. That night we made camp on a sandbar that had large enough trees that we thought it would be safe.

Well before dawn the next morning, something woke me up. I realized instantly that I was in water, tapped my buddy on the shoulder, and with great drama said, "Herb, wake up. Stick your finger in what you're sleeping in." He's gone now, but as long as he lived, he never let me forget it. He also claimed that I picked the spot. He may have been right.

The water was rising fast, so you've never seen two guys fish for their gear and load a canoe faster. Then we had to take the canoe out in fast-moving water that was full of downed trees and other debris, in pitch dark. We made it back to Sammy Lane's just as the sun rose. We never found out where the water came from. Presumably it rained hard somewhere up river.

I also camped another time nearby on the shoreline, and we made cooking fires in the drill holes left by the early surveys for Table Rock Dam.

best, jcp