I also found these scrawled notes from the first backpacking trip my dad took me on when I was about 11. [sic] througout
Fig. 1. On the river age 11
It was a rough morning. Trees down all over the trail. Landslides and crawling up hills. But nothing as beautiful as this treasure goes ungarded. Lucious greenery. Thimble berries. The rambling of the river. The wind. The dew.
It is about 9pm. Everything is all buttoned up and ready if it rains. It rained earlier about 6 or 7. We can't go down the trail any further so we are going to hike out in the morning. We are spending the night on a little beach. Dad built a campfire. [blah blah blah nature is lovely and beautiful...unbridled 11 year old enthusiasm]