In 1961, I was 12 and was living in a logging camp on the north fork of the Clearwater river, in Idaho ,in the summer. An idyllic time for a boy. The big choice, each day,was whether I was going to fish the river or the creek. To change things up, I might climb up and pick berries or swim in the log pond. No TV, no phones. Going to town meant a 35 mile drive, over a winding , rough toad, to Pierce. The Lucky Lager truck delivered on alternate Fridays. Times were different for sure. Hard to believe that was sixty years ago. GD
Last edited by greydog; 04/17/21.
