Saturday, February 5, 2011
Growing up, trouble sometimes found me. I lived miles away from the closest river, the Presumpscot, and it was a mess. Miles and miles of the river was nothing but a floating, stinking, putrid mass of refuse from the mill S.D. Warren. So there was no real chance to go for a swim, float a raft or have some other type of 'adventure' on the water or nearby banks. The closest I came to it was in my caddying days along Riverside's 12th and 13th holes. I never really ventured to the Saco River, pictured here. I never knew it existed. In my small existence, it was a world away. I guess I'm glad. It probably, given the gang of kids I hung with, could only have meant some trouble-filled adventures, that even, I imagine, Huck would have paled at facing. By the way, these days the Presumpscot River has been cleaned up... the adventure awaits!