The River is running toward you from the left much higher than usual and moving at a good clip. This is in front of my old place (known then as the old Finlayson Place even though I had bought it from Buddy MacAuley- and the Finlayson place indeed it was ever since it was granted by the Queen in August of 1853 to one Duncan Finlayson for Ten Pounds and eighteen shillings) on Frank MacDonald Road - at the very spot where the Duck-less Duck Race has been held for some years now. The right hand stretch of river in the photo occasionally marks the demarcation of the highest tides of the year - tho usually the tidal effect is somewhat farther down stream. It also is the place where I had several minor but enjoyable adventures back in '74 and '75 - one of which was caused by that line of demarcation itself. One summer when the river was much lower than in the photo I was being novice nimrod 'the compleate angler' wading upstream in hip waders and casting beginner's floating loops of fly rod fishing in abortive attempts at catching a salmon for our dining pleasure. The sky was blue with fleeting cloud, the stream was crystal pure, running in flowing patterns by my legs with that gentle murmur of water-flow, and from far away to my house on the hill came the faint and exciting strains of my oldest son playing the pipes in joy to the day. Life gets no better than that to any man.
another day I'll write of our winter kayaking adventure
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