It's 8:00. Buddy's morning alarm comes without warning and I nearly rip my sleeping bag as I jump up. 'Baaroooh,' comes the call once again as I poke my head out the tent. Two gentlemen greet me, 'Mornin'. How ya doing?' they ask.
'Not too bad,' I respond, 'You guy's lookin' to do some fishing?
'Nope, we're checkin' to find out where the waters have brought the gold down,' they say. 'Spring's good time to pan on the Clearwater, and if you got a little dredge, you can pull up quite a lot, when it's allowed that is.'
'Uh hun!' comes my response with skepticism, won't that ruin the ecological balance for the fish?'won
'Heck no!' one of the guys protests. 'That's what they teach in those liberal arts colleges. Truth is, salmon spawn better when you remove some of the sediment, plus it stirs up the bottom sos that all the little fish come 'round to feed.'
'Okay, I didn't know that. You've taught me something new.'
We part ways, though Buddy does so reluctantly (He likes just about everyone he meets), and walk about ten miles to a rest stop just before Lanore. The groundskeeper invites us to pitch tent anywhere and enjoy our stay--far cry from most of the park rangers and hosts I'd met in Washington.
After getting things situated and Buddy fed, we go down to the river for some exploring. Later on we both settle in and the pooch quickly drifts off to sleep. Travelers come and go all through the night, and like a good watch dog Buddy sounds the alarm every time he feels someone's come too close to his territory.
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