Sam Cook: Come for the trout, leave with memories
If you saw them at the portage, you would think: Old guys.
Look at the way they get out of their canoes, unfolding their bodies in stages, seeking good footing, arriving finally at equilibrium. The three-day stubble on their faces is the same hue as the ashes of their last campfire.
But they are there, by gosh. They are there.
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