That first day's run of the river we got fifty trout, ranging from one
half-pound to four pounds. We should have caught more, but they could
not keep up with the boat. We caught, also, the most terrific sunburn
that I have ever known anything about. We had thought that we were
thoroughly leathered, but we had not passed the primary stage,
apparently. In vain I dosed my face with cold-cream and talcum powder,
and with a liquid warranted to restore the bloom of youth to an aged
skin (mine, however, is not aged).
My journal for the second day starts something like this:--
Cold and gray. Stood in the water fifteen minutes
in hip-boots for a moving picture. River looks
savage.
Of that second day, one beautiful picture stands out with distinctness.
The river is lovely; it winds and twists through deep forests with
always that marvelous background of purple mountains capped with snow.
Here and there, at long intervals, would come a quiet half-mile where,
although the current was incredibly swift, there were, at least, no
rocks.
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