The wind carries the smell of rotting fish off the lake, overpowering the green wood smell of the tree I’m sitting on. Each wave storms in, crashes ...ver the non-existent beach, and retreats. A blood red sun, sitting low in the sky watches quietly. A small block of clay breaks off the cliff and falls. A wave greedily pulls it towards the lake. The next wave screams and grabs the clay, flinging it back against the cliff. The scene resembles two little kids squabbling over a toy. A quick scan of. ’ I told her about my early start and she chuckled. ‘You’ll be out before I will.’ She went back to studying the map. ‘Figuring four hundred miles in the next six hours or so will put us just south of the state line. There’s a campground marked at a place called Deer’s Lake, how does that sound?’ I chuckled and said, ‘I hope that’s spelled with two ‘E’s.” She laughed and nodded. ‘It is.’ ‘In that case, it sounds good to me.’ I replied. ***** Over the next couple of hours, I learned that. More

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