Those Lazy, Hazy Days of Summer

 The Fourth of July was always an occasion for a big family event, often camping along one of the rivers near Florence. "Forchuly," we called it, mimicking Eli's accent. There was one holiday when all the kids in camp came down with the three-day measles. Jon Sampson recalls a more camp-out:

     Over one 4th of July weekend family & friends camped up Smith River (South of Florence, near Reedsport) on the Oregon coast.  Mike Johanesson & I decided to build a raft & go down the river a bit.  We found driftwood logs & miscellaneous scraps to put the raft together.  It had two main logs (one on either side), and cross pieces to support a sitting 'platform' in the middle. (We found out by experience, that it was difficult to maneuver.)   We launched it upstream from the camping site, and were enjoying an 'adventure' in the swift stream until one of the side logs hit a boulder about 1/3rd of the way across the stream, and the current started to sink the rest of the raft.  Fortunately, Uncle Vake must have been monitoring this 'operation,' because he showed up with a stick (or maybe waded in), and pulled us safely to shore.

     On another camping trip up the North Fork of the Siuslaw River, the kids constructed a steam bath (sauna?) out of bent twigs, an old piece of canvas for the cover, and an old tire rim for the 'fire pit.'  People who wanted to use it probably heated river rocks outside and then moved them into the 'fire pit' inside.  Then it was a matter of pouring water on the rocks to make steam.  After taking the 'sauna,' many jumped into the North Fork to cool off.  (During some winters, guests of the Woosleys, also up the North Fork, who got fairly muddy playing half-court basketball out in the orchard, were invited (directed?) to wash off in the river before coming back in the house.) 

     (Susan adds: The river was shallow at the campsite, and we would build a rock coral and try to pen up the bright orange crawdads that lived in the river. "You know, they're good to eat," Jack LaChapelle commented. "You Frenchmen would eat anything!" Vake snorted.)

     One summer family & friends rented a houseboat anchored off the bank of Siltcoos Lake.  The water around it was shallow enough that we could see the bottom of the lake in between the lily pads and tule weeds.  On the bottom, by looking carefully, one could occasionally spot holes which catfish had dug & mostly stayed in.  By dangling a worm on a hook in front of a catfish hole, most times a fish would take it and then the challenge became one of retrieving the fish without it getting tangled in the masses of weeds. (Susan adds:  There were also times when you could bounce the bait right on the nose of the catfish and they would not even twitch a whisker, they just wouldn't bite.)