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Show RIVER Early on, while Rick had gone to get supplies, Vince and I got our first look at the river. We walked through the thickest weeds and woods I'd ever seen across the spit of land that separated the marina from the river. Suddenly it opened up before us, the great wide river, shining in the warm autumn sun. Six or seven long patterns of calm and ripple spread out from the surging current. The day was cool and bright, the sky blue on blue against the moving water. The Illinois bank was choked with green vegetation, jungle-like to a westerner's eyes, and the far shore seemed even greener. We were quiet for a long time, awed into silence. So many people had said we were crazy that this seemed like some kind of vindication. "You know Vince," I said, "if anybody who's said we were crazy could stand right here and look at all this, they have to say, 'You're right, you're absolutely right.'" "No," said Vince. "They'd still say we were crazy." While we built the raft, Rosie and Julia kept camp at Black Hawk State Park. Chief Black Hawk, one of the last Indian leaders to fight the whites east of the Mississippi, also had a college, museum, bar, bowling alley, and shopping center named after him. The shopping center was graced with a neon-illuminated aluminum statue of the old Indian. The park was a pleasant place, thick with tall oaks and elms, and though there were a lot of our fellow Americans vacationing there, we saw very little of them. Mostly they stayed in their elaborate trailers and campers and watched TV. While the boys worked on the raft, we left Rosie and Julia back at camp, expecting them to keep house and provide food when we got back at night. The boredom didn't sit well with them and we got back to camp one evening to find them in full revolt. -59- |