July 2, 2006 |
I have arrived at campsites by foot or by Subaru wagon many times but never by boat. Until about this time last summer, when I found myself skippering a small motorboat: On board were my partner, Julie, our drooling but seaworthy Labrador and half the contents of our garage. Our destination was the far side of Florence Lake, deep in the Sierra Nevada at the end of a steep, narrow and possibly nauseating 20-mile road. The road alone, impassable to large motor homes, filters out the masses.