Just to get out of the hole for a second:--

        1947, a few miles from Quilcene in Washington State. Camp Parsons was (still is, apparently) a large Boy Scout camp nestled on the shores of beautiful Hood Canal, with the spectacular Olympic Mountains just to the west as a backdrop. The camp operated all summer, and groups of scouts would go there for two week periods. The camp was big, with a few larger buildings included a mess hall and health center, but scattered in the woods throughout the area were many cabins. The camp had a capacity of as many as 1,500 scouts at a time. Activities during the two week stay included hiking, some mountain-climbing with the older Explorer Scouts, cruises rowing or sailing up and down the canal in two large life boats with the Sea Scouts, taking classes to pass merit badge tests, songfests and story-telling around a big campfire in the evenings—all in all, a marvelous experience, especially for city kids.
        I'd had polio when I was two years old, and since I was stomping around on crutches, I couldn't go on any of the hikes. I had strong shoulders and I could row like a galley-slave, so I opted for the four-day mariners' cruise in one of the two twenty-six foot lifeboats. I was standing around on the pier with the Sea Scouts the day before the cruise was to start when one of the older Sea Scouts (about seventeen, I think) called to a young tenderfoot scout (about twelve or thirteen) and said, "Hey, we need about a hundred and fifty feet of shoreline. Could you run up to the Explorer Scout lodge and see if they have some? If not, well, check around and see if you can find some."
        The kid looks at him for a few seconds, then says, "Sure! I'll be back as soon as I can." Then he dashes off, while the older scouts grin at each other and snicker.
        About twenty minutes later, the kid comes back. As he walks along the pier toward us, he's lugging something, but he keeps it behind him so we can't see what it is. When he gets up to us, he swings it from behind him and sets it down. It's a bucket of water with some sand, rocks, and a bit of seaweed in the bottom.
        "There," says the kid. "I think that's about a hundred and fifty feet, but you might want to measure it yourself to be sure."

Don Firth