Mitchell Landress

As a young boy I was actively involved in the Boy Scouts. Our Troop was located in North-Central Georgia; a prime location for camping. Each summer held the promise of at least half a dozen campouts. But one in particular stands out in my mind. On this particular campout the scouts were to take their dads with them. Well, my dad is no outdoorsman. So as we were packing up the car for a mid-summer campout I thought he was crazy to load the trunk with firewood. But no explanation of mine would faze him. The rear bumper of our Impala was almost dragging the ground as we left on our adventure. We made it to the campground in the Northeast Georgia Mountains just before dusk, pitched our tents, and settled down for the night. As we zipped up our sleeping bags we heard the rain begin to fall. The light rain soon became a heavy down pour and continued until just before dawn. As daylight broke, the battered scouts emerged from their tents to find a waterlogged campsite and an unuasually b...