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| I rode back to the pilings and saw another road going up river. There is public camping here. No utilities. |
| I heard some crashing in the forest. Oh, shucks, I thought. Right. Barry did not identify these as BigFooters. In fact he said nothing about these pictures. Forest hogs must be a normal "Grant Parish Thang". They were healthy. They stopped and looked at me. What would I do if they charged? Squeal like a pig? Visions of Deliverance with a Pig and Dueling Bandjowls wallowed through my mind. |
| I could hear the conversation, "He's not fat enough, but almost". |
| I followed the road after they had left. It is time for more quiet. |
| I rode back to the river to a place I'd missed on the river side of the campground. |
| The above picture defines the feel of the place. "Mystically Prehistoric" was the feeling, if not reality. "Big Footville" was the feeling, if not reality. Or, maybe...... |
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