Fly Boys, Part II
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As a city kind of guy, I'm always shocked by the great outdoors. When I see it, I see only snatches of it, little bits of memory burned into my brain.
And so it is on the Miramichi. Colors: white, blue, brown, yellow. Sounds: the cracking of snow ledges breaking off the far shore, hidden rapids, birds overhead and in the trees, the muted fishermen's talk bouncing off the river's surface. Sights: icebergs the size of boats floating ...
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