My Dad, our two dogs and I just got back from a week of camping on a pristine lake, deep in the Maine wilderness. The bass fishing was great and we feasted on fried fish, fish chowder, and fish hash. I enjoy the rural hills of Vermont and it's wild pockets but the vast wildness of the woods we were in was a welcomed reprieve. It was astonishing to be in a place that is so far off the beaten path that it has no yet been degraded by the forces of development. My father read the Snow Leopard by Peter Matthiessen, a book that I suggested after reading, and greatly appreciating it earlier this summer. This is one of my favorite passages from the book, and it rang true after a few days in the vacuum of backcountry.