My outdoor adventuring got off to a less than auspicious start in the summer of 1975, as a newly-minted Boy Scout at Camp Shenandoah. My troop arrived at camp on Sunday afternoon, and when my parents came for family night on the following Thursday, they found me laying in my tent with pneumonia and a 104 degree temperature. I had been having such a good time that I didn’t want to let anyone know that I was sick. Suffice it to say that we didn’t stick around for the family night campfire.
In the photo I’m in the second row, 5th from the left.