Take me to the River, tonight the White River. A township park is found at the end of a two track through oaks, red oaks or white oaks. These are oaks with time to grow and yet their canopy shuts out enough sunlight to stunt undergrowth. The two track ends at a high bluff above the White River Flats. How High? It takes more than ninety steps then a slide down a sandy slope to reach the river. I wonder if this were a rollaway in the logging era, a hill where pine logs were rolled down hill to splash in the water. Technically, camping and campfires are prohibited. J and C, a couple who parked their jeep at 3 this afternoon and frolicked all day met a man living of the fat of the River. It's only about a mile west into the civilization of Whitehall, with arts and theater and a brew pub. Not even a Porta John claims this sandy cliff for the world of people and laws.