“I can't possibly count how many times I've pissed in Lake Champlain. Not that I can count how times I've canoed or sailed on its surface, both praying for and fearing a sighting of its mythic, Loch Ness-ish beast, Old Champ. But every time I think of the eight consecutive summers I spent at a camp on its shoreline, I think of myself swimming naked in its frigid waters at 6:30 in the morning with d”
