Word: streamingly
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...mile cross-country Volkswagen tour with his wife. He has since graduated to the amenities of an Apache Chief camping trailer. Bob Wood, who filed from San Francisco, makes backpacking trips into the Yosemite, bearing a 35-lb. pack, catching trout for food, and using a passing stream as his refrigerator. He likes to arrive in the hills at nightfall, sleeping out before setting forth in the morning, as the easiest way to acclimatize himself to the altitude. Denver Bureau Chief Barron Beshoar, a veteran camper, made a 2,660-mile circle of campsites gathering material...
...four scattered locations across the U.S. last week, terror struck suddenly. ¶Floating half submerged in a tiny Fairfax County, Va., stream, the nude body of Marta Santa Cruz, 22, was discovered by two teenagers. Marta had apparently been raped, then strangled. Her hands and feet were bound, and flesh scrapings found under her fingernails indicated a desperate struggle with her attacker. Daughter of a retired Bolivian army colonel. Marta worked as a clerk-typist at the Washington, D.C. Hospital Center, was a frequent guest at parties given by Bolivia's Ambassador Victor Andrade. ¶ In North Buffalo...
...keep a campfire from turning into a disaster (dig a hole for the fire, line the rim with rocks; before leaving it, douse it with water and sand and stir thoroughly until it is cool enough to be sifted by hand). In Georgia's Chattahoochee National Forest, the streams rippled with trout (provided by the wildlife commissions), and the campsites, many with their own blacktop driveways, rippled with people. The rhododendron overhung the creeks in Minnesota's Lake Itasca State Park, and little boys overhung the rhododendron, while some of their fathers were just hung over, gazing blankly...
Next morning, after dressing in the chilling air, they had their breakfast and, carrying light packs, traversed upward through thickets of aspen and pine and cedar and wild flowers. Now and then they recrossed the stream and stopped to drink, and after an hour, high in the mountain, they found the waterfall that fed the stream below. Clambering across a rockslide, they tucked some beer into the water, built a fire and cooked their lunch. When they returned to their camp, they stripped and plunged with agonized cries into a lake cold enough to recall Joyce's scrotum-tightening...
...distant buzz of a motorboat, and the whine of a power saw biting into the big trees; the drone of an airplane far overhead, the growl of a lumber truck on a steep grade, the small talk of tiny birds in the bushes, and the murmuring of a mountain stream. And at night: the goose-pimpling patter of rain on the canvas that wakes a child, the stark clarity of detail in the tent when lightning flashes, and the crack of thunder and its rolling echo around the lake shore...