by Peter Anderson Letter to a Once-Young Swamper It is the summer of 1976, you have just turned twenty, and you have landed your dream job. You arrive at Lees Ferry in a U-Haul truck full of vintage World War II rubber. And as you are blowing Shop-Vac air into two long sausage tubes soon to be strapped to an aluminum frame, which is itself strapped to an elongated rubber donut that holds this whole scow together, you realize that, yes, this boat is a pig compared to those powered only by muscle and oars, but at least you won’t…