My great uncle Ross managed a saw mill at Kiosk during the 50s and 60s, and in the summertime lived in a cabin on an island across the lake. Fifty years ago I caught me first fish, a rock bass, of course, there, and still remember the dark stain of the logs of the cabin, red trim around the windows, and the green roof. I have to get my hands on the super 8 movies Dad took back then. Passing the gates and traveling through the park as a youngster is something I'll never forget, and revisit in my memory from time to time.