Journeys in the early 1900’s were a monotony of finding out how many bumps you could travel over without falling apart. If traveling by boat you could count your lucky stars. You didn't have to push a boat over near as many river obstacles as a wagon over a trail.
It did however put you at the mercy of others during any portages, such as the 15 miles between Mirror Landing and Soto Landing. ‘Doc’ Wilson would charge a $1.50 to take you by wagon between these two points.
If you were unlucky enough to hire him, you and your possessions were loaded onto his wagon. After his horses trudged about a quarter of a mile you reached the steep hill leaving the river valley. “Doc’ would ask you to walk up the hill to save his horses for the ride ahead. When you reached the top of the hill Doc would be disappearing over the next hill, and the next hill, and the next hill. When you finally reaching Soto Landing you would find Doc’s team of horses waiting in the barn but he would be nowhere to be found.
I often wonder if people today distrust doctors because of all of the old time shysters that some how or another acquired the nickname ‘Doc’.