Some of the young people had laid down rocks, about a foot apart, from the river's edge. It was not accurate in feet, but was a good indicator of changes in the water's height. We would check it from time to time as our camp was nearby. It varied up and down, after a rain especially.
Then one spring, the rains continued until many of the rocks were beneath the water. The Wise Ones said we should move everything to higher ground as there could be a flood that would inundate our camp. So the long tortuous process began.
Tent cots were folded. Self erecting hunting blinds were put into their cases. One travois was community cooking pots and utensils, though I kept my sauce pan for myself. Luggable Loos were packed along with ground cloths where we would sit around our fires. Bags of clothes and a five gallon washer had their own travois.
So the trek to higher ground began. We must have dragged our belongings--our little village actually--for several hundred feet to a place of safety. Our journey was finally over and the process of setting up another camp was soon under way.
We were still on the edge of the woods, so we could take refuge if it was needed, and close to where we could gather wood. The book locker had its own hunting blind and soon became our library once again.
In all, the move to our new site must have taken an hour. If you count a trip to retrieve our firewood, an hour and a half. But soon we would be sleeping in our new location overlooking the rising river.