Dave Williams
Mill Creek Park Memoirs
Hills and Thrills First Fish I was about five years old when my grandfather first took me fishing at Lake Glacier near the white house on the west shoreline, right about mid-lake. I caught my first fish there, a lowly bullhead catfish. At the time I considered it quite a prize. The struggling fish pulled hard against the now ancient, Pflueger rod and casting reel loaded with black Dacron line. To show I was “tough enough,” I had to bait the hooks with the night crawlers we had caught the night before. Later I learned that the white house on the West shore was the residence of various Park employees, usually the Maintenance Foreman. The home has long since been torn down, but an observant park visitor can still discern the small plateau where it was situated. First Thrill At the age of eight, circa 1958, I received my first “real” bike, a red and white 26” Schwinn. It felt like it weighed 200 pounds. It was way too big for me. In those days you went from a tiny tricycle to a full size bike—no 20” slick BMX bikes back then. The first time I rode that new tank of a bike down that steep hill from Price Road to the Lake Glacier boathouse was a real kick. It was the first time I felt the wind roaring past my ears, my legs turning to jelly, and the panic of not being able to hit the brakes for fear of skidding. I could barely reach the pedals. I probably never hit 30 mph, but it felt like a hundred. At the bottom of Price Road, I had three choices: one was to take a hard right onto West Glacier Drive; two was to go straight into