The historical scene was photographed about 1906 from the Leschi Boat House. In the late summer of 1916, the shoreline at Leschi - and all around Lake Washington - changed dramatically when the lake was lowered nearly 9 feet to the level of Lake Union for the opening of the Lake Washington Ship Canal. The bridge from which the contemporary photograph was recorded is lower than the lake's old level.

The topography of Seattle, our picturesque ridges and waterways, has predisposed us to exercise. We may not make a habit of climbing Queen Anne Hill, but if we live on it or any of the 37 or so other hills and hillocks hereabouts, even the most sedentary among us may well have to huff-and-puff to our own front door. That, too, counts as exercise.

But what of reclining in a canoe? Here on the Leschi waterfront nearly a century ago is a crowd that surely delights in itself. Whether pausing on the promenade, sitting on the bulkhead or resting in a canoe, these are mostly young people who otherwise might have been stretching.

Did they, by the end of this day, say in the summer of 1906, also feel the great satisfaction of endorphins got from paddling across the lake? Or the lingering excitement of stretched sinews from biking back to town?

At the east end of the old Indian trail between Pioneer Square and Lake Washington, Leschi quickly developed into one of Seattle's first pleasure gardens, especially after the electric trolley was completed along that same trail in 1888. Nine years later it was possible to pedal to Leschi very indirectly on a trail around the north end of Capitol Hill, and for about a dozen years biking remained all the rage. Despite vast quantities of lard and sugar consumed, we were in 1900 perhaps as fit a city as we have ever been. The convenience of the motorcar increasingly softened muscle tone.

Today at Leschi the descendants of this lakeside society have moved across the bridge (from which the contemporary photograph was taken) to the locked dock where they keep their sailboats. Now for a scene as snug and exercise-driven as this it is best to look through the great plate-glass windows of the many health clubs. There, side-by-side rising and falling on StairMasters like pistons in an aid car, young Seattle builds community and burns calories.

Paul Dorpat specializes in historical photography and has published several books on early Seattle.