A Note to the Reader  It’s April 1st, 2001. Ed, Brenna, and the rest of the “April Fools” have eaten lunch, and the Battenkill shakedown cruise is drawing to a close. As the end of the day approaches, Ed and Brenna are worrying that their “Trip of a Lifetime” might already be coming unstuck. Could they be right?

 
Our story continues…

 
Chapter Nine

 
A perfect day, indeed! Sunlight bathed the valley and the surrounding hills. The four canoes continued on downstream. Playing the river was now forgotten as Ed, Brenna, and the others strove to avoid the lines and lures of fishermen. In the chutes above every pool, anglers struggled to hold their own against the steady shove of the Battenkill’s high-water current. This was New York’s “trophy section.” Only artificial lures were permitted, and most of the anglers had light spinning tackle. A few determined fly-fishermen cast weighted nymphs, dreaming, no doubt, of low water and the Baetis hatches to come.

But there were no Blue-Winged Olives in sight. Only high, cold, swirling water. Paddling in line, the canoeists ferried from side to side, hoping to slip between each angler and the bank. Relations between canoeists and fishermen were never good on the Battenkill. Today, however, was worse than most. Opening Day of trout season! Ed cursed his stupidity in picking this day, of all days, for their shakedown cruise.

Still, things went well enough at first. Most of the fisherman ignored the paddlers gliding by behind them. A few, remembering narrow escapes from flotillas of out-of-control livery boats during the summer months, recognized the canoeists’ skill and turned to nod their appreciation.

Then Fenris began to howl. Her tranquilizer was wearing off. Linda Carney, still paddling in the bow of Brick’s boat, made a few perfunctory attempts to quiet the animal, but without success. Soon she stopped trying. Fenris continued to howl. Worse yet, the wolf-hybrid now greeted each fisherman with a snarl. Brick fumed silently. A few startled anglers yelled epithets at the backs of the departing canoeists.

An Irish setter appeared on shore. Seeing it, Fenris tried to leap into the water. Brick executed a desperate brace, holding his paddle in one hand and grabbing for Fenris’ collar with the other. He kept her in the boat—but only just. Several gallons of water slopped over the gunwale as it dipped below the surface. Fenris lunged again, snapping at Brick’s restraining arm. She howled even more loudly. Linda stared ahead, apparently unconscious of the struggle going on behind her. The Dagger yawed awkwardly. A fisherman scrambled to get out of the way, dropping into a hole and plunging over the top of his waders. Shivering and swearing, he struck out for the shallows. Seconds later, a grapefruit-sized cobble flew through the air, missing the boat by inches. The splash caught Brick square in the back of the neck…. Read more…

 

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Hooked? A new chapter in our serial adventure novel, Trip of a Lifetime, will appear every Sunday. If you’ve missed a chapter, or if you’re coming aboard for the first time and want to catch up, just use the hot-linked title to go to the archives.

 
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A REMINDER This is a work of fiction. All the characters are figments of the imaginations. It’s NOT a paddling guide. If you’re planning a trip on the Albany River—or any other body of water, come to that—consult the most recent edition of a good guidebook and be sure you’re thoroughly familiar with all applicable regulations. While maps of Ontario show some of the waterways mentioned here, the places depicted in our story exist only in our minds—and in yours.